Seven
‘Now, you do exactly what I say, is that clear?’ he barked at Autumn as they waited at the fire exit that led out toward the car park.
Her head was spinning, she felt sick, and she had a run in her stockings. She couldn’t stop looking at it as it seemed to be growing by the second.
‘Autumn, you need to listen to me if you want to stay safe.’ Nathan took hold of her wrist.
She raised her head to meet his eyes with hers, and she nodded like a programmed robot.
‘Right. Now, when I open this door, I want you behind me, holding on to my belt, head down, making for the car, okay? Don’t look up, just walk quickly and keep hold of me,’ he said.
‘You think there’s someone outside, don’t you?’ Autumn asked through chattering teeth. ‘That’s why you were looking out the window.’
‘That’s my concern, not yours. Head down, make for the car, keep hold of me,’ he said again.
He took her hands and pressed them to the leather belt at his waistband.
His shirt wasn’t quite tucked in properly, and her fingertips touched the skin at his back. She shut her eyes and bit her teeth together, preparing herself for everything and nothing, all at the same time.
She felt him push the bar on the door, then, all at once, he strode off. The speed of his movement surprised her. She clung to his belt and tried to keep up with his pace.
She kept her head down, looking at the ground as Nathan hurried them toward his car. Paving stones turned into gritty tarmac. Her fingers chafed on the leather belt she suspected wasn’t really leather, and her heart beat a fast flamenco in her chest.
She heard the car door open. Nathan turned to face her, took her hands off his waistband, and pushed her down into the car. She clutched her purse and blinked to refocus on the outside.
Suddenly, a flash went off in her face, and a camera appeared at her passenger window. She let out a scream of terror, her hand instinctively reaching for the lock on the door. She couldn’t breathe, and her heart was racing again, but she watched as Nathan tackled the photographer to the ground and drew his weapon.
The paparazzo looked terrified. His eyes bulged, and with Nathan’s left hand around his throat and his right directing a gun at his temple, it was hardly surprising. But Autumn looked again at the photographer, and this time recognized him. He was paparazzi. He’d photographed her many times, and he was one of the faces she saw in the crowd at all her personal appearances.
She unlocked the car door and tentatively stepped out. ‘He’s a photographer,’ she stated to Nathan.
He had his knee in the middle of the poor man’s chest, probably cutting off his air and crushing his rib cage.
‘Having a camera doesn’t make you a photographer. Get in the car, Autumn.’
‘I’ve seen him before,’ Autumn said as she leaned over him. ‘He’s paparazzi. He’ll have ID. If you get off him, he can show you.’
He attempted to nod his head despite the restrictions on his neck, but Nathan held firm.
‘Let him go, for God’s sake, you’re hurting him,’ Autumn said.
The photographer was starting to splutter and his face was turning an awful shade of mauve.
‘Get in the car, Autumn. That’s an order,’ Nathan spat, turning to face her.
‘Let him go! He’s just doing his job. He scared me, that’s all. Let’s go wherever we’re going and leave him to moped on over to Angelina Jolie’s London pad, or wherever he’s heading.’
‘If you don’t get into the fucking car, I’m going to hold this gun against your head instead of his,’ Nathan threatened.
‘This is not Kabul!’ Autumn shrieked.
‘Get in the car!’
‘Let him go!’
Nathan relinquished hold of the man’s neck and dragged him up off the concrete, but kept the gun trained on him.
‘See, there’s his ID, right there on his chest. His name is Milo. I apologize, Milo, for that treatment,’ Autumn began as the man rubbed at his injured neck.
‘You’ve said enough. Get in the car,’ Nathan ordered, opening it back up and grabbing Autumn by the wrist.
She fell into the seat with a thump, and Nathan slammed the door after her. She watched out the window as he spoke to the photographer and sent him away with a firm thump on the shoulder.
When he returned to the vehicle and got into the driver’s seat, he was sweating and breathing heavily.
‘I thought you were starting to understand how things are going to go around here,’ he stated as he started the car.
‘I knew that man. I’ve seen him. He takes photos. He wasn’t about to kidnap me.’
She opened the clasp on her purse and took out her powder compact. Checking the mirror, she could see a fine sheen of perspiration on her forehead. This was all his fault, this grubby, rough, whatever-he-was. The sooner she got to a phone, the better. He had to leave her at some point. Perhaps she could brave public toilets. He wouldn’t follow her in there.
‘And how do you know he wasn’t about to kidnap you? People will do anything for the right amount of money,’ Nathan told her.
‘You maybe,’ she retorted, touching up her face with the powder.
‘Not you? Not a naked Playboy centerfold or anything?’ Nathan challenged.
Autumn stopped what she was doing and looked across at him. He had seen her naked in the magazine. The thought disturbed her, and her stomach contracted, also reminding her of how hungry she was. Playboy had paid extremely well, but she hadn’t done the photoshoot for the money. She’d done it to quell the rumors that she was anorexic. Of course, she’d had to binge eat for a few weeks before the photographs
