“What?” His eyes were closed and he held me tight against him. “Just five more minutes of sleep.”
“Let me go for a second. I need to see what that noise is." I padded to the window and peered out. "Damn it."
"What's wrong?" Elias mumbled, still groggy. He rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow. "Come back to bed."
"No. Fuck. You don't understand," I said, scrambling for my clothes. "They're here."
"Huh?" Elias asked. "Who's here?"
"Photographers. Where the fuck is my shirt?" I looked around the room at the clothes strewn everywhere, the condom wrappers on the floor. "Fuck."
Now Elias was awake, reaching for his prosthetic beside the bed and clicking it into place. I felt myself irritated with him for not hurrying, even thought it wasn't his fault. Irritated with the photographers outside. Irritated with everything that it meant, that I'd been found.
Irritated that it meant I'd have to leave. And with myself that I hadn't told Elias everything. I hadn't been honest with him. I hadn't told him I'd need to go back.
Elias walked to the window naked, and peered outside. "It's just photographers," he said. "And it's only a few. They're in the driveway. It's not like they're inside the house."
"Get away from the window!" I said. My voice came out loud, louder than I intended. "They'll have telephoto lenses. Do you want to be naked in all the fucking tabloid magazines?"
Elias turned around and grinned. "Eh," he said. "Do you really want to know the answer to that question?"
"I'm not fucking kidding," I said. "Put some clothes on."
"Why are you being such a nut about this?" he asked. "It's a couple of photographers. It's not the end of the world." He crossed the room, slid his arms around my waist. "We could just go back to bed and ignore them."
I pushed him away. "Easy for you to say."
"Seriously?" Elias passed me as he walked to the bathroom. "Suddenly you give a shit what the media thinks? You didn't seem to give a rat's ass before." The door closed behind him. When he came out, he was stony-faced, pulling on clothes. "If you're fucking embarrassed to have anyone find out you're fucking me, then say so. Otherwise, I don't see what the big deal it is that there are a handful of photographers outside the house."
"This isn't a movie or something," I said, tossing him his shirt. "This is my fucking life. You'll get a photo in the tabloids and get congratulated and high-fived by every fucking guy in America for boning me. The magazines will write articles about how I ran off to Colorado slutting it up after I ran away from my fucking wedding."
Elias opened his mouth to respond, but a loud crack reverberated through the air.
It was the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being fired.
"Fucking hell." I reached for my piece in my bag and went straight out the door, looking over my shoulder. "Stay here. Don't move."
"You have a gun?" I heard River say, but I ignored her.
Racing down the stairs, I opened the front door. I had no idea how psychotic these reporters were, but whoever the fuck just fired a shot was going to get himself shot.
When I walked outside, Cade was standing in the meadow between the houses, his shotgun in hand. June was a few feet behind him, brandishing a shotgun in one hand and a baby monitor in the other.
Cade walked toward the driveway in long strides. "That was the only warning shot I'm firing," he said, nodding toward the photographer who was brazen enough to hold up his cell phone to capture the scene on video. "Record this shit all you want. Share it with your friends. Post it on the internet. But this is private fucking property, and not a single one of you is welcome here. So I'd thank you kindly to get the fuck off my land."
I walked out behind him, and Cade grinned. "Brought your own, huh?"
"Shit, man," I said. "I thought someone was out here getting shot."
Cade laughed, nodding toward the reporters who'd pulled back to the main road. "Nah," he said. "Just giving those bastards a little scare, is all."
"Think any of them shit their pants?" I asked.
Cade laughed. "Hope so." He looked up, and I turned to see River on the front steps.
"What the -?" she asked, her mouth open.
Cade turned. "We've got to get back to the house," he said to me. "Before little Stan wakes up. Don't think they'll bother you for a little while now, at least."
I walked back inside and shut River in the house with me. Her eyes went from me to the weapon.
"You came here armed?"
"I've got a permit for it," I said.
She shook her head. "I don't know what the fuck to think about you."
"It's Colorado," I said, unloading the magazine and setting the weapon on a shelf in the living room. "It's all ranches out here. Everyone's carrying."
"Those reporters are probably going to sue or something," she said. "Is Cade fucking crazy?"
"Firing a warning shot like that?" I asked. "What are they going to sue for? Nobody got hurt. He's just protecting what's his."
"And you," River said. "You punched the reporter back in Vegas already."
"So?"