Kissed Blind (Hot Pursuit #2)(10)
Camille put her feet on the floor and leaned toward Oliver. “She hears everything, I swear. Nothing is private around here.” She lowered her voice in an attempt to whisper, but I could hear her from across the room.
“It’s just the acoustics in here,” Oliver said. “Sound really carries in this place.” He faced the kitchen. “That sounds nice, Cici, thanks.”
Camille reluctantly agreed to eat. They ate sashimi with chopsticks at a glass topped table where Camille was all too eager to point out the difference between sashimi and sushi to Cici. Cici took the criticism in stride and made the rest of us sandwiches.
After Camille ate, she excused herself to freshen up. Nearly an hour passed before she returned with her makeup retouched. She’d slipped into skin tight jeans, black booties with spiked heels that said everything but “let’s take a walk,” and a baggy knit sweater. I’d heard the camera added ten pounds, but in Camille’s case I estimated twenty, and that was to her benefit. In person, she was exceptionally thin.
When Oliver tossed on his jacket, we were off, and Cici stayed behind to clean up the kitchen. Vance brought the Rover up to the front of the building, and we took the short drive down the road to the walking path.
I stepped out of the car and pointed to where the path began. “The walkway starts over there. Vance and I will hang back here and give you some privacy.”
Camille and Oliver threaded their fingers together, and she briefly put her head on his shoulder. Something about the gesture seemed forced, almost fake. As they began their stroll, Vance and I scanned the surroundings. Other than a few runners and walkers, Camille and Oliver kept to themselves and were unnoticed. When we made it halfway to the park, a person began following us.
I nudged Vance.
“I see him,” Vance said.
“Paparazzi,” Oliver said over his shoulder. “It’s fine so long as they keep their distance.”
“They always find us, don’t they?” Camille said.
“A necessary evil.” Oliver shoved his hand in his jacket pocket while still holding tightly onto Camille with the other.
“Indeed. The only thing worse than them talking about you is them not talking about you.” She chuckled.
“You want me to go handle it?” Vance offered.
“No,” Camille answered. “They’re usually harmless when they’re alone. It’s when they’re in swarms that we need to be careful. This is nothing, right?”
Oliver agreed with a nod. “Let him take his pictures. It’s a beautiful night. I won’t let him ruin it.”
They made it down to the park where they took a few moments to admire the scenic views of the suspension bridge crossing from Ohio into Kentucky. After exchanging a few quiet remarks and stealing kisses from each other, they began the trek back.
Near where they started their stroll, Camille and Oliver stopped to sit on a metal swing facing the river. Vance and I kept a comfortable distance. Camille laid her head on Oliver’s shoulder, and they lazily rocked back and forth. The paparazzi who’d followed, snapped picture after picture. Camille threw her head back in an exaggerated laugh. Even from a distance, I could hear the shutter on the photographer’s camera clicking endlessly. If nothing else, Oliver and Camille put on a good show.
The evening light began to disappear as dusk settled, and the temperature dipped to an uncomfortable low. I shivered and shoved my hands in my pockets, and Oliver called an end to their public display of affection.
“This has been nice, and it’s been a beautiful night, but I know your California blood is feeling the chill.” Oliver held out his hand to lift Camille off the swing.
“Oh, how you know me well,” she said as he wrapped his arm snugly around her shoulder.
On the way to the car, they strolled next to a row of dancing fountains that shot out from the ground. On hot summer nights, the mini geysers would be littered with children playing in wet clothes and sagging diapers, but as it was cool and the light low, the water was brightly lit by various colors of the rainbow without a child in sight.
Out of the corner of my eye, a tall figure walking toward us caught my attention.
Four
As Oliver and Camille continued to walk, a man approached us with his head down, wearing an oversized hoodie and dark jeans. For the area, his attire was ordinary. He looked like an average street thug or drug dealer, but his gait was odd. I withdrew my hands from my pockets.
His steps, large and wide, shouted he walked with a purpose, like a businessman late for a meeting. He went straight toward Camille and Oliver, and his face was covered with some sort of cloth. Camille, distracted, pointed to something off in the distance, pulling Oliver’s attention away from the threat Vance and I saw.
Vance pushed Camille and Oliver back, shielding them with his body. “You two hang back for a second.”
I approached the masked man, but he stayed his course. “Hey, excuse me.” I held up a hand to grab his attention, but he paid me no mind. “Hey! Stop!”
He paused, and his intense, dark eyes darted to mine. “Move, little girl. This isn’t about you,” he growled, reaching into his pocket.
I wasn’t going to wait to see what he pulled out and stepped toward him, yanking his hand from his pocket; his other struck my cheek. It ignited a level of rage few ever got to witness. I shook off the pain. I’d practiced similar fights thousands of times and could do this with my eyes closed. Tightening my hold on his wrist, I turned my body, thrusting my elbow into the middle of his thigh. He grunted but recovered from the blow as if I’d been a mosquito he’d smacked off his leg.