Page 20 of Saving Emily
My fight barely slows him down. His camera crazily clicks as he takes numerous photos of an unconscious Noah.
Jacob’s return has near perfect timing. ”What the fuck are you doing in here?” he roars from the doorway before pulling the paparazzi out of Noah's room by the scruff of his collar.
“Get off me! I’m just doing my job,” replies the paparazzi as he endeavors to pull himself from Jacob’s grip.
His response reminds me of the time I defended the paparazzi to Noah when they caught us at the café in Bronte's Peak unaware. However, this guy isn't doing his job. He's harassing Noah while he lies helpless in a hospital bed, having no way to protect himself. I don't care how desperate you are, that's lower than low.
After snatching the man’s camera out of his hand, Jacob frantically searches for the SD card inside. Once he locates it, he throws the camera onto the ground before stomping on it, shattering it into millions of pieces.
When the paparazzi bends down to collect the shattered remains of his camera, Jacob hands me the SD card. His jaw is ticking, and the veins in his neck are pulsing so furiously, they look seconds from bursting.
Frustrated that Jacob just filled in his endless money pit, the cameraman venomously snarls, “You should turn off the life support. He'd be worth more dead than alive.”
I stand still, frozen in shock by what he said. Jacob’s fury is more noticeably present than mine. He storms toward the senseless man, his anger felt from a distance.
“You fucking piece of shit,” he roars a mere second before pole-driving the paparazzi into the room opposite Noah’s.
The man’s head hits the glass window, shattering it on impact. “Jacob, stop!” I squeal, panicked by the amount of blood gushing from the man’s head.
Jacob gets in several punches before he's tackled to the ground by two security officers. He's quick to throw them off before he once again grabs the cameraman. I've never seen him so furious.
“Jacob, it’s okay. Calm down,” I beg when he’s finally subdued by the hospital security personal.
Jacob doesn't hear a word I speak. He repeatedly yells at them to get the fuck off him while fighting against their hold.
"Oh, fuck!" he yells a short time later when a third security officer hits him with pepper spray.
The leftover particles lingering in the air burn my eyes, so I can imagine the amount of pain Jacob is in since he was hit with a full spray.
* * *
By the time Ryan arrives on the scene twenty minutes later, I’m pouring cool water on Jacob’s red and swollen eyes.
Once the fourth bottle is empty, Jacob peers at me through puffy eyes. “I’m sorry, Em—”
“Don’t you dare apologize. You didnothingwrong.”
Although shocked by his level of violence, I also understand why he reacted the way he did. He was standing up for Noah, who, at the time, couldn't defend himself.
I'll be forever grateful for that.
“I will be back in a minute.”
Once Jacob nods, I race to Ryan, who’s just finished speaking to two of the security guards responsible for Jacob’s detainment. “You have to help him. He didn’t do anything wrong. He was defending Noah.”
“I don’t know what I can do. It’s not just the paparazzi pressing charges; the security officers are lining up as well.” He scrubs at the stubble on his chin. “I’ll do everything I can, but he needs a good lawyer.”
He flashes me an uneasy grin before moving to assist Jacob off the floor. As he guides Jacob down the corridor, I search my purse for my cell phone so I can call Jenni. She answers two rings later.
“Em, are you okay? Is Noah okay?”
“Yes, Noah is fine.” My words are hurried as my panic skyrockets. If my calculations are correct, Jacob is still on probation from protecting Lola. He can’t add another list of assault charges to his criminal record without looking at time behind bars. I don’t want that to happen. What I said earlier is true. He didn’t do anything wrong.
In an attempt to lessen my panic, I glance at Noah. His eyes are rapidly moving under their lids, and his mouth is stern.
After curling my hand along his bearded jaw, silently offering him comfort, I shift my focus to the task at hand. “I need your help, Jen.”
* * *
