Page 32 of Layla

When we finally reach our floor, I reluctantly release her, immediately missing her warmth. As long as I could feel her, hold her, I could tell myself that she was safe. I don’t like how freaked out it makes me to allow these few inches between us.

Louis is waiting for us in the hallway, pacing. When he sees Layla, his face relaxes, relief washing over his features. He walks straight to her and wraps his arms around her shoulders. I’m more than a little surprised when she not only lets him but flings her arms around him in return. They all argue with him so much, you’d get the impression that they don’t like him. But watching the two of them right now, I’m realizing there’s a lot more to the manager’s relationship with his band than first meets the eye.

Layla is shaking again.

“Let’s get you inside,” he murmurs. “A detective is on the way.”

I follow them into Layla’s suite, walking straight to the mini-bar to get her a drink while Louis settles her on the couch. He sits next to her, a hand on her knee, and talks in a quiet voice, saying soothing words that I can’t hear.

I search her fridge until I find the thing I’m looking for. When I hand her the chocolate milk, I’m horrified to see her eyes fill with tears.

“Would you rather have—”

She shakes her head. “This is perfect, thanks.”

“Tell me what happened,” Louis says, his voice tight. I hand him Layla’s phone, which I’ve been holding the whole time. He reads the messages, his face hardening even more. “Fuck.”

There’s a knock on the door and I go to let the detective in. Layla is clearly uncomfortable at the sight of him, and I remember her reaction to finding out I was once a cop. He takes her statement and mine and Louis gives him copies of the previous communication.

“These were sent here in New York?” he asks.

“The first two were sent to the label offices in LA,” Louis explains. “The third was delivered to our hotel in Washington. The fourth was left under my door in Kansas City.”

The detective meets my eye and I know exactly what he’s thinking. This is stalking across state lines. He’s going to bring in the Feds. I’ll feel better to have their considerable resources on the case but I know the escalation is going to freak Layla out even more. “I’ll need to take your phone,” he tells her. “The number was likely blocked, but we’ll see what we can do.”

When he has all the information we can give him, he stands and I walk him to the door. “I’m going to call it in,” he says in a low voice. “How’s her security?”

“We have a decent team. The label is taking it seriously.” I briefly tell him about Haylee’s case and he casts a worried glance back at Layla, who’s sitting with a dazed expression while Louis speaks to her in a low voice.

“I don’t like how often he’s been able to get close to her,” the detective says, frowning. “That takes it far past the usual nut job crushing on a celebrity.”

I nod grimly.

“I wouldn’t let her go anywhere alone.”

“I have no plans to.”

He nods. “I’m sure someone from the bureau will be in touch soon. Keep an eye on her.”

I shake the detective’s hand and close the door behind him. As I turn back to Layla and Louis, I hear her voice raise. “I said no, Louis!”

His expression is exasperated as I join them. “I think it’s time we tell the others about this,” he tells me.

“He’s right, Layla,” I say, wincing when she glares at me. “They should know.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You don’t think they’re going to be confused about what happened tonight?” he asks.

She waves her hand. “Make something up. Tell them I got sick, or John overreacted about a fan. But you’re not telling them what’s going on.” When he doesn’t respond she grips his arm. “You promised me.”

He sighs, looking away, and I want to tell them both they’re being stupid. The best way to keep her safe is to have as many people as possible aware of the threat. And it’s absolutely naïve to think they won’t realize something is up.

As if proving my point, there’s a knock on Layla’s door. “You in there, Perry?” a male voice calls out. James.

Her expression is nearly panicked when she glances to Louis. He stands, resigned. “I’ll take care of it.”

I don’t hear what Louis says to James, but he returns a few minutes later, looking exhausted. “I need to update the label,” he says. “I wish you would let me send Dylan or Haylee to sit with—”