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One day without seeing Layla is one day too many.
Hence why I’m standing on her street, in the rain, waiting like a stalker.
I’m inundated with irrational concern, and I’m hardly able to breathe. I’ll wait for however long it takes just to get a glimpse of her, just one quick look to assure myself she’s okay. I restrain myself from storming inside and kicking down her door, but since I don’t want to scare her, here I stand. A quick glance through her window or seeing her when she leaves will suffice. She’ll have to leave her apartment to stock up on medicine and food eventually, so until then, I’ll wait.
The drizzle of rain continues to fall on my face as I stare up at her broken-down building, watching the light in her apartment turn off. The heavy shower soaks me through until my clothes plaster to my body, and a deep chill starts to set in, but I’ve been in worse situations. I can remain still and silent under any conditions—the jungle, the arctic, anything my job entails. Usually it’s only for a paycheck, but this is for something much more important—my girl. A speedy glance at my watch tells me it’s a little past midnight, which means she’s probably turning in.
Fuck.
Frustrated, I run my fingers through my dripping, jet-black hair, slicking it back before stepping into my car and making myself comfortable for the night. There’s no way I’m going home. If Zoey is as sick as she says, Layla might have to leave in the middle of the night to take her to a doctor, and if that happens, I want to be here to help her in any way I can. The notion that she could have needed me this week and I wasn’t here kills me as it is, so I settle down for the long haul, refusing to leave.
I still haven’t come up with the ins and outs of what I’m going to say if that happens though.
Layla isn’t stupid.
She won’t believe I was passing by her street in the middle of the night and just happened to bump into her. She’d either assume that I’m stalking her ass—which I am—or conclude I have some kind of brain damage since no one with any intellect takes a stroll at night in this neighborhood unless they want to get mugged. Not to mention everything about me stands out. Even my Aston Martin sticks out like a sore thumb in this part of town, and when an expensive ride like mine pops up in this hood, it’s usually because it’s stolen.
But that doesn’t matter.
Right now, the only thing that matters is knowing if she’s okay. I need to know every detail of what the fuck is going on and not depend on hearsay from a work colleague either. I have to see it with my own eyes.See her.
I settle deeper into my seat, the heated leather interior doing very little to relax my tense muscles or dry me off. There’s no way I’ll grab a wink of sleep tonight. Good thing my phone hasn’t rung in the past two days. I wouldn’t be able to wrap my head around work at the minute when it’s so consumed with worry over my girls.
Half an hour passes before I see movement. Her apartment building’s outer door swings open. I jerk upright, ignoring my stiff body. A flash of red hair blows in the wind. It’s the first thing that catches my eye, making my heart race as I squint through the dark to see her. Layla closes the door behind her, pulling up her hood while tugging at the belt of her trench coat to keep herself warm. She looks around before ducking her head and moving quickly down the road. I leap out of my car, silently locking it, and follow her on foot. Blending into the shadows in case she looks back, I keep my entire focus on her. My possessive nature screams for me to drag her into my arms and demand to know what she’s playing at by going out at this time of night. The idea she could get hurt or worse fills me with dread. I’ve seen the very worst of human nature and know that someone so beautiful, so fucking innocent like her, is a sure target.
Breathe, I remind myself, and when my anger settles to a low burn, I think logically. She’s probably going to an all-night pharmacy for Zoey while she sleeps. That makes sense, and I’ll make sure she gets there safely.
I can work with that.
Bumping into her in a pharmacy isn’t as far-fetched as crashing into her on the street. Still, for this to work, she can’t see me trailing her. I make sure to give her a wide berth, my gaze never wavering from her slender form.
When she passes the only pharmacy in her neighborhood, my hackles rise. I’ve mapped out and checked every inch of her building and neighborhood, memorizing it for emergencies. She’s not going to the pharmacy . . . so where is she going?
“What are you up to, Layla?” I mutter to myself as she shivers from the cold rain that hits her face, continuing her power walk through the dismal street.
She bows her head farther, walking dead straight and ignoring everyone else that passes by her. It’s true what they say about New York. The city never sleeps, especially in the worst parts of the metropolis. Even at the most ungodly hour, you can’t throw a rock without hitting some junkie, hooker, or homeless guy in need of a fucking break. And those are just the ones you don’t have to worry about. The worst of the worst always comes out at night, and having Layla out here, so exposed, is making my back molars grind so hard that I’ll probably end up breaking one.
When a big LED neon sign saying Tease comes into view, every muscle in my body tenses, and when I see her nod to the bouncer standing outside before she ducks into the strip club, my vision blurs with rage. I hurry to follow her inside, but the minute I step into this cesspool, I lose sight of her.
“Where the fuck did you go, Layla?” I growl, tightening my fists at my sides.
I ignore everyone else, desperate to catch another glimpse of her. I scour the place for a sign of her familiar red hair, but I come up empty-handed. The club is packed to the brim tonight with every specimen of pervert you can imagine. Maybe not all of them are bad, but they are not good either. There is a group of twenty men who look like they are part of a bachelor party, here to have a good time with the first girl who winks at them. Then there are those types of guys who had no better place to be on a Friday night, filling their plates with the all-you-can-eat buffet. You have your married men who called their wives and told them they had to work late tonight so they could sit alone in their booths, nursing their drinks and reminiscing about what it was like to have a hot young thing under them.
But those aren’t the worst clientele strip clubs like this one hold. Not even close. It’s the pigs that come here every night to get their cocks sucked by the talent on stage that are the scum of the earth. I know damn well that in a joint like this one, when a client asks for a private dance in the VIP room, what they really want is some pretty pussy to jam their cock into. To them, every girl that walks on stage has a price. If they are desperate enough to shake their tits and ass in front of them, then it’s safe to assume that if one of these fuckers offered a few Benjamins for a ten-minute fuck, they wouldn’t turn them down.
I hate places like this.
They reek of desperation and predatory intentions.
Fuck, Layla. Why the fuck are you here, baby?
Unable to track her down, I sit at the bar, making sure to grab the stool closest to the exit. I might not see her now, but if she came in here, then she’ll have to pass me on her way out. When she does, she has a lot of explaining to do. My head is spinning with every possibility of why she left Zoey on her own when she’s sick to come to Tease of all places.
Maybe it’s not as bad as I think it is. Maybe she’s moonlighting as a waitress here to make a few extra bucks. I know things have been tight for her and that she’s barely keeping her head above water. That’s another reason why I go see her at the diner each day. If I thought it wouldn’t raise suspicion, I would leave more than just a hundred-dollar tip for her. I’d leave a fucking check with a whole lot of zeros on it. But Layla also has her pride, which means she would probably decline me handing her a wad of cash out of the blue.
Loud cheers break my concentration, and I instantly investigate what the ruckus is all about.
That’s when I see her.
