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“She left this with the kid for you.”
I reach out and snatch it from his hand, stuffing it into my back pocket before striding barefoot in the direction of my office, snarling over my shoulder. “I fuckinghateTequila Sunrise.”
Hearing his feet on the tiles, I slip into the office, frowning deeply when I spot my now empty decanter of Macallan. I grit my jaw, needing to take the edge off before the next round of bad news, though I struggle to think of what could be worse than Summer doing the one thing I’d begged her not to.
Ford closes the door behind him quietly, scowling when he spots the empty decanter in my fist. Rather than berate me, he just grits his jaw till it tics and waits patiently for my nod to throw more shit my way.
“Spit it out, if you must.”
“My guy, Eduardo, was in an accident last night. Car accident. I’ve been informed that he’s in a medical coma while he recuperates, but…”
He trails off, and I curse silently. “That means he’s out of commission and can’t hack the voicemail box Noah left the message on.”
Ford nods. “I have assigned it to another hacker. He’s not as good as Eduardo, but he’ll do it. It just might take a little longer than anticipated.”
I heave a sigh as I nod. “Of course. I understand. Do we have eyes on Noah?”
“Yes. He’s at Spellman Sounds HQ in London. Has been since he left Layla’s hotel yesterday.”
“Okay. Keep eyes on him.” I place the decanter back on the sideboard and move to the desk, where I drop heavily into the seat. I raise my eyes to find Ford hasn’t left yet.
“Yes?” I pop a brow questioningly.
He looks uncomfortable for the first time in as long as I’ve known him. Ford may be only twenty-two years of age, but he’s got the quiet confidence of a man who’s seen twice that number of years. Seeing him falter like this is disturbing me.
“There’s more.”
“Do I really need to know?”
He frowns, then hesitantly replies. “It’s Layla, Cade.”
I inhale deeply, feeling the incessant throb start in my temples that always hits me at the mere mention of her name.
“What’s she done now?”
He swallows heavily. “One of my men posed as a hotel staff member this morning, delivering breakfast to her suite. He knocked more times than he remembers, but there was no answer. There had been no guests to or from her rooms last night. No phone calls either. But he…he felt that something wasoff.”
Ford stops, blowing a breath out through his nose. “He let himself inside, but there was no sign of Layla to be found. Until he checked the bathroom…”
My eyes fall shut, knowing exactly what’s about to come out of his mouth.
“She was in the tub, track marks on her arm and a syringe on the floor by her hand. She overdosed, Cade…Layla’s dead.”
CHAPTER23
SUMMER
THREE DAYS LATER
“Areyou sure you don’t need me to stay on, Anna?”
My beautiful friend spins on her heel and fixes me with a stern look before waggling her index finger in my direction. “Iswear! So help me God, if you don’t get the hell out of here, Summer, I will slap you silly.”
I hold up my hands in defeat. “Okay, okay. Sheesh, woman. I’m gone for less than a freaking week, and you’ve replaced me—”
I’m cut off by Anna’s twelve-going-on-twenty-year-old daughter, Ophelia, jumping into the conversation. “Yeah, she’s replaced you alright, Aunt Summer. Withchild labour.”
She mops her brow theatrically, blowing her dark hair out of her face.
