Page 103 of Layla

“No.” I curse the shake I hear in my voice but fuck, I’m really scared now. I don’t like the look in his eye or the soft insistence in his voice. And I definitely don’t like the way he’s blocking the door. “You need to move.”

He just shakes his head, smiling a little, and somehow that scares me most of all.

“I’ll scream,” I say, pointing at the door behind him. “There are plenty of people out there and—”

He shakes his head again. “I cleared them out. Told them it was a security issue.” His smile widens. “Too bad your asshole security boyfriend isn’t around, huh?”

Oh, fuck. This is bad. Cliff is…shit, Cliff is the stalker? How could that be possible? But as I gape at him across the silent, empty bathroom, I know it’s true. He has me cornered. And he’s right—my security isn’t around.

Something in my head tells me to keep him talking. Eventually someone has to come in here, right? Or security will come looking for me. He might not have the single-minded obsession with watching me that John possessed, but Sean is good at his job, and he’s going to notice my absence sooner or later.

Right?

Keep him talking.

“You sent those letters.”

He shrugs. “I wanted to get your attention.”

“Why? Why couldn’t you just talk to me?”

His face transforms into a snarl. “You think you’re easy to talk to? You’re always surrounded by guys. Whoring yourself out. It’s disgusting.” He shakes his head a little, clearing his features back into a neutral expression. “That’s done now. You don’t have to be that way anymore.”

I just stare at him in horror. All the letters had mentioned my so-called promiscuity and how he would cure me of it.

“Don’t you get it?” he asks, taking a step closer. I want to back up but there’s nowhere for me to go. The sinks are at my back, Cliff blocking the door. Maybe I could make it to the side door if I move quickly?

But Cliff is still talking. “I’ve been watching you for years, Layla. None of those guys you slut around with know you.” He sneers. “That security guard you’ve been fucking doesn’t know you. You’re just a plaything to them. It’sdifferentfor me.”

I know I need to keep him calm, need to stall him. But then he pulls his hand from that pocket and my heart stops beating. He’s holding a syringe.

“What is that?” my voice is shrill and panicked and Cliff raises his other hand, as if to calm me.

“It’s just to help you relax,” he says evenly, like he’s talking about the weather instead of about drugging me. “So I can get you out of here.”

He’s really going to do this. He’s going to drug me and then drag me out of the venue.

Hell no, a fierce little voice in my head says, cutting through the panic. There is no way I’m letting this guy touch me. I’m not helpless—I had my share of fights in school and the rougher group homes of my childhood. Plus, I’m wearing really high fucking heels, and I’ll drive my stiletto into his eye socket before I let him get his hands on me.

He takes a step closer and I brace myself. Fight or flight? The side door is only a few feet away. I’ll have the element of surprise on my side. Then again, I have no idea what’s on the other side of that door. What if it’s an alley way? What if he has a car waiting there?

“It was always going to be this way,” he says, his voice gentle. Almost sympathetic. “You’ll feel better when you wake up away from all of this and start to see things clearly.”

Two things happen in quick succession—I spin, ready to take off for the exit. And the door behind Cliff bangs open.

“Layla?”

I freeze in my tracks. Haylee. Haylee is here. I don’t know if I should be relieved or terrified. What if he hurts her? Would he try to take us both on at the same time? He’s a lot bigger than us, and he has that fucking syringe. But then another body appears behind her and I could cry in relief.

“What the fuck?” James asks, his eyes narrowed.

So quick I doubt they see it, Cliff slips the hand holding the syringe back into his pocket. “I think Layla’s on something,” he says gravely. “She’s ranting and raving. I was about to go get help.”

“You fucking liar,” I gasp. All of a sudden, my knees are shaking and I’m pretty sure I’m not going to be standing for long. “He’s Wicked Lover!” I cry, pointing a shaking hand at him. “The stalker! The guy who sent the letters. It was Cliff!”

Cliff frowns. “See what I mean?” he asks them, his expression concerned. “I have no idea what she’s talking about. She’s clearly unwell, or confused about something. We should get her help.”

James looks bewildered as he glances between us, and for a terrifying moment I wonder if he might actually believe Cliff. But Haylee’s eyes lock on mine, searching and intense. I’m not sure what she sees there but then, in a flash, she grabs Cliff by the shoulders and brings her knee up into his groin.

“Fuck!” he yells, doubling over in pain.

“Hang onto him!” Haylee yells at James, pushing past Cliff and running to me. Just as she wraps her arms around me, that side door slams open, revealing Sean. His eyes are blazing, posture commanding. And holy shit, he has his gun drawn, pointing right at us.

I’m not sure what happens next because I kind of collapse into Haylee. There’s a ruckus behind us, Cliff and James both shouting, the door banging open again, lots of loud voices. I just cling to Haylee, hiding my face in her shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she says, her voice as calm as I’ve ever heard it despite the fact she just single-handedly took out my attacker. “They have him.”

She stumbles a little and I realize my knees are giving out, putting more of my weight on her. But then someone else is there, strong arms wrapping around both of us. “You’re okay,” James says. “We’ve got you.”

It’s the last thing I hear before everything goes fuzzy.