Page 23 of Layla

I close up the top. “You have problems with self-control?”

She grins at me and it’s the most overtly flirty, seductive thing I’ve ever seen. “Only with chocolate.” She makes a big deal of winking, a coy expression on her face. “And men.”

I can’t help but laugh. She’s so obviously putting on a show. She laughs, too. “That line usually works!”

“I have a feeling you’ve got plenty of lines.”

“Buddy, you have no idea.”

Suddenly, I realize that I’m sitting close to her—really close. And she’s leaning in a little. Shit.

Abruptly I stand, angry at myself. This girl is in trouble. She needs my help, needs me to do my job. What she definitely does not need is me flirting with her in the middle of the night. “I’m going to try to catch a few more hours,” I tell her.

She looks slightly bewildered by my abruptness, but she nods. “My fingers are crossed for you.”

“You should try, too.”

She rolls her eyes at me. “Maybe in a little while.”

“Layla—”

Now there’s her grumpy expression. It’s actually a relief to see it. Much easier to deal with than her smile. “Good night, John.”

Before I’m even aware that I’m doing it, I reach out to squeeze her shoulder. “Good night, Layla.”

Then I go back to my bunk, certain that I won’t be sleeping any time soon.

* * *

The easiest partof my day is the few hours in between sound check and the start of the show. The band never leaves the venue after sound check so I can be sure that Layla is either backstage or out on the bus, both places that are fairly easy to keep secure. I always let the rest of the team relax a bit during those hours, and usually try to force myself to do the same. We all need to be sharp when the show starts.

Because that’s when my stress level really kicks up a notch. There are security protocols at every venue the band plays, procedures put in place to try to ensure that no one can get into the audience with a weapon. Every entrance to the backstage area is tightly guarded.

But the truth is, once the crowd starts to file in, there’s not a hell of a lot I can do to keep things under control. Groupies have always managed to get past security. Very few venues have metal detectors at the entrances—most only provide a cursory bag check. And, worst of all, once she starts playing, Layla is completely exposed. The drum kit sits up above the rest of the band, right out in the open. And no matter how many guys I put in the wings, we wouldn’t be able to get to her for several seconds should anything happen. And I know well enough just how much damage can get packed into several seconds.

Just before the scheduled start time, I make a final round of the backstage area and head to the dressing room. I’m immediately aware of the tension in the room. None of the members of the band are sitting together—several of them appear to be glaring at each other. I slide up next to Eddie. “What’s going on in here?”

He blows out a frustrated sounding breath. “They got into a fight about the set list.”

“The set list?” I ask, skeptical.

“Dude, I have seen them fight about much less.”

I let my eyes travel over to Layla. She’s dressed for the show in a minuscule pair of leather shorts and a strategically ripped tank top that shows off more skin than it covers. But the outfit isn’t what captures my attention. She’s rubbing her forehead, the way she had last night. She looks exhausted.

“They’re just tired,” Eddie says. “They’ll be fine once they get out there.”

The door bangs open and I turn, expecting Louis. Instead it’s a tall man I’ve never seen before—and he doesn’t have a pass around his neck. My fingers immediately go to the pistol in my waistband but Eddie places a hand lightly on my arm. “It’s just Lennon.”

His words don’t inspire much calm in me—I have no idea who Lennon is. But Haylee is already up off the couch, launching herself into his arms, and the guy laughs, picking her up off the ground.

“You really don’t want to pull a gun on Lennon Ransome.”

I turn at the familiar voice to see Layla has joined us. She’s smirking at me. “Tell me that you know who Ransom is?”

I shrug and she meets Eddie’s eye, shaking her head. “Where in the hell did Louis find this guy?”

Eddie laughs. “I definitely get the feeling that John isn’t much of a music fan.”