“You’re coming?” Layla combed her fingers through her hair, going for a look of purposely tousled, as opposed to just a bad case of bed head. No need for Aster to see her looking so disheveled and guess what they’d been up to.
“You actually think I would send you out there on your own in the middle of the night?”
“Tommy—” Layla watched as he pulled on a T-shirt and jeans before slipping into an old pair of leather flip-flops. “Just because we . . .” She motioned toward the bed with its skewed pillows and rumpled sheets, feeling suddenly self-conscious about putting a voice to all the delicious things they’d done to each other. “Doesn’t mean you have to come with me, or do anything for me, really. I have no expectations. You don’t owe me anything. We’re both adults here, and—”
Tommy stood so close she could see the individual flecks in his irises. “I thought you said it was urgent.” He rubbed the tip of his thumb across her cheekbone and tucked a loose strand back behind her ear. The move was so innocuous and yet so intimate, it gave Layla chills.
“I did, but—”
“So don’t you think we should get going then?” He jangled his keys.
Without a word, Layla thrust her bag over her shoulder and followed him out the door.
“Driver’s gone.” Tommy led her toward the parking garage. “So we’ll have to take my car.”
He clicked the key fob and unlocked the doors. The chirping sound seemed to boomerang against the concrete walls as Tommy moved to open her door before getting his.
A small grin crept onto Layla’s face. Who would’ve guessed Tommy Phillips was so well-schooled in old-fashioned manners? It made her wonder what his mom must be like. Though Tommy rarely talked about his parents or his life before he arrived in LA.
His fingers found the handle and he yanked the door open, motioning Layla inside. But Layla remained frozen in place, staring unblinkingly at the elaborately wrapped gift box sitting on the passenger seat with a card bearing her name.
Instinctively her hand flew to cover her mouth, as Tommy looked on from beside her. “How did they get into your car?” she whispered.
Tommy stared uncomprehendingly. “I know I locked it. I always lock it. And while I’d love to take credit for the gift, I’m afraid—”
“No.” She was quick to cut him off. “Trust me. You don’t want to take credit for this. It’s not a gift.” She looked all around the parking garage, but of course, they were alone. Whoever had left this was long gone.
She slid onto the seat and held the box on her lap, as Tommy went around to the driver’s side and settled beside her. Since the car had been parked in the garage for the last few hours, the interior was hot, and yet the package felt cool to the touch, as though it had only recently been delivered.
Someone had been watching them. Following them. Though another quick glance around the parking garage assured her they were the only ones there, the thought of being stalked without knowing gave her the chills.
Sliding her finger under the flap of the envelope, she removed the note tucked inside and frowned at the disturbing image of an abused cartoon cat.
It marked the fourth card she’d been sent, and this time in addition to the noose, the gunshot wound to the head, and the missing front teeth, he bore a gruesome-looking black eye. Inside was the familiar curlicue script.
Received your message loud and clear
Seems you’re convinced you have nothing to fear
While I can assure you that you’re wrong about that
If you’re in need of more proof, look no further than the poor battered cat
If it’s convincing you need
I’ve procured a few things to fill up your blog feed
Now that we’ve struck a deal
Things are about to get very real
It’s time for you to do as I say
Or else you better prepare to pay.
Layla handed the card to Tommy, noting the way his eyes went wide as his chin practically dropped to his chest.
He cast a troubled glance her way, and said, “I’ve seen this.” He shook the card in his fist. “Not this exactly, but the picture of the cat. I saw the same image on a piece of paper in Ira’s office.”