The real Layla Carlysle intrigues me as much as I hate to admit it.

“Can we get down to business, please,” I beg Gwen as I take a seat at my desk and power up the computer. “Tell me what you’ve found on Eve Carlysle so far.”

Gwen lets out a huge annoyed sigh because I'm not going to give her the goods on Layla. Finally, she walks over to her own desk and grabs a file folder off of the top of it. Flipping it open, she scans the pages as she makes her way to me.

“Well, there isn’t much to be found about Eve. I had to do quite a bit of digging, and even then what I found wasn’t very interesting. Parents were blue collar workers, lower middle class. She wanted more out of life and made sure she got it. After high school, she worked hard and put herself through community college. Her first real job out of college was as a secretary for Hummingbird Records, where she met and married Layla’s father, Jack,” Gwen explains, rounding my chair and putting the file down in front of me so I can flip through it.

“I don’t like how little information there is about this woman. I mean, everyone has SOME kind of skeleton in their closet. She has nothing. And when I say nothing, I mean nada, zero, zip. Not even a parking ticket. Which is weird, right?”

I nod my head in agreement. “No one is that clean.”

“Exactly. Which makes me think she’s got something to hide. As awesome as I am on a computer, I couldn’t find squat. I called your friend Garrett for help, but his wife is on some kind of photo assignment and their daughter has been sick so he doesn’t have time to help. He gave me your friend Austin’s number. Let me tell you, that guy is annoying.”

I chuckle as I watch Gwen go back to her desk and sit down.

“What did Austin have to say?”

I pull up my email and shoot off a quit note of thanks to Austin as Gwen regales me with his charm.

“You mean aside from asking me my bra size, what I was doing for dinner tonight, and whether I preferred eggs or pancakes for breakfast tomorrow morning?”

Oh, that boy is so getting his ass kicked the next time I talk to him.

At the closing of the email, I add a threatening little reminder to Austin: My baby sister is off limits.

“Well, when he isn’t thinking with his dick, he’s actually not too shabby at getting information that I can’t. I really don’t want to know how he got this information. He started to tell me it had something to do with two bottles of wine and a lot of sweet talk, but I cut him off when he mentioned some trick he does with his tongue that always makes women talk. I mean really, Brady. These are the people you worked with in the Navy?”

Same old Austin. He could make a mute talk. He's always been our go-to-guy when the computer had us at a disadvantage. With his good looks and southern boy charm, he could walk us through airport security with a bomb strapped to his chest and no one would pay any attention.

“Sorry, Austin is in a class all his own. What was he able to find out?” I ask, shutting the file folder that has no real useful information in it.

“So get this. According to a few ex-employees from Hummingbird Records, Jack Carlysle married Eve because she was knocked up.”

I stare at Gwen for a few seconds trying to do the math.

“That doesn’t make sense. They got married over a year and a half before Layla was born.”

Gwen nods enthusiastically. “Exactly. According to these employees, Eve faked the pregnancy to get Jack to marry her. He was getting ready to break it off and she needed to do some quick thinking so the money he lavished her with didn’t dry up. She never had any doctor’s appointments at that time or anything confirming the pregnancy, but Jack, being the upstanding guy he was, took her at her word and made her Mrs. Carlysle. Surprise, surprise. A few months later she lost the baby. Once again, no medical records confirming this at all.”

I shake my head in confusion. “So if he was getting ready to end things with her, why the hell didn’t he just divorce her when she supposedly lost the baby?”

Gwen leans forward in her chair, so excited to tell the rest to me I think she might fall right out of it and onto the floor.

“This is where it really gets interesting. Right around that time, like the same week, Jack added Eve as the co-owner of Hummingbird Records. He made her a shareholder, put her on the board of directors—the works. And what do you know, four months later Eve gets pregnant with Layla,” Gwen finishes.

“It’s like he bribed her to have a baby,” I state in awe.

“That’s exactly what it’s like,” Gwen replies, letting out a deep, gratifying sigh.

I sit back in my chair and run my fingers through my hair.

“Jesus, no wonder Eve hates her. She probably never even wanted kids. Jack only kept her around to pop one out for him.”

Gwen looks at me questioningly. “What do you mean Eve hates Layla? Are you serious? How is that possible? Every single interview or news article I’ve seen of the two of them together, they are like two peas in a pod. They look like the best of friends.”

I’m momentarily ashamed at myself for thinking the same thing and for thinking Layla was a princess that enjoyed doing things to make her poor mother worry.

“Looks can be deceiving. They are anything BUT the best of friends. Jesus, Gwen. If you could have seen the way this woman speaks to her daughter. It’s disgusting,” I tell her sadly.

Gwen cocks her head and looks at me in sympathy.

“Kind of like how Dad used to speak to you?” she asks softly.

Even though it’s been ten years since I last spoke to him, I can still hear my father’s booming voice.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that, son? All you care about is yourself. God forbid you ever think about anyone else. You’re pathetic.”

I think back to the day of the sound check and the defeat I saw in Layla, the way she just accepted how her mother spoke to her and the things she forced her to do. It makes me angry, and for the first time since Gwen and Emma, it makes me feel protective. I want to keep her from danger and shame and make sure she knows that doesn’t have to put up with all the shit thrown at her. I know exactly what it feels like to be belittled and made to feel like you're worthless. But I got the hell away from that shit as soon as I turned eighteen and I never looked back. I don’t have to put up with my father’s hatred or general dissatisfaction with the life I’ve chosen for myself. Layla doesn’t have to either, but for some reason, she does. She sticks around and does exactly as Eve says, and by the look on her face the majority of the time, she believes every word that her mother tells her.

I've just met this woman and suddenly I wanted to make sure no one ever speaks to her that way ever again. I want to see her smile more. When she does, I feel a tightening in my gut and an inexplicable need to have her smile at me, to shine that brightness on her face in my direction. The cockiness she aimed at me on our run this morning and the tiny hint of a spark in her eye when she was singing that song her mother put her foot down about—that's just a small fraction of the real Layla Carlysle. I want more. For the first time in a long time, I feel need stirring inside of me, a desire to get to really know someone. Find out what makes them tick. Find out what makes them writhe underneath me, moaning and scratching their fingernails down my back.

“Hello, earth to Brady. Where the hell did you go just now?” Gwen bellows, breaking me from my thoughts. “Oh my God. You have a crush on her don’t you?”

I choke out a laugh at Gwen’s observation. If she only knew what I’d just been thinking, she’d probably smack me upside the head and call me a pervert.

“A crush? What are we, twelve?” I reply, avoiding the question.

“You do, don’t you?! You think she’s pretty and you want to kiss her! Oh my God, Layla Carlysle could be my sister-in-law!” Gwen squeals excitedly, clapping her hands together.

I rest my elbows on my desk and put my head in my hands, the makings of a headache coming on strong.

“You really need to get out more, you know that?” I complain, trying my hardest not to imagine what Layla’s lips would feel like against mine, what her tongue would feel like swirling through my mouth.

“I know. I spend way too much time with a six-year-old. It’s sad when even a proposition from that Austin guy sounds appealing,” Gwen says with an exaggerated sigh. “Speaking of getting out more, I recall Layla mentioning something about having me over for dinner. That would be a great way for me to get out of the house. It would also be a great way to watch you two together.” She wags her eyebrows.

“Oh hell no. There is no way I’m letting that happen if you’re going to act like a fool. And besides, all of this is pointless since she’s supposedly dating that Finn guy,” I tell her, trying to hide the irritation in my voice.

“Ooooooh, Finn Michaelson! I totally forgot about that. Oh my gosh, he is yummy. That man is sex on a stick. You’re totally right. What would she want with you when she’s got a fine specimen like that in her bed whenever she wants?” Gwen states nonchalantly.

“Oh give me a fucking break! There is nothing even remotely appealing about Finn. What the hell does she even see in him? He was in the Marines for Christ sakes. Everyone knows they’re a bunch of hot-headed Neanderthals. She looks at him like he’s some sort of God. Granted, he’s got some nice pecks and a good head of hair, but come on!” I ramble angrily.

Gwen stares at me with an open mouth and wide eyes, her arm coming up in front of her and her finger pointing straight at me.

“Sweet mother of God. I was kidding about you crushing on her, but I’m right. Oh my God, you are totally jealous of her bodyguard! Oh this is priceless!” Gwen starts laughing.

“This is a job, nothing else. Just like Mrs. Henderson last week was a job. I don’t mix business with pleasure. Ever,” I tell her firmly.

“Mrs. Henderson is ninety-two years old and thought her dog was stealing food out of her fridge. I would hope to God you would never mix that kind of business with pleasure. That’s just gross,” Gwen says with a grimace.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m doing the job I’m being paid to do. Distractions, even the hot, famous singer type, do not have room in my life. End of story,” I remind her, smacking my fingers on the keys of my computer angrily.

“Oh, I get it. So they must have changed the job description without letting me know. If I recall correctly, you were hired to look into a stalker, not the personal life of Miss Carlysle,” Gwen replies sarcastically.

She has me there. I'm definitely not being paid to find out why Eve is such a raging bitch to her daughter. In just a few short days, I'm starting to get too invested in the job with a woman I barely know. I'm letting my personal feelings and opinions get to me, just like in the Dominican. Just like the hostage negotiation.

“Mr. Franklin, just put the gun down and let your wife and daughter go. Whatever problems you’re having, there’s no need to put them in danger,” Eric, my partner, told the man standing just inside the doorway of the house he shared with his family.

Right now he had a semiautomatic weapon aimed on his wife of five years and their three-year-old daughter, who stood right next to him, with fear in their eyes and tears running down their cheeks.

I’d seen the woman and her daughter before. They frequented the coffee shop I stopped at every morning before my shift. On several occasions, I’d spoken to the woman while we waited in line for coffee and even bought a cookie for her little girl a few times. People always trusted a man in uniform, and it was easy to get them to open up to you, even if you never exchanged names.

Now, standing outside of their home, guns drawn, I knew their names from the intel my captain had given me. The wife’s name was Alyssa and the little girl was Lucy. I wished more than anything when I saw her getting coffee two days ago and she mentioned her husband had been behaving awfully towards her—constantly yelling and accusing her of cheating on him—that I would have told her not to go home, to take that precious little girl with the blonde head full of curls and wide blue eyes and go somewhere for a few days.

There were so many things I should be saying to the maniac holding a gun on them right now, things that would reassure him we weren’t out to get him so he would put the gun away and we could charge him, but my mind was blank.

All I could think about was the young, beautiful wife clutching her little girl tightly and how just that morning I had thought about her and wished she wasn’t married. She was sweet and polite, and her little girl was the spitting image of her and had charmed the pants off of me when she called me “Ociffer.” I knew I was too close to the situation and should tell Eric that I needed someone to come in and take my place, but I couldn’t make my mouth open or my feet move. I stared at the woman I’d been daydreaming about for weeks, and I knew that if we got her out of this situation, I would make sure no one ever hurt her or her daughter again.

“Mr. Franklin, how about you let Alyssa and Lucy go?” I finally managed to say softly, my eyes pleading with Alyssa to stay calm and not make any sudden movements. “Just let them walk away. Then we can sit down and talk about what’s bothering you.”

The guy, Joe, flashed his angry eyes in my direction and his lip curled up in a snarl as he shoved the nose of his gun roughly into Alyssa’s side. She cried out in pain, and I flinched at the sound of fear in her voice.

“How the fuck do you know my wife and daughter’s name? Is this the guy you’ve been fucking behind my back, Alyssa?” he shouted angrily at her.