"Where is she?" she hissed.
The stripper tried to shake his head, playing dumb.
Layla grabbed a fistful of his collar and yanked him up slightly. Her brown eyes burned with pure, unrelenting fury. "I said, where is she?"
The man cracked under the pressure, his hands trembling. "I–I didn't touch her! I swear! I just… I was told to bring her to the room. That's it!"
"By who?" she growled.
He squeezed his eyes shut, guilt all over his face. "Carly! Carly made me do it! She paid me… she said she just wanted some photos! Nothing serious! Please…"
Layla shoved him back down with a hard thud against the floor.
"You absolute piece of shit," she spat.
Every second wasted here could be another second Scarlett was vulnerable. Without another word, Layla sprang off him and sprinted toward the open door at the end of the hallway… praying she wasn't too late.
