Bodyguard's Obsession

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

As soon as I returned back to the beach house, Noah and Serena had already returned and I was bombarded with questions. It did not take them long to realize that Layla was not here and their targeted questions about what happened when they left drifted to where Layla was.

I hung my head in shame, I did not want to explain to them that I had failed my job to protect her. I could feel Noah's burning gaze skewer my back with non-existent daggers. Forcefully, I moved my way to the room I had been staying in for the past few weeks so that I could get the untraceable phone which is to be used only in case of emergencies, I believe this is classed as an emergency.

Using speed dial, I waited. The three rings echoed through the speaker before a worried voice answered.

"Hello?" Mr Greenman murmured quietly down the phone.

"Mr Greenman, I have some very unsettling news to tell you. It's Mark Hammersmith." I responded, guilt and fear holding me captive.

"Well what is it, spit it out boy!"

"Layla has been kidnapped."

1 Week Later

It was hectic. Everywhere I went was just hectic city. All the guards for the Greenman's, the whole Greenman family even, were tracing every lead we got. Men racing around, barking orders and updates at each other.

Where could she be? Unlike last time, the Greenman's had kept this a secret from the media and their own friends so there would be no leak. We couldn't afford word getting out and whoever had took her went further into hiding.

I had roamed the coast for clues for a few days, looking for anything and everything I could find that could link to Layla in any way. Nothing. There were no cameras, there was nothing to catch this van. Everyone had the details of this van, but as we checked the license plate over and over it turned to be a fake so that was a dead end.

I couldn't lose hope. Somewhere, out there, Layla is praying that I am going to come rescue her. Last time she was the hero of her story, but this time I will be her saviour and I will make sure that bastard is gone from her life for good.

A part of me wished it wasn't Warren, but I knew. I knew deep in the pit of my stomach that the bastard had taken her right from under my nose. I dread to think what he could be doing to Layla right now. My stomach churned at the thought. I need to find him soon. I need to get her back.

Suddenly, an idea struck me. I knew for a fact that Warren James was a man of pattern, he never strayed from his pattern. I had to find out where he was keeping her the first time, there could be a possibility that she is there, in that same room. I dreaded to think that she wasn't.

My ears zoned in on light sobbing coming from the Greenman's living room. With a heavy sigh, I exited the kitchen where the others were sharing their latest finds and how their search was going.

I found Mrs Greenman hugging a picture frame tight to her chest as she cried. Her mascara stained tears ran down her cheeks, leaving black inky trails on her face. Quiet, heartbroken moans escaped her as she clutched the frame tighter and tighter. I did not need to ask who of which she was crying over. I could recognise that frame from a mile away.

The delicate, crisp white swirls folding around intricately painted roses with gems surrounded a single picture. That very frame was always by Layla's bed. Many a night when I had secretly checked on her it was always there, sometimes I would find her hugging it as she slept.

I have the exact same picture. In the exact same frame. The frames we had had specially made by a potter we had found one day while we were roaming a market – she wanted some 'old' books. The ancient woman at the time, was so amused by how desperate we were for matching, unique picture frames she decided to give us them for free. Layla had then hand painted them herself and added the accent jewels to the roses to make it 'extra unique'.