Wilde at Heart (Completed)

Chapter 28

An hour later, Layla walked into the bedroom in the very back of the plane. Canon was already asleep, his arms thrown carelessly across the bed, a frown on his face. She had just changed clothes into a tank top and leggings and she slipped into bed beside him, unashamedly snuggling closer to his warm body. It was dark in the small cabin after Layla turned the lamp off, but Layla could feel the soft cotton material of his t-shirt beneath her fingers, feel his warm breath against her cheek and his heartbeat pounding out a steady rhythm. His arms wrapped around her and he sighed in his sleep, murmuring something intelligible before going silent again. Layla drifted off knowing full well, they'd have to be up when the plane landed.
.......
"Love," called a familiar husky voice.
Layla snuggled deeper into the soft, warm pillows on the bed and muttered, "Go away."
"We're in Toronto," said Canon, looking down fondly at his sleeping beauty, "Come on. It's not far to our hotel and then you can sleep all you want."
Layla forced her eyelids open and looked up to see Canon bending over her, lights from the airport terminal flashing through the windows. "Oh, we're here?" she yawned.
Canon nodded and Layla noticed he was dressed in his discarded, wrinkled suit from earlier. She sat up and Canon left the room to give her privacy while she hurriedly dressed and shoved her pajamas back in her suitcase. Glancing in the mirror, she saw a makeup free tired face staring back at her with wild curly hair framing the face. "I look like a zombie," she muttered before walking out of the room, "And I don't care."
Canon carried his and Layla's bag as they exited the plane and went straight through customs. "I am never going back to flying commercial again," commented Layla as they headed out to the car that waited for them outside the airport.
"It's easy to get used to," admitted Canon with a grin.
They drove through the city, the night lights casting shadows in the car that picked them up. Layla rested her head on Canon's shoulder, but didn't fall asleep again even though she was pretty sure he wouldn't mind. She was still his PA, even though she was his girlfriend and she had to look like a PA even though her eyes threatened to shut of their own accord.
Canon glanced down at Layla's sleepy face and smiled. He was tired himself and the two hour nap on the plane wasn't going to be enough. He could barely wait to crawl into the comfortable hotel bed and lose himself to sleep with Layla wrapped in his arms. He glanced down anxiously at her wondering if she would not like it he had only reserved one room. It was the penthouse, of course, so it was not just one room, but it was one bedroom. They would be sharing a bed.
As they exited the car and walked into the hotel, Canon waved at the receptionist and she handed him a room card and smiled. "Welcome to Toronto, Mr. Wilde," she said.
He nodded and led Layla towards the elevator. A man followed behind them carrying their luggage.
It was four o'clock when they stepped inside their room. The man who carried their luggage left after Canon tipped him generously. Layla could have cared less if she was sleeping on the floor at this point. Somehow she remembered staying up all night being a lot more fun. At least it was when she was binge watching every episode of the Vampire Diaries and eating all night long. Cano disappeared into the bathroom and Layla grabbed her suitcase and unzipped it grabbing her pajamas out and throwing them on before collapsing on the king size bed.
When Canon stepped out of the bathroom, he found Layla already sound asleep, curled around a pillow. He replaced the pillow with his body and she seemed to like that better, cuddling closer. With a deep sigh, Canon relinquished himself to sleep.
......
Time to get up again came way too soon. "No," moaned Layla as the alarm Canon had remembered to set blared through the room.
Canon groped for the stupid clock and tried to turn it off and when that didn't work; he threw it against the wall where it stopped clanging with a crash. Layla was halfway awake and she giggled at Canon's childishness. "You broke the clock," she whispered, her eyes still closed.
"Don't care," he answered gruffly, his voice thick and rough from sleep.
"It's ten o'clock," said Layla, finally cracking her eyelids open, "You have a meeting at twelve, Mr. Wilde."
"Mmm," he mumbled, burying his face in her neck and pulling her closer to his chest.
Layla let him, absorbing his warmth until it became her own. She reached up and palmed his face with her hand before pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Morning, love," she whispered.
"Morning," Canon grunted, his eyes still closed.
Layla had discovered he was not a morning person and would spend hours in bed if allowed. She wondered how he ever had the willpower to get up and go to work on his own. She had to drag him out and pry his eyelids open for him before sticking him in the bathroom with orders to take a shower.
After she heard the water turn on, Layla glanced through the menu that lay on the table in the living room of their suite and then called room service ordering the two of them a late breakfast.
Canon stepped out of the shower and smelled eggs and bacon and waffles. He grinned and pulled on a crisp white shirt laid out for him and a pair of dress pants. Layla had laid out his dress clothes after ironing them while he was in the shower. Canon appreciated the gesture but wanted to make sure she didn't think she had to do it. The last thing he wanted was for her to think he took advantage of her.
He walked into the sitting room and saw Layla with her hair up high in a messy bun, pink fuzzy socks on her feet and courtesy robe the hotel provided falling off her shoulders. She grinned up at him and Canon had never seen anything more beautiful than her with syrup around her mouth.
"Morning, beautiful," he murmured kissing her, syrup and all.
He licked his lips when he drew away and murmured, "Delicious."
"I ordered you waffles," informed Layla when she recovered from the kiss, "They're in the microwave."
Canon walked over to the small kitchenette and took a plate of heaping waffles out of the microwave and began eating, smiling gratefully at Layla. "Thanks," he said around a mouthful of food.
........
The three hour meeting at the Wilde Brothers Dealership in Canada went by in a blur for Layla. She was busy taking notes, handing out files, and doing whatever Canon needed her to do. After the meeting, they met up with Jason in a coffee-shop for lunch.
Layla was starving and ate her club sandwich hungrily while Jason filled Canon in. Leon Hernandez was nowhere to be found, but Jason said, "I located where he was staying. After we eat, I'll take you by there."
Canon nodded. After he had paid the bill, the trio got up and headed to the car. Jason got in and drove. About thirty minutes later, they arrived in front of a sleazy condominium. Canon got out and pulled Layla after him. The RCMP had already raided the place, thoroughly searching the place. Jason led them up the stairs, talking animatedly the whole way. Then, he stopped on the second floor and pulled a key from his pocket. Unlocking the door, he stepped inside and Layla and Canon followed. Layla clutched Canon's hand as they stepped into the dim interior of the room. Newspapers were strewn everywhere.
"The room has already been thoroughly searched," said Jason, pocketing his gun, "So don't worry about touching anything."
Canon nodded stepping over a box of Chinese takeout left on the floor. The place was nasty. "Well his habits haven't changed much," remarked Layla wryly, "He's still disgusting."
Jason squatted down on the floor and picked up a newspaper, then another, then another. "I wanted you two to see this," he said, "Every single one of these papers has something about you guys in it."
Canon looked and Jason was right. "What's going on?" asked Layla, slightly alarmed.
Jason looked thoughtful and said, "This guy is definitely interested in you two. You think he was maybe meeting up with Alison Porter here?"
"Why?" questioned Canon, "They don't know we're on to them."
"Leon knows I've been asking questions," reasoned Jason, looking around.
"Or revenge," remarked Layla quietly, "Leon swore to get revenge on me."
"There was more than one person staying here," remarked Jason, looking at the debris, "That much is obvious. I'd say at least three people. So if it wasn't Alison Porter, Leon has met up with some friends. The only thing the police were able to find was a number written on a scrap of paper crumpled up in the wastebasket. They don't know who it belongs to."
"Do you have the number?" asked Canon.
"Yeah," answered Jason, digging around in his pocket, "I copied it down for you."
He handed Canon a piece of paper and Canon shrugged. "I don't recognize it," he said.
The room was quiet a moment and Layla walked over and took the paper from Canon. "I don't believe this," she gasped.
"What?" asked Canon.
He looked down at the number scrawled on the paper.
"This is you father's PA, Sharon's number," said Layla slowly, double-checking the numbers.
Jason came over and snatched the paper from her. "Are you sure?" he asked.
Layla nodded. "Positive," she answered.
Canon looked puzzled. "Why would he call Sharon?" he wondered out loud. Layla said excitedly, "You don't get it."
Both men looked at her and Layla said, "That's Sharon Radcliffe's number. Your father's PA. I have to keep a record of contacts for Canon's work and this is her number."
Jason's eyes widened as he caught on to what she was saying. Canon still looked puzzled and Layla asked, "You still aren't connecting the dots?"
Layla looked exasperated that the Canon hadn't followed her line of reasoning. "What if Alison Porter is Sharon Radcliffe?" she asked, "Did you guys ever think of that? She's the right age and anyone can see she's had botox surgery, and her hair is dyed."
Jason nodded and he said, "Canon your girlfriend is a genius. We need to get back to Manhattan. I think she's right. If Layla's right, your mother's killer has been right under our nose this whole time. We'll put out a warrant for her arrest."
"I can't leave yet," said Canon frustrated, "I have another meeting tomorrow morning. You'll have to go back alone."
.......
Back at the hotel, Layla sat in the living room while Canon took a shower. It was late in the day. They had come back to the hotel after leaving the apartment and Layla had gone for a dip in the pool while Canon worked. He still wasn't finished with whatever he was working on. After her shower, she planned on going straight to bed, with or without Canon's grouchy self. His behavior did not bother her that much. She knew he was just frustrated from not being able to leave yet. This was a major breakthrough in the case. Soon, he would be back to his normal teddy-bear self. Layla kicked off her shoes and walked into the bedroom as Canon came out of the bathroom. Quickly she averted her eyes from his bare body except for a towel hung dangerously low around his tanned hips.
A blush painted Layla's cheeks as she thought of his deliciously naked skin behind her. She heard him rummaging in his suitcase, grumbling under his breath. "Your boxers are in the top drawer under the TV," she informed, "I unpacked earlier."
"Why'd you touch my stuff?" he asked angrily.
Layla raised her eyebrows, her back still turned and answered, "So they wouldn't get all wrinkled of course."
"Yeah," Canon snapped, clearly still upset, "We wouldn't want my boxers to get wrinkled now would we."
"Oh shut up," muttered Layla, determined not to let him get to her.
She heard clothes rustling and then turned to see him in his silk boxers and black t-shirt. The frown lines on his face made him look ten years older than he actually was. Layla went to her suitcase that she hadn't unpacked and dropped to her knees beside it. Rummaging through it, she grabbed a pair of shorts and a blue t-shirt along with underwear and then stepped inside the bathroom. One look over her shoulder showed Canon lying face down on the bed. With a sigh, she shut the door and stripped, turning on the hot water. She didn't know how long she stayed under the hot water, but when she finally crawled out, her fingers were shriveled. Quickly, she dressed and brushed her hair, leaving it down to dry on its own time.
Opening the door, she stopped in her tracks, her heart turning queerly at the painful sight in front of her. Canon had curled himself into a ball on the bed, his arms out as if trying to ward off some unseen enemy that was trying to hurt him. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he muttered under his breath twisting and squirming, trying to get away from something. "No!" he cried out, "Please stop! No! Please."
Layla ran to him, climbing on the bed beside him as she encircled him in her arms, trying to wake him up. He struggled against her, lashing out and pushing her away. Layla shook his shoulder. "Canon wake up," she said desperately, but the shaking seemed to terrify him more.
Layla tried again, wrapping her arms around him trying to stop him from trembling, his breath coming in pants around his begging cries. Kissing his shoulders, his neck and his face, she pleaded, "Canon wake up."
With a start, he woke, pushing her away from him a cry of pain escaping his lips, his eyes wide and terrified. He sat up and stared around disoriented, the panic showing on his face. Layla touched his shoulder and he flinched away from her his eyes closing, but Layla didn't go away. She commanded softly, "Canon, look at me."
His eyes met hers and a flash of recognition flew across his face and he slowly fell forward and wrapped his arms around her. He felt her soft arms steal around him and relaxed.  Her arms were safe; a haven for him. There were no nightmares in Layla's arms; no bad memories.
Layla gently rubbed his back soothingly, laying her head on his chest. He hadn't said a word and Layla could feel his heart drumming away like a deranged woodpecker in his chest. Whatever he had dreamed must have really frightened him. "It was just a nightmare," she murmured, like she was comforting a small child, "It's alright."
His arms locked tighter around her as he tugged her into his lap, his heart rate calming down from its rapid pace, his breathing slowly going back to normal. Layla wiped the sweat from his brow with her sleeve, looking into his eyes worriedly. "Canon what were you dreaming about?" she asked softly, her hands stroking his hair at the base of his neck.
Canon shook his head, not wanting to talk about it. But she persisted. "Talk to me, love," she whispered, pressing her lips to his briefly.
That little gesture just about tore Canon apart. He whispered, "I was back in the basement I was held in after being kidnapped. They were beating me. I've been having the nightmare since I was about ten. It goes away for a couple of months, but then comes back."
Pulling away from Layla, he hunched his back, the muscles rippling beneath his smooth skin, and pulled his shirt over his head, turning on the bed so Layla could observe his back. Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle a gasp. "Impressive, isn't it?" he asked bitterly.
Layla looked at the patchwork of scars that crossed and crisscrossed his back. A tattoo of a tree with spreading branches rose up from his waistline; there was a phoenix rising from ashes on his right shoulder. The two tattoos didn't hide the scars, but disguised them a little bit. Layla reached out and ran her hand over his skin, feeling his muscles tense under her touch. "Impressive isn't the word for it," she answered softly, tracing one scar from the base of his neck to the bottom of his left ribcage, "This is why I've never seen you without a shirt, isn't it? And why you were so upset when I asked you about it."
Canon nodded slowly.
"They're beautiful," she murmured breathlessly.
He turned to look at her, astonished and confused. Hastily, she tried to make him understand. "They show how strong you are," she whispered, looking him in the eye.
She ran her hand over his back again. "They show what you've survived. Those scars are emblems of what you went through. You should be proud of them."
Canon shook his head, his head sinking as he glared at the duvet. "I never thought of it that way," he admitted in a low voice.
Layla's heart broke for him. As she rolled up her sleeve, Canon's eyes fixed on a scar and he frowned. "A knife," whispered Layla.
She pointed to one on her exposed thigh. "That was a broken bottle."
She turned her back to him and pulled her shirt up until Canon could see her black bra strap. Scars zigzagged in a cruel pattern across her back. "Some of those are from a whip," she said softly, her voice pained, "Some from glass shards when I was slung through a second story window. I landed on the porch and broke my arm."
She showed him a scar on her arm near her elbow. Canon wondered how he'd never noticed the scars on her before. "Layla," he choked.
Layla crawled into his lap again wanting to feel his arms around her. The need to comfort and be comforted made them draw strength from each other.
"Do you have nightmares?" asked Canon a few minutes later.
"Yeah," said Layla softly, "I do every now and then. What's worse is the panic attacks."
"Panick attacks?" asked Canon.
Layla nodded and then sighed and said, "But you can't let the past mess with your future. You have to be strong. Pick up the pieces and carry on."
Canon sighed as well. "I know," he said, "And I will; as soon as we catch Leon and Alison."
Layla kissed him gently and then said, "I don't have nightmares as much as I used to. I still have them every now and then. But it's not very often."
"I haven't had those like that since I was a teenager," muttered Canon, "They started coming back recently."
"Opening the case and having to revisit bad memories probably is why," said Layla softly.
"Well," Canon seemed a little embarrassed to admit, "I don't have them when you sleep with me."
He was quiet and Layla pondered a moment while he wondered if he'd creeped her out. Finally she nodded and said, "Yeah, I've read that if you have an anchor, someone that can pull you back to the present, it helps."
She bit her lip and said, "I tried that at first. I tried to sleep with Jester thinking it might help, but all it did was weird the both of us out and I had nightmares anyway."
Canon nodded.
"So," Layla took a deep breath, "It looks like I'll be sleeping with you from now until whenever this case is solved at least."
"You'd do that?" asked Canon softly in wonder.
"Of course," whispered Layla, pressing kisses against his bare chest, "I know what they're like Canon. No one should have to walk through that alone. I'm not going to let you."
Canon crushed her closer to him. "I love you, Angel," he whispered.
Layla wrapped her arms around him, pressing a kiss right above his heart. "I love you too, Canon Wilde," she answered back.
And that set her course. With those words, she knew she wouldn't leave. She'd fight his demons with him; be there for him when he fell. And she knew he'd do the same for her. With three little words, she knew she'd never leave him until she was forced to. And just like that, the missing piece of her life fell into place.

.......

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