Page 38 of His Dark Purpose

His pulse raced as he concentrated on sending the question, watching as it vanished into the ether.

It would be okay. Hehadto believe that, but standing there, another, more abrupt concern had captured his focus—anothernoise from one of the corridors he’d just cleared—and that one appeared to be growing louder. Turning his head, Seth listened harder, able to make out the hum of what sounded like a contented man, who appeared to be getting closer.

For a split second, Seth was frozen with fear and unsure what to do. Switching off his flashlight, he dashed into the middle of the space and ducked down behind some sort of enormous table that seemed to have been placed there.

The inside of Kyle’s house had suddenly taken on a more ominous feel, the air seeming to disappear as the man’s hum grew louder. Trapped between his position as an invader in Brock Hall and concerns about what he’d thought he’d heard, it seemed to be getting harder to breathe. Hiding behind the cold base of the table, Seth waited.

In the lengthy seconds that passed, he crouched, considering his options. Should he rise, switch on a light, and greet the incoming male, who would surely turn out to be his mother’s beau, or was it best that he continued to hide and find a more opportune time to meet the man?

If he chose the former, he knew Kyle would be shocked and probably angry, but Seth could turn on the charm as well as the next guy. He was sure it wouldn’t take long to weave the old Kendal magic on Kyle and persuade him Seth was the loveable rogue with Amy’s best interests at heart. Choosing the latter, though, would buy him some time and allow him to learn more about Kyle and the enormous mansion he called home before he confronted him.

Weighing the choices in his head, Seth wanted to be bold and face the man head-on, but as time stretched out around him, his instinct was to lie low and play the longer game. By the time the man he assumed was Kyle had moved into the huge entrance hall and was only a matter of a few feet from where he hid, Seth had made up his mind.

He’d wait it out, see where the man went, and consider following. Kyle seemed completely oblivious to Seth’s presence so far, and until Seth could discern what he’d heard from one of the rooms upstairs, he preferred it that way.

Some of the anxiety cramping in his stomach seeped away with the decision, and Seth’s focus drilled into the silhouette of the man who seemed to be heading for the foot of the vast staircase.

It had to be Kyle.

Only a man who owned a house moved with such ease and precision around its interior in the near gloom, knowing where to avoid fixtures and precisely when the steps began. That thought cemented as the waft of savory food filled the air. Fried onion and cheese flavors danced past Seth’s nostrils and suggested Kyle had concocted some type of midnight feast.

Curious, but aside from the goading appetite the aroma provoked, there was nothing particularly untoward about eating late. It was only once Kyle had started his ascent, his feet finding the tenth step, that the grasping reassurances filling Seth’s head crashed to the ground like a thousand shards of glass.

A woman’s scream exploded into the darkness, permeating the space and eradicating any hope that he’d imagined the earlier cry. Finally away from prison, it was the type of strangled screech Seth had hoped he’d never hear again, but as it resonated through him, two thoughts crystallized.

The woman screaming was his mother—there was absolutely no doubt in his mind about that—and whatever the hell was happening to her up there, she needed his help.

Chapter Thirteen

Unraveled

Kyle

As it turned out, Kyle was pretty good at playing chef. Smiling to himself as he cleared the kitchen surfaces, he imagined Leonard’s face if his cook could see him at that moment. The two plates of cheese and onion omelet he’d created looked as good as the aroma drifting from the plates to his nose. Grabbing the dishes, he realized he was proud of himself.

His brow rose in acknowledgment. Pride wasn’t an emotion he readily experienced since he normally chose to act only in his own self-interest, but flicking off the lights and heading out into the darkened hallway, he accepted that was how he felt.

He’d cooked the meal for them because, for once, he was thinking of someone other than only himself, and there was an unexpected satisfaction in the choice. Sure, she didn’t know what he was doing. Hell, he hoped she was still asleep, but when she did wake, she’d rouse to a hot meal he’d prepared himself—a feat rarely achieved in all his adult years. Kyle had gone from restaurant goer to restaurant owner, who also had the privilege of his own chef at home. Cooking for himself wasn’t something he usually had to endure, but as it transpired, he’d actually enjoyed the task.

A gentle hum escaped his throat as he wandered along the corridor, contentedly carrying the plates of food as though they were works of fine art. Even if his little girl had stirred and was angry about waking up cuffed, he was sure the hot meal would placate her, and from there, the two of them could talk again. They could make love again. They could be happy.

So, this is domestic bliss, eh?

His lips tugged north, grateful fulfillment blooming in his chest as he passed into the main hallway. Who would have thought a man like him could find such solace in an act as simple as cooking? He’d always known Amy had altered him, but even he was struggling to recognize the version of William Kyle rounding the bottom of his staircase—the contented, more relaxed guy who was excited to present his lover with an omelet.

It should have been a pathetic offering, much less an achievement, yet he accepted he was anxious to see her no-doubt stunned reaction once he presented her with the food. It wasn’t enough to be pleased with himself; he wanted Amy to be proud of him, too. Her gratification with his achievement would be the icing on the cake and evidence that, despite their differences, he and his little girl were moving forward together.

That was all he wanted.

He was halfway up the vast, sprawling stairwell when his bubble of peace was shattered. Amy’s shrill screech pierced the calm ambiance and filled the air around him. His body responded to the noise, his heart racing as his feet stilled, and his fingers and thumbs gripped the edges of the warm plates with greater intensity.

Amy!

His feet started moving again, managing the steps seamlessly in the dark. He knew Brock Hall like the back of his hand and could move around the place in the dark with ease, but the idea that something was wrong with his little girl shook him to his core.

Rationally, he knew she had probably only woken up to find herself cuffed—her scream more a show of frustration than fear—but he didn’t know for sure. Maybe someone had managed to penetrate his fortress and was hurting her? Maybe she was in pain? Reaching the top of the staircase, his heart sped up at the distressing ideas.

Onlyhecould inflict hurt and humiliation on her. That anybody else would even try tore him up inside.

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