Chapter Fourteen
Dissolution
Seth
Standing in the dark hallway, Seth traced a finger along the blade in his hand.
Strange how the evening’s playing out. Turning the knife in his right fingers, he pushed his device into his back pocket. When I’d set out for Brock Hall, this was not how I’d imagined things going.
But then, he hadn’t envisioned getting no answer, hadn’t foreseen the need to break in, and definitely hadn’t expected to hear his own mother screaming from one of the upstairs rooms.
He took a step toward the room Kyle had disappeared into, knowing instinctively that was where she was. Technically, he couldn’t know for sure it was her he’d heard from the entranceway, yet somehow, he did know.
Who else can it be?
Unease twisted in his gut as he pondered the question. Unless Kyle had a seriously dark side and kept various women captive across his huge fucking mansion, then it had to be her, didn’t it?
Glancing up and down the long corridor, the thought occurred that he could very well have anyone holed up in there. Not only was the residence enormous, but it was located in the middle of the countryside. There probably wasn’t another soul for miles who’d hear the screams.
“Be reasonable.” He mouthed the words, consoling himself.
Yes, he’d heard a scream, but that didn’t make the guy a tangible threat. Kyle had been carrying food with him when he’d passed Seth, and whatever it was had smelled good. No captor he’d ever brushed shoulders with in prison treated their victims that way.
So, if he’s not a danger, why do I have the knife?
Seth’s focus fell to the blade in his hand. He’d waited until Kyle had closed the door behind him and used his flashlight to locate the cutlery that had been dropped. What he hadn’t expected, though, was for the knife to be so lethal-looking. The knives people used to eat with normally were inoffensive-looking implements, whereas a brief examination under his flashlight had revealed a far more sinister blade.
That worried him, although there was no logical reason for the knife to inspire fear. Kyle had been carrying food and obviously intended to use the cutlery to eat, but something about his choice, coupled with the scream Seth had heard, knotted anxiety about what was actually going on in the room at the end of the hall.
That was why he still held onto the knife as he moved toward the target. It was why the trepidation simmering in his body heightened his every sense as he approached.
Something was going on in there, and even though his mother’s sex life should have been the last thing he wanted to witness, he couldn’t shake the odd sense that he had to know more, had to know if she was all right.
Why would she scream? He straightened at the query. Why scream if everything is okay?
Seth had heard cries of play and pain over the years and knew the difference. The yell he’d heard from downstairs hadn’t been derived from laughter or pleasure. At best, it was born of frustration.
He didn’t claim to know what had been going on between her and Kyle while he’d languished behind bars, but he was pretty damn sure nothing positive started with the kind of cry that had pierced the silence of Brock Hall.
Something was wrong.
Even though he hadn’t heard raised voices from behind the door, and even though there had been no more cries, he knew instinctively, his mum needed him. The conclusion pinballed as he felt his way around the no-doubt expensive dresser and pushed his back against the wall. He wasn’t sure how to play the next few minutes—whether to wait there in the dark or move closer to ascertain what was happening, but—
The door to the room opened suddenly, flooding a small portion of the hall in pale, revealing light. Flattening himself against the wall, Seth held his breath, his heart beating so hard, he was surprised Kyle couldn’t hear it from the other end of the hallway.
“I won’t be a minute.” Kyle’s voice traveled through the darkness, temporarily paralyzing Seth.
If Kyle switched on all the lights, Seth would have no choice but to confront him right then and there. Disquiet amplified at the potential outcome, his gaze fixed on Kyle’s silhouette. Seth watched the older guy stride into the passage, but rather than proceeding as Seth had feared, Kyle stumbled toward the shadows beyond the light and hesitated.
Time stretched out in odd pockets as the homeowner paused and reached for the opposite wall. From what Seth could see in the shadows, it looked as though Kyle was holding onto the wall for support.
What the fuck is he doing?
Of all the outcomes he’d been anticipating when he entered Brock Hall, that was not one he’d foreseen. Kyle must have left the room for a reason, and Seth presumed it hadn’t been to catch his breath in the gloom.
“Shit!” Kyle spat the word, the ferocity of his voice sending a jolt through Seth that rushed adrenaline around his system.
Seth knew nothing about the guy, save for the little Jonah had told him, but the one thing he had expected was for Kyle to exhibit mental resilience. Albeit Kyle didn’t realize he was being watched, but the panting man Seth could see bent over on the opposite end of the corridor was a far cry from the type of person he’d expected of the wealthy landowner.
Tension tightened in his muscles as he pondered what could have caused Kyle to have a minor meltdown in the apparent privacy of his upstairs landing.
“Get a fucking grip.” Kyle gulped, an audible noise that met Seth’s ears despite the distance between them. “That can never happen.”
Seth’s eyes widened at Kyle’s pathetic display. If that was the version of the man who’d provoked the cry from his mother, then perhaps he wouldn’t need the blade after all. Maybe he was really no threat. Tracing his thumb along the handle, he kept the knife close, though, more certain than ever that what Kyle truly represented was an unknown quantity, and in Seth’s experience, unpredictability was nearly always dangerous.
Kyle turned in the shadows, pulling in air as he lurched further along the corridor and away from the door’s illumination. Apprehension peaked in Seth’s chest as Kyle neared, his mind racing with a dozen different ways the scenario could play out.
Perhaps Kyle would stumble straight past him, allowing Seth to go to his mother and see how she was for himself. That would likely be the best option. If anyone would be able to talk an angry Kyle from calling the authorities, it would be his mum, and Seth would be able to see her first, unhindered from her lover’s influence.
Seth didn’t know Kyle, though. He couldn’t anticipate how he’d react. Maybe the moron was about to switch on the light and find him there in his house, after all? Seth’s heart raced faster at the possibility. What would happen then? Would Kyle call the police straight away or do something even more stupid and attempt to take Seth on? Seth’s lips curled. He didn’t relish violence, but he’d seen and handled more than his fair share in prison, and the man nearing had to be at least twice his age. If Kyle wanted conflict, Seth liked his chances of coming out as the victor.
There was no more than six feet between the two men when his mum’s voice sliced through Seth’s growing sense of dread and decided his fate.
“It’s fine!” Her tone was caught somewhere between imploring and exasperated. It was a timbre he’d never heard from her before, and in the split second where Kyle spun to face her voice, Seth didn’t know how to feel about the sound. Was she upset or only playing with Kyle? “I’ve managed without any cutlery.”
“What?” Kyle seemed irritated at her intervention. “It’s an omelet, little girl. How the hell can you eat it with your hands?”
A scowl creased Seth’s brow. Had he just called his mother a little girl ? What the fuck was that about? His mum was almost fifty!
“ Hand ,” she corrected from the room at the end of the passageway. “I only have one available, remember, sir ?”
The unease in his stomach lurched at her reply. She’d called him sir, but the emphasis she’d thrown on the final word ratcheted his concern even further. He’d never heard his mum call anyone sir in his life. Hell, she’d barely made the effort to refer to the judges in his court cases in the appropriate ways. He couldn’t imagine any situation where she’d have willingly deferred to her ex-employer that way. Jonah was right—there was something strange about the dynamic she shared with Kyle.
“Jesus, Amy.” Kyle muttered the words as he stalked back toward the doorway. “You’re going to make a mess all over the bed.”
His mum’s laughter reverberated to Seth’s ears as Kyle thrust the door open wider and strode inside. “Don’t blame me, sir. You brought an omelet up here!”
“I told you to wait!” He sounded satisfyingly infuriated. “I have a knife and fork for you. I just dropped them.”
Seth’s attention fell to the blade still lodged in his right hand. So, that had been what Kyle had come looking for? Why the hell hadn’t he just switched the light on and looked for the cutlery? Not that Seth had sought the immediate confrontation, but the impromptu breakdown Kyle had seemed to experience in the shadows hadn’t even vaguely involved looking for the items he’d dropped. His entire performance had been totally bewildering.
“I managed.” His mum’s voice had altered again, her playful tone nothing like the woman he remembered.
“Oh, I see that.” Kyle chuckled. “You’ve made another mess you expect me to clear up.”
“Something like that,” she replied.
Seth shivered at his mother’s seductive purr. It was a noise he never wanted to hear, but the response alluded to what might have been going on before Kyle had left for his spontaneous chat with himself. It still didn’t make sense, though. Why would any man walk away from a lover to melt down in the hall unless something wasn’t right?
“And how was the omelet?” Kyle probed.
“A little cold, sir, but pretty good.”
Seth closed his eyes, willing his feet to take him away from what might transpire to be a sexual encounter involving his mum, yet needing to know for certain that she was okay. He’d heard her cry out—that had definitely happened—and there had to be a reason for her call.
“Maybe if you let me out of the bedroom next time,” his mum went on. “I’ll enjoy it even more.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Kyle’s tone was knowing as he shrugged out of his robe. “I think you look good in the bedroom.”
Seth’s stomach turned over at the intimacy. He shouldn’t be hiding out there while the two of them got it on, but somehow, he needed to see Amy for himself—he needed to know she was all right before he left them to it.
“You’re only saying that because I’m cuffed to your bed, sir.” There was an edge to her voice then, a sense of injustice as well as friskiness.
As Seth processed her words, his pulse accelerated again.
Cuffed to his bed? Seth glared at the open doorway.
Why the hell was his mother cuffed to Kyle’s bed?
Maybe she wants it .
His free hand balled into a fist at the disgusting premise.
Maybe she did want it, but that still didn’t explain the ear-splitting scream she’d let out before her Casanova’s return. It wasn’t a good enough justification to reassure Seth.
Glancing back along the dark passage, he contemplated his choices. He could slither back into the shadows and rest somewhere until it was light. Then, he could let himself back out of the spa door and appear on Kyle’s doorstep in the morning. He could put the entire, sordid experience behind him and pretend he hadn’t heard any mention of cuffs or his mother calling Kyle sir.
“You’re cuffed because I can’t trust you,” Kyle’s answer shattered any prospect of following the plan unfolding in his mind. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy you.”
What the hell did that mean? Was the bastard trying to infer he’d take what he wanted whether his mum assented or not?
Anger flared in Seth’s chest as he warred with the possibilities. He couldn’t just stand there and allow his mother to be attacked, yet the idea of crashing in on what could still turn out to be a sexual rendezvous sickened him.
“You could enjoy me if you let me go,” she beseeched him.
“I could…” Kyle concurred. “But it’s a lot more fun this way.”
Fury knotted in Seth’s chest, and he found himself walking down the corridor, even though he hadn’t instructed his feet to move, his breaths shallow as he peered quickly around the doorframe.
If you touch my mum, I’ll fucking kill you!
Gripping the door, he brandished the knife in his other hand as he scanned the vast room. He didn’t know precisely what he expected to see as he looked, but he was braced for any outcome. Either he was going to see his mother embroiled in some complicated sexual position he’d never be able to delete from his memory, or he was on the precipice of saving her from assault.
His angst intensified as his eyes darted to the large bed—what he saw there threatening to cut off his air supply—but he was too far down the rabbit hole to walk away without confirming the truth. His mother had been screaming about something—maybe it was the prospect of Kyle forcing himself on her.
“Sir, don’t!”
Trapped beneath Kyle’s imposing stature, she was barely visible on the bed. Only her long limbs were apparent on either side of his body, her right arm jutting out with the metal cuff Kyle had presumably secured her to the bedstead with. Glancing over the bed, he thought he caught sight of her dark hair before Kyle lowered to kiss her.
“Just let me go.”
“I don’t think so, little girl.” Kyle’s chuckle was deeper as he nuzzled her. “You stay cuffed until I’m goddamn ready to release you.”
For one long and horrifying moment, Seth wasn’t sure if the prick was actually about to take her by force or whether what was playing out was consensual. He hovered there, suspended in the doorway, appalled and unsure how to proceed. It wasn’t until his mother let out a low and guttural groan that the answer revealed itself, the moan followed quickly by Kyle’s rhythmic grunts when his hips lunged forward.
God, no.
Squeezing his eyes closed, Seth spun away from the open doorway and staggered along the corridor. He hoped he was being quiet enough not to inspire suspicion from the couple romping in the bedroom, but in his desperation to flee, he realized he didn’t care.
He’d just witnessed the one thing no son ever wanted to see—his mother cavorting in a romantic entanglement—and he’d need to scrub the insides of his mind to ever be able to unsee those terrible visions.