“It won’t happen again. I do hope you will forgive me for disturbing you.”
His expression became fierce then, and she very nearly took yet another step back but was unable to because she was frozen solidly in place. What on earth had she done to upset him?
“No,” he said sharply. “I didn’t say that because you were disturbing me or to make you stop. I shouldn’t have said anything at all. I enjoy listening to you play. It... soothes me, much as the sounds of the city soothe you. And like you, it makes me feel not so alone.”
His admission seemed painfully wrung from him, as though sharing such a private thought was something he never did. In that moment, she could see a kindred spirit reflected in his eyes. So much loneliness and pain. Sorrow. Regret even.
“Please, leave your window open while you play,” he asked softly. “If I didn’t want to hear, I would have never opened my own.”
That startled Hayley. That he’d sought out comfort in her music, that it meant something to him, just as it did to her. An outlet. Not just a creative outlet, but a way to express emotions she kept bottled up. Emotions she could never share with anyone else. Therewasno one else.
“Then I’ll keep my window open when I practice,” she promised, her voice as soft as his.
“Just make certain you always remember to close and lock it at all other times,” he said, in what she thought to be an almost protective-sounding tone.
She simply nodded, and then, because she could bear the awkwardness, and her powerful awareness of him, no longer, she pointed to the pie.
“You need to get that into the fridge,” she said in a husky voice. “And I need to get back to my apartment.”
“It was very nice to meet you, Hayley,” he said, gifting her once more with that small glimmer of a smile. “If there is ever anything you need, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”
She nodded, trying to find her tongue. “Likewise, Silas. And you’vealready done far more than was necessary for me. Thank you. Perhaps I’ll see you around sometime.”
There was something in his gaze that made her nape prickle, the tiny soft hairs bristling, causing an itching sensation.
Before she lost the courage to walk away, she turned and nearly fled back to the door of her apartment, keenly aware that his gaze followed her until she disappeared inside. She swung it closed forcibly and then lunged for it so it didn’t slam loudly, and then she turned her back to it, pressing her body against the wood, closing her eyes as she tried desperately to still the rapid beat of her heart.
10
Silas opened his refrigerator and took out the pie Hayley had made him and set it on the bar. He’d done as she asked and let it chill overnight and eaten the first piece the following morning for breakfast. Those who knew him would laugh if they knew he’d eaten dessert for breakfast when he rarely ate anything that wasn’t deemed healthy. He took his body and its care very seriously. But he hadn’t been able to resist the temptation of tasting the gift bestowed on him.
It had been delicious. Decadent even. Better even than the things Evangeline made for him. He’d waited all day until he returned, deciding to have another piece in his bedroom while he listened to the sweet strains of Hayley’s violin.
He cut a small piece, placed it on a saucer and then collected a fork and went into his bedroom, knowing that Hayley would begin her practice any moment, and he didn’t want to miss a single minute. Her schedule, like his, was extremely regimented. He knew when she left the apartment and when she returned. Knew her work schedule. He frowned because she worked far too many hours and that, coupled with her classes and her practice time, left her little time to sleep, if any. He had seen the fatigue in her eyes, but he’d seen something else as well thatdiscomfited him. Grief. Something or someone had caused her pain. If he knew the source, he would destroy it. She deserved to be happy and carefree. She was young and yet she seemed to bear the weight of the world on her shoulders.
He ambled into his bedroom and propped himself against the headboard of his bed, taking the first bite of the delicious caramel pie. He checked his watch, frowning because it was ten minutes past the time she normally began her practice. Then he shook his head. She could have gotten off work a few minutes late, or she might be doing things around her apartment. It was ridiculous, this obsession with her and the fact that he monitored her every movement to the minute.
He forced his thoughts from the distraction she caused and finished the slice of pie, setting aside the saucer on the nightstand. Still, impatience simmered and tension grated on him. His nightly ritual had become a necessity. A need he couldn’t explain.
He sat there for a long time, lost in his thoughts, going over the events of the day, the concerns he had about the Vanuccis and his worry that they would strike at Drake or Evangeline. Drake had tripled her security, even going as far as to limit her outings because he lived in terror of something happening to his wife and child. Every man under Drake had the same fear, and they were extra diligent in their protection.
When he glanced at his watch, he swore, not having realized so much time had passed. It was well beyond the time when Hayley began her practice. Dread gripped his insides but he shoved it away. He was being paranoid.
But no, Hayley was predictable. She never deviated from her schedule. Never once had she missed a session with her violin. Swearing, he got up and went into the living room, where the security cams were installed. He rewound them to one thirty and skimmed through the footage, looking for a sign that Hayley had returned home.
Nothing.
He was overreacting. She could have had to work late. She could be at a friend’s house. Perhaps she even had a lover and was staying over. That brought a scowl to his face, but he quickly discounted all of his suppositions.
Like Silas, Hayley appeared to be a loner. She’d even remarked that she opened her window because the sounds of the city made her feel not so alone. She never had company over, didn’t seem to have friends, and he knew enough about her schedule to know that she didn’t have time for any kind of social life. When she wasn’t in class she worked two jobs to late hours and then she came home and practiced the violin, sometimes not even sleeping and hurriedly leaving for class without ever having gone to bed.
His gut told him something was wrong, and his gut never steered him wrong. If she was this late, then something had happened. Fear, an alien emotion, gripped and twisted his insides. Where was she?
He knew the route she took from her late-night job. He knew every route she took, having shadowed her more than once.
Before he was even cognizant of doing so, he was on his feet, holstering his gun and sheathing his knives as he hurried toward his door. He’d backtrack her route and hope to hell he found her. Alive.
He took the express elevator that was for his own personal use and slipped into the night, taking the route he knew she never deviated from.
