Page 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

ROMAN

“ F or Fuck’s sake,” I curse as I close the last unlocked drawer in Kincaid’s office. I’ve searched every possible area of this room, careful not to disturb things too much, and found nothing. We already have evidence of Kincaid’s true identity and a plan set to unravel his comfy little life, but I want tangible evidence, something solid before I blow up Sydney’s life in the process. Despite who Kincaid is, I don’t think Sydney has a clue about her precious pa .

Leaving the office, I head back to the living room. I scan the photos of Sydney on the mantel piece and hung on the walls at various ages. There’s something missing though and it takes me a couple of minutes to figure it out. There isn’t one picture of Sydney with her mother. In all our digging into Kincaid, we’ve never come across any mention of Sydney’s mother. We aren’t even aware of any of Warren/Amos’ girlfriends at the time Sydney would have been conceived.

I make a note to ask her about her mother, and maybe she’ll giveaway something she doesn’t realise is important. I walk through the house again then go in search of Sydney and Blake to find out what’s taking so long.

The first room I come to was obviously Sydney’s before she moved out. Minus her personal belongings it looks how I imagine it did when she was here. Hushed voices reach me from the room next door, and I peer through the open door.

Blake is on his knees in front of Sydney, who is sitting on the end of her father’s bed. His hands are clasping hers in her lap, and they are staring at one another. The air shifts as Blake lifts a hand and brushes a tear from her cheek before cupping her face. I know what’s coming, but we can’t do this here. I don’t give a shit where we fuck Sydney when it happens, which it will, but I know she won’t be able to wrestle with committing a sin and in her father’s bed too.

I step into the room as Blake is ready to lean in and claim her lips.

“We ready to get out of here?” I ask, roughly, and they jump at the sound of my voice. I’d like to say my frustrated tone is all due to finding nothing useful here, but I know it’s not. Sydney Kincaid is gradually becoming an issue, an unexpected problem. Maybe once we fuck her, the desire for her will subside and we can finish what we came here for without distraction, then we can get back to our lives.

Blake rises to his feet, shooting me a scowl as he takes the pyjamas Sydney was cradling and stuffs them into the small holdall on the bed. Sydney avoids my gaze as she pushes up from the bed, smoothing out the creases in the sheets from where she sat.

I go to zip up the bag, but Sydney says, “Wait. I need some things from the bathroom.” She doesn’t wait for me to respond and enters the small en suite bathroom. There’s a crash and a muttered “sugar” before she returns carrying a small toiletry bag. She pulls the holdall on the bed toward her and stuffs the smaller bag inside, then continues to zip it closed. Sydney slips her hands under the handles, preparing to pick it up, but before she can raise it an inch from the bed, I grab it and take it from her.

“Hey! I can manage.”

“Never said you couldn’t,” I tell her as I leave the room and descend the stairs.

She jogs after me with Blake a step behind. I head for the front door, leaving her and Blake to lock up. I throw the bag in the boot and get in the car, switching the engine on and wait.

There is something strange about Kincaid’s house, about the pictures of Sydney specifically. The guy is a sick fuck, yet his house is…normal, what you’d expect for a single man with a daughter. And I get that people can put on a show for others to ensure their true identity remains hidden, but this is different.

Five minutes later and still trying to figure out what is bothering me so much, Blake and Sydney exit the house. Neither of them say a word as Blake climbs in beside me and Sydney gets in the back.

I can feel Blake’s gaze as I drive. When we stop at a set of traffic lights, I glance in the rearview mirror and find Sydney’s attention is intently focused on something outside her window, so I look over to Blake. He raises a brow.

“Nothing,” I say quietly, knowing he’s silently asking what’s wrong. I’m frustrated, pissed off and wanting answers. I’m beginning to think we are missing something.

I don’t like being wrong.

Pulling up to the hospital, Sydney opens her door and Blake gets out too.

“Thank you,” she says, not looking at me.

I shake my head. “Blake will go with you to drop off your father’s things, then we will take you home,” I tell her.

“No need. I was planning to stay here for a while with Pa,” she says, avoiding looking at me, and climbs out before I can say more.

“For fuck’s sake,” I grumble, switching the engine off and get out. Blake slams the boot closed and joins Sydney. “Visiting hours are over, Sydney, and I don’t want you travelling home alone.”

Her eyes widen at my sharp tone, or maybe it’s the perceived authority. Either way, she’s not happy about it. Seeing she’s ready to argue, I step towards her, invading her space. Trapped between me in front and Blake behind her, she has nowhere to go.

“It’s not up for discussion. Drop your father’s things off, make sure he’s okay, then we will take you home.” Her eyes narrow, and I can see the fire she tries so hard to keep at bay. I like what I see, and I plan on pushing her over the edge—in more ways than one.

A second later, her shoulders slump and she sighs. “Fine.” She sidesteps from between the two of us and mutters a “thank you” as she heads for the entrance. Blake winks at me, and I know he saw what I did.

Sydney Kincaid is a woman restrained by her upbringing, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. A woman ready to break the shackles and offer a big fuck you to the world.

As I watch them enter the hospital, my mind fills with all the ways I plan to set her free.

I don’t bother getting back in the car, despite the cold, and call Oz.

“Oz, I need you to go back over everything we know about Warren before he became Kincaid,” I tell him when he answers.

“What am I looking for?”

“Any woman Warren was friends with, knew, hooked up with. Anything. Do you have a copy of Sydney’s birth certificate?”

He grumbles down the line. “I’ll check again, but I already went through everyone he knew back then with a fine-toothed comb.”

“Not fine enough. We’re missing something when it comes to Sydney and who her mother is.”

“Okay, I’ll check again. And that’s a negative on Sydney’s birth certificate. We were never able to find one, or any details about her.”

I rub a hand over my lower face. “How the fuck is it possible for someone to have no birth certificate?” It’s a stupid question. One I already know the answer to.

“My guess is her real name isn’t Sydney Kincaid,” Oz says, mirroring my own thoughts.

“Then find out who the fuck she really is.” I end the call as my eyes catch on Blake and Sydney exiting the hospital.

The earlier fire I saw in Sydney has been damped down, and she looks exhausted. Blake is walking a few steps behind her and catches my eye as Sydney climbs into the back seat without a word.

As she closes the car door, Blake says, “He’s still hanging in there.”

I’m about to get in the car when my phone pings with a message. It’s an unknown number, but something tells me I need to read it.

I scan over the message, and my eyes widen when I read who it’s from.

“What is it?” Blake asks, half in half out of the passenger side.

“I need to take a piss. I’ll be back in ten.” Blake doesn’t question me, but I can see his confusion. I don’t turnaround as I enter the hospital, but I feel Sydney’s eyes burning a path along my back the whole time.

I quickly find the private room and slip inside unseen.