Page 48 of Reckless Desire

ChapterSixteen

Hunter

When I got the call, I bolted. I abandoned Delaney, leaving our meeting without saying goodbye. I scared the receptionist and two clients at the front desk as I toppled over a leaflet stand, and cursed as I headed toward the exit.

My mind raced in a million directions, even as it remained frozen in one place. A place decorated with darkness, dread and fear. I wanted to move from there, but the call from Sydney imprisoned me in anxiety. So I ran.

Forgoing the elevator, I rushed down the stairs. Outside, I pushed through flowing pedestrian traffic that felt like a brick wall. I sprinted through Central Park, narrowly avoiding several collisions with idiot tourists.

I didn’t stop or slow down, but the twenty minutes it took me to get to the museum felt like a lifetime of torture.

“What happened?” My voice snaps like whip.

Silence descends on the foyer, and even the eight- and nine-year-olds in the corner shut up so promptly that I can hear my heart thundering. Everyone else probably does as well.

I yank my gaze away from the children because I don’t want to scare them. At the same time, I don’t care.

My eyes land on Sydney, standing in a circle with two other adults and a uniformed guard. The concern on her face punches me in the gut.

She should be fucking concerned.

Yet a small part of me chimes in through the screams of fear and tells me I want to comfort her. Fuck that.

She steps forward. Pain and worry in her eyes mirror the ocean of anguish that’s swallowing me. “Why is nobody doing anything?” I push through my teeth.

“We’ve looked everywhere in the building. We counted all the children before we entered the museum. A security team continues searching.” Her voice shakes, her eyes plead. I don’t want her to feel like this. What? Goddammit. I have other priorities now.

“Are you sure she didn’t slip out?” I pray I am wrong.

Sydney’s breath hitches. “Would she do that? Why? Where would she go?” She keeps shaking her head, as if she wants to push the idea out before it blooms into a clear probability.

I rake my hands through my hair and turn. I can’t look at her. She is responsible for Caro and now my daughter is gone. Lost. In the middle of this humongous city. My stomach churns and I bolt for the door.

The cool, early October air fills my nostrils, but doesn’t reach my lungs. I pace the landing, jog down the few stairs and back up. Physical activity has always provided me with clarity. As I trot up for what might be the tenth time, I more sense than see a figure at the entrance.

I don’t have to look to know who it is. I don’t want to look because part of me holds Sydney responsible for Caro’s disappearance.

I bounce back down.Think. Think. Where would she be?

“Hunter.” It’s barely a whisper that leaves her mouth, but it dusts my skin like an electric current. I stop and find her eyes. I want Sydney to disappear instead of Caro, and at the same time I want her to stand by me in this difficult, fucked up moment.

“If something happens to her…” I grit out the words, unable to finish. It’s a tangled, panicked threat. I aim a vicious frown at Sydney, but she withstands it with dignity.

While her face shows all sorts of emotions—none of them positive—on the outside she remains calm. I don’t know if I’m grateful or resentful of that.

“The security team is positive she is not inside. They’re reviewing CCTV footage to confirm she left the building. We’ve called the police. Two colleagues are coming from the school to take the kids away, but I’ll stay here and help look for her. Can you think of any place she’d go to?”

I shake my head and pinch the base of my nose, trying to calm my racing—and fucking unhelpful—thoughts.

Think, asshole. She needs you at the top of your game, not a pile of useless trash.

“She entered the building with us, so she must have sneaked out. Where would she go? Home? Your work? What about the ice cream place you go to? Is there anything around here that might intrigue her?”

I inhale a long, calming breath. It doesn’t calm me, but the oxygen in my brain does some good and the fog lifts slightly. I rushed here on autopilot and I finally take my surroundings in.

We’re standing in front of the American Museum of Natural History. Would she have gone to Central Park to find the ice cream truck? She has no money. Would she head south to get to 74th St. and the gym?

Why? She seemed to like the new school and Sydney as her teacher. She hasn’t complained about the other children. Have they been giving her a hard time?

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