Out of the Dark: A Thrilling Romantic Suspense Novel (The Dark Series Book 2)

by Danah Logan

"Stop it! Let me talk to him and see what’s going on before you jump to conclusions."

  I pull the device back and type: What happened?

  The little bubble with the three dots appears, and it seems like an eternity until the reply pops up. I put the phone on the tabletop and rub my palms against the cotton of my gray sweats.

  D knows I'm lying my ass off. She made that uber-clear before she stormed out. Wes is pissed that I have no fucking answers for them. He's been lying to his parents and Mom and Dad for me. 4 US. And to top that, the 2 of them are now BFFs or some shit. And I'm stuck in this damn room by myself while you hang out with brother dearest.

  Shit.

  I glance up at Nate, who, in return, raises his eyebrows.

  What do I say to that? I’m stunned by Rhys’s angry reply. I don’t remember him ever talking to me like this. I push the phone back over to Nate so he can read it himself.

  I wait for my brother to make more snide comments, but instead, he looks back at me, forehead wrinkled and mouth in a thin line. "Do you think he can stick to the plan?"

  Do I?

  "I don’t know," I admit with a sigh.

  What’s the alternative? Kidnap him as well?

  "That's a problem, Lilly." Nate is calm; he doesn't have the I-told-you-so voice I expected.

  Hands clasped next to the phone, I stare at the untouched slice of pizza on my plate.

  We sit in silence when my screen lights up again: Can we talk?

  With the device in hand, I push back from the table and tap the video icon while walking out of the kitchen. Rhys's face fills the screen immediately. He's sitting with his back to a tiled wall, water running in the background, and I assume he's in the guest bathroom. His mouth moves, but I don’t understand a word over the background noise. I point to my ear and shake my head. He nods in understanding and disappears, the phone facing the ceiling. A moment later, he's back with headphones in his ears.

  When he doesn’t speak, I attempt a reassuring smile, which probably makes me look more constipated than anything, and say, "I’m so sorry." I blink several times as my eyes start watering.

  "I’m sorry, too." Rhys looks past the screen with his lips pressed together.

  I stop in the large sitting room and plop down on one of the couches close to the fireplace and pull my legs underneath me.

  I stare off into the small fire when Rhys’s voice brings me out of my guilty thoughts.

  "How big is this place you’re at?"

  I glance at the small picture of myself and see why he would ask that. He can see the rest of the room and part of the foyer in the background.

  "Big," is all I can come up with. I want to tell him about the estate and how beautiful it is, the vineyard and the underground gym—he'd love the gym. However, this is not the time.

  Rhys nods.

  "Talk to me."

  He sighs. "It's just all crashing down on me. Wes is so fucking angry. I’ve never seen him this way. And when Den called me out on my lies…" He trails off, and my chest constricts. I want to help him, but I don't know how.

  "I’m so sorry." I sound like a broken record.

  "I gotta go." Before I can say anything else, Rhys disconnects.

  What the—

  My heart starts racing a million miles a minute as I try to make sense of what just happened. Why did he hang up like that? Was someone in his room? Is he that mad at me that he can't even bear talking to me? Am I losing him?

  I'm paralyzed.

  I don't know how long I sit there when my phone starts ringing. I pick up before even looking at the caller ID and am startled when George's face appears on the screen.

  "Miss Lilly," he greets me.

  "Is he safe?" The call has to do with Rhys, no question.

  "He is."

  The unspoken is hanging between us and I whisper, "What’s going on?"

  "I just got off the phone with him." Rhys called George. My eyes widen, and he continues, "I believe I was able to get through to him. He’s going to stick to the script, but I’m not sure what this will do to his friendship with Miss Keller and Weston."

  Tears are running down my face. What have I done? "This is all my fault."

  "It is not, Miss Lilly. If someone is at fault, it is Nate. But even he can’t be blamed for all of it."

  I nod. Could Nate have handled everything differently when he first found out about me? Probably. But I don’t blame him anymore either.

  "Give him time. It’s been only twenty-four hours. He has a lot on his shoulders for the next seven days. But I am confident that he will be able to handle it. I will remain close by until Friday morning."

  "Why Friday?" But before George can answer, it clicks. "The party. You're coming here while Nate is gone?"

  "Yes."

  "It's not that I don't trust you. But I'll feel better if you are not all alone on the property," Nate's voice interrupts from the doorway to the kitchen hallway. He's leaning against the doorframe, and I assume he's been eavesdropping for a while.

  Suddenly, I’m completely drained. I look back at the screen. "Thank you for being there for Rhys, George."

  "It is my pleasure, Miss Lilly."

  Is that a smile on his face?

  We disconnect, and I slowly stand up.

  Nate walks toward me, stopping a couple of feet away. He seems unsure of what to do.

  I step forward and wrap my arms around his midsection. He's not Rhys, but the next best thing. He's family. Nate returns the embrace, seemingly knowing what I need. No words are spoken.

  Eventually, I step back, my brother's arms fall to his sides, and I walk away.

  I spend the next several hours in the library. I intended to look through more files; there are still half a dozen drawers unopened. But instead, I curl up on one of the couches, clutching my phone and just staring at the bookshelves on the opposite wall. I feel like this heavy blanket has settled over me, and it takes too much effort to move.

  The antique table clock on one of the shelves shows 10:23 when my phone vibrates in my hand.

  ILY.

  Tears start immediately flowing. It’s a miracle I am not completely dehydrated the way things are going.

  I sit up and cross my legs. Holding my phone in both hands, I start typing.

  I love you more than I can ever put in words. I can't imagine what you must be going through, and I am so so sorry. I promise I will make everything right. Please forgive me.

  The bubble appears immediately, then disappear. I stare at the screen, but nothing happens. Rhys is not responding. Did I make a mistake in choosing to stand by Nate? Have I lost him already?

  When the little digital clock in the top right corner of my screen switches to 10:30, and there still is no reply, I press the button on the side. The screen goes dark, and something inside of me breaks into a thousand pieces.

  Earlier today, Nate gave me my access code for the NCC. I'm one hundred percent in. I have access to his computers and the security system—though I don't fully understand how that works yet. But any way you look at it. I. Am. In.

  Still, the thought of betraying my brother's trust doesn't cross my mind. Instead of snooping or trying to figure out how to work my way out of here, I simply sit down at the massive desk and pull one of the keyboards toward me. I need a distraction, or I'll break down.

  The left monitor on the desk lights up when I hit the space bar. I pull up a search engine and start researching my suspicion of Nate’s mental state. I don’t know how smart I am for doing this on his computer, but I’m beyond caring. Let him get mad. He’s invaded my privacy more than enough.

  Around four in the morning, my eyes are burning, but I'm ninety-five percent sure that my hunch is correct. I found several studies, articles, and even personal blogs. People recount their experiences of how certain drugs impacted their ability for rational thinking, their feelings, and what they did while taking said medications. Some of it is more than scary, and to think of losing control over
your mind like this makes my chest ache. Next, I plan on finding out what medications Nate is currently on and digging further into cases with the same ones.

  I'm on my way back to my room, eyes barely open, when I smack into a hard body coming up the stairs from the first floor. I yelp in surprise, and two arms shoot out to steady me.

  "It’s me," Nate’s voice penetrates the sleepy fog.

  "God, you scared the crap out of me. Turn on some lights next time," I mumble while rubbing both eyes with the heel of my palms.

  The irony of me walking in the dark is not lost on me. But rather than pointing that out, he asks, "Are you still or already up?"

  I'm more alert now that the adrenaline rush from the impact is subsiding. "I was researching something on the computer." I won't elaborate; he can look up the browser history anyway. "Why are you awake?" I finally get a closer look, and my brother is a sweaty mess. I raise my eyebrows and take a whiff. "Ewww…you smell."

  Nate snorts. "That’s what tends to happen when one exercises."

  My eyes narrow. "It’s not even five in the morning."

  "Your point?" he drawls. "Between you and my job, I have to fit it in my schedule somehow." The response is a big, fat duh!

  Usually, I'd enjoy the easy banter, but fatigue takes over again. I’ve lost track of how long I've been awake, and my brain and body are screaming for a break. In the dorkiest way possible, I bump my right fist against Nate's left shoulder as I start moving again. "Cool. See you tomorrow."

  Before I make it through the door that leads to my wing, Nate calls, "It is tomorrow, little sister."

  Instead of dignifying his statement with a response, I just hold up my middle finger. Right before the door closes, I hear him bark out a laugh.

  The last thing I remember is falling face-first into my pillow.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It's been eight days since Lilly was last seen. No missing person's report was filed, yet there are unmarked black SUVs parked in front of the house. It doesn't take a genius to know what Tristen is doing. He is pulling strings. Calling in favors, yet again. I'm growing very tired of this—of him.

  Usually, Gray returns to me right after he has checked on Lilly. His visits have increased over the last few months now that the date gets closer. Not that he complains; it gives him an excuse to check on her. However, when I order him to remain in Westbridge, Gray is not happy with me. He has already been there for a week, and he doesn't want to risk detection. Plus, he now has to change his usual detour.

  But until I can set everything in motion, I need to know what's happening locally. Moving up the timetable was not something I foresaw. I scheduled the plane for three weeks from now. If things progress this way, I may have to leave my "pawn" behind and return sooner.

  It's late afternoon, and I'm standing at the foot of his bed. He's been in and out for the past five days. Every time he comes out of the sedation, I order the nurse to administer more—until today. She thought I didn't notice the relief in her eyes when I agreed to her continuous pleas to reduce the dosage. As if I don't know what the long-term effects are—I simply don't care. He is nothing to me, but I'll need him to get to Lilly. Maybe.

  It's time he hears about what happened. Again. Not that he can do anything about it, but it still brings me great pleasure to witness his torment when it comes to his little girl.

  When I see movement under his closed eyelids, I know I don't have to wait much longer.

  Ten minutes later, we are locked in a stare-down. I haven't visited him in two years—while he was awake. He knows something is up. Lips pressed in a thin line, he refuses to speak first.

  This is going to be so much fun.

  "How are you, my love?" I smile sweetly at the man lying motionless in front of me. I made sure the idiotic nurse did not reduce the paralytic drugs along with the sedative.

  "What do you want?" His voice is raspy from years of barely using it.

  I tilt my head. His courage is entertaining. "Now, now. If I were you, I'd watch my tone."

  "What are you going to do? Drug me some more?"

  Is he challenging me?

  "Well, if you put it like that, we can always change the approach to keep you from running." I arch my eyebrows, pointedly glancing at his legs.

  Turning chalk white, he understands my insinuation, knowing I won't hesitate to follow through with my threat. Usually, Gray does the dirty work for me, but it might be a nice change to assist in a procedure.

  Realizing that my thoughts have wandered off topic, I focus back on his face. "Lilly is missing. Again."

  That gets a reaction, and his head jerks, no doubt trying to push himself up, but his muscles won't obey.

  "What do you mean?" he whispers, wide-eyed.

  I make sure my tone is low and void of any emotion. Not that this is a challenge, I haven't felt anything in a decade. "He found her. He took her again."

  "How?"

  I would like to know the same thing, but I won't admit that. Tristen has kept Lilly under lock and key for so long; if he knew where she was, he would have collected her sooner.

  "If she hasn't returned within the next forty-eight hours, I will take the necessary steps."

  I turn and am halfway to the door when his voice stops me. "You know who has her?"

  Without turning, I say, "I do."

  But he is of no consequence to me—never has been.

  I'm about to close the door to the bedroom when he whispers, "You have always known."

  "Of course I have."

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I don't get up until Nate barges into my bedroom. I've been awake on and off, but every time I tap the screen of my phone, it basically screams at me: NO NEW MESSAGES. So, what does a girl do? Go back to sleep. Which is not a hard task, given the fact that my body demands more rest.

  "I’ve waited long enough. GET. UP!" Nate pulls on the comforter until it hits the floor.

  I sit up. "What the fuck? I could’ve been naked."

  "You’ve been wearing the same shirt for the past two days. The likelihood of you also wearing the same pants was high enough to risk it," my brother deadpans. "Now get your ass in the shower and then come to my office. It’s time to start."

  "Start what?" I curl into a fetal position, phone clutched in my hand.

  All of a sudden, my phone is gone, and I’m pulled up by the hands. "You wanted to learn how to get information."

  I want to get my phone back.

  My damn brother is holding it over his head and even jumping; I can't reach it. Heat floods my veins, and I'm tempted to kick him in the junk. "Give. Me. My. Phone," I growl.

  "No." He takes a step back. "Loverboy is in his room. He's fine. He will contact you when he pulls the stick out of his ass." And with that, he turns and walks out with my phone.

  Balling my fists, I let out a blood-curdling scream and stomp my foot. Yes, I'm throwing a total temper tantrum. Rhys ignores me. Nate treats me like a little child. I'm stuck in this mansion for seven more days with nothing to do but wait. I grab the comforter from the floor and haul it onto the mattress. Staring at the rumpled sheets, my shoulders slump. Resigned, I make my way to the bathroom with no intention of rushing through my shower.

  Take that, brother.

  It’s past three in the afternoon when I walk through the door to the office. Nate turns briefly before he starts typing again. The top three wall monitors show the usual surveillance footage of the property. The bottom three have the news, stock market, and—what the hell?

  "Are you watching The Bachelor?" I look between my brother and the screen.

  A sheepish grin appears on his face. "I missed the last two episodes and figured I’d catch up on it while I prepare your homework."

  "Why on earth would you watch—wait, what? Homework?" My head is spinning.

  "The current Bachelor is Julian’s little brother, and I can’t miss a chance to bust his balls over it this weekend. Plus, it’s pretty entertainin
g. All the drama. Almost makes me miss the LA scene."

  He has lost his mind.

  I let his TV choice go. "What homework?"

  "You said you want me to teach you how to hack. That’s what we’re going to do for the next few days. Maybe then you will also stop moping." Nate shrugs.

  "I’m not moping," I mumble while I push the spare chair closer to the desk.

  Nate is typing again and doesn't turn when he says, "I'm not going to dignify that with an answer."

  His condescending tone makes the blood pound in my ears. "Well, not everyone can have a surface-level relationship like you. I love Rhys, and he's going through all of this BECAUSE OF ME." My voice raises at the end.

  Instead of snapping an angry retort at me, my brother turns, and his eyes gentle. "Rhys will come around. I may not be able to relate to what the two of you have, but I do know that it is special. If you could forgive him for all the secrets he kept from you, he will get over this as well. And if not, we can always have George torture him a little." Nate winks at me.

  That makes me smile for the first time since yesterday, and I try to push everything else out of my mind.

  I will give Rhys space to deal.

  I wish I could talk to Den and Wes and tell them everything, but I can’t. At least not until I am back home.

  It's Friday morning. Nate is getting ready to leave for LA, George is on his way, and I’ve spent the last two days studying under my brother's watchful eyes. I still haven’t heard from Rhys, and the only thing that keeps me from blowing up his phone is George's assurance that he’s fine.

  George relayed that he spoke to Rhys and that he moved back to Wes’s house Wednesday afternoon. I tell myself that he probably isn’t alone and can’t contact me, but a voice inside my mind keeps whispering, If he was not alone, how could George talk to him? What if he won’t come around after all? Nate is a criminal.

  "Are you done?" Nate's question penetrates the cloud of doubt that's been overshadowing my mind.

  Hands hovering over the keyboard, I glance over. "Almost."