In the Dark: A Thrilling Romantic Suspense Novel (The Dark Series Book 1)

by Danah Logan

  I cling to the white porcelain. My skin is clammy, and I have no control over the shivers rolling through my body. After the second wave, I feel a wet washcloth against my forehead.

  God, that feels good.

  Once I make no indication of a third wave coming on, Rhys pulls me back against him. We sit in the middle of the small bathroom. He is leaning against the tub, his legs on either side of me and my back against his chest. With one hand, he holds the cold fabric to my forehead, while the other is wrapped around my waist, pinning me in place. Both of my arms automatically wrap around the arm holding me. It takes several minutes for my breathing to even out, and I fully slump against him. I’m spent.

  Rhys hands the washcloth to me and wraps both his arms around me. "Let’s go home."

  All I can do is nod.

  Home.

  We get ready and hit the road mid-morning. Rhys is driving, and I watch the landscape flying by. My stomach has settled, and the urge to spew my guts out has subsided, but I can’t shake the cold feeling that has taken hold in my chest.

  "What if we made a mistake?" It’s just a whisper, but Rhys hears me.

  I turn toward Rhys. His knuckles turn white as he grips the steering wheel harder, but besides that, he shows no reaction, and I amend what we both refuse to voice out loud. "What if he is still after me?"

  His mouth is set in a hard line, and I’m about to ask what he thinks when he reaches over and holds out his hand, palm up. I glance between his face and his hand but place my palm in his. He squeezes my hand in a comforting gesture. "Then we’ll deal with it. You are no longer a helpless girl. You’re a fighter. You’ve been training with Spence for years, not taking into account the training Dad has put both of us through."

  He’s talking about the weekends at the range, which now all make sense. Warmth spreads through my body. Heather and Tristen have taken every precaution to protect and prepare me. It doesn’t fully negate the lies, but it helps me understand their motives.

  After another pause, he adds, "And you have me."

  With this simple action and words, the courage and need for answers that I thought I expelled this morning into the toilet slowly returns.

  "Thanks."

  He’s right. I am no longer six years old. I’ve been training for a decade—a whole freaking decade. I might not have known for what, but I do now. I will work even harder. I refuse to let this define my future. The rage that has kept me going still simmers deep in my core. I don’t think the feeling of betrayal will completely go away until I know the truth. But I’m also not ready to confront Heather and Tristen. Logically, I should, but I don’t trust that they would be completely honest with me.

  It’s a gut feeling, but that’s all I have for now.

  The drive is uneventful. We ignore the ginormous elephant in the room, aka my past and everything we’ve learned. Instead, we banter about music and what to eat. We end up spending another night at a motel by the interstate and arrive home early Thursday.

  The Defender hasn’t fully come to a stop in front of the open garage door when Heather tears into the garage. With Natty also being on break and us "skiing," she took the holidays off work to be with her youngest.

  "What happened?" Her eyes scan both of us frantically, and I understand her thought process. She is not too far off, but Rhys and I agreed on a stomach bug before we left this morning. Seeing how tired I look, Heather doesn’t ask any more questions and begins fussing. She smoothes the hair back from my face, and I see her lips moving, but all I can focus on is Rhys’s retreating form. Before he clears the threshold to the kitchen, he turns, and our eyes lock. Glancing at his mother’s back and then at me, Rhys briefly closes his eyes before turning and leaving me alone in the garage. No, not alone—I’m with Heather—but why does it feel like I’m alone all of a sudden?

  For the entire drive, I did my best to prepare myself that I’d have to face one—if not both—of my adoptive parents. But as soon as Heather is in front of me, all the pep talks were for shit. My throat constricts. I have the urge to flee and cry in her arms all at the same time. I excuse myself to my room under the pretense of lying down and unpacking.

  I send a quick text to Denielle, telling her that we’re home and the change in the story.

  Her response is almost immediate: U ok?

  I type back: Yes and no.

  I still don’t know how much I want to reveal to her. She is my best friend. But, for one, do I want to burden her with all this? And second, am I ready to talk about it?

  We’ll be back Fri afternoon. I cleared my Sat and u r finally going to spill what the fuck is going on.

  I guess Den has made the decision for me.

  Biding my time until Saturday, I hide in my room. Natty comes in a few times and tells me about everything I missed. I was so preoccupied with the entire trip that I didn’t realize how much I missed her little face. The first time she walks in, I jump up and hug her so tight that she pats my back. "Ca-n’t brea-the."

  Laughing, I let her go. This little girl is my sister, my family—no matter what.

  Rhys checks on me via texts, and on Friday, he even calls when I don’t respond immediately.

  "What’s wrong? Why aren’t you answering?"

  "I was in the shower," I deadpan, clamping my phone between my shoulder and ear so I don’t lose my towel.

  "Oh."

  I chuckle at his reaction. We chat for a few minutes before I hear Wes in the background, yelling for him to get moving. As soon as we hang up, I stare at the blank screen. It happened again. When his picture lit up on the screen, my heart started pounding double-time, the same way as in the hotel room. My mind is racing, searching for a logical explanation. It can’t be what my brain tells me it is. It. Just. Can’t. Swallowing hard, I resign myself to the fact that I may have to let Den in on everything.

  All evening, I go over my conversation with my best friend. How it all started, what I’ve learned this last week, and the second elephant in the room—my adopted brother’s feelings. Around midnight, I force myself to go to bed. I’ve bitten all my nails down to the nailbed—something I have never done in my life. I don’t even like chipped nail polish. Now they look...I don’t have words.

  I’ve just turned off the light and settled on my pillow when there’s a soft knock at my door. The fluttery sensation in my stomach returns full force.

  No, no, no.

  The few times I ventured downstairs, Rhys was nowhere to be seen. This would be the first face to face since he left me with Heather in the garage yesterday. I turn away from the door, clutching my hands to my stomach under the covers, and squeeze my eyes shut. Maybe he’ll just go away, but of course, the door slowly swings open, and I hear a few muffled footsteps. I hold my breath.

  Go away! Go away! Go away!

  I can’t take any more weirdness in my life, and my physical reaction definitely is—weird, that is. Eventually, the door closes again, and I exhale a long shaky breath.

  I think I sleep for about two hours that night.

  I meet Denielle at Magnolia’s, our favorite little café. It’s located downtown. The entire street is lined with older, historic houses that have been restored to their original state. All the buildings are painted in pastel colors, and Magnolia’s exterior is no exception with its soft pink. I often wonder which came first: the name or the paint color. The inside is cozy with rustic-looking chairs and benches. Everything is mismatched and gives the entire place an intimate feel. People hang out here for hours to work or just read.

  Den beat me here this morning, which has never happened in the entire time I’ve known her. Usually, I have to tell her to be somewhere at least thirty minutes earlier if I want her there no more than fifteen minutes late. I’m barely through the door when she barrels into me and envelops me in a bear hug. Her favorite perfume immediately surrounds me, and I take in the familiar scent of florals, exotic spices, and Moroccan incense. Pulling back slightly, she gives me a once-over with h
er eyebrows knit together. "Babe, you look like shit."

  Here we go already. I try to brush it off. "Sugarcoat much?"

  "You know I call it as I see it. That’s why you love me."

  I give her another squeeze and say into her ear, "True."

  Complete and utter honesty has always been the foundation of our friendship. We don’t talk around things to make the other feel better. We say it as it is.

  I watch her walk to our table while I order my usual tea and bagel. This time, it’s my eyebrows that narrow. What the—? Den rarely dresses casual outside of the house, but today she is wearing black leggings paired with a bright-red, long-sleeve workout shirt, and a massive blanket scarf wrapped all around her. And when I say massive, I mean king-size-blanket big. The outfit accentuates every curve. She totally pulls it off, but I wonder what has brought this on? She usually chews me out when we meet up and I wear anything less than casual jeans.

  "Your friend has quite the...presence," a deep voice drawls into my ear.

  I turn and come face to face with a guy I’ve never seen here before. I know most of Magnolia’s regulars, and he’s not one of them. And he is way too close in my personal space. I take a step back, bumping into the bar in the process. My elbow knocks over the pile of lids for the to-go cups, and they go flying everywhere.

  Shit.

  I start picking up the little plastic disks when a hand lands over mine. "Let me help. I didn’t mean to startle you." His tone is low as if he has to force himself to sound...friendly?

  I instinctively pull away and take a closer look. Despite his semi-clean appearance, something is off. He is probably in his mid to late forties, tall, with dark curly hair sticking out in every direction. This close, his eyes have an eerie glow to them; the blue is so light it’s almost white. His clothes have a musty smell that envelopes me, and I force myself to not take another step back. I can’t put my finger on it, but his outfit doesn’t fit right, like he usually doesn’t wear these clothes.

  "It’s okay," I mumble, but I hear Madeline’s voice in my head. If he gets back on your trail, he will find you. The urge to get away from the guy becomes almost too much to keep me in place.

  Thankfully, the barista puts my order on the counter at that moment. "Here you go, Lilly."

  I grab everything and turn toward our table when the stranger whispers, "Bye, Lilly."

  The hairs on my neck stand in all directions.

  I settle into my chair across from Denielle and chance a peek at my best friend. Her face is expressionless. She seems to have missed my exchange with the creep at the bar, and I have no desire to rehash it.

  "What’s with the casual outfit?" I’m genuinely curious.

  My friend looks down at herself and back up at me, shrugging. "Kelly gave it to me for Christmas. I spent the night at Charlie’s since he’s leaving tomorrow. I thought I’d wear it."

  I plaster an exaggerated grin on my face and touch my hand to my chest. "Awww, you went against your every instinct to make your future mother-in-law happy."

  She grumbles, "Shut up," but she can’t keep a straight face either.

  "So, how was the trip?" I try to draw out the inevitable conversation with her for a little longer.

  Her right eye twitches ever so slightly as she crosses her arms over her chest. I’m stalling, and she knows it. The question is, will she play along?

  After a moment of deliberation, she smirks. "It was great. I wish you would’ve actually been there, but we had a good time. It’s probably better you didn’t have to share the room with Charlie and me." She winks. "Oh, and you should’ve seen Wes face-plant into the snow the first day. Oh my gosh, I haven’t laughed that hard in forever."

  She digs in her purse, followed by sliding her phone across the table. A picture of Wes is on the display. He’s literally sticking headfirst in the snow, his neon-green snowboard pants and matching board up in the air. She makes a hand motion, and I swipe. The next picture is Wes flipping Denielle off, his entire head covered in snow. I crack up, and Denielle joins in. We both laugh until tears run down our faces, and I realize how much I’ve missed my friend these last few weeks. Until now, I wasn’t sure what I would tell her, but sitting here with her, I feel lighter already.

  Den and I have a special connection. We understand each other, similar to what Rhys and I had in the past—have again? Telling her is the right decision.

  I exhale slowly. "What I am going to tell you can never leave this table. You cannot tell anyone. Not Charlie. No one."

  Denielle stares at me, almost like she’s trying to figure out if I’m messing with her. "Babe, I’ve watched you the last few weeks. I know some serious shit is going on. You’ve not been yourself, and then, out of the blue, you make up and take off with the enemy. What the fuck is going on?"

  My pulse feels like it’s somewhere in the one-eighty range, and I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, my entire rehearsed speech forgotten. "Rhys is not my brother."

  Den’s eyes widen. "Excuse me?"

  Stalling, I take a sip of my tea. Setting the cup down, I chuckle at the absurdity of this entire situation. "And that’s not even the biggest piece of news." I snort.

  My gaze is met with a blank stare. "Umm...o-kay?"

  Another sip. "It all started with our journalism assignment."

  She frowns at me. "The criminal case one you got the A for?"

  I nod.

  "Lilly McGuire, that was before Thanksgiving! Are you telling me you’ve been carrying whatever this is around for the past six weeks?"

  She’s fuming. I didn’t anticipate that, which was bad judgment on my part. I should’ve known she’d be disappointed with me. I nod again, not looking at her.

  "Go on," she orders in a cool tone.

  Crap.

  A flush creeps across my cheeks, and I dip my chin. "So...uh, my paper was about a string of kidnappings. Little girls that have been kidnapped all over the country and then turn up a few weeks later at random hospitals. It’s been going on for over ten years, and I stumbled across the most recent victim when I was looking for a topic. It caught my interest, so I kept looking up the other victims. I read every article I could find, and I..." God, this is harder than I thought. Deep breath. "I started getting this feeling."

  I finally make eye contact, and she just nods at me to continue. I wipe my palms on my pants.

  "The more I researched, the stronger the feeling got, and then I started, uh...I started remembering."

  She inhales sharply but still doesn’t say anything. She lets me get it all out, and I’m grateful for that.

  "At the time, I didn’t know I was remembering. I thought I was losing my mind. Eventually, Rhys noticed that something was off and confronted me."

  "I knew it! That’s why he kept looking at you more than usual!"

  More than usual?

  My eyebrows are somewhere in my hairline, and I just stare at Denielle.

  "Sorry, keep going." Of course she won’t elaborate on what she means by that.

  Shaking my head, I continue, "I told him that I thought I was going crazy. I was remembering things that were not part of my life—not the life I do remember, anyway. I told him everything, and he...got up and left."

  Now Den’s eyebrows shoot up, and she opens her mouth, but I hold my hand up.

  "The way he acted, I just knew he was hiding something. So, I confronted him."

  That gets me a smug smile; she is proud of me, and I sit up a little bit taller.

  "The first thing he said to me was he loves me."

  Denielle interprets it the same way I did. "Aww, that’s sweet."

  I grin at her reaction. "No, he loves me."

  I wait. The wheels are turning, and then it clicks. Her eyes turn to saucers, and she opens and closes her mouth several times until it remains shut. Seeing my best friend speechless is a rare sight.

  "Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction, too. Anyway, that wasn’t the biggest shock of the nig
ht."

  "Um..." She still can’t form a coherent sentence, so I keep going. The faster I get everything out, the sooner I can, hopefully, get my heart rate under control. I’m pretty sure otherwise I’ll have a heart attack soon.

  I word vomit the next part. I had no clue I was capable of speaking that fast. "He told me that I wasn’t going crazy. I was kidnapped when I was six. I was held for several weeks and then eventually turned up at a hospital in Northern California. Rhys didn’t know a lot of details either since he was just a kid himself when it happened. From what I know now, I was so traumatized that I wouldn’t let anyone near me, and whoever had me kept threatening my parents. So, they decided to hide me and make me forget."

  Time to breathe.

  After what feels like an eternity, Den finally bursts out, "Holy shit! I mean...Holy. Fucking. Shit!"

  I smile tightly as she interlaces her hands around her coffee mug and stares at her hands. We sit, and the silence elongates.

  Eventually, she looks up. "You found all this out by coincidence? Because of our assignment?" Her tone is matter of fact.

  I nod. Again.

  So much nodding this morning.

  "Whoever had me has been taking girls for the past ten years. I found the most recent victim, and the more I dug, the more I found and also remembered."

  Denielle briefly glances to the ceiling. "Okay, so let me get this straight. You were kidnapped, got your memory erased, were implanted in a fake family, and your brother—well, fake brother—is in love with you?"

  Oh Lord. I cackle out a laugh. "Only you could make this sound like a terrible soap opera."

  My statement is met with a smirk and a one-sided shoulder shrug.

  I try to explain. "My parents—I mean, Heather and Tristen—had been friends with my biological parents forever. My birth mother and Heather went to kindergarten together or something. Rhys and I pretty much grew up together, even before."