Because of the Dark: A Dark Standalone Romantic Suspense Novel (The Dark Series Book 4)

by Danah Logan

  Getting up, I walk past the bar without taking my eyes off King. When I'm about to pass her, her gaze flits up, and I hold her stare until I would have to walk backward. Neither of us makes any indication of knowing each other, yet I know with absolute certainty that she's as affected as I am. The increased rise and fall of her chest is a clear indicator.

  I'm going to figure you out, King.

  Pulling up to our townhouse, I'm surprised to find the light on the main floor still on.

  Two scenarios play out in my head: Kai is either hammered and passed out on the couch, or he is currently banging a chick on the couch.

  I take the stairs from the garage to the first floor, two steps at a time, while listening to any noise that would indicate me finding live porn being played out in my living room. When there is nothing, I push the door open and turn to head into the kitchen. I'm so ready to fall into bed and get my few hours of sleep before my alarm goes off at five thirty. I veer directly to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water to help with my beer dehydration. I've consumed more alcohol in the last few days than since high school. And all of it because of one girl I know nothing about. Turning toward the living room area to shut off the lights, I take a step and—

  "WHAT THE FUCK?" I clench the plastic bottle so hard it bursts.

  "Hey, stranger."

  Holding the remnants of my water bottle, my hand is dripping wet, and the water meant to hydrate me is spilled all over the kitchen floor.

  Regretting not staying longer at The Grizz or maybe even attempting a conversation with King, I address the last person I want to have standing in my house, let alone in front of me. "What are you doing here, Rhys?"

  My former best friend takes a step toward me, and all I can think of saying is, "Don't."

  I lift both hands and cover my face.

  Fuck, I'm too tired for this.

  A growl escapes me, and I rake my fingers over my hair, inhaling slowly through my nose as I hold Rhys's gaze. Blood pounding in my ears, my brain fires memories from every direction at me. Rhys and me at parties all through high school. Us laughing together and playing ball or practicing new wrestling moves on each other. The three of us hanging out at the McGuire house. The confusion when Rhys suddenly refused to talk to Lilly and started sleeping over. The nights we spent talking until the sun came up, laughing at some shit Jager pulled during practice. The betrayal I felt when I found out what he had kept from me for all those years. The happiness for my friends when we finally were us again, and Den was no longer enemy number one. The fear when the nightmare started and the relief when it was over. Then, the letter came. I lost my future. Rhys tried to buy my way into a prestigious private school and then lied to my face. I don't know which is worse, that he went behind my back after I told him—them—that I didn't want anything to do with that money or that he lied to me. Again. With every reminder of the past twelve-plus years, my anger reaches a new height.

  I don't want to fight him. Not here in my home. Not ever again. He was my best friend once, but that's in the past.

  With my hands still on top of my head, I blow out a breath. "You need to leave." I force the words out calmly, despite the inner chaos raging havoc on my already wound-up emotions, thanks to a certain blonde.

  "I came to talk," Rhys mimics my controlled tone.

  My jaw clenches, and I force myself to relax it enough to respond. "You need to leave."

  My restraint is slipping.

  "Calla misses you. We both do. We want you to be at our—"

  "LEAVE!"

  There goes the last bit of composure.

  Rhys stares at me for a long moment before he sighs and dips his chin.

  "Okay." He slowly turns and walks to the front door. As he opens it, he pauses and turns one more time.

  I meet his steady gaze.

  "I'm sorry, Wes. I…I made a mistake. I was selfish and tried to get rid of my guilt about you losing your scholarship by buying your education with Lilly's money."

  I'm waiting for his words to have an impact on how I feel, but there is nothing. Maybe it's too late. Maybe I need more time. I have no clue.

  I dip my chin in acknowledgment and swivel on my heels, heading for my bedroom without turning the house security system on. At this point, I don't care if he leaves the front door wide open.

  But just as I reach my bedroom, I hear the door shutting. I fall face-first on my mattress, not bothering to take my shoes or clothes off.

  CHAPTER NINE

  After Grizz's message that Wes showed up at the bar and asked for me by name, I called in sick for three of my shifts—including closing the bar on Sunday. My boss wasn't happy, and I promised to make it up to him. He has no clue why I'm avoiding Wes, but with him not divulging anything about his life, he seems to understand not to ask.

  I also didn't go to class, which bugged me more than the loss of my income. Not that anyone missed me there, or that it would have any impact, but this week, we covered a topic in Professor Steward's criminology course that I had been looking forward to for months. I was simply too chickenshit to run into Wes.

  I had enough saved up to afford the few days off, but not for much longer. I needed the money in case I had to move on. Or for something important—like a fake passport. One in my position never knew.

  The mere thought of being confronted after going psycho on Wes and pulling a knife on the guy—Jesus, what was I thinking?

  I had let the old King out to play—something I didn't like to do anymore. It was survival of the toughest back then, but I didn't have to be that girl here.

  For the past three days, one thought kept replaying in my mind: Why was Wes looking for me? It even overshadowed the imminent arrival of the last person I wanted around. I tried calling Rae again. Her text had completely thrown me off. How did she know about him? And why were they together? But as expected, she didn't pick up.

  Wes knew my name and place of work. If he wanted to press charges for reckless endangerment, he could send a cop to the bar. But instead, Wes had become a regular, as Grizz reported back.

  Tonight is Wednesday, my scheduled night off, but Mags's time of the month came crashing in like a red tidal wave, and she is curled up on the couch. Initially, I refused. A few Advil and she would be as good as new (I would go to Friendship Hell for that), but when Leigh also called in that she couldn't close up today, I had no choice.

  I waited as long as possible, but finally, I put on my big-girl panties and got dressed. Getting to the bar only took seven minutes, if all three traffic lights were red, which left me more than enough time.

  Parking the Jeep in my usual spot, I wipe my sweaty hands on my black skinny jeans.

  You can do this. Pretend he's not there.

  Inside, I stop in the doorway to Grizz's office and knock on the frame. He glances up from behind the multitude of monitors on his desk. "Hey."

  My boss is a man of not-so-many words, which is how I prefer it.

  "Hi."

  We stare at each other for several—in my case, accelerated—heartbeats as I wait for him to tell me what I already know.

  "He's camping out at the corner high top. Again."

  I nod in acknowledgment and turn to leave.

  "King?"

  I glance over my shoulder.

  "Say the word, and he's out."

  Warmth grows in my chest. Besides Kiwi and my mom, I've never had anyone look out for me. Now, I have several people who have my back if I need them.

  "Thank you." I give him a narrow smile, not wanting him to see how much his words affect me.

  The lump in my throat has cleared by the time I enter the main room and is replaced by my stomach reeling like the one (and only) time I got on a roller coaster. Let's hope I won't puke my guts out after this ride.

  I avoid scanning the crowd as I make my way behind the bar.

  Pretend you have blinders on your eyes.

  I'm working the left side, Mags's usual spot, while Dean has the rig
ht. I greet him and then get busy mixing the drink orders.

  At one point, Aiden, one of my regulars, appears in my line of vision, and I jump.

  "King, baby!"

  When I realize who it is, my body sags. Aiden leans over the counter to hug me, and it's like the room is suddenly charged with crackling electricity—not the good kind.

  Keeping my head down, using my hair as a shield, I chance a glimpse toward the back corner for a fraction of a second. It's long enough for me to see that Wes is strangling his beer, glowering at Aiden's back. I avert my gaze before he catches me, but, oh my God, is he—? My breath catches. No, it can't be. There is no way Weston Sheats would be…jealous? That's ridiculous. I fucking threatened him with a knife. Yet, the still-present nausea is replaced by hundreds of butterflies, and hope fills my chest, just to be squashed by reality hitting me over the head with a baseball bat.

  Nothing can happen. Wes is a good guy. He would never accept who I am and what I've done.

  Aiden pulls back, and I force myself to smile at him in greeting. "Hey, A."

  "I didn't know you were working tonight." He grins as if I had offered for him to take shots from between my tits. I can sense Wes's eyes on us and fight the urge to check on the corner table.

  "I'm covering for Mags." I hold up the empty glasses I was about to place under the bar. "I gotta get going."

  Please stop talking to me.

  He gives me a fake pout. "Can you make me one of your specialties?"

  I sigh inwardly but smirk. "Surprise you?" I know how to put on a show, and that's exactly what I'm doing.

  Aiden winks. "You know it. You never disappoint me."

  Usually, I enjoy his flirty behavior, but tonight, it annoys the ever-loving hell out of me. The last thing I want is for Wes to think I'm a psycho stalker and a whore.

  After that, my shift runs smoothly. I am able to turn my Wes-obsessed brain off and focus on my job. I don't allow myself to acknowledge his presence and serve my customers their drinks.

  I'm holding my Guardian Helix, about to slice a lime, when the atmosphere shifts. I purposefully didn't bring my usual curved blade tonight.

  My eyes fly up of their own volition. It's as if someone—Wes—has called my name, and our gazes collide.

  My breath hitches before the pulse in my veins takes off. I'm having flashbacks to the time I was put on Ritalin for suspected ADHD. Needless to say, my attention deficit was caused by my homelife falling to pieces and the counselor I was forced to see being an incompetent asshole. He took the easy way out, and in addition to misdiagnosing me, he also overprescribed the shit. No one at twelve years old should think they are having a heart attack.

  I hold Wes's impassive stare as he saunters by, trying desperately to steady my breathing. He has his hood over his head, his features expressionless. His entire body language screams alpha, and my thighs clench together.

  I scold myself internally, but can't help the desire building in my core. I've had a crush on this guy for so long that him acknowledging me makes my vagina break out in a cha-cha.

  Following his exit, I have a hard time concentrating. Thankfully, no one orders anything too extravagant for my last hour, and I manage to finish the night and get home without any further incidents.

  Thursday is Mags's night off, but knowing that Wes will most likely be at The Grizz, she talked Kiwi into moving his date to our place of work. She hates hanging out at a table alone.

  During breakfast this morning, I downplayed how Wes's presence caused complete emotional havoc in me, but she gave me her therapist look, and I spilled my guts, recounting every last detail.

  As I got to what I thought I saw when Aiden hugged me, she grinned and shrugged casually. "He wants to fuck you."

  "Shut up!" Heat crept up my cheeks. "You know that can never happen."

  She rolled her eyes. "Why not? You don't have to tell him what you did. But you need to get your lady parts serviced. They have cobwebs."

  "Jesus Christ, what did I walk in on this time?" Grizz is standing in the patio door with Echo slightly behind him.

  What the—? How didn't I notice my dog wasn't in the house? Good Lord, what kind of dog mom was I? I stared at my best friend in horror, and she understood immediately. Getting up from her chair, she walked over and hugged me while Grizz stepped to the side to let Echo in. My four-legged girl jumped in my lap and gave me her best good morning kiss. I couldn't even be upset about being covered in dog saliva. I didn't notice that she wasn't here when I woke up.

  "Stop stressing out. I let her out, like, twenty minutes ago. It's all good," Mags whispered in my ear and kissed me on the crown of my head. "Thanks, big guy." She dismissed our boss, and once again, I wondered what their history was.

  Watching my friends chatting at their table from my spot behind the bar, I can't help but feel guilty. Kiwi likes Zeke, but with my shit show of a life, he doesn't get to see him. I've been in constant need of my best friend—not that he would ever hold it against me. We made that pact when I was eleven and Kiwi was thirteen—on the day Rae left. We swore on a blood oath that we would never not be there for each other, and to this day, we have stuck to our promise. I look at the small scar across the pad of my thumb—one of my many links to him.

  As expected, Wes walks in not twenty minutes after his practice ended. Zeke is not here yet, which means Wes must've been one of the first to leave. I'm not sure if that excites or freaks me out more.

  I track his every move as he walks by my friends, meeting Kiwi's gaze and holding it. Neither of them looks away.

  Wes's hair is still wet and tied back. He's wearing a red-and-black hoodie with the team's mascot on it and jeans that hug his ass like—God, why does he have to be sex on a stick?

  Maybe my lady parts do need to be dusted off.

  Nope, no, they don't. And if they do, not by Weston Sheats.

  I find Mags's eyes, who was just waiting for me to look at her. Her usual smirk is missing, and she's psychoanalyzing me: Is King going to make it through the night?

  I look back down to the glass that I've been polishing for several minutes. I need to ignore him. Maybe he'll leave.

  Yeah, like that's going to happen, the old King laughs inside my head.

  "Hey, Monroe." My head jerks up, and I lock eyes with Dean.

  Huh?

  What is he doing here? He isn't scheduled until later. My brows furrow. He holds up his acoustic guitar, and a pit the size of the state I currently call home opens up in my stomach. I want to scream, cry, and rip my hair out at the same time.

  Today? No, no, no. Not tonight of all nights.

  Months ago, Dean caught me singing in the break room—something even Mags doesn't know about me. I don't perform in front of people. Dancing on top of the bar, no problem. Stripping at a dingy nightclub when I'm still more a pubescent teen than a woman, also no biggie. Singing? That is a whole different level of exposing myself. That's like baring my soul. Fuck. No.

  I inherited my mother's talent—which was how she met my father in the first place. She was singing at a friend's birthday party held at a karaoke bar where daddy-not-so-dearest and some of his buddies were celebrating as well. Anyway, that story is so far in the past I buried it with my mother.

  However, Mom always sang to me. She encouraged me from the day I was able to memorize lyrics to sing along. I can hold a note, and my voice doesn't sound too bad either (if it's the right song), which is why Dean harassed me for days until I caved and agreed to perform with him sometime—emphasis on sometime. I assumed it would be at a backyard barbecue or something low-key, and I could give Mags a heads-up—bring her as my backup in case I barf all over myself from nerves. Not during my shift and, most of all, not at The Grizz. My stomach begins to churn, and I place a hand on my belly.

  This will not end well.

  I peer over my shoulder to check that Leigh has the customers at the bar covered before making my way over to Dean.

  "What the fuck, assho
le? I'm not singing here." I glower at him and gesture at the room around us.

  He smirks sheepishly and shrugs. "Why not? Grizz thought it was cool."

  "You talked to Grizz about it?" I shriek, then clamp a hand over my mouth. Whether it is to stop me from further yelling at my coworker or from keeping my late lunch inside me, I have no clue.

  "Sure, I mean, it's his place. We needed his okay."

  I draw my arm back and let it soar forward, punching him in the shoulder as hard as I can. Maybe he wouldn't be able to hold his damn guitar if I hurt him enough.

  "Jesus Christ, Monroe. Overreacting much?" He rubs the spot my fist connected with. Out of my peripheral vision, movement diverts my attention. Kiwi is standing next to his table, waiting for my signal that I need him. Wes has shifted closer as well, and I want the earth to swallow me up. I'm causing a scene. I blink slowly at Kiwi, silently communicating that I'm okay. He dips his chin in acknowledgment, though he doesn't sit down.

  "Not today, Dean. I'm not prepared. You can't throw something like this at me." My hands are trembling at my sides.

  Dean purses his lips. "If I would've given you more than a five-minute heads-up, you would've bailed."

  Five minutes? Wha—

  The beating of my heart grows in speed, and I glance in the direction of my friends again. Zeke has joined them in the last few minutes, and my gaze connects with Wes's. He has abandoned his corner table and positioned himself slightly behind the others, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his faded jeans. His impassive features are in stark contrast to his pulled-back shoulders and wide stance. His entire frame is rigid. He's ready to pounce as he follows my exchange with Dean, yet no one else seems to notice. His temper is simmering right under the surface.

  As we are locked in our stare down, a new emotion slowly spreads through every cell of my body. I want him to hear me sing. My pulse calms, but instead of giving me the confidence I so clearly need to make it through this, this awareness sends me reeling.