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

  Contents

  Author’s Note

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Epilogue

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  Also by Danah Logan

  Stay connected

  Acknowledgements

  Out of the Dark

  Copyright © 2020 by Danah Logan

  All rights reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. For more information, address: authordanahlogan@gmail.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Editor: Jenn Lockwood | Jenn Lockwood Editing

  Proofreader: Mary | On Pointe Digital Services

  Cover Design: Danah Logan

  Interior Formatting: Danah Logan

  ISBN: 978-1-7360990-1-8 (ebook)

  ISBN: 978-1-7360990-4-9 (paperback)

  Author’s Note

  Out of the Dark is the second book in a trilogy within The Dark Series and ends with a CLIFFHANGER.

  This series is intended for MATURE readers. Please be aware that as the series progresses, THE BOOKS could contain TRIGGERS some readers may find bothersome.

  For D.K., the real-life Denielle to my Lilly. We met by chance so many years ago and bonded over the most random statement. Since that day, you’ve been the person I turn to for anything and everything. I couldn’t ask for a better partner in crime and lifelong best friend.

  Prologue

  It’s dark. My head is pounding, and my eyes won’t open. Why won’t my eyes open? I swallow, and a metallic taste registers in my brain—blood. Why am I swaying? More awareness seeps in. I’m being carried. Arms are placed under my legs and back. It’s him. I just know. The sound of my heartbeat is thrashing in my ears. I need to fight, but my body doesn’t obey. My arms won’t move. My eyes still won’t open. My lungs constrict as a primal scream builds, but no sound comes out. Suddenly, my body connects with a flat surface, and a sharp pain shoots through my shoulder. A whimper escapes, but it’s just the whisper of a sound compared to the cry echoing inside my head. I feel a prick in my upper arm, then…blank.

  Agony. That’s the only word that comes to mind when the fog clears. I hurt. Everywhere. What the—? Oh God, the accident. He was there. He took me. Again. Everything starts slowly coming back. My heartbeat instantly accelerates, but I force myself to lie still, keep my eyes closed, and take stock. I’m on a soft surface; the fabric under my fingertips feels smooth—a comforter or duvet? Not important—yet. I wiggle my fingers, followed by rotating one arm ever so slightly, then the other, and—stars explode behind my eyelids. Shit, that hurts. The sensation is excruciating yet numbing at the same time. Like someone held a hot blade against my skin for so long that my body shut off its pain receptors. Pressing my lips together, I keep from crying out. Next, come the legs. I’m able to bend my knees and slowly move them left to right. I’m not paralyzed; a crushing weight lifts off my chest. However, my entire body is sore, and something is definitely wrong with my shoulder.

  I blink my eyes open. A small light next to me hurts, and it takes several minutes for my vision to adjust. I’m in a bedroom. It looks familiar, but not. I force myself to inhale and exhale through my nose to calm my rapid breathing.

  I can’t fight when I’m hyperventilating.

  Slowly I turn my head to the side. When I can’t get a decent overview, I slowly push myself up with my uninjured arm until I’m in a sitting position. The walls are the same shade of lavender that I remember, almost the same I have at home—this is beyond weird. All the furnishings are white and antique-looking; my gaze travels over a familiar chair. The. Chair. Out of the corner of my eye, I register a doorway to the left. Subconsciously, I know what I’m going to see next—who I will see next.

  Closing my eyes, I inhale through my nose—three, two, one. Exhaling—three, two, one. I open my eyes.

  The door is wide open, and I meet familiar hazel eyes. Eyes I thought were familiar when I first saw them. Now I understand why.

  "You!"

  "Hello, Lilly."

  Chapter One

  Four days. That’s how long she’s been gone. I can’t even utter her name in my head. The first day was a complete shit show; everyone was yelling at everyone, though Dad directed his anger mostly at me. I can’t even fault him for that. She's gone because of me.

  At the end of day two, he sent me to my room because I wouldn’t stop cursing out the cops and, later, the agents who turned our kitchen into their command center. The FBI replaced the local cops when they officially linked Lilly to the missing girls. But the motherfuckers can’t find a trace of her. They’re the fucking FBI and can’t find her. Nothing. What use are they?

  See, cursing a lot.

  Wes left this morning; I guess he couldn’t take being around me anymore either. I don’t blame him. I’m either swearing, throwing shit, or vegetating; not to forget the few times I went across the hall and sobbed on her floor like a goddamn baby. My best friend has been with me since we found her car—or, as the federal morons call it, "the scene of the accident." She was kidnapped, for fuck’s sake; she didn’t just drive into a ditch and decide to take a spontaneous vacation without telling anyone.

  She. Is. Gone.

  It’s almost six in the evening, and I’m sitting on the floor at the foot of my bed, legs bent, arms resting on my knees, replaying Tuesday once again in my head. I’ve done nothing else for the past seventy-two hours, but I can’t stop either.

  By the time Wes and I got to my car, Lilly’s Jeep was already out of sight. She turned right, which could get her anywhere: the highway, Glen Meadow, and Fallsbrook. Both towns are just about four miles, depending on if you take Main Street or 52nd Street out of town, and then there are the back roads. The back roads! Somehow, I knew that she’d take one of them instead of the main roads. She’d want to be alone, and that included cars and people as well. I was about to reverse out of the parking spot when Denielle stopped me by slapping her hand on the hood of my Defender.

  "Not now," I growled under my breath.

  "Where are you going?" I heard her muffled voice a
s she walked to the passenger side.

  Wes lowered the window so I could respond, "I’m going to find my girlfriend."

  What kind of question was that?

  "Do you think that’s smart?" Her voice was so full of disdain; it still makes my skin crawl.

  "What are you trying to say?" I snapped back at her, driven by my guilt in all of this.

  She inhaled deeply before saying more calmly, "You lied to her. You just stood there when your psycho ex humiliated her in front of half the school. She feels betrayed. Do you really think she wants you to find her right now?"

  Denielle got her point across; I royally fucked up. I knew she was right. But there was no question; I had to go after Lilly. The thought of losing her over this threatened to suffocate me, and deep down, something was telling me that I would if I didn’t at least try to find her. Though, I didn’t realize how literal it’d be.

  "I have to go," was all I replied.

  She leveled me with a hard look and nodded. "Okay." With that, Den opened the back door, got in, and settled in the middle of the backseat. Slapping her palm on my headrest, she commanded, "Let’s go."

  Who put her in charge all of a sudden?

  I glanced at Wes, and then Den through the rearview mirror, before finally pulling out of my spot. As I put the car in drive, I looked over to the school’s main entrance, a direction I purposefully avoided until this point. As expected, a large group of students lingered on the steps leading up to the two sets of double doors, openly following the show. I even saw a few teachers who attempted to guide everyone back inside but were completely ignored. And to no one’s surprise, Kat stood front and center, arms crossed, and eyes fixed on me.

  How could I’ve ever been with someone like her?

  My gaze turned into tunnel vision, and a red haze forming in front of my eyes briefly replaced the panic about finding Lilly. The urge to get out of my car, walk over, and throttle my psychotic ex was overpowering my senses.

  "Rhys!"

  Denielle’s barked tone snapped me out of the stare-down with Kat, and my focus immediately was back on what was important. Finding Lilly.

  There are three back roads between the surrounding towns. One is not paved and can barely be called a road. I doubted she’d take that one. So, we had a fifty-fifty chance. I took the wrong one. I chose the wrong fucking road.

  Did I already mention that I’m dropping a lot of F-bombs lately?

  My error cost us twenty-five minutes, and when we finally drove down the other road, I immediately saw the flashing lights. My hands tightened around the steering wheel to the point that the stretched skin over my knuckles started to burn. Denielle leaned forward between the seats with her hands covering her mouth, eyes wide. Next to me, Wes expelled a string of curse words while gripping the door with one hand and the side of his seat with the other. I pushed the pedal to the floorboard until we came to a screeching halt behind another car. I was out the door before Wes could unbuckle his seatbelt. Sprinting around the other vehicle, I passed an older couple standing in the middle of the road. There, halfway in the field, was Lilly’s Jeep. It was flipped upside down, and I could see the deflated airbags. My knees threatened to buckle at the sight.

  No, no, no.

  I frantically started to look around, hoping to find some trace of her, but deep down, I already knew. The doors to the ambulance were wide open—the back empty—and the pit in my stomach deepened even further. Cruisers were half blocking the road on either side of the scene. Without thinking, I started forward and came face to face with one of the cops. The top of his head didn’t even reach my nose, but he outweighed me by probably a hundred pounds—not muscle.

  "Where do you think you’re going, buddy?" he asked me in a nasal tone.

  Buddy?

  The blood was rushing in my ears, and I could barely make out my voice when I responded through gritted teeth, "This is my girlfriend’s car. I need to get to her!"

  The man’s entire demeanor changed from I’m-a-cop-what-do-you-think-you’re-doing-here to something I couldn’t decipher. He peered at his partner, who was slowly walking over. I noticed faintly that Wes and Denielle had taken position on either side of me.

  "Um, son, what’s your name?"

  What the fuck?

  I was about to tear past them when Denielle touched my forearm ever so slightly. I glanced to the side, and she mirrored the cop’s expression.

  "What?" My gaze jumped back and forth between them.

  The second cop cleared his throat. "Son, there is no one in the car. It was empty when we got here."

  With that, my legs gave out, and I crumbled to the ground, head in my hands. "No, no, no, noooooooo!" My scream echoed in my head long after my voice gave out.

  I remember that Wes and Denielle dragged me back to the Defender, and Den sat in the backseat with me, holding my shaking hands, silently crying until my mother arrived. Her blood-curdling scream will be etched into my brain until the day I die. After that, everything was a blur until Dad came home later that night.

  I can’t shake the feeling that it’s my fault. If I had just told Lilly about Kat. But my brain-to-mouth connection was completely severed when my ex cornered her, and my gorgeous girl retaliated in the form of a right hook. I didn’t see the attack coming, but I wasn’t surprised either. When Lilly gets pushed too far, her instincts take over. Years of training have drilled that into my brain as well. The corner of my mouth lifts, recalling Kat’s stunned face. No one had ever dared lift a hand against her, not even when she slapped Rebecca Corbin in junior year for accidentally spilling water on her. But the whole time, I was rooted to the spot. I willed my body to move, take a stance, but it wouldn’t obey. And then she was gone.

  Lilly. I make myself think her name, and it reverberates in my mind. My insides constrict, and I wrap my arms around my midsection, bending forward, swaying back and forth. If I could hold her one more time and tell her how sorry I am, how much I love her. Tears are running down my face again, and I don’t care to wipe them away.

  It’s how I still sit when my phone begins to vibrate on my desk. I ignore it as I have for the past four days. People stopped calling. This is the first time in—fuck, I have no clue. Lilly was reported missing on Wednesday, but for all I know, the official version is that she took off after the showdown in school. I haven’t bothered asking, and my friends learned pretty quickly not to mention anything related to Lilly around me.

  The vibration starts back up. I ignore it again and then a third time. What. The. Fuck? I push myself up on the bed with one hand and reach my desk right when it stops ringing. My screen is lit and shows three missed calls from "UNKNOWN". Bile rises in my throat. It starts ringing once more, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Maybe it’s all a dream? The sound of the vibration on the wooden top of my desk is like a jackhammer in my ears. I know who will be on the other end, but I can’t bring myself to move. The caller hangs up, or my voicemail takes over, I’m not sure. I. Can’t. Fucking. Move. Again. When I think this is it, the screen lights up once more, and this time, my body obeys. I dive for my phone. My hands shake so badly that it slips out of my grasp twice before I can get a hold of it. After drawing in one last breath, I swipe across the screen and hold it to my ear. My voice won’t cooperate.

  "Rhys?"

  That voice. A sob escapes my hoarse throat.

  "Are you there?" Her tone is low as if she is trying not to startle me. I thought I’d never hear that voice again.

  "Yes." It’s barely a whisper.

  "Hey." This one word settles over me like a soothing blanket, and I hear the smile in Lilly’s voice.

  "Cal, I’m so sor—" But I can’t finish the sentence. My throat constricts, and I swallow several times.

  "It’s ok. I don’t have much time."

  That snaps me out of it. "Where are you? Did he hurt you?" The hand that is not holding the phone balls into a fist.

  "I’m fine. That’s why I’m calling. I…I just wanted to
let you know that I’m safe. I’m fine."

  She’s safe?

  "What do you mean? Is he threatening you? Where are you? The house was taken over by the FBI; they will find you."

  "No, they won’t. They can’t trace the call." She exhales, resigned. "I…I had to hear your voice. And tell you that I’m okay. I’ll explain everything to you when I see you."

  Explain? See? Wha—?

  "What are you talking about? Babe, where are you? See me when?" I’m shouting now, and I don’t doubt that my father will burst through that door in the next few seconds.

  "I have to go," she rushes out. "I’ll call again. Please tell them to stop looking for me. They won’t find me."

  Is she fucking brainwashed?

  "Please don’t hang up," I go from shouting to begging.

  "I have to go." There is a pause as if she wants to say something else, but then all she says is, "I’ll see you soon."

  "Calla?"

  Nothing. She hung up.

  Legs giving out, I sink to the floor, and my dad chooses that moment to throw the door to my bedroom open. I’m in front of my desk, staring up at him taking over the doorframe. His eyes are wide, and he’s surveying the room as if I have Lilly stashed in the closet. And is that—yup, he’s holding his forty-five in one hand.