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

  CONTENTS

  A Note from the Author

  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

  Epilogue

  Keep Reading

  Also by Danah Logan

  Stay connected

  Acknowledgments

  Because of the Dark

  Copyright © 2021 by Danah Logan

  All rights reserved.

  First Edition.

  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: [email protected]

  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.

  Copy Editing: Jenn Lockwood | Jenn Lockwood Editing

  Proofreader: Rosa | My Brother's Editor, Mary | On Pointe Digital Services

  Cover Design: Danah Logan

  Interior Formatting: Danah Logan

  ISBN: 978-1-7360990-6-3 (e-book )

  ISBN: 979-8-9851796-1-3 (paperback)

  ISBN: 979-8-9851796-2-0 (hardback)

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  Trust Wes and King.

  Because of the Dark (BOTD) is the fourth book in The Dark Series.

  While BOTD features Wes's story and is considered an INTERCONNECTED standalone, this book builds on the events in the previous three books. It is highly recommended to read the entire series to get the full experience.

  Please be aware that if read as an interconnected standalone (prior to the previous books in the series), BOTD will contain SPOILERS about the plot in the other books.

  Wes's story within The Dark Series is set two years after the last chapter in Of Light and Dark (Book Three).

  This series is intended for MATURE (18+) readers. Because of the Dark is a dark, new adult, contemporary, suspense romance and features strong language, violence, sexual scenes, and situations that may be considered TRIGGERS for some. Reader discretion is advised. (For a more detailed list of potential triggers, click here.)

  Each book in The Dark Series is unique to its main characters. They grow as they get older in the series, make mistakes that can have you either relate to, like, or dislike (possibly even hate) them. They are raw and flawed, but they are (fictional) humans.

  For Lyndsey, my side chick and awesome friend. Thank you for always putting up with the random excerpts I send your way while I purge my brain of The Dark Series. To many more post-school outings with the kiddos and family dinners at the big, round table.

  PROLOGUE

  My Harley Street Bob vibrates under me as I wait for the light to turn. I'm still in disbelief about how Kai finished the entire bottle of Patrón and was still standing upright when I walked through the door of our shared townhouse. The guy has a capacity for liquor I've never seen before and is still fully functional. But of course, I'm stuck replacing it once we run out. Allowing him behind the wheel of his Rover—functioning or not—is not something I can do with a good conscience. Thankfully, this task has become easier since June, when I turned twenty-one, and I no longer have to rely on a fake ID or bribes.

  The red finally switches to green, and I'm moving again. Two more blocks until The Moose's Head. After almost twenty-four long-ass (and most of them cold as fuck) months, I'm still dumbstruck by the names of bars, restaurants, or local shops. You'd think just because we're in the Treasure State, surrounded by mountains and wildlife, we'd still have something like Whole Foods or Binney's. No, we have The Farmer and The Moose's Head—TMH for the locals.

  Turning off the ignition in front of the liquor store, I take in the decked-out Jeep MOAB next to me. The car screams badass. Matte black, five-percent tint all-around, black rims, light bar, chrome tube steps—that's what I call a sweet ride.

  I take a step toward the double doors when a familiar ping sounds in my wireless headphones.

  "Message from Rhys McGuire."

  Fuck me. As if my day isn't already bad enough.

  "Wes, bro, you can't avoid us forever. It's been two years. We know you got the invitation. Calla misses you. Call us," the robotic female voice reads me the text from my former best friend.

  You bet your rich ass I can keep avoiding you.

  They're the reason my life turned into this dumpster fire. I don't bother pulling out my phone. Seeing the words will only result in me sending it flying, and I can't afford a new one. Instead, I walk into The Moose's Head and veer toward the aisle with the hard stuff.

  After this, I really need to replenish our stash. Thank fuck I brought the hiking backpack. That way, I can load up triple time.

  Getting everything I need, I add a pack of Big League Chew to my liquid purchase—never heard of that shit until arriving in Podunk, Montana, but it's addicting, and now I buy it whenever I come here.

  I head back to my bike, bottles clinking together on my back despite the layers of paper bags I ordered the flannel-clad clerk to wrap around them. My gaze sweeps over the Jeep. After the text, I forgot all about it.

  I wonder who owns this baby.

  I'm standing at the light right off of TMH's parking lot, waiting for it to turn, when I see the Jeep pull out of its spot in my side mirror.

  Weird. I didn't notice anyone leaving the store behind me.

  "Radioactive" by Bullet For My Valentine blares through my headphones as I drive down 19th to our house on the south side, near the university. I approach another intersection just as it turns red, and I slow the bike down. Almost stopped, I glance in the mirror and spot the Jeep speeding toward me.

  What the—?

  I'm about to abandon my Harley to save my ass when the driver hits the brakes and brings the car to a standstill about a foot from my rear tire, leaving skid marks on the asphalt.

  Adrenaline is pulsating through my body, and my hands tighten around the handlebar. This dude is asking for it. Still riled up from the text, I wouldn't mind planting my fist in someone's face. I'm about to get off my bike to march toward the MOAB when the light switches and the jerk beeps at me.

  Lucky motherfucker.

  I've never been a hothead. Rhys used to be the one who tended to lose his temper in our friendship. Not that I was a pussy; I simply didn't have the desire to pick a fight. I was the jokester—the person no one took seriously—until everything was ripped from
under me. The day I punched my best friend across the face…that was when I changed.

  The Jeep drives behind me with less than the mandated safety distance, and I clench my jaw.

  Give me a reason, fuckface.

  I switch lanes as I approach Bear Court, where I have to turn left—yup, even the streets have ridiculous names here. The dick navigating the Jeep follows suit and comes even closer. Fast.

  At the last moment, the Jeep moves back into the right lane and halts next to me. The light turns green, but neither of us moves. I glower at the blacked-out driver's side through my visor—equally tinted—when the window suddenly lowers about halfway. My heart stutters when a girl with wavy, dark-blonde hair comes into view. Wayfarers cover half of her face that's visible, and despite not seeing her eyes, I can feel her gaze on me. Somehow, I know that she is stunningly beautiful. My body is instantly buzzing with...recognition?

  Have I seen her before?

  I hold my breath as something in her expression changes. She is smirking. The crinkle around her eyes is noticeable, even though most of her face is hidden from me. Lifting a hand, MOAB Girl salutes and takes off with screeching tires.

  Stunned, I remain at the intersection until I can no longer see her lights down the road.

  I have no idea what just happened, but the thudding beat of my heart tells me that it was the most exciting thing since exiting the plane two years ago.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  I hit the steering wheel until my palm hurts. Pushing the gas pedal down, the distance between my Jeep and the Harley rapidly increases. I need to get out of here.

  Checking the dash, I realize I'm going almost eighty—twenty over the speed limit allowed for this stretch of road leading out of town. Great. The last thing I need today is to get pulled over.

  "Argh!" A growl bursts out of me, and my hands grip the wheel so hard the skin over my knuckles turns white. Goddamn it, why did I do that? I glance in the rearview mirror once more. He's still standing in the middle of 19th, straddling his bike and making no indication to move on. Despite his visor being blacked out, I can sense his stare on my car. On me. A wave of goose bumps runs down my spine, and I shiver.

  Weston Sheats, this is not how we were supposed to meet.

  The road turns, and I chance one last look. He's still there.

  My little stunt turns into a twenty-five-minute detour. I could've done a U-ey and saved myself the headache of being late for work, but at the slim chance of running into Wes again, my stomach revolts like when Rae had dared me to eat the dead cockroach we found in the kitchen when I was eight. Of course, I had followed through. I never shied away from a dare—especially not from my big sister—but as soon as I had swallowed the disgusting thing, I barfed everything back up. Needless to say, there is not much that unsettles me or makes me nervous these days—not after everything I've gone through in my twenty-two years—but at the mere thought of seeing him again…him seeing me…my snack of a protein shake and leftover Chinese threatens to make a reappearance.

  I slow the car and grab my phone from the passenger seat. Swiping up, my last message is still on the screen. I quickly type out a text to Mags before placing the device in the cup holder.

  Running late. Cover 4 me plz!

  My phone buzzes almost instantly, and I'm not surprised. I should've been at the bar by now. After all, it's only a few blocks from The Moose's Head.

  My best friend, Mags, had asked me to pick up the booze for tomorrow's party, which was how I ended up at TMH before my shift. I was about to let her know that I had gotten everything she ordered for her little sister's twenty-first birthday when he pulled into the lot. I almost choked on my saliva and had to pound my chest multiple times. What was he doing there? He had practice today. He should have been home.

  Yes, I know his schedule. Am I a stalker? Nope. I simply like to be informed. And that includes where Weston Sheats is at any given time, so I can avoid him. Well, avoid in the sense of me watching him without him knowing I am there. Okay, fine. I do totally stalk him—except for tonight.

  I had held my breath as Wes climbed off his bike. Thank God the Jeep was tinted as fuck. He suddenly stopped and tilted his helmet-clad head slightly to the side as if he was listening to something, his shoulders going rigid. He ripped the helmet off with so much force that I jumped in my seat. Wha—? I spotted his EarPods, and understanding set in. He must've gotten a call or message he didn't like.

  I should have left. I even started the car but then turned it back off. I rarely got to watch him openly, but in the security of my Jeep, I was safe.

  Wes walked out of the double doors less than ten minutes later, his backpack looking like it was going to burst out of its seams. How much alcohol did he need? He drank, but nothing like his roommate. Kai must've gone on a bender again. That was it. I snapped my finger at my deductive skills. God, this was messed up. My knowledge of Weston Sheats bordered on obsessive, and I knew it. He was my distraction. My daydream. A dream that would never come true, which is why I indulged in it whenever I could.

  And that obsession was the reason I had followed him and pushed his buttons by speeding up to his bike, wanting to get a reaction out of him. He's developed a temper over the year I've been hiding in the shadows, and I wanted to see what he would do. Would he engage? Deep down, I craved for him to notice me.

  What a stupid fucking thing to do.

  Everything is going to change. I can feel it.

  The rest of the night turns into a complete shit show. I'm lucky Mags was working, or I would've had to look for a new job by morning. I serve half my customers the wrong drinks, and my friend eyes me suspiciously. I don't make mistakes like that. I know that. She knows that. Hell, most of our patrons know it. Customers come to this place because of my bartending skills. I'm the best at my job—no point in being modest. It was one of the side habits I picked up at my previous place of occupation. It wasn't my main gig, but hanging out at the bar during breaks has now paid off.

  Mags stays back after she's technically done for the night, and I'm fully aware that she'll grill me later. I am good at pretending—great, actually—but my BFF is not only intuitive; she also studied psychology and human behavior. And I'm her favorite subject to analyze.

  I met her during my second week in town. I didn't mean to stay more than a month, two tops. I knew the drill. Don't put down roots. Don't get attached. All that went to shit in a couple of days. I was walking the MPU campus, looking for easy prey. There was always a dude (or dudette—who am I to discriminate?) who wanted to spot a meal for a pretty girl. I learned early on in life how to use my genetically blessed appearance to my advantage.

  Apparently, Mags had been watching me since the minute I showed up on campus. I had just set my sights on a preppy-looking guy in a red-and-black jersey when she intercepted me—stepped right in my path. When I attempted to walk around her, she blocked me. I let my gaze travel up and down her body, giving her my best don't-mess-with-me glare. Who the fuck was this bitch? How dare she stand between me and my meal of the day. I wasn't opposed to using physical force, since the burrito yesterday's victim bought me had long since left my system. I was hangry. But instead of being intimidated, Mags cocked an eyebrow at me. "Let's go!"

  Huh?

  When I stared at her in disbelief, she grabbed my hand and dragged me in the opposite direction—away from my meal ticket. "What the fuck? Let go!" I dug in my heels. I couldn't remember the last time someone had gotten the best of me in that way. I didn't let anyone touch me. Ever. And this chick was not just able to surprise me, but also manhandled me away from any bystander without a problem.

  "Stop fighting me. You're hungry, and I have the solution," she barked. But despite it being a command, there was kindness in her tone. Understanding. So, I let her.

  That was a year ago and how I ended up at The Grizz Pub—literally.

  She had brought me to a dingy-looking place off Main Street.
The only reason I went inside was that I had no doubt I could take her. Granted, a whole gang bang of mountain men could've been waiting for me in there, but I always carried at least one of my two knives with me. And today, I had both. Being ambidextrous gave me a slight (insert sarcasm) advantage when I had to fend off unwanted contact. I was going to be okay.

  In the end, it was an empty bar. Surprisingly clean and…shocker: inviting. A mix between Montana rustic and mid-century-modern college bar. Not what I would have expected based on the exterior of the building. The place was all dark-tone wood everywhere, with MPU memorabilia displayed along the walls and on shelves. All the lamps held these fancy Edison light bulbs that cost ten bucks a pop. Who the fuck pays ten dollars for one light bulb when you could get eight regular ones for the same price? Glancing around, there were at least a hundred in this place. The owner must have made good money to afford this. We certainly didn't have this ambiance at—nope, that was in the past. I wasn't going there. I scanned more of the room. The actual bar was massive, with mirrored glass shelves all the way to the ceiling. Absolutely nothing I would have expected to find in a Montana college town. I liked it.

  After depositing me on one of the stools lining the counter, Mags disappeared through a door that I assumed led to the kitchen. When she didn't come back out for several minutes, unease started to build in my belly. What was I doing? I didn't walk into an unknown space without thorough recon. I knew better. Biting the inside of my cheek, I contemplated my options. I was outta here. Plus, I needed food. Between the prickly sensation on the back of my neck and my growling stomach, it was time to leave. I was bordering on the verge of nausea from hunger, and if this was some sort of trap… I slid off the stool.