Darken (Siege #1) Read online

  “What the fuck do you mean, you weren’t driving?” His voice was deceptively soft. She recognized the anger and confusion in his hard eyes. “I came to you. I asked you to explain what happened. You told me you were driving.”

  “No. You said I was. Forget it. Don’t listen to me. I’m drunk,” she said and stumbled back to the couch.

  Why didn’t she listen to Josh when he told her the drinks were deadly? Her mind and mouth refused to cooperate and work together. She never intended to tell Gavin about the accident, but she been unable to hold it back any longer.

  “That’s a bullshit excuse.” He jutted a finger in her direction, and her eyes crossed as she attempted to follow the waving digit. “You were driving that night. Lela wouldn’t drive drunk.”

  “But I would?”

  That shut him up. She wondered if he realized that if everything he claimed to know about her was true, how could he explain her doing something like that?

  Cora tipped her head back and stared at the ceiling tiles tinted yellow with age. They were old and tired. Just like her continued determination to play the villain in Gavin’s mind. She didn’t want to be blamed for something she hadn’t done. She’d made plenty of mistakes that night, but driving drunk wasn’t one of them.

  “We were so happy. Four years at college and we were finally done,” Cora said, her lips curling into a smile as the bittersweet memory took over. “We spent the whole evening dancing and drinking. Or I did. Lela knew I hated driving at night, so she only had a couple because she planned to drive back. She wanted you to come so you could drive.”

  “I would have gone, but she told me it was a girls' night.”

  “Because I didn’t have a date, and she didn’t want me to feel left out" Cora’s head rolled along the back of the couch. “Did you know she couldn’t dance?”

  “I knew,” he answered.

  “Of course, you did. Dancing was the only thing she couldn’t do perfectly.”

  “There were others,” he said. “She just didn’t let it stop her from doing them.”

  “Maybe, but that night, she learned to line dance. I taught her the Electric Slide. She said she was going to take you dancing and surprise you.”

  She paused and gazed at Gavin. Her stomach heaved, and she really regretted that third drink. Two she could have handled, but the more she drank, the more she talked. This conversation was the prime example. It was a conversation she’d never planned on, but keeping the words trapped inside of her became impossible.

  “What happened, Cora?” His voice cracked on her name.

  “Right before we hit the bridge, some idiot almost rear-ended us. I got so mad. Lela told me to calm down. She was going to let him pass, but I rolled down my window and gave him the finger.” She squeezed her trembling hands into fists. “He rammed us and Lela lost control.”

  Gavin’s fingers plowed through his hair, clenching the ends tightly before he took a deep breath. His mouth gaped as if he couldn’t form all of the questions racing through him.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me believe you’d been driving? That you caused the accident?”

  “Because it wouldn’t change anything. I’m still the reason Lela died. The guy hit us because of me. The car filled with water so quickly because I opened my window. Lela drowned because I was too drunk to get her out.”

  He didn’t say anything, and she took the silence for agreement. It was hard to argue with those facts.

  “I couldn’t even get myself out,” she said.

  “What do you mean? They found you on the bank of the river.”

  “Someone driving by spotted the car in the water. He pulled me out, but by the time he got to Lela, it was already too late.”

  He straightened and moved forward so swiftly; Cora held up a hand, worried she would lose her balance and somehow he would fall on her. Or was it him lose his balance? Either way, he was moving too fast.

  He went to his knees before her and gripped her shoulders. Her eyes widened, trying to adjust to the new close-up view of his face.

  “What do you mean, someone?” He shook her gently and her head spun at the way his face danced before her eyes.

  “Someone. A person.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know. I passed out after.”

  Passed out. The words didn’t accurately describe falling into a two-week coma. If she’d been sober, she might have described it differently, but even the police referred to it as passing out.

  “Did you tell the police about any of this? The guy who rammed you? The person who stopped to help?”

  “They said I suffered head trauma. That I might not be remembering right. There was nothing they could do even if I were right.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have believed you.”

  “Like you believed I’d drive drunk?”

  His lips tightened and he let go of her shoulders. An overwhelming sense of sadness filled her. How could she blame him for believing the worst of her? She’d let him. She never once challenged him on any detail about the accident.

  Lifting a hand, she cupped his face in her palm, in part to connect with him, and partly to stop the back and forth movements his head made.

  “It doesn’t matter. She’s gone and you hate me.”

  She stood and walked to her bedroom, using the wall to stop her from falling over. There was something seriously wrong with the floor; it slanted to one side. She fell backward on the bed, her legs hanging over the edge. She saw Gavin standing in the doorway, watching her.

  “I don’t hate you, Cora.”

  She wanted to believe him so badly. When he held her in his arms, everything disappeared. Everything except the feel of his hard body and the taste of him. There was no anger or shame, only passion. Yet, those fleeting moments did little to dispel the truth.

  “Lela wouldn’t want me to,” he said.

  “She used to talk about you all the time. She loved you. Really loved you.” A massive yawn escaped her, and she let her drooping eyelids to close. “I hated listening to her talk about you. I didn’t want to hear. I just wanted to pretend.”

  “You should have told me,” he said.

  She snorted but didn’t bother opening her eyes. “It’s easier this way.”

  “What’s easier?”

  “Protecting you.”

  Cora talked in her sleep. Nothing coherent, simply a soft mumbling mix of words and phrases that made no sense. Whatever her dreams held, it wasn’t peace.

  Gavin pressed his back to the wall and slid down to sit on the floor, attempting to process everything she told him. How much of it was truth, and how much was the ramblings of a woman who’d had too much?

  Her story made sense. It fit with the Cora he knew. So why the hell didn’t she ever told him he was wrong?

  God when he thought of all the horrible things he’d said to her; the things he’d thought— He felt sick.

  She tried to roll over, but her dangling legs hindered her. He gave a slight smile as he took in the one remaining boot she obviously forgot to remove. He rose and walked to the bedside. After unzipping the boot, he slid it off and tossed it to the corner of the room out of the way.

  Staring down at her, he contemplated what to do next. It was obvious he wouldn’t get any more answers from her.

  He tugged her up until her head rested on the pillow. He considered putting the covers over her, but that would require him somehow moving her off them first. She was light enough he could easily lift her without waking her, but he decided that bordered on being a creepy invasion of her personal space. Strange thought, considering less than an hour before he had his tongue in her mouth and his hands on her ass. But she was out of it, and that was a line he didn’t cross.

  He went into the living area and scanned the small space. Her place wasn’t what he’d expected. He’d expected fluffy, colorful furniture, pictures of her family, and a homey atmosphere. This place with its bare walls a
nd simple furnishings lacked the warmth he always associated with her. He found a crocheted quilt folded up on the floor at the end of the couch and picked it up.

  After he laid the quilt over Cora, he went to the small kitchenette and poured a glass of water. He gulped the water and rinsed out the glass, leaving it in the sink to dry. With a heavy sigh, he braced his hands on the counter and let his head drop.

  He needed a beer or whiskey. Fuck, he’d take anything to block out the echoes of every nasty word he’d said to Cora. Locking the door behind him, he headed back down to the street toward the pub. With every step, he played back the pieces of Cora’s story.

  It made sense Lela would be driving that night. The idea of her getting in the car with a drunk driver, or of Cora making the choice to drive drunk, had always been a detail that never meshed with what he knew about either woman.

  It was all the new details that didn’t fit. Who was the other driver? The stranger who stopped to help? Why the hell hadn’t the police done any follow-up?

  Fury snapped at Gavin’s control, propelling his body toward survival mode. His muscles contracted and then snapped back, expanding and straining his skin. His eyes darted around, pinpointing minute details, and he inhaled deeply as he instinctively assessed the area for danger.

  Yet natural instinct had nothing to do with it. His body’s response to a perceived enemy and the accompanying rage were all by design. The Posthuman Project had made them the perfect soldiers. They blended in with the general population, appearing normal, then transformed into a monster when the enemy neared. Their muscles enlarged, magnifying the superior strength they already possessed. The more uncontrolled they became, the more pronounced the physical changes were.

  He slammed his fist into the brick wall of the building he’d stopped beside. The brick crumbled around his knuckles, and he pulled back to shake off the dust. The force of the impact would have broken the bones of a normal human, yet the mild stinging Gavin experienced was merely an annoyance and did little to relieve his frustration. Yet, it gave him a moment’s pause to pull himself back from the brink.

  He dragged in another slow breath and let his senses reassure him of the absence of danger. He reined in the anger prodding at him and focused his thoughts back on Cora.

  She claimed she reported everything to the police, but he read the reports months before, and there’d been nothing in there about another car or anyone rendering aide. Even if they doubted every word she said, there should have been some mention of her version in the file.

  A block from the bar, he pulled out his cell and dialed Noah’s number.

  “Did you know?” Gavin asked when his brother answered.

  “Gavin? I can’t hear you. Let me go outside.” There was a pause as Noah exited the bar. “What’s up?”

  “Did you know?”

  “About what?”

  “Did you know Cora wasn’t driving the night of the accident?”

  Gavin heard Noah sighing on the other end of the line, and he wanted to reach through and rip his brother’s heart out.

  “How long have you known?” He gritted his teeth as adrenaline tensed his muscles. The urge to succumb to the monster festered within him.

  “Since she came out of the coma. I listened to her give her statement.”

  “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

  “Would it have mattered? And don’t just say yes. Think about it. You were so angry at the world afterward. You wanted someone to blame. You needed to blame someone. Some faceless stranger wasn’t going to cut it. You wanted to see the guilt. So, Cora let that be her.”

  “What I fucking needed was the truth.”

  “You weren’t ready for the truth.”

  “That wasn’t your call,” Gavin snapped. “How the fuck are we going to find this guy now?”

  “Find who, Gavin? Cora couldn’t even give a description of the vehicle let alone the driver. There’s not any evidence to even start looking.”

  “What about the person who stopped to help? They might have seen something.”

  “You don’t think we looked? It’s a dead end.”

  “We? Who else knew about this?”

  “The family and Merrick.” Not surprising; their family didn’t keep secrets from each other.

  Gavin rounded the side of the bar and came face to face with Noah who stood just outside the entrance of Porter’s. He hung up and shoved the phone into his back pocket.

  “We looked into it,” Noah said. “Merrick pulled every piece of surveillance footage he could get his hands on to see if someone followed them. Dad and I questioned every possible lead, but it was weeks too late.”

  “We could have gone to the media, offered a reward. Something.” The ache of helplessness settled inside his chest.

  “The cops advised us against that.”

  Gavin stared at his brother, shocked. He couldn’t believe they’d roll over for the cops without some good reason.

  “You let Lela’s killer get away with this because the cops told you to back off?”

  “There wasn’t anything else we could do.”

  Believing his brother would have been so much easier if Noah would have looked at him. Instead, Noah gazed off to the side.

  “That’s bullshit. You’re hiding something.”

  Noah ran a hand down his face, rubbing his short beard and then craned his head to the side until there was a crack from his neck.

  “Sinclair. He was the guy Cora saw on the river bank. We think he or one of his lackeys also forced them off the road.”

  Gavin’s stomach clenched and he almost hurled right there in the street. Instead, his fist swung out and he landed a solid punch on Noah’s jaw.

  Noah’s head snapped back, and he stumbled a few steps to the side. When he steadied himself, he lifted a hand and touched the spot where Gavin had made contact.

  “Two minutes ago it was a dead end. No evidence. Too late. And now it’s Sinclair? How the fuck did you decided to keep this from me?”

  “This wasn’t my call,” Noah said. “It was too late for the cops to find anything. Merrick and Caleb, on the other hand, weren’t bound by the need for warrants. It took a couple months for them to find anything.”

  “That doesn’t explain why I wasn’t told.”

  “You needed time to heal. To get past losing Lela.”

  Gavin clenched his fists, every ounce of his being wanted to pummel Noah or anyone in his way.

  “Who decided?”

  “Gavin …”

  “Who?”

  “Mom.”

  He spun around and strode through the parking lot to his Jeep, ignoring Noah’s calls.

  Of course, Mom made the call. She was the boss. From the moment the five of them walked into that house, the pecking order was established. Everyone shared their opinion, they even got a vote, but Sarah Walker had the final say.

  This time, though, she’d been wrong.

  The overwhelming desire to go to the house and confront her pulsed through him, yet he realized it would be pointless. He drove around aimlessly, making it almost to Billings before turning around. He pulled off the main highway onto the back road to town. He slowed to a crawl before eventually coming to a stop at the entrance to Thompson Creek Bridge.

  He got out of the car and walked out to the middle of the bridge. With his forearms resting on the wooden barrier, he peered over the side at the water below. At that time of year, the creek was shallow from the hot temperatures, only a few feet of muddy water concealed the rocky bottom, nothing like in the spring, when rainwater and mountain runoff caused it to surge to a couple meters deep.

  His head dropped into his heads and his shoulders jerked.

  Where did he go from here?

  Chapter Seven

  THE MORNING SUNLIGHT STREAMED through the thin curtains and Cora reached across the counter to drop the blinds. It might have been almost nine in the morning, and she might have been up for over an hour, but with h
er raging hangover, it was way too early to be so bright.

  She took a sip from her glass of orange juice, then poured the rest down the sink as the acidic liquid settled uneasily in her stomach. Definitely not what she needed.

  Glancing around her apartment, she contemplated what she would do with the day. Working full time and then spending her spare time at the pub watching over Gavin left her with a pretty sad personal life.

  Every vision she’d had with Sinclair showed him making his move in the evening, so there was no need to torture herself all day. She needed to do something other than stew.

  Her gaze fell on the long forgotten sketchbook wedged into the top shelf of her bookcase. She wandered over, tugged it free and leafed through the pages of her work.

  They were a documentation of her artistic growth since her brother first gave her the book for Christmas eight years before. There were the standard still lifes and portraits, but her favorites were the fantasy-based sketches she’d done of mythical beasts.

  The sketches trailed off during her time in college and finally stopped after Lela’s death. She loved art, but day-to-day life took over and she’d been busy with her job at the museum.

  She closed the sketch book and tossed it onto the coffee table. Going to the bedroom closet, she searched through boxes for her art pencils, but couldn’t find them. She’d need to go to the art supply store in Billings for a new set.

  She grabbed her cell and dialed her brother’s number.

  “What’s up?” Darren asked when he picked up.

  “Hello to you, too.”

  “Forgive me, Coraline, dearest sister of mine. How is your health?”

  “I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

  “Oh, you know me. Your health and well-being is my top priority.”

  “Yeah, sure.” She did know him, and that meant he was focused on his work, and she was lucky he even bothered picking up. She went to the front closet, and wedging the phone between her ear and shoulder, slipped on her sneakers. “How are things going?”

  “I’m doing good. Went up to Mom and Dad’s place last week. Mom said you were busy and haven’t been up to see them in a while.”

  “I’ve been working. Besides, I don’t trust my car to make it up the mountain.”