Wait for Dark

WAIT FOR DARK KIERSTEN MODGLIN WAIT FOR DARK is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, images, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. No part of this publication may be used, shared, or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles and reviews. If you would like permission to use material from the book for any use other than in a review, please visit: kierstenmodglinauthor.com/contact Thank you for your support of the author’s rights. Cover Design by Kiersten Modglin Copy Editing by Three Owls Editing Proofreading by My Brother’s Editor Formatting by Kiersten Modglin Copyright © 2023 by Kiersten Modglin. All rights reserved. First Print and Electronic Edition: 2023 kierstenmodglinauthor.com This one’s to the futures we dream of, the pasts we try to forget, the found families, and the hard truths we learn to share. This one’s to you if life looks a little different than you thought it would. “...she always had the feeling that it was very, very dangerous to live even one day.” VIRGINIA WOOLF, MRS. DALLOWAY CONTENTS 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 Would you recommend Wait for Dark? Stay up to date on everything KMod! Acknowledgments About the Author Also by Kiersten Modglin CHAPTER ONE HUDSON I see it happen out of the corner of my eye. A single hand gesture, but I register the move in seconds. He thinks he’s slick. Thinks he’s really made something happen here. He’s probably done it hundreds of times. Probably gotten away with it. She’s just another woman to him. A conquest. Across the table in front of me, Constance is telling me about something that happened today. A client who did something… Or maybe something happened to a client. Which client? I don’t know. I can’t listen. Can’t focus. All I can do is watch as the woman reaches for her drink again while the man watches eagerly. She has no idea what’s about to happen. Looking around the room, it seems no one else does either. Just this prick and me. “Sorry, would you excuse me for just a second?” I hold up a finger, cutting Constance off midsentence and scooting back from the table. If she’s angry, she doesn’t let on. Instead, she flicks a bit of her blonde hair over her shoulder and turns to follow my gaze. “Is everything alright?” I don’t answer. Can’t. I’m up out of my seat and across the restaurant in a flash. I bump into the man on purpose, reaching to steal the drink from the woman’s hand before it touches her lips. Woman may not be an accurate term, I realize. She appears even younger up close—barely more than a girl. She’s twenty-two, twenty-three, maybe. Can’t be much older than that. Her chestnut-brown eyes are wide as she stares at me, trying to understand what’s happening. Waiting for whatever bad thing is about to happen to her. She thinks I’m going to hurt her. No, maybe she thinks I’m going to hit on her. Wrong on either account. “Hey, mate. What are you—” “Trust me, you don’t want to drink that,” I say, ignoring the man behind me completely. Then thinking better of it, I turn to glance at him over my shoulder. “And I’m not your mate.” The bartender notices the commotion and approaches us with a wary look. “Everything okay?” I hand him the cocktail glass, red liquid sloshing out onto my skin. “No. Everything’s not okay. This man”—I jut my head toward the guy next to me, whose pale complexion suddenly seems almost translucent—“just slipped something into this young woman’s drink. You should probably call the police.” “I… What?” the man shouts, backing away. “What the hell are you talking about? I didn’t slip anything anywhere.” The woman’s hands go to cover her lips, staring between us in horror. “Are you serious right now? You tried to drug me?” She already has her phone out, though whether she’s calling 911 or texting her BFF, I can’t be sure. His jaw drops open with indignation. “You’ve got it all wrong!” He points at me. “He’s lying.” I narrow my eyes at him. And the Oscar goes to… “I’m not. But feel free to stick around and explain your side of things to the cops.” “Bro, screw this. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Clearly, you need your eyes checked. I moved her drink. That’s it.” “Ah, right, well, if that’s the case, better save that drink.” I hold out a hand, stopping the bartender from pouring it out. “The police may want to test it.” I glance at the man again. “You know, in case I’m wrong.” Both hands up in angry defeat, the guy backs farther away from us and makes a beeline for the door without another word. I ignore him as the bartender gives me a look of concern, then, at once, we direct our attention to the woman. “Are you okay?” I ask. She nods slowly, more out of habit than truly answering. “I… I think so.” She eyes the cocktail. “I didn’t drink anything.” It seems like more of a question than a statement, so I confirm, “No, he’d just slipped it in when you were looking at your phone. Did you know that man? Was he