Page 7 of Only in the Dark (Bound By Darkness Duet #1)

Kieran Harlowe

Family dinners were my least favorite day of the week.

I adored my mom, but hated spending time with my brother.

He was always the stereotypical popular guy who treated others as garbage and viewed people as below him.

Being in a room with him was miserable unless Olivia was with him.

He put on a front around her to keep her fooled, which benefited me because he acted like less of a tool.

I knew she wasn’t coming tonight because I heard her conversation with my lying, skeezy brother.

He asked her not to come, lied to her and said it was just an intimate dinner with our parents.

And I had no idea why he did that, but I planned to find out.

I was certain I knew why he wouldn’t want her there.

“Kieran!” my mother beamed when I joined them in the kitchen. My brother and dad had beers in their hands, of course. It wouldn’t be a Harlowe family dinner if the father and son duo weren’t a few beers deep before I arrived.

“Son,” my dad said, holding his beer out as if it were a greeting. As if his drinking didn’t tear our family apart before my mom decided to learn how to deal with him.

My brother’s drinking was getting just as bad if the incident a few weeks ago was any indication.

He was drunk when he headed to Olivia’s place.

I followed him to her place to protect her, but I froze when it happened, unsure of what she truly wanted.

I saw it in her eyes, but she hadn’t resisted him much.

I thought she gave in until I saw her reactions after.

Then, I vowed to get revenge for her. To destroy my own brother for what he had done and how he had treated her.

“Dad. Matthew. Where’s Olivia?” I got straight to the point, locking eyes with my brother’s evasive gaze.

She had been coming to most of our Thursday night family dinners since he introduced us. Dad rolled his eyes. He wasn’t Olivia’s biggest fan, since she was vague about her job as an entrepreneur. He assumed she wanted Matthew for his money.

“She couldn’t come. Had some sort of girls’ night thing,” he lied. Not only did I know it was a lie from watching her, but I could tell by the way he cleared his throat with a raspy grunt every time a lie crossed his thin lips.

“Disrespectful if you ask me,” Dad chimed in. No one had asked him, though. “Want a beer, son?” Dad asked. He had been trying to get me to drink with him since my twenty-first birthday seven years ago.

“Still not a big drinker,” I responded. He knew, but he wanted his alcoholism to spread to his sons.

It would be the only way I could make him proud, or by following in his career footsteps like my brother.

I had no interest in investment banking.

I ended up being the youngest person in my precinct to make detective.

I loved my job. Some would say they loved being cops because they wanted to help people find justice.

And I did, in my own way. I liked using my skills and power to rid the world of predators using alternative methods once they evaded punishment.

I refused to let them—especially the extra horrendous offenders.

“How’s the firm going?” I asked, pretending I cared.

It made Dad light up every time, so I asked when I wanted him off my back.

Matthew rolled his eyes, knowing my plan to get Dad off my case by distracting him.

Dad and Matthew genuinely loved banking, but that love didn’t pass on to me, thankfully.

“Excellent. Matthew just brought in another billionaire family. I don’t know how he does it, but he’s excellent,” Dad said, slapping Matthew’s back proudly.

I held back my yawn as my boredom increased.

Family dinners were getting tedious. I could only hope that someone got killed or mugged and I’d have to go into work.

If I left otherwise, I’d never hear the end of it from Mom.

I hated how she stuck with Dad through everything, but I loved her.

She was too sweet for this world, and I’d do anything to protect her, even if it meant one day harming my own family.

“Dinner’s ready, boys,” Mom announced, calling us into the dining room.

We followed, taking our seats at the enormous dining room table.

Like a stereotypical rich person in a movie, my dad sat at the end of the table, while we sat on the sides and faced each other.

He looked like a prick, but I was fine with not having to sit next to him or look him in the eye while eating.

“Delicious, Ma,” I said, appreciating the pot roast she had made for us tonight.

Growing up, Mom stayed home with us, taking care of the house and cleaning every day before preparing the dinner that Dad wanted on the table when he got home from work.

Despite her children being grown, she still cooked, cleaned, and took care of all of us.

“How’s work going, Kieran? Any exciting cases you’re working on?

” She was the only one in the family who ever asked about my work.

I was the family pariah, a disappointment for not choosing the path Dad wanted.

Some families would be proud of their kids becoming a detective and busting criminals for a living—not my dad.

He might’ve been prouder to know my extracurricular proclivities.

“You know the city. There’s something crazy every day, but nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Are you working on the Carrington’s fraud case? Such a shame they’re being set up like that. John would never do such a thing,” Dad huffed.

He defended his friend and business colleague, but only because it benefited him if he didn’t go to jail. It wasn’t my wheelhouse, but I knew the Carrington family was guilty of many white-collar crimes.

“I don’t work on high-profile crimes,” I reminded him, knowing he wanted me to pull strings.

“I work on violent crimes.” And sometimes committed them.

He didn’t need to know that part. It wasn’t like my family wasn’t full of criminals.

All people like my father committed some sort of crimes to keep or accumulate their wealth.

He was part of my inspiration for not choosing to work in white-collar crime.

I could only imagine the trouble I’d create with my family if I were arresting his buddies, or even him.

Though, I could one day direct my friends to look into my dad’s finances if I found proof of wrongdoing.

“Hm,” Dad mumbled before diving back into his dinner, washing down the food with a new beer. Mom took a few conservative sips of wine while I stuck to drinking water.

“I told Olivia I’d head over after dinner. She said the girls were going out, and she was staying in,” my brother lied, his eyes staying glued to his food—another tell, refusing eye contact.

“Are you going to propose to that girl? She’s cute, and she seems to handle herself well,” Mom questioned.

“I sure hope not,” my dad grumbled.

My brother started choking on his food before spitting it out onto the plate. “Marriage? It hasn’t been that long. I’m not ready to think about marrying someone.”

“Matthew, you’re twenty-seven. You should be dating to marry. But someone much nicer, from a better family, ready to be a stay-at-home mom to your kids,” Dad pointed out.

“Children?” I could see the panic forming in Matthew’s eyes.

I had to bite my lip to hold back the laughter that threatened to outpour.

Though I was glad he wasn’t thinking about this stuff with Olivia.

Maybe he’d give her up soon. Maybe I wouldn’t have to hurt him to get her.

Not that I’d mind. If Matthew weren’t my brother, I would’ve killed him already.

He was like every other man I took down.

“I think I’m done eating,” Matthew said, pushing his plate forward.

“May I be excused to head over to see Olivia now?” He kept up the lie well.

“Sure, son,” Dad said. Mom smiled and hugged Matthew goodbye as he walked around the table. He skipped me, rolling his eyes at me before heading out the door. Lovely.

“I’m full. Thank you for dinner, Mom. It was delicious.” I had to leave hastily in order to follow him. “I…have a date,” I lied.

They wanted nothing more than for me to meet a nice girl from a wealthy family who Dad could manipulate for more money. Same as they expected from my brother.

“I’ll catch up later.” Without giving them a moment to voice any objections, I darted out the door with a playful skip, trailing closely behind my brother.

I got in my car and followed the direction he took off in.

His bright blue Lexus was easy to catch up to even as the night sky blanketed the streets.

My brother chose his car based on money and status—though many considered it a fake luxury vehicle—and I chose mine based on reliability, which was how I ended up with a Honda Civic.

The most unexpected part of the night was the rundown motel he stopped at. My brother—the epitome of trying to show off his wealth—was at a motel that looked like it hosted nightly drug deals. It made no sense, but it piqued my interest.

I sat in my car across the parking lot, watching as my brother met with a young woman, who looked too young to even check into a motel.

I brought out my burner phone, the one I got solely to taunt Olivia, and texted her the address.

Her curiosity would make her come. I included the room number, and she’d figure out how to get in there.

I’d sit quietly in my car, the hood of my sweatshirt pulled over my head like a shadowy veil, as I peered out into the dim expanse of the parking lot.

My spot was shrouded in darkness, the absence of any light rendering my vehicle almost invisible, its dark paint merging seamlessly with the night.