Page 84 of Of Light and Dark

Chapter Twenty-Four

"He has pictures of me!"

It’s Sunday morning, and after three days and several not-so-subtle comments from Natty, I finally took a shower. So, when the vibration of my phone on the nightstand drifts into the bathroom, I drop the towel and dive across my bed to answer the call.

Thank fuck my room is on the second floor, or Lancaster would have a front-row seat to my pussy-whipped nakedness right now. My best friend would simply barge in, and Denielle is off to Georgia, getting some ass herself, which leaves only one person to call me.

"Who?" I’m confused.

"My father!" Lilly snaps like I was supposed to simply know.

"Which one?" I huff out with a laugh.

"RHYS!"

Oh-kay, we’re not in a joking mood.

"Sorry, babe. I’m assuming you’re talking about Brooks?" I force myself to be serious, even though I think my pun was pretty good.

"Yes, Brooks. He has hundreds of pictures of me. You are in some as well!" she barks.

"Me?" That gets my attention.

"I found photo albums in his office. He has more pictures of me than Heather and Tristen. I just went back and am flipping through the ones I didn’t get to last night. There are so many!" Her tone pitches toward the end. She’s not quite hysterical, but it won’t take much more.

"Anyone else? I mean, besides me?" I don’t like this. How could he have gotten these photos—Emily, a P.I., himself?

Pages turn hastily in the background, and I tap the fingers of my free hand against my naked thigh.

I should probably get dressed.

I picture her, sitting on the floor, surrounded by photo albums—similar to the day I found her in her bedroom. "Emily and Henry are in some. I found one with all of us at what looks like a carnival," Lilly says absently. More rustling. "Oh, my God!"

"WHAT?" Come on, woman, speak!

"Brooks!"

"What about him?" I grind my teeth. I really don't care for cryptic responses when she's across the country and I can't do shit about anything.

Yup, I’m still bitter about it.

"There is a picture of Brooks and me. It's when he gave me—" She cuts off, something clatters, and I have to pull the phone away from my ear at the sudden noise.

"Ahhhhh!" a scream rips through the speaker, followed by another thud and then...whimpers. "Make it stop. Please m-make it s-stop."

The fuck—?

My heart starts racing. "Calla?!" She’s not answering. "BABE, ANSWER ME!" I’m standing butt-naked in the middle of my room, shouting into the phone.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"LILLY!" I press the device harder to my ear and tug on my hair with my free hand. "LILLY, ANSWER! Please." I'm begging more to myself than her since she's unresponsive. Motherfucker. When her moaning cuts off, so does my breathing. I can't draw any air in.

The worst possible scenario plays out in my head. Fuck. The pounding against my ribcage causes physical pain, and my gaze flies around the room as if I'd find the answers to what happened taped on my wall. What the fuck am I doing? I need to get help. I hang up and dial George, putting the call on speaker so I can cover my naked ass with the sweats I dropped on the floor earlier.

"Rhys?" he answers on the second ring.

"Something is wrong! She stopped talking and started screaming." I barely get the words out as I suck oxygen into my lungs.

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