Out of the Dark: A Thrilling Romantic Suspense Novel (The Dark Series Book 2)

by Danah Logan

  My stomach clenches at the thought of Nate watching me sleep like that. But before I go down the rabbit hole too far, he starts pointing at the screens on his desk and explains, "This is the interface to the security system for the property. You can also control everything via command line, but until I can properly teach you, this will be easier." He points to a drop-down field. "This lets you select the main area you want to look at: ‘East Wing – Second Floor.’ Then, you click here and choose which camera you want to review." He points at another drop-down. "Your room is labeled ‘Bedroom: Lilly.’ Most rooms have just numbers unless it's something obvious, like the library or an assigned room. See…" Nate changes the first selection to "West Wing," and in the next window, I see an option for "Bedroom: Margot."

  Confused, I ask, "Why does Margot have a bedroom?"

  My brother grimaces. "Umm…"

  My eyebrows draw together.

  He finally sighs and confesses, "Margot doesn’t sleep in my bedroom."

  "Huh?" They don’t sleep in the same bedroom?

  "I don’t let anyone stay in my private bedroom on this property. It’s my, uh…space if you want to call it that. The first place I felt safe again after I left the hospital. Margot thinks that the bedroom we share here is where I always sleep. She doesn’t come here that often and usually just for a weekend, so she’s never questioned it."

  What do you respond to that? As excited as I feel about him sharing more information with me, I’m just as weirded out. I can’t fathom not wanting to share my bedroom with Rhys. But then, Nate has a whole other set of issues.

  After an awkward moment of silence, he clears his throat and begins to explain more of the interface, neither of us wanting to talk further about the topic. Nate even shows me how to navigate it via command line, though he might as well have spoken Urdu at that point. Eventually, he changes it back to my bedroom and shows me how to pull up the password console with a combination of keys. There is no menu option to change the password, just a key combination.

  I should probably take notes.

  "Here." Nate pushes the keyboard to me. "Change the password to whatever you like, but nothing too easy. It was laughable how quickly I got into your phone and email. I didn’t even need an algorithm."

  My email?

  I hit him over the back of the head. He looks at me sheepishly, knowing exactly why I did it.

  "No more hacking into your emails; got it." That gives him another smack, and Nate laughs. "And the phone."

  I glare at him. Pulling the keyboard over, I try to think of a password. Hitting the enter key after confirming my password three times—not twice—I mumble, "This is the weirdest program I have ever seen."

  "I designed it."

  My head jerks around, and I search his face to see if he is messing with me. He designed it? The entire system?

  "I knew what I wanted, and it wasn’t available on the market…so I built it myself."

  My brother is a freaking genius. If I had any doubt before, I am sure now.

  "Can you teach me?" I’m in awe. I always knew I wanted to do something with math or computers, but seeing this…I need to learn how.

  A broad grin spreads over Nate’s face. "Of course."

  Chapter Fourteen

  Nate tells me to go shower and eat something. He ate earlier while I slept and needs to talk to George about the call. George has been keeping an eye on Rhys and my friends all morning. Nate promises to bring me up to speed when I’m back but emphasizes that I should take my time. Translation: go away; you’re slowing me down.

  Standing in the shower after scarfing down yet another round of carbs, my adrenaline spikes as I think about him leaving me alone with his computers. I could’ve woken up at any point, used the opportunity to try and contact someone. The trust he has in me after these short few days is humbling. If I thought the line between brother and criminal-slash-kidnapper was blurred before, the boundaries of acceptance of my current situation have shifted to the point of no return. I won’t be able to label him a criminal, turn him over, and move on when this is over. My stance on him paying for what he’s done hasn’t changed; he needs to take responsibility. But I know that I will be by his side through all of it.

  I’m back in front of the NCC—the now official callsign for Nate’s NASA command center—at precisely 2:13 p.m. One hour and seventeen minutes to go. I took as much time as my nerves allowed me, which was fifty-two minutes after Nate closed the door in my face.

  I knock, and I give Nate a shoulder shrug with my best hi-I’m-back grin when he looks me up and down. My brother’s shoulders slump when he sees I am here to stay.

  He swings the door open and moves out of the way. Walking in, I come face to face with—holy shit. I stumble backward and bump into my brother’s tall frame. His arms shoot out to steady me, and he whispers into my ear, "Lilly, meet George."

  On one of the two monitors on Nate’s desk is the face of a man—a man that could haunt nightmares. All I see is the massive scar. It runs from the left side of his forehead, down across his cheekbone, over his nose, and down to the right side of his neck. His skin is weathered, and his pronounced cheekbones and small eyes remind me of the picture of a mummy I saw in history class last year.

  His demeanor softens when he spots me, and his entire face turns…friendly? "Hello, Miss Lilly. It’s nice to finally meet you." George’s voice is gentle and in such a stark contrast to his…appearance.

  "You just cursed me out, and ‘Miss Lilly’ gets a full-on smile. I didn’t even know your mouth could turn that way." Nate scoffs and steps around me, walking back to his desk.

  George follows Nate’s movement with narrowed eyes. "That’s because you either act like a spoiled, entitled brat, or I have to clean up your mess. You don’t give me a reason to be friendly with you." The words are harsh, but his mouth twitches ever so slightly in one corner. He cares for my brother.

  "Let’s get back to the task at hand. Lilly, sit! We only have one hour until call time; let’s not waste it more."

  I follow his command, unsure of how to take the sudden tension. Sitting down in the chair Nate brought in earlier, George’s gaze meets mine before he looks back at my brother.

  "Denielle Keller left the Sheats’s residence a few hours ago. She is back at her house. Weston and Rhys are still at Weston’s house. I scoped out the location earlier, and everything is secure. I installed the wireless cameras you requested, so we have eyes from every angle. I also added one at the entrance for early warning."

  Nate nods at George’s recap. "The trackers are in place?"

  My head snaps up. "What trackers?"

  My brother briefly glances sideways. My gaze swivels between the two men; their silent communication makes me clench my jaw. I don’t like being out of the loop.

  "Nate…" I growl.

  Instead of Nate, George speaks up. "I advised your brother to track everyone’s movement today. Not just Rhys's. I understand that your relationship with your brother has…evolved." He gives Nate a pointed look. "We can’t be too careful at this point. Even though the situation has changed on your end, there are a lot of unknown factors here. With the FBI at the McGuire residence, I am making sure that Nate and you are protected."

  I’m speechless. This man just met me, and yet he acts like I’m—what?

  When I don’t say anything, Nate addresses George. "Thanks, man. Is everything plugged into the network yet?"

  "The trackers, yes. The cameras, shortly. I just finished the placement before you called. I’ll message you once it’s done. Shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes."

  "Sounds good. Establish connection in an hour."

  He disconnects the video-chat without saying goodbye.

  We sit in silence, and I replay George’s words in my head.

  "Should I be worried?" My voice is timid.

  My question is vague, but Nate understands what I’m asking him. "Your story needs to be ironclad. And even then, I don’t
think I can protect you from everything. People will ask questions; some won’t believe you. You’ll be under surveillance."

  My heart is already beating double-time, but I catch on to Nate’s words. "You have a plan." It’s not a question; I know he does.

  "I do, but it will require you to stay, um…a little longer."

  "How long?" I peer at him carefully.

  "Ten days."

  "WHAT? WHY?" My entire body begins to shake. Ten days? That’ll make it two weeks. No. "NO!" I jump up and start pacing. "You said I could go home," I cry.

  "Sit down, please." Nate’s gaze follows my every step.

  I don’t want to sit. The sensation of being trapped builds inside my core and starts spreading. I can feel it all the way to my fingertips. I need to get off the property. I have access to the system. I can find my way out.

  On my eighth lap, two strong arms circle my upper body, pinning mine to my side. "Lilly! Listen to me."

  I begin to struggle against his hold.

  "Please, little sister." Nate is pleading with me, and I stop my fight. He immediately loosens his hold, and I turn. He points at the chairs. "Sit. Please?"

  Facing me in the chair, he draws in a deep breath. "I understand you want to go home. And you will; I promise you." His tone is sincere. "But…" Here we go. "I need to make sure my alibi is also in place, and for that, I need more time. Plus, none of the others have ever, uh...reappeared after just a few days. All these things would raise more questions—questions I can’t help you with once you leave here."

  I sigh, covering my face with my hands. He’s right; the others were all gone between two and three weeks. Looking back at him, I ask, dejected, "What’s the plan?"

  "I have to go back to LA next week. It’s just three days, but I can’t get out of it, which in the end, will work in our favor. I’m well-known and will be recognized in public. If there’s a suspicion linking me to your case, this will solidify my alibi."

  At his last sentence, my eyes snap to his. The way he says it, it would sound casual to an outsider, but I notice the slight drop in his voice. Talking about it makes him uncomfortable. As it should, the voice in my head chimes up for the first time in a while.

  "I see," is all I come up with.

  "As soon as I’m back, we’ll start the process of getting you home. But since you can’t just get on a plane, we have to find another way. I have some ideas but need to run them by George first."

  Why does he need an alibi if he’s going to pay for his actions?

  The voice inside of me is on a rampage.

  "Nate?"

  "Mhmm?" He has started typing in one of the command line windows again.

  "Why do you need an alibi if you are going to take responsibility for what you’ve done?" Despite focusing on my hands in my lap, I notice immediately that the typing has stopped. Sweat starts building inside my clasped palms—I’m risking my phone call by confronting him.

  Suddenly, my head is tilted upward with a gentle hand, and my eyes hesitantly meet my brother’s. The anger I expected is not there.

  "Because I have to make sure that you are safe and settled before I go away. I don’t want to be rushed and risk your life in any way."

  Understanding hits, and I squash the voice that is telling me that he’s just making excuses to not go to jail. Deep down, I believe him. The same way I have the urge to take care of him, he wants to take care of me before he faces the consequences. I nod and turn to the monitor. No idea what he’s doing, I watch, fascinated, as his fingers start flying over the keyboard again.

  Fifteen minutes later, according to the clock on the screen, a message window pops open and reads: All set.

  "Finally," Nate grumbles to himself.

  Another five agonizing minutes go by before the wall monitors flicker to life. Holding my breath, I take in the scene in front of me. Woodland Park. I haven’t been there in a while, but I’d recognize it anywhere. Nate adjusts certain angles, and eventually, all cameras point to the same spot. The spot our picture was taken so many years ago. My eyes sting, and I realize that tears are running down my face.

  "Thirty minutes to go. George will call in shortly." Nate squeezes my leg.

  Nate is in the process of setting up the headset as an incoming video call pops up on the screen. Without pausing what he’s doing, Nate says, "Accept," and George’s scarred face fills the screen.

  "WHAT THE HELL?" I shriek.

  Nate smirks without looking up, and George assesses my probably bulging eyes with a raised eyebrow.

  "How the fuck did you do that?" I address my brother, who is still ignoring me.

  "Language, Miss Lilly," I’m chastised by Nate’s bodyguard—how wonderful.

  "Sorry," I say like a five-year-old caught repeating a curse word she heard from her big brother. Nate snorts. He seriously snorts, and I smack him over the head. Again. This seems to have become my go-to reaction.

  "What? I told you I designed the system," he responds, exasperated.

  I’m amazed by how much we behave like siblings. He teases me; I retaliate in juvenile, little-sister fashion. Something else occurs to me: Rhys and I never acted like this. We bantered, we teased, but in a completely different way. For as long as I remember, I had this underlying feeling that I used to chalk up to him being my best friend. But having my real brother next to me, I realize there has always been more. Den’s words come back to me. "Whatever that memory doctor did to you, he wasn’t able to fully erase what you and Rhys already had…"

  Before I can say anything else, George begins with his updates. "Weston has left his house and is on his way to Miss Keller’s residence. Two minutes out. Agent Camden left the McGuire residence and went home; no one else has come or gone. Rhys left Weston’s house about four minutes ago and should be at the location in seven."

  By the time he finishes, I feel like I have a unibrow. "Uh…" I hold up a finger, and two sets of eyes first look at my finger then at my face.

  "Yes, Miss Lilly?"

  Since George is the one giving me his attention, I face him. "How do you know all that?"

  George, in return, dips his head at my brother. "Show her."

  Something is sucking all the air out of my lungs. Show me what?

  Nate remains mute and starts typing.

  Does he ever use a freaking mouse?

  One of the six mounted monitors changes, and it takes me a moment to grasp what I see—a map of Westbridge. There are different colored dots—red and blue. Each dot has a small rectangle next to it, showing initials. I stand up and get as close as possible. D.K., W.S., T.Mc. I scan the map, and there he is, still moving and getting closer. R.Mc. Then I notice that there are duplicates. There are two D.K.s and two W.S.s. Focusing back on the only dot I care about at the moment, I see only one R.Mc.

  "What are the dots? Why are there two for some?"

  Nate finally joins the conversation. "Some are trackers; some are cell phones." His tone is conversational, as if he just informed me we'd be having two different kinds of pizza for dinner.

  "You hacked into my friends’ phones?" I ask him incredulously.

  "No, I used their Friend Finder app. It’s not my fault none of them have any sense of privacy and have their location service permanently enabled. Tristen, well…yeah, he’s a bit more cautious." That’s where he leaves it.

  I focus back on the map; Rhys has arrived at Woodland Park. I turn to the other monitors and see the Defender parked in the small lot by the picnic area.

  "What time is it?" I whisper. It feels wrong to speak at a normal volume.

  "3:20 Pacific Standard Time, 6:20 Eastern Standard Time," I faintly notice George answering.

  "Are you in place?" Nate’s question startles me, and I swivel around to see his face.

  "I am."

  "In place where? Where are you?" This is the second time I directly address the man with the massive scar. The bone-jarring fear his appearance initially instilled in me is gone.


  George seems to notice as well; his eyes widen for a fraction of a second before he smoothes his features. "I've parked 1.3 miles away from the call location. We have eyes on everyone; there was no need for me to be on site." He sounds like he’s talking about a military mission.

  In my peripheral vision, something moves on the upper right wall monitor. Rhys has gotten out of the car and is making his way across the grassy field. The instant sensation in my abdomen causes me to smile. There he is. My gorgeous boyfriend. I missed him, but I didn’t realize how much I missed this feeling—my hornets on steroids. Before I ended up here, I was so furious about him hiding something from me that I withdrew myself out of self-preservation, suppressed all my emotions to not risk getting hurt.

  I feel a hand on my arm, and I peer at my brother over my shoulder.

  "It’s time." He holds out the headset.

  I want to take it, but my hands start shaking, and I can only stare at the outstretched device.

  "Look at me." His soft command makes my eyes travel upward to meet his. "It’ll be ok. We have all the security measures in place. Talk to him." He puts the headphone on my head, making sure it sits properly, a gesture so familiar, like he’s taken care of me his whole life. My lips press together in a tight smile, and I blink rapidly.

  "Let’s get going." Nate directs his attention back to George and the screens on the desk.

  My focus is on Rhys. He is jumping in place and keeps tapping the phone in his hand. He is as nervous as I am. It’s like looking into a mirror. I zone everything else out and watch. Nate and George are running through…I have no clue and, to be honest, also don’t care. All I want is to hear Rhys’s voice again.

  "Little sis?"

  "Mhmm?" The typing and chatter have stopped.

  "I asked if you’re ready?"

  Oh!

  Nate sounds hesitant, probably confused as to why I didn’t respond. Watching Rhys made everything fade into the background.

  "Yes," I breathe, still staring at the screen.