Hacking Darkness: A Reverse Harem Romance (Dark Codes Book 1)

by Marissa Farrar

  I wanted more, but I couldn’t quiet bring myself to wake fully. My body plunged onward, seeking its release. It was my sole focus, the only thing I wanted or needed in that moment. I didn’t care who the hands, or mouth, or thigh belonged to. I just needed to be sated.

  I ground down harder on the thigh between my legs, my arousal escalating fast. A hand slipped into the back of my panties to cup one cheek of my ass. My flesh squeezed and massaged. Fingers grazed my tight hole, and I let out a moan, the sound pressed against the mouth still working mine. The leg moved, and I mourned the loss of pressure, but my underwear was stripped from my thighs, and what I’d been rocking against was replaced by something else.

  Still half asleep, I was caught up in a confusion of hands and mouths, only aware of kisses and strokes and a building pressure at my core. I wanted it so badly, reached for it, climbed toward it. I didn’t care about anything other than coming.

  My orgasm shattered through me, pulse after pulse, narrowing my whole existence down to only this intense pleasure rolling through me. Leaving me gasping for breath, and shuddering with little aftershocks as my orgasm faded away ...

  Chapter Twenty-two

  I opened my eyes, still breathing hard. What had happened? Had I been dreaming, or was it something more?

  I glanced over and, in the dark, made out Alex’s sleeping form huddled beneath the sheets. He lay on his side, facing away from me. His breathing came deep and even, and if I’d made any sounds during my sleep, they hadn’t disturbed him.

  Yet the sheets felt cool and damp with sweat, and I reached out and gently touched the back of his neck. His skin was damp, the blond locks at his nape coiled with moisture, as though he’d been doing something that would have caused him to perspire.

  I pressed my thighs together, feeling my own wetness caused by what—the dream, or had it been more? Then I realized something else. I’d gone to sleep in Alex’s t-shirt and my panties, but though I was definitely still wearing the t-shirt, a cool draft of air caressed between my thighs.

  Damn. Where the hell had my underwear gone? Had I rolled them off in my sleep, or had Alex had something to do with it? Could both of us have been brought together unknowingly?

  In a panic, I touched my fingers between my legs and then brought my hand to my nose. I sighed in relief. I only got my own musky tang, and not the distinctive salty scent of semen. So what the hell had happened to my underwear?

  Reaching around in the bed, and using my legs and toes to feel around as well, I located the slip of material rolled into a twist. They definitely looked as though they’d been removed during sex, but there was nothing else to show it had been anything more than my overactive imagination. Had I been dry humping Alex in my sleep? God, how embarrassing. Had he noticed and just chosen to ignore me, or had he responded to me, not realizing I’d still been asleep.

  The only way to find out for sure would be to ask him directly, and there was no way in hell I planned on doing that. How would that conversation go? ‘Hey, Alex, did I try to fuck you in your sleep the other night?’ Not. Going. To. Happen.

  I felt wide awake now. The house was quiet, and I figured the others were all sleeping, too. An idea occurred to me, and sent a rush of adrenaline through my body, making my heart race and my breath grow shallow. Did I dare attempt it? The guys wouldn’t even have to know.

  Trying not to make any noise, I slid my legs out of bed, my bare feet making contact with the plush carpet. I got to my feet then froze, casting a glance over my shoulder to make sure Alex hadn’t been disturbed. He hadn’t.

  I moved quickly to the door, opened it as quietly as possible, and slipped out into the hallway. Pausing again, my ears strained for any sign of anyone else being awake. From behind one of the doors, I heard the rhythmical vibrations of someone snoring, and made a mental note not to share a bed with whoever that was.

  When Clay had given me the tour earlier, he’d told me one of the upstairs rooms was a second office, but though it was bound to have a phone, I didn’t want to risk being heard. The guys were sleeping all around me, and the office downstairs was at the front of the house. They’d never hear me from there.

  Would all the doors leading to the outside world be locked? Through the window earlier, I’d spotted a couple of vehicles parked outside, one of which being the car they’d brought me here in. It occurred to me that I could search the house for the keys. If I found them and got out, I could drive myself home. Of course, if I did that, I wouldn’t be any closer to finding Hollan or the memory stick, and the guys would never trust me again. Not that they should, anyway.

  I tiptoed down the stairs, paranoid for that tell-tale creaky step, and reached the office at the front of the house. My ears strained the whole time, listening for any sign that someone might be awake. The house wasn’t old, but it still groaned and creaked, and I froze each time I heard something new, my heart racing.

  I reached the office. The door was shut, and I carefully tried the handle. For a moment, I thought it might have been locked, but I twisted the knob a little harder and the door cracked open. Beyond, the room was in darkness, just like the rest of the house. No one was in there.

  Not wanting to risk putting on a light, I slipped inside and closed the door softly behind me. Ghostly white light from the moon filtered through the window, allowing me to see where I was going. A large desk had been positioned in the corner of the room, and what I wanted most—a phone—sat beside the computer.

  The digits of my home phone number flashed up in front of my face, illuminating in order to show which sequence they went in. I longed to hear my Aunt Sarah’s voice, to tell her everything would be okay, and to be careful of Hollan. Clay had told me not to warn her about him, but how could I not?

  I crossed the room and came to a halt at the desk. Knowing there would be no turning back once I’d dialed that number, I hesitated, but then I pushed my worries away and picked up the handset. After they’d kept me in a cellar for three days, the least they owed me was a phone call home. Even prisoners were offered that much.

  I punched in the number, still shining brightly in the space in front of me.

  The phone rang, and I pressed the handset closer to my ear. Come on, come on. What if she didn’t answer? It was the middle of the night, and she would most likely be asleep. But she knew I was missing. Receiving a phone call in the middle of the night when your niece was missing surely would almost be expected, though I guaranteed she’d be thinking it was bad news.

  “Hello?”

  I’d assumed she would have been bleary and her voice sleep filled, but instead it was sharp.

  “Aunt Sarah. It’s me. It’s Darcy.” The sound of her voice caused unexpected emotion to swell up inside me. My eyes filled with tears, and I clamped my hand to my mouth to hold back a sob. I didn’t want her to think I was hurt.

  “Oh, my God, Darcy. Is that really you?”

  My voice broke, but I managed to get the words out. “It’s me, Aunt Sarah.”

  “Where are you? Are you hurt? Are you safe?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Where are you?” she asked again, the pitch of her tone higher than I was used to. “Everyone’s been searching for you. I’ve had the police here.”

  I stiffened. “Only the police?”

  “No, the FBI as well. What have you gotten yourself mixed up in, Darcy?”

  “It isn’t about me. It’s about Dad.”

  “Michael? He’s been dead six years. What on earth could he have to do with you vanishing like that?”

  “I didn’t vanish, Aunt Sarah. I was taken.”

  Didn’t she know about the shooting? Had Hollan somehow covered it up? Had no one made the connection between the FBI turning up at my house and then me going missing?

  “Just tell me where you are, Darcy, and I’ll come and get you. Or for God’s sake, come home. Everyone has been worried sick.”

  “It’s not as–” Above my head, a floorboard creaked. My
gaze shot up, staring at the ceiling. Someone was up.

  “I’m sorry Aunt Sarah, but I have to go. I just wanted to tell you not to worry about me, okay? I’ll try to call again when I can. I love you.”

  I caught her calling my name as I carefully replaced the handset. More movement came from upstairs. Someone was definitely awake. I had to hope they’d gotten up to use the bathroom and then were going straight back to bed again, but instead I heard the distinctive thump thump thump of footsteps crossing a bedroom floor.

  Shit.

  I moved fast, not wanting to be caught inside the office.

  Running for the door, I slipped out into the hallway and pulled the door shut behind me again. I hesitated, unsure what to do next. Should I hide somewhere? Or try to get back into the bedroom with Alex. Whoever had woken might have already gone to check on me and found me gone.

  “Darcy?”

  My indecision had gotten me caught. I looked up, toward the top of the stairs. A figure was cast in shadows. From the height and build, I knew it was either Lorcan or Isaac.

  “What are you doing down there?”

  From the accent, I knew it was Isaac, and my stomach dropped. I could have distracted Lorcan, but Isaac was sharper.

  “Nothing,” I said. “I woke up thirsty, so I was just heading to the kitchen to get a glass of water.”

  He took a number of steps down toward me. He wore only a t-shirt and the pair of boxers I assumed he must have slept in. “There’s a faucet in the bathroom.”

  I shrugged, holding out my empty hands. “No glass. And I had enough of being forced to stick my head under the faucet to drink when I was down in the cellar.”

  I’d hoped my jibe might have made him feel bad and get him to back down, but that wasn’t how Isaac worked.

  “You can’t go wandering around the house in the middle of the night. What if one of us mistook you for an intruder and shot you in the dark?”

  I blinked at him, feigning innocence. “Sorry. I didn’t know. No one told me I wasn’t allowed to leave the bedroom.”

  “Well, I’m telling you now,” he said, coolly.

  “Fine.” My response was equally as frosty. “But can I get that glass of water first, or will you accidentally shoot me in the back?”

  He lifted his bandaged arm. “Payback for this,” he said, and I couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not. Probably not. I hadn’t heard Isaac joke about anything yet. Maybe it was the British in him. I’d always heard they had a dry sense of humor.

  I didn’t reply, but forced myself to hold his gaze to show him he wasn’t going to intimidate me. It wasn’t easy, especially as I’d been down here doing something I knew he’d be seriously pissed about if he found out, but I forced myself to do it anyway.

  “Fine,” he said eventually, his arms folded across his chest as he glowered at me. “Go and get your glass of water, then get back to bed. You’re supposed to be resting, remember. Can’t have that brain of yours being tired, not when we’re trying to get important information out of it.”

  In that moment, I felt a spike of bitter glee for withholding that little bit of information. I wanted to throw it in his face—that I had already remembered, but I wasn’t going to tell him yet—but I kept my mouth shut. I’d only be cutting off my own nose, and Isaac wouldn’t be happy that I’d kept it from him for as long as I had. When I told them, eventually, I’d do it in a way they’d think I’d only just remembered so it didn’t get me in yet more trouble.

  I turned from Isaac and went to the kitchen. I felt him shadowing me the whole way. God, why did he have to be such a creep? I went straight to the cupboards, opening the doors until I found the one holding the glassware, and then filled a tall glass with cool water from the faucet. I took a couple of big gulps of water to keep up the pretense of me waking because I’d been thirsty, though actually, by that point and because of the excitement of talking to Sarah and the encounter with Isaac, I actually was thirsty.

  He waited for me in the hallway to make sure I went straight back to bed, I assumed. I lifted the glass in a sarcastic salute while I brushed past him,

  I sensed him watching me the whole way back to the bedroom and was relieved to be able to shut the door on him. Alex’s sleeping form still lay beneath the blankets in almost exactly the same position I’d left him in. Thank God he hadn’t woken. I didn’t want to have to explain my nocturnal wanderings to anyone else, though I was sure Isaac would fill them all in, come morning.

  I set the half-drunk glass of water on the nightstand, careful not to disturb Alex, and then slipped back into bed. My conversation with Aunt Sarah turned over in my mind. I hoped I’d not upset her more by calling her. What did it mean that she hadn’t heard about the shootout on the street and that she hadn’t known the FBI had been at the house that morning? Had she thought I’d just run off?

  Though I hadn’t expected to sleep again that night, my waking thoughts turned into dreams, and I drifted off to oblivion.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The blare of an alarm sounding through the house burst me from sleep, my heart pounding. Bright sunlight poured through the window, and I squinted in its glare. It was morning, but this was no regular alarm. It sounded more like a smoke alarm, only louder and more insistent.

  Something was shoved at me, and I looked around in confusion to see Alex standing beside me. He was pulling on his jeans with one hand, and held a handgun in the other.

  “Get dressed,” he snapped. “We’ve got company.”

  “What?”

  “Just do it.”

  I climbed out of bed to yank on the jeans he’d thrown at me. To my surprise, he leaned over the bed and pressed a point on the large, cushioned headboard. The whole headboard fell toward the bed, and my mouth gaped. Numerous weapons, guns, bullets, and even knives were attached to the wall behind, and I spotted a couple of canisters, though I didn’t know what they contained.

  Who the hell were these people?

  “You know how to shoot?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Take this.” He pushed the gun he was holding into my hand. It felt good, the metal warmed from his skin, the weight enough to feel solid without inhibiting my movement. “Only use it if you have to, but try to stay hidden. They’ll be here for you.”

  I didn’t think my jaw was capable of hanging open any farther, but apparently it was. “What?”

  The bedroom door burst open, and Kingsley stood in the open doorway. He also held a large gun at his side. “We’ve got to move.”

  Alex yanked the final assault rifle from the back of the headboard and took a couple of the canisters as well. “Yeah, we’re coming.”

  “Where are the others?” I yelled over the alarm.

  Kingsley glanced over his shoulder, as though expecting to see them. “Preparing themselves.”

  “For what?” I still didn’t know what the alarm was for.

  “A fight. We’ve got uninvited guests on the property.”

  “What, in the house?” I said in fear.

  “Not yet, but they will be soon.”

  “Shit.”

  Kingsley turned around and ran back out, down the hallway. Alex grabbed me by the elbow and took after him, pulling me along. I just caught a glimpse of Clay already running down the stairs. Where were Lorcan and Isaac? Were they on the ground floor already?

  “We need to get her down into the cellar,” Kingsley called over his shoulder.

  Alex dragged me harder. “Yeah, we’re coming.”

  I pulled back on him, my heart lurching. “No way, I’m not going back down in the cellar.”

  “Yes, you are. But don’t freak out. You’re not going alone, and you’re not staying down there either.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  From somewhere in the house, gunshots sounded. Oh, God. Had someone been shot? I couldn’t stand to think of any of the guys being hurt. Even Isaac.

  I was caught up in the flurry of movement
and panic, Alex’s body buffering me forward. Fear sharpened the world around me, the ornate wooden banisters of the staircase we ran toward standing out in sharp contrast to the cream walls beyond. We were running toward the gunfire, not away from it, but where else could we go? At the top of the house, we were trapped.

  We reached the stairs and ran down, Kingsley in front of me, Alex behind.

  We’d only gotten halfway down the stairs when, ahead of us, the front door burst open. Somewhere, glass broke with a crash. Men in protective gear piled through the door, but, being at a higher point and seeing them first, we had the advantage. Alex reached out and grabbed me, pulling me back and behind him, to protect me with his body. Automatically, Kingsley dropped to a crouch and pointed his handgun, firing several shots. Behind him, and positioned a couple of steps higher, Alex lifted the rifle so it pointed over the top of Kingsley’s head, and let off a spray of gunfire. The first man in the doorway managed to fire a couple of shots, but the barrage of bullets sent him staggering back. The noise was intense, hammering on my eardrums, and I couldn’t stop myself from cowering down and covering my ears with my free hand for protection.

  “Stay behind me!” Alex yelled.

  I had the gun clutched tightly in my hand, but Alex had told me it was only for emergencies. This whole thing felt like one huge emergency to me, but I wasn’t about to start firing shots unless I had to. I still hadn’t seen either Lorcan or Isaac, and Clay had vanished down the stairs before us. I didn’t want to risk accidentally shooting any of them.

  More gunshots were fired at the back of the house, toward the kitchen, and my heart twisted, trying not to think who the bullets had been meant for.

  “Shit,” Kingsley said, “they must be surrounding the house.”

  How were we going to get out? By shooting our way out of here?

  The shapes of two more men appeared through the front door.