In the real world, Kingsley continued trying to bring me back, but I’d plunged too far down the rabbit hole. I fought him, thrashing against hands meant to calm me, my body reacting independently of my mind. I only wanted to get away. I had forgotten I was locked down in a cellar and I had nowhere else to go.
Back in the cellar, I scrambled to my feet.
In my head, I remained in the living room of my house, my father dying on the floor. I knew this wasn’t what had happened in real life, but perhaps that was why I felt the need to run so badly. I couldn’t cling to the hope that he would be all right, because I knew that he hadn’t been. He had died, and he was dying now. Was it my fault? Could I have done more? And yet here, I was running away. There was something else I was supposed to be doing, but the blood was everywhere, and I couldn’t breathe. I only wanted to get away and escape.
I was vaguely aware of chaos in the cellar, of me fighting the men, of not listening to anything anyone was saying. How could Kingsley bring me back when I couldn’t hear him over the blood rushing through my ears and the galloping hooves of my heartbeat?
Then a body pushed me backward, up against the wall behind me, pinning me against it. Strong and determined. I was still lost in my personal hell, but the pressure of the body seemed to calm me, like a weighted blanket. In my head, I began to calm, the blood still terrifying me, but my determination to run seeping from my body.
“Darcy, come back to me now.”
Kingsley’s voice, closer now.
Was that who was pressed up against me?
The scent of leather replaced the iron tang of blood. A strong, hard body took over the limp bleeding one in my arms.
“It’s all right, princess,” a voice growled. “You’re all right. You’re safe.”
I blinked my eyes, and my bloodied living room vanished. I found myself staring into a set of intense dark eyes. Dark brows and a dimple in his chin. Lorcan. His body pressed firm against mine. The scent of him—leather and something musky—washed over me. He was several inches taller than I was, and I felt his chest heave as I caught my breath. He stared down into my eyes, holding me in his gaze. The memories of the blood and trauma fled, and all I could think about was this man’s body, how his chest moved in time with mine, my breasts pushed up against him. Of all the guys I’d have expected to help me, he would have been the last one I’d put my money on, and yet here he was.
Perhaps I was just trying to erase the thought of blood from my mind, but I stood on tiptoes and my arms found their way around his neck. Lorcan seemed as caught in the moment as I was. Not needing any further encouragement, he ducked down and crushed his mouth to mine, his body slamming against me. His tongue slipped into my mouth, and we were kissing and kissing, and I could feel his desire for me wedged hard against my hip.
I knew the others were there, watching, and yet it didn’t embarrass me. If anything, it only made me hotter, the thought of the four guys watching as Lorcan and I made out against the wall.
What the hell was wrong with me?
“Lorcan,” came Isaac’s voice. “That’s enough.”
Was Isaac pissed? Had he wanted to be the first? The thought surprised me. Had I really thought like that? Did each of the men have a claim on me? I was their captive, after all, but though the thought should have filled me with revulsion, I felt a flutter of excitement stir inside me. Would they pass me around, one by one, or would they take me all at once?
“I think we may be losing focus here,” said Kingsley, from just behind Isaac.
Lorcan and I parted, and a hot blush crawled up my throat. I didn’t know what had come over me, and I worried the men could read my thoughts on my face. Kingsley had always been particularly good at that.
Isaac stepped forward. “What did you see? Did you remember the number?”
I felt like I’d let them all down. Like I’d failed.
“It was the same as I remembered. My dad being shot then all the blood, and I’d panicked.” I paused and shook my head briefly. “No, it had been worse in the memory. I didn’t even hear him say the numbers.”
“Dammit.” Isaac turned to Kingsley. “Do it again.”
My stomach dropped at the thought of having to experience my father’s death all over again.
But Kingsley shook his head. “No, she’s done enough. She needs a break.”
I offered Kingsley a grateful smile, thankful I had someone on my side.
Alex stepped forward. “We can’t do that again. Look at the state of her.” He was always the one most protective of me. Was that because he was a medical doctor, and so it was in his profession to be caring, or was it something more? I didn’t miss the irony that he was the one who’d first grabbed me, and it was his nose I’d kicked.
“Yes, we can,” said Isaac. “We were almost there.”
“She’s too suggestible,” said Kingsley. For some reason, I couldn’t help feeling embarrassed at being suggestible, as though it showed a weakness in my character that I had no control over. “When I took her under, she went too deep, and I couldn’t get her out again.”
Isaac’s eyes narrowed. “Isn’t there something we can do to stop her going so far under?”
“If we want her to remember, she needs to be under,” said Kingsley. “What we need to work on is her recall, bringing her back out again.”
“Lorcan kissing her seemed to work,” Clay called out.
My face flamed with heat, but it hadn’t been the kissing, not really, though it had helped. “It was the physical contact,” I said. “Him pressing up against me. It calmed me enough to hear Kingsley’s voice again and reconnect with the real world.”
Kingsley looked to the others and then nodded. “Physical contact. That can work.”
“Do we get to volunteer for who goes first?” Clay called, teasing in his tone
I flipped him the bird and tried to hold back the tugging of a smile at the corners of my mouth. Having Clay pressed up against me didn’t seem like such a bad thing either.
These are the bad guys, remember, Darcy?
Nothing they were doing was for me. The only reason they’d stepped in with the Feds was because they wanted the same thing from me as the agents. If they hadn’t, they’d have left me to my fate. These men didn’t give a shit about me. They were only interested in what was in my head.
“I don’t care what we have to do,” said Isaac with a frown. “We need that code. Time’s running out.”
Kingsley nodded. “And we’ll get it, but if we traumatize her, we risk her pushing the memory further back in her mind, and it’ll be even harder for her to pull it into her conscious mind.”
Isaac glanced over at me, still standing up against the wall. I felt like I should say something and plead my case, but it didn’t matter what I said. These men were deciding everything.
“Okay, fine.” He turned to me. “Get some rest. We’ll try again after you’ve had a break. This isn’t something we can just let go.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I figured as much.”
Clay pushed himself up from where he’d been sitting on the stairs, and turned to trot back up. Alex followed, and then the others.
One person lurked behind.
Lorcan stopped in front of me, a troubled expression on his face. Almost in an unconscious gesture, he reached out and brushed his fingers against mine. I tried not to be distracted by the tattoos running up the side of his neck.
“Hey, I’m sorry about what happened back there.”
I feigned innocence. “You mean pulling me out of the hypnosis?”
“I mean kissing you.”
The way he was looking at me was too intense, and I closed my eyes briefly to break the moment and look away. The way I remembered it, I was the one who’d instigated the kiss, but perhaps I was wrong. “I think considering you guys are my kidnappers, one of you kissing me isn’t the biggest wrong you’ve done me.”
He frowned and nodded, his lips pressed together. “Yeah, b
ut kidnapping you needed to be done for your own safety. What I did was just a reaction.”
I looked up at him. I don’t know why I wanted to make him feel better, but I did. “It’s fine, Lorcan. You helped. I was stuck in a nightmare, and you knew what to do to bring me out of it.”
The frown hadn’t quite left his face. “We’re okay, then?”
“As much as a captive can be with one of her captors.”
His teeth nipped his lower lip and he glanced away. “I wish you didn’t think of us that way.”
“How else am I supposed to think of you? I’m a prisoner here. You won’t let me leave.”
He brought his hazel eyes back to mine. “We want you to work with us.”
“I am,” I argued, “and you still won’t let me out of this damned cellar.”
“Isaac will come around. Just cooperate, and things will get better.”
I cocked my eyebrows. “Sounds an awful lot like kidnapped talk to me.”
He rubbed his hand over his mouth. “Shit, yeah. It does, doesn’t it?”
“Were you guys sent on some kind of course before taking me?”
I surprised a laugh out of him. It was the first time I’d seen Lorcan crack so much as a smile, and I found myself staring at his mouth, remembering what his lips had felt like pressed against mine, his tongue pushing into my mouth, hot and heavy. And even as Lorcan had been kissing me, a part of me had been aware of the others, too, standing, watching.
Shit, I was bonding with them. Well, not Isaac, but maybe the others. Connecting with them like in the syndrome. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t help it. In this world of darkness, they were giving me something to hold onto. They made me feel excited about something again, where I’d lived my life plodding mundanely through each day since my father had been killed. Now I had a purpose, though it may only last until I remembered the code. Then they’d have no use for me.
Shit, why hadn’t I thought of that before? If I gave them the code, what would stop them from killing me?
“What’s wrong?” Lorcan asked, his dark eyebrows converging.
“Nothing. I’m just tired. I need to sleep.” A yawn, conjured by my mention of sleep, tugged at my jaw, but I swallowed it down.
His chin tilted to one side. “But we’re okay?”
“Sure.”
It was all I could think of to say. He was kind of sweet, in a moody, tattooed, kidnapper way.
But whatever happened, when I remembered that code, I couldn’t just give it to them. I didn’t know what was on that memory stick, but I planned on being around long enough to find out.
Chapter Eighteen
The men left me alone for a few hours.
I didn’t like being trapped with only my thoughts. At least the guys were a distraction—some of them not such a great distraction, though I was starting to warm to the others, despite my internal advice to myself to stay well clear.
Memories of the day my dad died went around my head. Did I think I could have saved him? I’d only been fourteen, and unarmed against men who’d clearly come to our home with murder on their minds. And yet I wondered if there had been more I could have done. If I’d pressed my hand to the bullet wounds, would he have lost less blood and survived? If I’d not been arguing with him about not being allowed out that night, would he have been in a different room, his back not exposed to the gunman? There were so many ‘what ifs,’ and I knew there was nothing I could do about it now, but that didn’t stop my mind from turning them over and over.
The thought of having to go back into those memories made my stomach churn with nerves. What if I remembered the numbers he’d told me, and, while I was under, I spoke them out loud? Would the guys kill me? I wouldn’t put it past Isaac, but the others? Would they do something to stop him, or was I completely misreading the situation? One minute, they showed me a hint of softness peeping through those rock hard exteriors, and the next second they shut down on me.
Were the others as cold-hearted as Isaac, and I was simply projecting a gentleness onto them to try to convince myself I’d survive all of this?
Going through the hypnosis had sapped me of energy, so I took up my spot under the stairs and quickly fell asleep.
I WOKE TO THE DOOR opening again. Blinking open sleep-sticky eyes, I saw all of the guys had returned.
Isaac stood over me, his arms folded. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up, exposing the gauze and tape covering the spot where I’d slashed him with the razor. “Ready to try this again?”
“Can I wake up properly first?”
Clay’s head appeared behind Isaac’s shoulder. “Hey, sugar. I made you a sandwich. Coffee, too.”
I climbed out, ignoring Isaac. “Thanks.”
“How are you feeling?” Alex stood with his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants, his expression serious.
“A bit shaken up from having to re-live everything, but otherwise okay.”
“Your mental health is as important to look after as your physical one.” Kingsley said from where he was lurking near the bed.
I opened my mouth to comment on how being kidnapped and held in a cellar for three days wasn’t much good for either my mental or physical health, but I managed to trap the words on my tongue. I was playing the good girl now, being cooperative. As far as I could tell, it was my only chance at getting out of here in one piece.
Instead I just shrugged and looked back to Alex. “Sure.”
Alex’s lips tightened, a muscle in his temple twitching. He must have picked up on my reluctance. “You feel ready to try again, or not?”
I took a deep breath, filling my lungs. “I can do it.”
I wasn’t going to plunge into my past just yet, though. First, I was going to eat my damned sandwich. For all I knew, it might be the last thing I ever ate.
The men’s eyes followed me as I moved to the table and picked the sandwich off the plate. I didn’t want to let them intimidate me, but it was hard not to feel self-conscious when under such scrutiny. I took a bite, chewing methodically, trying to prove to both myself and the men that I wouldn’t be rushed. The chair was beside me, and I debated whether or not to sit down. Sitting made me feel more vulnerable, while standing made me look awkward. In the end, I sank into the seat, finishing up the food and downing the coffee.
Isaac turned to the others. “Okay, while Darcy is eating, we need to come up with a plan for if she goes too far under again. Who’s going to bring her out of it, if Kingsley can’t?”
I glanced to Lorcan. Was he going to volunteer again? He remained quiet, and I couldn’t help but feel rejected. Did he still regret the kiss, or feel bad about it? I found it strange how someone who’d helped kidnap me could feel badly about kissing me.
“Hey, I’ll be happy to help,” volunteered Clay. I couldn’t stop myself smiling at him, but Isaac raised a hand.
“No, Alex, you do it.”
“No fair,” protested Clay.
“Alex is more likely to control himself,” Isaac said.
I lifted my eyebrows. Was Isaac worried Clay would push himself up against me and not be able to stop? I’d thought Lorcan kissing me hadn’t bothered him, but now I wondered.
“That’s fine,” said Alex, as though he’d just been asked to run to the grocery store rather than get up close and personal with me. “I can do it.”
Kingsley turned to me. “Let’s get started, then.”
“You want me to go back in the cubby?”
“No, you’re suggestible. I think you’ll go under easily wherever you are.”
Great.
I twisted in my chair to face him. The others stood around, Alex the closest, Isaac not far behind, Clay already sitting on the bed. Lorcan had put the most distance between us, remaining near the stairs. The food I’d just eaten swirled uncomfortably around in my stomach, churning with nerves, and I clenched my fists, trying to control my feelings. I didn’t want to have to go through it all again, but what choice did I h
ave?
Kingsley crouched in front of me. “Remember how I told you to regulate your breathing?” I nodded. “Good. Let’s do that again.”
I complied, breathing long and slow in through my nose and out through my mouth, feeling my chest expand and my shoulders start to drop. Automatically, my eyes slipped shut, and I focused in on Kingsley’s voice.
“I want you to go back to that day again, Darcy. The day your father died. I want you to remember that you’re only an observer in this situation. You are watching and listening and learning. You are not involved, do you understand? You can’t affect what is happening, and you’re not really there. Okay?”
I nodded.
“Can you see the screen in front of you again?”
It appeared on the backs of my eyelids as soon as he said the words, and I dipped my chin again to tell him I could.
The chair was more solid beneath me this time, the velvet fabric beneath my fingertips as I clutched the arms, trying to root myself on this side of the screen.
Kingsley’s deep voice filtered through to me. “On screen, you’re watching the night your father died. You’re just an observer. You cannot interact in any way. Do you understand?”
My heart beat grew faster, and I could feel my breathing speed up as well.
“Stay calm, Darcy. Control your breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”
On screen, my past self was fighting with my dead father. My eyes went to the dark glass doors beyond him. I fought my desperation to do something to help, and even though my eyes were shut in the real world, they welled with tears, trembling beneath my eyelashes and spilling down my cheeks.
An observer. I’m an observer.
I wanted to be there, to help, to do something! But all I could do was watch, and yet I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to watch my father die again. I didn’t even want to see the anger on his face as he argued with my teenage self. My gaze drifted away, drawn toward the darkened panes of the door once more.
Hacking Darkness Page 12
