Page 115 of The Dark Before Light

Alistair jerks forward. “Let’s keep the facts straight, shall we?” His expression is mild, but his voice is cutting. “Lyle Porter and Oliver McCann tried to have my brother killed six times—that we know of—in the last four years. His head of security was shot and stabbed. There were three attempted car bombs and a thwarted property invasion. If Kieran didn’t employ the best personal protection on the West Coast, he’d be dead.”

I shift in my seat, still peeved that Alistair and Sven colluded to keep me in the dark about the additional four attempts on my life. I understand their reasons—namely, my sanity—but I still yelled at them until I was lightheaded when I found out.

Then I gave my brother a hug and Sven, Dylan, and Gabe raises.

“Not only that,” Alistair continues without pause, “they abducted his girlfriend for the purpose of blackmail, sending her security team to the hospital in the process. Their accomplice to that crime has confessed he was contracted to kill her and dispose of her body no matter the outcome. So I think the situation is a bit more serious than sabotage.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Cory concedes with a tight smile for me. “My apologies.”

I want to tell him where he can shove his apologies but instead nod shortly and dip my hand into my pocket. My thumb smooths over the small hummingbird pendant Talia removed from its chain and gave to me before I left this morning.

“Do you have a question, Cory?” asks Sam drolly.

The crowd titters. Cory’s neck flushes, his gaze narrowing on me. “Yes. Mr. Hayes, did you know that when Mr. Porter first approached Mr. McCann, Mr. McCann was in severe debt due to a long-term cocaine and gambling addiction and his home was about to go into foreclosure?”

“No, I did not.”

Hands and voices fill the air, but Cory shouts, “One more question, Mr. Hayes! Can you explain to us how you never once suspected that Mr. McCann—one of your closest colleagues—was a drug addict who wanted you dead?”

I hold my thumb to the hummingbird as tomblike silence descends on the room. Faces stare at me with varying degrees of anticipation. It’s the multibillion-dollar question. How can Lumitech’s biggest contractors—including the U.S. government—continue to trust my judgment if I was oblivious to a viper in my own house?

Cory Whoever from Wherever smiles smugly. When I smile back at him, his expression melts into a confused frown. I allow myself a moment to enjoy being underestimated; it hasn’t happened in years.

While I may not be in peak form, I’m still almost as smart as the genius I’m in love with.

“First, Cory, I’d like to address your underlying and flattering assumption that in addition to being the head of a Fortune 500 company with close to forty-two thousand employees, I’m also omniscient.”

There’s a smattering of laughter. Not from poor Cory, though, whose face has drained of color. He opens his mouth, but I don’t give him a chance to stick his foot back in it.

“I’m sorry to say that in his daily emails regarding our internal software systems, our bi-monthly meetings, and the occasional charity benefit we attended together, Oliver never mentioned his cocaine habit or the fact Lyle Porter promised him fifteen million dollars to either end my life or blackmail me into destroying groundbreaking research. Thankfully, he proved inept at both tasks.”

The mood shifts, faces grimacing in second-hand embarrassment, eyes dropping guiltily. I run my gaze across the crowd, knowing that Sam is taking note of who won’t meet my stare. I almost feel bad for Cory, who’s probably starting to realize his higher-ups offered him to me for slaughter.

Maybe I’ll send him a fruit basket.

“The bottom line,” I continue gravelly, “is that no one really knew Oliver McCann. Not the people who interacted with him far more than I did, including two PAs and a dozen upper management IT staff members. Not even his wife, who he shipped out of town prior to kidnapping my girlfriend and who’s been cleared of involvement. And certainly not me, his extremely busy boss.” I release a measured sigh. “All of us at Lumitech are shocked and saddened by the revelations of the last week, but there’s only one person responsible for Oliver’s choices and that’s Oliver himself.”

I stand, buttoning my jacket, and Alistair and Jameson follow suit.

“To those harboring concerns for Lumitech’s future, let me put your worries to rest right now. I’m proud to announce publicly that our neural nanorobotics initiative is entering preclinical testing. I’m confident that a few years from now, we’ll be able to say as a global community that there is a safe, effective cure for Alzheimer’s disease.”

The room instantly erupts.

“That’s our cue,” murmurs Alistair, throwing me a wink before he leads the way offstage.

The car ride home is a blur, every mile shaving another layer off my civilized self. By the time we get home, I’m a beast on a breaking chain. As soon as I enter the house, I strip out of my jacket and tie and stalk onto the back deck.

To my relief, Talia is exactly where her text said she’d be. Tall and majestic, she stands a safe fifteen feet from the bluff, her gaze trained on the gunmetal-gray Pacific and the rippling curtain of rain obscuring the horizon line. Her arms are crossed loosely at her waist over a sweater, her wild dark hair whipping around her torso.

Urgency beats in my blood, but I make myself walk slowly down the steps, savoring the singular gravity her soul exerts on mine. Each step toward her feels like moving closer to home. To peace. To the truest version of myself—the man I am in her eyes. A bit frayed and emotionally bruised. But strong and steadfast.

Unbroken. Like her.

As I reach the bottom of the stairs, Dylan steps into my way with a nod. “Congratulations on handing that reporter his ass.”

My eyes narrow. “The only ass I want my hands on is the one you’re blocking me from.”

He smirks. “Classy.”

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