50 Shades of Drake 1 and 2

50SOD II: Chapter Sixty-Eight

    Destiny stared at the words on her laptop monitor. She had the urge to scream for Aubrey. His name was on the tip of the tongue and a scream had already built up in her throat, ready to go. Only with great effort, she managed to swallow down that urge.

    The sound of his typing continued and she glanced up at the loft railing. Okay. Okay, you can sort through this. You can work this out on your own without involving him. All she had to do was find someone who was tech savvy enough to find a way to track the person who'd sent her the message. The person had used the messaging service she used without displaying a user name on their message. She didn't know much about hacking. The limited knowledge she had about it, she'd learned through crime television shows. Surely, though, maybe one of the guys in the Information Technology Department at work would know how to trace the person's information and figure out who they were. Granted, IT was now on high alert and would probably report her request back to Aubrey, which would put her right back at square one. That would also result in Aubrey being angry with her, since she would technically be going over his head.

    That idea was a dead end. So...maybe she could research how to hack and trace the user's information herself. Hackers take years and years to get as good as they are, she thought. You don't have that time. The person who sent you that message was serious. They kept the message short and sweet. No long-winded monologues or commands. A simple instruction. Funny how much more threatening a message seems with fewer words. Focus, Destiny. The person wants you to stop digging...which is an option, but do you really want to trust the future of Aubrey's company in the hands of someone else? Especially when the target is Harry Palmer...there's no telling how far his reach goes. So...you don't want to tell Aubrey about this, but you have to try to get this issue resolved. How?

    She could search his cell phone for his private investigator's number and have the PI look into it, but again...she didn't know the private investigator personally and didn't know if he could be trusted. Not to mention the fact that she'd still be going over Aubrey's head. While she didn't want to involve him in this or worry him quite yet, she also wanted to try to take care of this with as little deception as possible. Since there's no way I can determine who the user was myself, I'd have to reach out to someone. So no matter what, I'd be going over Aubrey's head. Her eyes flicked over to the laptop. The gadget looked so innocent, lying closed on top of the couch cushion.

    The more she thought about the message she'd received, the more frightened she became. Whoever had sent her the message knew that she was looking into Palmer. They'd even known when she was looking into Palmer. As if...as if they had access to what she was looking at on her computer. Her eyes zeroed in on the small camera lens embedded into the laptop monitor frame. She slammed the monitor down and set the computer on the couch. She stood up, eager to put some distance between her and it.

    Pacing the length of the room, she crossed her arms over her chest.

    Aubrey jogged down the stairs and halted on the last step when he saw her pacing. His eyes turned wary. "What's wrong?"

    She shook her head, not wanting to lie and not wanting to answer his question, either.

    "Tell me," he commanded.

    She stopped pacing and looked towards her laptop.

    He followed her gaze, then walked over to the couch. His movements were swift as he opened the laptop and typed in her log-in password. He squinted his eyes at the screen, then raised his eyes over the top of the monitor. "Someone sent this to you?"

    "Yes, Sir." She nervously tugged on the end of one curl.

    "Who would have..." He licked his lips and took a deep breath. "What were you looking at when you got the message?"

    "I was looking into Palmer's history with the military."

    He closed his eyes. "I told you not to work this weekend."

    "Would it have mattered if I looked it up this weekend or Monday?" she demanded, her voice turning shrill. "Whoever sent that knows what I'm looking into and they know when I'm doing it."

    He flipped the laptop over in his hands, inspecting it. "All right." He closed the laptop and set it back down on the couch. "We have to trash the laptop."

    "I have files on there-" she started.

    "Back up your files," he instructed. "Back them up now. You're going to take next week off from work."

    She frowned. "What? No."

    The look in his eyes dared her to challenge him again.

    "You can't tell me what to do with my career."

    "I own the company, Destiny. Your career will be fine."

    "I don't want to take next week off just because someone sent me a cryptic message," she told him.

    He grabbed the back of his head with both hands. "I don't know what to do. I don't know how to handle this situation. I'm at a complete loss."

    "You can't handle everything," she said. "Graham Enterprises has decent security. I'm sure I'll be fine."

    "I will be beefing up security starting Monday," he said, nodding to himself. "I will hire someone to stand outside of your office and a driver to get you to and from work."

    "That will draw too much attention."

    "Then what?" he shouted at her.

    She drew back, her eyes widening.

    He ran a hand across his forehead. "Look. I'm sorry. Okay? I didn't mean to shout. I'm just...I just...I don't want...you're too..." He stopped talking and turned his head.

    She stared at him for a long moment, then walked up to him.

    "Aren't you scared?" he asked her. The underlining statement in his tone said, Because I am.

    "Of course I'm scared. But I can't just stop living my life or have Bridgette or any of your other employees looking at me funny because my boyfriend, who they all happen to work for, is taking extreme measures. Security outside of my door? Everyone would talk about that."

    "Honestly, I don't give a damn whether or not everyone talks about it. All I care about is your safety."

    "There's no telling who sent that message," she pointed out. "There's no telling if that person is just some internet troll or someone who is really in Palmer's camp."

    "I'd rather be safe than sorry," he insisted.

    "How about...we just wait and see if any other threats are made, before putting me in your version of witness protection?" 

    That suggestion did nothing to calm his fraying nerves. "It feels like we should be doing more than just waiting for the next threat. It feels like I should be doing something, Destiny... something to protect you." He paused, took a few minutes to think while pacing. "Short of hiring more security, stationing guards outside of your office, or whisking you off to another city entirely, I don't know what else to do," he said, sounding completely helpless.

    His desire to protect me is so strong. She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. "Just...hold me for right now. We'll figure out the rest later."

    He returned her embrace, but his eyes stayed locked on the laptop computer that sat on the couch with its camera lens facing them.