Page 3 of Lethal Illusion (Six Points Security #8)

“I still can’t believe I let you do this to my hair.”

Eyes wide, Sloane stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror they’d set up in her office.

Gone was her usual brown with red highlights, and in its place was a shimmery champagne blonde that brushed the tops of her shoulders.

Also gone was about six or so inches of length.

She couldn’t get over how light it felt compared to her usual cut.

To be fair, she’d agreed to change her hair to match Sierra’s current style.

But knowing it was going to happen and seeing the actual result were two entirely different animals.

This was so much more permanent than the wig she’d worn while cosplaying as the Deathslayer at Dragon Con.

After everything was said and done, she could dye her hair back to its original color, but it would take months—maybe as long as a year—for it to grow back to its original length.

“You look fantastic,” Nina said for the seventh or eighth time since they’d returned from the salon. “Not that you didn’t look fantastic before, but the cut and color really bring out your eyes.”

“You’re just saying that so I won’t freak out.”

“No, I’m saying it because it’s true. Convincing you not to freak out is an added benefit. Now hold still while I put on your makeup.”

Sloane eyed the assortment of cosmetics on her desk. Foundations, concealers, eye and lip gunk. The sheer amount of it was daunting. Who had time to put that much stuff on their face every single day? “Is that part really necessary?”

“Of course it is. Clothes and hair alone won’t transform you into Sierra’s long-lost twin. Don’t worry; I won’t put on too much, just some light contouring around your cheekbones and that blood-red lipstick she uses. Oh, and that thing she does with her eyes.”

It was probably for the best to let Nina apply her makeup.

After lots and lots of practice, Sloane had gotten fairly adept at imitating Sierra’s funky, futuristic look in the Deathslayer movies, but every time she tried to give herself a simple smoky eye, she ended up more closely resembling a rabid raccoon on a bender.

At the office, Nina didn’t wear much in the way of cosmetics, just a few swipes of mascara and lip gloss, but she enjoyed glamming it up whenever she had a night out with the girls.

Recently, she’d invited Sloane to join them.

Actually, she’d invited Sloane on multiple occasions, but Sloane had politely declined, convinced her coworker was merely asking out of kindness, a pity invite for the new nerd on the block who didn’t even have a cat to go home to.

Thankfully, Nina kept inviting, and eventually Sloane accepted, and then she’d kicked herself for not accepting sooner, because Nina and her friends were tons of fun to be around.

Still, this kind of transformation was a heavy lift for someone who wasn’t a professional makeup artist. They’d floated the idea of hiring one but shot it down just as quickly, because the fewer people outside of Six Points who knew about this, the better—and safer—for everyone involved.

“Maybe I could wear big sunglasses and a floppy hat.”

“You know that won’t work.” Nina selected a tube from the tray. “Tilt your head up toward the light, will you? There, perfect.”

With Nina blocking her view of the mirror, she couldn’t watch what was happening, which was probably for the best. It felt weird to have somebody else apply her makeup, like she was one of those giant Barbie heads that little girls used to hone their skills, and it took a bit of effort not to squirm in her seat.

After what felt like an hour, Nina pulled back to scrutinize her handiwork. “You know, you’re kind of like Ally Sheedy’s character at the end of The Breakfast Club .”

Sloane’s jaw dropped open. “Oh, come on, why’d you have to go and say something like that?

That princess makeover was my least favorite part of the movie.

Poor Allison sacrificed everything that made her unique and conformed to conventional beauty norms, and for what?

So some jock would think she was pretty? ”

“I never thought of it that way.” Nina set one brush on the tray and picked up another.

“Okay, in that case, scratch the Breakfast Club reference. Think of it more along the lines of Sandra Bullock’s character in Miss Congeniality .

Her makeover was critical to going undercover at the beauty pageant.

But unlike poor Sandra, you don’t have to get your lady bits waxed. ”

Sloane snorted.

“Seriously, I appreciate you agreeing to go through all this. If we land this contract, it’s going to open a lot of doors for Six Points.”

“Well, you know me, always a team player. I only hope Larissa remembers this when it’s time for my annual review.”

After a few more rounds of goop and glop, Nina drew back once again. This time, approval curved the corners of her mouth. “Perfect. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you and Sierra were separated at birth.”

Nina stepped aside, giving Sloane an unobstructed view of the mirror.

Sloane blinked. Blinked again. Try as she might, she couldn’t quite find the words to describe how it felt to look in the mirror and not recognize the person staring back at her.

It was her, of course, but much larger than life.

Her eyes seemed brighter, her cheeks fuller and more defined, while the vibrant red on her lips added a punch of glamour and allure.

Reaching up, she tugged the band from her hair.

She turned her head from side to side, noting the way the now-blonde strands swished against her brand-new face.

Put it all together, she appeared softer, more feminine.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

“Let’s hope Sierra’s people agree with your assessment. ”

Nina opened her mouth, but whatever she intended to say was cut off by the sound of her phone. She scooped it off the desk and checked the screen. “Our timing’s perfect. Sierra’s representatives have entered the building. Are you ready?”

A fresh round of nerves sent her pulse racing, and she tried her best to ignore it. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Sloane zipped her feet into black ankle boots with three-inch heels and stood.

They’d dressed her in an outfit similar to what Sierra had been photographed wearing last fall in Central Park: black skin-tight jeans and an electric-blue jacket over a white blouse that dipped low enough in the front to show a fair amount of cleavage. Thank God for pushup bras.

As they walked down the hall toward the conference room, Navarre emerged from the on-site fitness facility, drinking something out of a can. She knew who he was, had seen him around, but didn’t know him on a personal level.

He had strong features, a little rough around the edges, and he carried himself with a steady confidence that few men ever achieved.

Like the rest of the employees who worked in the personal protection division, he wore black from neck to toes, which made the pistol in his shoulder holster a little less noticeable.

It also made it hard to tell what lurked underneath all that black.

Considering the way his biceps stretched the short sleeves of his shirt, she imagined it was something pretty good.

At the sight of Sloane, his eyes widened, and he choked on his drink. She wasn’t sure whether she should be flattered or insulted by that reaction.

“Are you okay?” Nina crossed to where he stood and patted his back with the flat of her hand.

“Yeah, I just…” Bent at the waist, Navarre coughed a few more times to clear his throat. Face red, he slanted a glance at Sloane, and confusion furrowed his forehead. “Sloane?”

It was the first time she’d ever heard his voice, rougher than she’d expected, but that might have been from all the coughing.

Nina gave a smug smile. “See? I told you; you look just like her. You’re not going to die on us, are you, Navarre?”

“What? No, I just thought for a second that…” After one last cough, he straightened. The poor guy looked like a dog that just heard a high-pitched noise. As the shock faded, his gaze sharpened, and unmistakable masculine interest turned his eyes to molten chocolate.

She would have felt flattered, if not for the fact he’d only given her the time of day because she resembled somebody else.

“Your hair’s…different. And your clothes. Why are you dressed like that?”

It struck her as odd that he’d noticed the changes to her appearance.

Most of the time, he acted as though she didn’t even register on his radar.

Not that his response was all that different from the rest of the guys in the building.

They weren’t rude or mean or anything like that; they just didn’t pay much attention to the geeks in the cyber security division, and that was fine by her.

If given the choice, she preferred not to draw attention to herself, which was ironic, given her current situation.

“We’d tell you, but then we’d have to kill you,” Nina said, a note of humor in her voice, before Sloane had a chance to reply. “If all goes well, you’ll hear about it soon. In the meantime, could you do us a favor and not tell anyone about this?”

“Yeah…sure. No problem.”

He still looked dazed as they walked on by, the click of Sloane’s boot heels the only sound in the tiled hall.

At the conference room door, Sloane glanced over her shoulder and saw Navarre still watching her, his gaze intense as though he were trying to solve some great mystery of life.

Turning back, she faced the door and felt a fresh round of nerves twist her insides like a pretzel. There were so many ways for this to go wrong, for her to make an utter fool of herself. What on earth had she been thinking?

As if sensing her growing unease, Nina touched a hand on her shoulder. “Relax, Sloane. You’re going to be great. Just remember, Sierra doesn’t take crap from anybody. Neither should you.”