Page 30 of Lethal Illusion (Six Points Security #8)

They traveled together in silence, determined to put as much distance between them and the mercenaries as possible.

But the dense vegetation covering this stretch of forest slowed their progress.

It had taken all morning to traverse the valley, and they’d only made it halfway around the lake before finally breaking for lunch.

At the rate they were going, they’d have to spend at least one more night in the great outdoors.

That wasn’t a problem for Navarre. He’d endured far worse conditions. Yeah, it was cold last night, but it hadn’t been all that bad, not with Sloane cuddled up beside him, all lush and warm and—

Nope, not going there , he reminded himself for the hundred—or was it the thousandth?—time. With both of their lives on the line, he couldn’t afford those kinds of distractions, and he sure as hell refused to let his hormones hijack his brain.

A breeze rustled the leaves, bringing with it the scents of earth and pine.

His stomach rumbled, another reminder that it was past time to take another meal break.

Now would be as good a time as any. He scanned the surrounding area to be sure there weren’t any threats.

Finding none, he stopped at one of the large rocks near the lake and shrugged off his rucksack.

“Is everything okay?” Sloane asked.

“Yeah, fine. Are you ready for lunch?” He unzipped the bag and dug out two meal bars. They were high in protein and packed with enough calories to keep them going until sundown.

“Sure.” She accepted the bar he offered. “How many of these do you have left?”

“Not enough.”

If they were out here much longer, he’d have to start foraging.

Hindsight being twenty-twenty, he should have packed more bars, but space in his ruck was limited, and how was he supposed to know they’d have to rough it in the forest for this long?

He wasn’t sure how Sloane would handle eating chickweed and dandelions, but that was a problem for later.

Sloane hesitated, her hand hovering over the wrapper. “Maybe we should save these for later.”

He met her gaze, his voice low and firm. “Eat the bar. You need to keep up your strength.”

“You’re eating one also, right?”

“Yes.” Navarre reached back into the bag for the water bottle and set it on the rock. “We’ll split the last one if we don’t reach town by nightfall.”

“I guess we can use that as motivation to move faster.” Sloane leaned against one of the rocks and propped a booted foot against another.

The tear in the knee of her pants had widened, exposing more of her leg.

She bit into the bar, chewed for a while—the bars were pretty dense—and washed it down with a swig of water.

“What are you going to do when we get back to the real world?”

“Beats me,” he said between bites. Overhead, he heard the screech of a hawk, and glanced up in time to see it land on the branch of a pine. “I hadn’t really thought about it, but I take it you have.”

“Damn straight I have. It’s the only thing keeping me moving.”

“And here I thought it was my sparkling personality.”

“Smartass.” She picked up a pebble and tossed it at him.

He laughed, and it loosened some of the tension in his shoulders. “So let’s hear it. What are your grand plans?”

Sloane ate another bite of her bar. “Well, the first thing I want is a shower. I’m just going to stand there, under the spray, water as hot as I can possibly stand it, until my fingers and toes finally feel warm again.

Then I want a pizza, and a whole pan of brownies, and one of those sweet, fruity, girly drinks that you probably hate. ”

He almost missed that last part, because his brain had nearly melted at the mental image of her naked and wet in the shower.

That self-imposed friends-only rule was going to be the death of him.

At last, the words sank into his skull, and he shot her a questioning look. “What makes you think I would hate it?”

“Do you like those kinds of drinks?”

“Well, they wouldn’t be my first choice, but I don’t necessarily hate them.

” Now that he thought about it, he’d never actually drunk one, but they didn’t sound like something he’d naturally gravitate toward.

He enjoyed drinks with a bit of a kick, something that grabbed you by the taste buds and demanded your undivided attention.

“Then what’s your drink of choice?” she asked, and then added, “Don’t tell me, let me guess: beer, or maybe whiskey.”

He frowned. “What’s wrong with beer?”

“Absolutely nothing, but I nailed it, didn’t I? You’re a beer guy?”

“Yeah.” He reached for the water bottle and took a long drink. “I’ve never been a fan of whiskey. Anytime I drink it, I end up doing stupid shit.”

She let out a laugh that reached her eyes, and it did strange things to his insides. “Okay, I need details. What kind of stupid shit?”

“The kind I’m taking to the grave.” He bit into his bar to punctuate the end of that line of questioning.

Of course, it didn’t deter her. It was more like waving a big juicy pork chop in front of a ravenous rottweiler. “Ooh, that definitely sounds like something I want to hear more about. Would Jackson know? I bet I can get him to tell me if I ask really nicely.”

“Jackson knows better than to rat me out. I know where his bodies are buried. The worst thing he’ll share is the time I fell asleep on the couch during movie night, and the guys painted my nails pink and drew a dick on my forehead.”

A pair of lines formed in the space between her eyebrows. “Why would they do that to you?”

“It’s one of the rules of movie night. No fights, no crying, no bogarting the beer, no smoking inside the house, and whoever falls asleep first is fair game to the whims of the rest of the group.”

The lines deepened. “Again, why? These are friends, right? People who supposedly like you?”

“Of course they like me.” He and the guys had been doing movie nights for so long, he’d forgotten how the rules came about. “It’s a guy thing. Blame it on testosterone.”

Finished with her meal bar, she handed him the wrapper. “And when exactly did the toenail painting and dick drawing take place?”

“Uh…February, I think.” He tucked the wrapper in his ruck. “No, wait, it was March.”

“Of this year?”

“Yeah.” Usually, he was better at staying awake so that shit didn’t happen to him. But it had been a long, stressful week, he hadn’t slept well the night before, and three or four beers had been more than enough to put him out like a light.

Sloane shook her head. “So what are your plans, now that you’ve had time to think about it?”

“There hasn’t been time; we’ve been talking. No, you have it,” he said when she tried to hand him the bottle with the last of the water in it.

“Then what’s the first thing to pop into your head?”

He watched as she drank the last of the water, watched her throat muscles move when she swallowed, and a few ideas sprang to mind. Filthy, raunchy, sweaty ideas. If he told her about them, she’d have every right to slap the shit out of him. “Why is this so important to you?”

“It’s not. I’m just trying to make conversation that doesn’t have anything to do with the group of armed men who are hunting us for fun and profit in the middle of freaking nowhere. Or the fact we might freeze, or starve, or fall off a cliff, or get mauled by a bear.”

Shit, now he felt like an ass. He’d utilized similar tactics in the past, minor distractions to take the edge off of stressful situations.

The least he could do was play along. “Well, the pizza sounds pretty good. So does the shower. Beyond that, I just want to sleep. Maybe I’ll play a little Demon Scourge 2 whenever I finally wake up. ”

Her eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “I didn’t know you liked video games.”

“Contrary to what you might think, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.” He walked to the water’s edge and filled the water bottle. “It’s my fourth favorite way to relax.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Dare I ask about the top three?”

“If I told you, you’d call me a pig.” He laughed when she chucked another pebble at him, and it bounced off his chest. “I take it you play?”

Her nod of acknowledgment came as no surprise. As a member of the Nerd Herd, he’d assumed she was a gamer, though he hadn’t put any thought into what kinds of games she preferred.

He dropped purification tablets into the bottle, screwed the cap back on, and placed the bottle back in his ruck.

“How far into the game are you?” she asked.

“Not far. I’m working on the second boss.” He’d been trying to kill that bastard for the better part of a week. He’d come close a few times, but he’d yet to discover the right combination of weapons and tactics to kill that particular demon.

“Oh yeah, he was a pain,” Sloane said. “Once I ran out of ammo, I switched to the ax with the silver handle to finish him off. The next one isn’t as bad.”

Well, that explained things. He had an ax in his arsenal, but not the one with a silver handle. He’d have to go back and search for it in the areas he’d already covered. “How far along are you?”

“Oh, I finished that one a couple months ago. I’m playing Altershot now.”

From what he’d heard, that one was damn near impossible to finish, which meant she enjoyed a challenge. He appreciated that. “How do you like it?”

“It’s tough but fun. If you have an Xbox, you can borrow it when I’m done.”

“Thanks, I’d like that.” He slipped the straps of his rucksack over his shoulders. “It might be awhile before I can get it back to you, though.”

“No worries. At some point, I’ll go back and play it again with a different character, but it won’t be anytime soon.” She fell in line with his steps as they turned away from the lake. Up ahead, a squirrel darted up a tree, its bushy tail flicking. “So what else do you do in your free time?”