Page 32 of Lethal Illusion (Six Points Security #8)

“Like you said, they expect a lot but they’re fair.

Good pay, time off, I like who I work with, and I feel like I’m doing something worthwhile.

I can’t think of anywhere else I’d want to be.

” He waved a hand in front of his face, presumably to ward off an insect.

“Your turn. How did you become a hacker?”

Her muscles tensed. “That’s a longer story.”

“It’s not like we’re short on time.” When she didn’t say anything right away, he added, “Like you said before, what else are we going to talk about?”

She let out another sigh, because she hated having her own words thrown back at her.

That part of her life wasn’t filled with shiny, happy memories, so she condensed them down to as few words as possible.

“I was sick as a kid and spent a lot of time indoors with my laptop. It sort of went from there.”

His gaze sharpened with a mixture of interest and empathy. “What kind of sick?”

“Does it matter?”

“No, not really.” He turned his focus forward where the canopy was starting to thin. “It’s your business. Forget I asked.”

Great, now she felt bad about snapping at him.

In her defense, it was a part of her life that she rarely shared, not even with Nina or Larissa.

Not because it was embarrassing or shameful, but because it dredged up unpleasant memories she’d rather keep in the past where they belonged.

But for reasons she couldn’t begin to articulate, she felt comfortable sharing them with him.

“I was diagnosed with epilepsy when I was six.”

His eyebrows nearly shot up to his hairline. “Oh shit, I had no idea.”

“Why would you? I haven’t had a seizure since I was seventeen.

” She usually avoided telling people about her childhood, because even though it shaped who she’d become, she didn’t want it shaping people’s opinions about her.

She hated it when people looked at her as if she were damaged or diminished.

She’d fought hard to overcome that stigma.

Navarre didn’t look at her that way. Instead, he looked confused. “I didn’t realize that kind of thing went away.”

“It’s not always the case. I was lucky. Some people need lifelong treatment.

But once I was diagnosed, my mother treated me like I was going to break at any given moment.

She practically strapped a helmet on my head and cocooned me in bubble wrap.

I wasn’t allowed to climb on the playground equipment, or ride a bike, or have a skateboard, or any of the fun stuff that normal kids did.

Don’t get me wrong…I understand why she did what she did and I appreciate her watching out for my safety, but it set me apart from the other kids. ”

“That had to suck.”

She shrugged. “It wasn’t a picnic. More often than not, I ate lunch alone, or with one or two other kids who’d also been shunned by the cliques.

I also spent a lot of time with my laptop while the other kids played outside.

By high school, I was known as that weird, pasty, geeky girl who sat in the front row but never spoke in class.

The mean girls called me Twitchy because of the time I had a seizure in the lunchroom.

” Her blood pressure spiked at the memory.

The incident happened way back in sixth grade, but the nickname followed her all the way to her high school graduation ceremony.

Navarre frowned. “Mean girls suck.”

“Tell me about it.” She was touched by his indignation over something that happened so long ago.

Overhead, the tree canopy thinned even further, allowing more light to reach the forest floor.

“But it wasn’t all bad. It gave me the opportunity to get really good with computers.

I was writing code in middle school, and now I get paid fairly well to do something I enjoy. Not everyone gets to say that.”

“That’s a healthy way to look at it,” he said. “A lot of people would have been scarred by the experience.”

“Oh, there’s baggage, trust me on that. I’ve come to terms with most of it.

The rest, I try to leave behind.” This whole assignment had been an exercise in battling her inner demons.

They’d gotten the best of her on more than one occasion, mostly because this was uncharted territory for her.

But now she was feeling more confident. After all, she’d done so well that she’d become the target of a kidnapping attempt.

That alone spoke volumes about her ability to imitate Sierra.

Navarre fell silent, his face unreadable. After a long pause, he asked, “My questioning your ability to do this job didn’t help, did it?”

She waved her hand dismissively. There wasn’t any point in holding grudges, especially when he seemed genuinely remorseful about his earlier behavior. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have been such an asshole to you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. There’s no need—”

Before she could finish, he hooked one arm around her waist, yanking her against him with startling force. The sudden movement stole her breath as he dragged her back under the cover of the trees.

Her pulse hammered in her throat. Oh God, had the mercenaries found them? Keeping her voice barely above a whisper, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

He pointed one finger toward the sky. “Drone.”