Page 65 of Hard Wired

Chapter Twenty

Sylvie grabbed his arm. Dominic let himself be dragged down the hall into her room. She pushed him inside and closed the door. “Are you sure we can talk freely in here?”

“Pretty sure. It’s not bugged. But I can’t discount my uncle’s people using parabolic microphones.”

“There are more Bennett Security bodyguards patrolling the neighborhood. So that’s doubtful.”

“Of course there are.”

Dominic pulled up a classical playlist on his phone to add background noise, just in case Sylvie’s friends were listening in, too. He didn’t want anyone overhearing this conversation.

They each set their USB drives on the dresser. His was black. Hers was red.

“Explain,” she demanded.

“You first.”

“No.”

She’d been in his office. He was sure of it. She’d probably been messing with his computer. The situation was dripping with irony, and he’d never liked those kinds of books. The dark dramas where people do terrible things to each other, all under the mistaken belief that it’s necessary.

Maybe because his regular life too often fit that description.

A few minutes ago, he’d snuck out of his own room and come to Sylvie’s after he was sure she’d be asleep. He’d confirmed her lights were off and soundlessly opened the door. He hadn’t even glanced at her bed to see that she was there, just reached immediately for the laptop bag where he’d seen it when he said good night.

He’d had her laptop in one hand, the USB drive in the other. But then, his limbs had stopped cooperating. He just couldn’t plug the damn thing in. Couldn’t do it. So he’d quietly replaced her computer, backed out of her room, and carefully shut the door.

Then who did he run into in the hallway but Sylvie herself?

Apparently, she’d had more balls than he did.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Neither did I.”

“Bullshit.”

“Right back at you.”

Sylvie leaned on the edge of the dresser. She spun one of the flash drives around like a top. “I’m curious. Is your uncle really threatening your brother? Or was that just a new lie to manipulate me into trusting you?”

“I would never lie about Raymond.”

“Just about yourself? I know you must’ve faked that murder attempt. Maureen’s screams? The blood on the door? What a touch of drama.”

“Are you kidding? They shot at me. You know that. You were here.”

“Yes, very conveniently. After you insisted I come back to fix your supposedly ‘glitchy’ security system.”

“Hey, yesterday you showed up at my door. Claiming you missed me? You wanted to see me? I should’ve known better.” He felt pathetic to have imagined she liked him.

“I did want to see you, and I felt terrible about hiding my ulterior motive. I hated lying. But you clearly had no problem with it whatsoever. Pretending you liked me in your texts? Asking me to spend the night? ‘We’ll see what happens?’”

His gut twisted with shame. “I know. I’m sorry. But later, I practically hinted that you should go home because I didn’t want to do this. I tried to tell you the truth, that I had no decent choices and didn’t want to betray someone and hurt them.”

“Right. Blame me for not interpreting your veiled warning. Why not try air traffic control signals? I wouldn’t have understood those either.”

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