Chapter Ten

Sami

Have you ever done something, then immediately regretted it?

That was me the moment I wrote the last line of code that gave my benefactor access to the network.

It was done. And so was my time with Class Alpha.

Leaving would be the easy way out, but I had to stay. I had to wait and see why my benefactor wanted the access in the first place. Contain the fallout. Insulate HORNET, Class Alpha, and Harvard as best I could.

I prowled the computer lab all weekend, watching for any sign of intrusion. Nothing. After all that angst, all the threats, he hadn’t done anything with the backdoor.

While the other trainees groaned about returning to class Monday morning, I was glad for it. Gave me something else to focus on besides Harvard, because that man had spent an alarming amount of time in my thoughts over the weekend. Every minute I wasn’t obsessing over the backdoor and my benefactor’s plans, I was reliving our dinner. Every touch of Harvard’s hand. Every heated glance. Every near-kiss.

Who needed caffeine? I was already a bundle of jittery nerves. Class would be a nice distraction.

Of course, as soon as I sat down, Blaze turned around and brought up the one person I was trying not to think about. “I hear Harvard’s been fired.”

I sighed. So much for taking my mind off him. “Who said that?”

“Overheard Jean-Luc and Jesse talking about it at the gym. Those guys gossip like my granny and her friends at bingo.”

He was right about that. The guys of HORNET were badass warriors, but each and every one of them loved a juicy bit of gossip. “He wasn’t fired.”

“But he’s off the team?”

My temper sparked. “How would I know?”

“You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”

Embarrassed heat flushed my cheeks. I opened my mouth to screech “No!” but the classroom door opened again, and Harvard walked through. His gaze swept the room and locked on mine for one intense instant that burned me all the way down to my toes.

I broke eye contact first and turned back to Blaze. “It’s none of your business.” Because screw him. He accused Jean-Luc and Jesse of gossiping, but he was just as bad.

Harvard walked over and took the empty seat at the table next to me. Blaze eyed Harvard, then smirked and turned back toward the front of the room. Across the aisle, Remy raised his brows in silent question. I gave a small shrug. I was just as much in the dark as he was, but I didn’t get a chance to ask Harvard about it. The door opened again, and our instructor for the day walked in: Jean-Luc, HORNET’s linguist. Today’s lesson: Arabic.

Jean-Luc was all smiles, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief until he spotted Harvard in the crowd. He visibly startled, and his grin faded. He strode over to Harvard’s table. “What are you doing here, mon ami?”

“I’m a student just like everyone else in this room,” Harvard said, his gaze fixed straight ahead at the whiteboard. “Treat me as you would any of them.”

We both stared at him.

Jean-Luc’s blond brows drew together in obvious concern. “H, c’mon. You don’t need to prove anything—”

“Yeah. I do.”

Whew, boy. There was some tension thrumming in those three simple words. A whole ton of unspoken baggage weighing them down.

“Busted you down to trainee, did they?” Blaze asked, and his friends snickered. Blaze could be an asshole, but at least he came by it naturally. Caleb Moore and Will Campbell had only become assholes since they started worshipping Blaze’s every move, which somehow made their laughter at Harvard’s expense meaner. They weren’t bad guys. They just pretended to be so that Blaze let them hang around. I hated both of them for that.

Harvard met Blaze’s gaze steadily, without a flicker of anger. “I’m here because you can never learn too much. Something you should keep in mind, Decker.”

Blaze snorted. “You’re here because you fucked up. They’re gonna train Sami and kick you to the curb as head tech loser.”

A murmur swept through the room as everyone turned in their seats to focus on Harvard, but he stayed impossibly cool. If it had been me, I would’ve hit the ceiling, but I never had been good at controlling my temper.

He met Blaze’s sneer with a faint smile. “And you’re here because nobody else wants you. You got kicked out of the military, out of college, and out of your parents’ house. Even your girlfriend got sick of you freeloading and sent you packing.”

Blaze sputtered. Actually sputtered. “How— How’d you—?”

“I can find out anything about anyone. One click of a mouse, and I can either erase you or give you the world. So tell me again, Decker: Who exactly is the loser here?”

As if realizing he was fast losing control of his students, Jean-Luc said something sharply in a language that might have been Arabic and marched to the front of the classroom. On the way, he smacked Blaze upside the head and said something in Cajun French that nobody but Harvard understood. Harvard’s lips twitched into a brief smile before he flattened his expression again.

Blaze half rose out of his seat. “Hey, fuck you—”

Jean-Luc steamrolled over him as if he hadn’t said anything. “First rule of Arabic class: don’t be an asshole. Second rule of Arabic class: if you ignore rule one and act an asshole, I will kick you out so hard your great-grand-mère will feel my boot up her ass. And if you don’t like those rules…” He made a dramatic sweeping gesture toward the door. “Be my guest to fuck right off, because we don’t need or want you.”

Blaze hovered for a moment in obvious indecision, then snapped his jaw closed and sank back to his seat, his shoulders slumped.

I gaped at the back of his head. Blaze never backed down like that. Normally, he’d take Jean-Luc’s words as a challenge. The guy had more disciplinary marks in his file than the rest of us combined. The only reason they kept him around was because he could shoot the wings off a gnat from a mile away. He was spooky good with a rifle, but maybe that skill wasn’t enough anymore. Maybe Quinn had given him a final warning. It was the only reason I could think of that would make him meekly submit.

At the front of the room, Jean-Luc had opened a laptop and hooked it to the projector. The beautiful, flowing script of Arabic lettering filled the whiteboard. “All right, my little circus monkeys. Let’s see where you’re at. Can anyone read this?”

The room was silent for several uncomfortable moments before a voice proceeded to read in halting Arabic. I turned in my seat to find the source of the rusty voice.

Gavin?

I guess it made sense that he would know some Arabic. Out of all of us, he was the only one who had been to the Middle East and had seen combat. He’d probably still be there with his unit if not for whatever had happened to leave those burn scars all over his body. He still wouldn’t talk about it, but the prevailing theory was he’d come too close to an IED.

So, no, I wasn’t surprised that he knew Arabic. I was surprised that he’d spoken up. He never spoke in class. Rarely spoke at all. He was always the silent ghost hovering at the back of the room.

“It’s the Arabic alphabet,” he finished.

Jean-Luc beamed at him. “And here I was thinking you didn’t have a voice. Jayid jiddaan! Very good. Your pronunciation was spot-on.”

For the next hour, Jean-Luc coaxed us through the Arabic alphabet, which seemed to me more complicated than any programing language ever created. I had a feeling that, like shooting, Arabic wasn’t going to be one of my strongest skills.

Harvard didn’t seem to have any trouble, but the man was a certified genius. There was nothing in the world of academia that he’d have trouble with. My classmates found that fact intimidating. I thought it was sexy as hell. Watching him soak in all the info Jean-Luc threw at us made me want to strip him and act out a naughty schoolgirl fantasy.

A finger poked my ribs from the table behind me, and, face blazing, I refocused on Jean-Luc at the front of the room. I’d been so caught up in fantasizing about Harvard, I’d completely missed the last ten minutes of the lesson. Even worse, it had been obvious enough that Wolfe felt he had to intervene.

Excuse me while I melt into a puddle of red-hot embarrassment.

My only saving grace was that Harvard hadn’t noticed. Everyone else had, and I’d get major flak from all of the guys later, but Harvard had been too absorbed in the lesson. Yay for hyper-focused nerd boys!

“Hey,” Wolfe whispered and nudged me again. He pretended to wipe drool from his mouth. “You got a little something…”

I shot him the bird. “Keep it up, Wolfey. I’ll send your browser history to your mother.”

“Go ahead.” He flashed a grin. “I erased everything incriminating.”

Thoroughly amused, I raised a brow. “You think I can’t find erased data? Oh, you poor, naive luddite.”

His grin dropped away.

I returned my attention to the front of the room, but by that point, the lesson was completely lost on me. I was just biding time until class ended—but then I noticed Jean-Luc had stopped speaking. The room had gone completely silent, save for an evil villain laugh that started soft and grew in volume.

I looked up at the whiteboard. The projection screen had gone black. An 8-bit video game character with blinking red eyes filled the screen. Underneath it flashed the words LET’S START THE GAME.

A chair scraped back. Harvard shot to his feet and strode over to Jean-Luc’s laptop.

“What is it?” Jean-Luc asked.

“Some kind of virus,” Harvard said.

“Merde. It’s a brand-fucking-new computer. Can you fix it?”

Harvard gave him a droll stare that clearly said duh. He unplugged it from the projector, and the whiteboard was just a whiteboard again. “I’ll have to take it to the lab to figure out what exactly it’s doing to your files and how to clean it out.”

My chest tightened, and each breath scraped all the way down to my lungs.

My benefactor. This had to be them making their move.

I stood up. “I’ll help.”

He looked at me. We both knew he didn’t need any help with a simple virus, but he nodded. “I can use it. Thanks.”

I gathered my things and followed him out, very aware of the eyes on me as I left. We hadn’t fooled anyone.

Dammit.

Harvard walked past the computer lab. I stopped beside the doors and looked into the dark room, then at his retreating back. “You missed the lab.”

At the glass double doors leading outside, he paused and glanced over his shoulder. “I’m taking it home. I don’t want to risk our network.”

Except the network was already compromised. Because of me.

God. What had I done?

“You don’t really need my help,” I said after an awkward few seconds.

He hesitated. “I’d rather deal with it on my own.”

As far as letdowns went, it wasn’t brutal. But, still…

Ouch.

I resisted the urge to rub my chest. “Okay.”

“But I’d like to walk you back to the dorm,” he said quickly. “I mean, if you want.”

My heart jumped. How pathetic. I never thought I’d be one of those girls desperate for any scrap of attention he’d give me, but here I was. “I do want.”

He waited for me to catch up, and together we stepped out into the chill of late September. We walked in silence for the first minute. The dorm drew closer with each step. I hated that it wasn’t farther away. I wanted more time with him, even if it was this awkward silence. We passed by the new rec center and another half-built dorm.

“Why all the construction?” I wondered out loud, mostly because I couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “There are only a handful of us left.” Our attrition rate was horrendous. We’d started with close to forty trainees. We were down to less than half that now. Some had dropped out due to injuries and medical problems. Others just couldn’t hack it. One had been a spy for Defion, a rival private military contractor, and he was one reason the rec center now carried a dead man’s name when all of the other buildings on campus were named after living members of HORNET.

Harvard stopped walking and studied the half-finished building. “Class Alpha is Quinn’s test run. If he’s successful, the whole private military arm of Quentin Enterprises will train here.”

“There are others like HORNET?” I knew Tucker Quentin had at least one other paramilitary team, but what Harvard was talking about was so much bigger in scope than just two teams.

He nodded. “Other teams specialize in areas like personal security, bioterrorism, peacekeeping, and even bounty hunting—you met some of Tuc’s bounty hunters in Martinique. But no matter which team a new hire is bound for, they’ll come through here first. The real test will be once you’re in the field.”

I thought of Martinique. The training mission that became a real mission by virtue of us being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’d seen people die. For a while, I thought I’d die, too. I didn’t want that experience again.

Don’t get me wrong—I was proud of myself for what I’d accomplished so far and secure in the knowledge that I could hold my own if thrown into another situation like Martinique. But unlike Harvard, I didn’t crave combat. I was perfectly happy tucked in behind my computer, where it was relatively safe. That he wanted nothing more than to put himself in constant danger twisted my stomach into knots.

I needed to touch him and took his hand. He tensed and glanced around, but there was nobody nearby to see. Still, he drew away.

My cheeks heated and I balled my hands into the front pocket of my hoodie so I wouldn’t do something stupid like that again. “I’m sorry.”

He stopped walking and faced me. Emotions battled across his face. “Sami…”

“Yeah, I know.” Of course I knew why PDA was a no-no. Logically, it made sense that we couldn’t be seen getting too friendly. But logic didn’t apply when it came to him. Logic didn’t stop my heart from cracking a little more every time he withdrew from my touch.

I had betrayed my teammates and HORNET for him. To protect his secrets, not my own. And he wouldn’t even touch me.

God. I was pathetic.

He released a long breath. “I’m sorry. I’m already on shaky ground with the bosses after that fuckup with the drone. And now this?” He lifted Jean-Luc’s laptop. “A goddamn virus getting through my firewalls. I can’t risk—”

“It’s okay,” I cut in because I really didn’t want him to finish that sentence. I was too afraid he’d say that he can’t risk another fuckup. I’d been a fuckup all my life. I was still a fuckup. But I didn’t want to be his fuckup. “Go take care of the virus. I have studying to do. Ian’s testing us on explosive components tomorrow, and chemistry was never my thing.”

A ghost of a smile touched Harvard’s lips. “Still can’t believe they have Ian teaching classes.”

“He definitely doesn’t have the temperament for it,” I muttered. Honestly, Ian Reinhardt, HORNET’s explosive ordnance tech, terrified me. He had a way of staring at you that felt like he was considering cutting you in half just to see what fell out. I’d heard his teammates call him “psycho” on more than one occasion. I believed it, which was why I did not want to screw up in his class.

I walked up the steps to the dorm but paused when Harvard said, “I’ll see you in the lab tomorrow?”

I think he meant it as a statement, but it came out more like a question. Had he sensed my need to flee? Was I broadcasting my discomfort that loudly?

Ugh. I was not built for this spy bullshit. I should tell him the truth now. Just come clean and let the dice fall. Whatever happened after that, happened.

And Harvard? You have no idea who you’re dealing with or the secrets he’s keeping from you. Go back on our deal, and I won’t simply ruin him. I’ll destroy him. He’ll go up in flames and take HORNET with him.

Shit.

I tossed what I hoped was a cheerful smile over my shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”

I waited just inside the door, tucked out of sight, until he walked away. Then I dialed Adrian.

He answered with a “Hey, haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“I know. I’m so sorry.” Now, on top of everything else, I felt like a massive jerk. Adrian was my oldest friend. I met him a few months after I blew through my benefactor’s money and settled into a crappy apartment with the crappy barista job. Adrian was a regular at the café, and he was an appealing mixture of sweet, nerdy, and tattooed. My kind of guy, but our relationship never progressed in that way. We’d bonded over computers, and he’d become a good friend, nothing more.

He’d been the one to convince me I could do so much more with my life than serve lattes. He’d risked my probation officer’s wrath by giving me access to his computers, since I wasn’t able to have my own. He’d helped me create Fragment, had introduced me to people in need of my skills, and had eventually urged me to try for Quentin Enterprises. I wouldn’t be here without his support and encouragement.

And I’d been ignoring him.

Dammit, I was a jerk.

I rubbed at the ache blooming in my temple. “God, Adrian. I’ve made a mess of everything. I don’t know what to do.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

The concern in his voice was the balm I needed to settle my nerves. I tipped my head back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling as I told him what I’d done. I left nothing out. Adrian had grown up in foster care. He’d had it rough, and his past was just as ugly as mine. If I could count on anyone not to judge me, it was him.

“Man,” he said, dragging the word out. “That’s fucked.”

I had to laugh. “Tell me about it. You never found anything on my benefactor?”

“You told me not to,” he said, feigning innocence.

“And I know you didn’t listen.”

“Of course I didn’t listen.” I heard a grin in his voice as a keyboard clicked in the background. “You know me. I love a good cyber mystery.”

“And?” I was grasping at straws. If Adrian had found something useful, he would’ve told me before now.

He hissed out a breath. “I’m sorry, Sami. I looked. I dug. Your benefactor, whoever it is, is fucking invisible.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “So what do I do?”

“Nothing.”

My eyes popped open in surprise. “What?”

“You did what he asked. You’re safe now.”

Yeah, until the next time he wants a favor. I didn’t point that out. Let Adrian think I was safe; he’d spent too much of our friendship worrying about me. But I knew better. As long as my benefactor knew who I was and what I’d done, as long as they had proof to hold over my head, I wasn’t safe. The next time they wanted a favor, they’d threaten everyone I loved again. And again. And again. They’d keep me firmly under their thumb. Their own personal hacker.

No. I wouldn’t let them.

Invisible?

Yeah, right. Nobody was invisible to me. I only needed to know where to look.