The Insiders (The Insiders Trilogy 1)

I shoved to my feet. “I’m not a child!”

“You’re acting like one!”

I had no comeback. He was right. So I just sighed. “I’m out of my depth here. I’m—”

“I get it. I do!” He started to pace now, his head still bent forward, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

The exhaustion came off of him in waves now. Exhaustion and frustration. It was then that I took in his clothing. Black. All black. Black shoes. Black pants. Black long-sleeve shirt. All. Black. Familiarity teased me. There was something, something about him, about how he was standing, about his voice, about his clothes … I couldn’t place it, though.

“Christ, Bailey!” He stopped, his head up and his eyes blazing at me, piercing me. “One day. One fucking day and you rip through their online security like it’s candy. Like it’s Halloween and all you have to do is put on a costume, knock on a door, and you get the treats handed to you. One person. One fucking afternoon! It took them three hours to locate you. Three hours. Your walls were so good that they had to keep shutting down their own programs because your viruses were that good. This is one of the best in the world, and you crumbled them to their knees in a day. Not even a day.”

I hadn’t realized I’d done that much damage.

“I’m sorry.” My voice was a hoarse whisper as I sat down.

“What were you thinking?” He stepped closer to me. “Did you want attention? Your dad’s not here. He’s in New Zealand. Did you want payback? You said people had said some messed up shit to you—was it them that you wanted to hurt? You went through your siblings’ social media, their emails. You downloaded a copy of Seraphina’s online journal. Why would you do that? She’s in tears. Tears! I heard her crying when Quinn called me. She’s humiliated by whatever you found in there.

“Marie—” He stopped, taking a deep breath. He started again, calmer, but only slightly. “Marie said she’s completely wiped out of her computer. She said it’s all gone. You took everything and you left a blinking middle finger icon as her wallpaper. It pops up every time she tries to put a password in.”

I mashed my lips together at that one.

It wasn’t funny.

It wasn’t. Nope.

I started coughing, remembering how I had laughed to myself when I programmed that in. Hearing it from Kash now, it was so totally not funny.

But it was. It was hilarious.

I coughed some more, pushing that tickle away. No good would come if I let that out.

“Yes. I…”

Kash snorted. “You don’t even sound remorseful. You sound like you’re about to apologize for being thirty minutes late for curfew. I’m not your father. This isn’t a situation where you merely get grounded. The shit we have on you, you could do prison. It’s that bad. Your father has files on those computers. National security files. You launched an attack that could’ve compromised those files. I say the word, give my go-ahead, and your father’s lawyers could make this go all the way in the black. You could be hauled off and never see your mother again.”

I felt the blood draining from me. That tickle was replaced with fear, real fear, the kind where I felt a cold trickle of sweat on the back of my hairline.

He was right.

He was so right. I knew the laws. I knew the risks. I knew my father had job contracts with the government. I’m not playing in the little leagues. I messed with a professional, a big and powerful professional who may or may not have any sentimental feelings toward me. He probably had none, to be honest. I was a risk to his empire.

Then I asked, “He’s in New Zealand?”

“What?”

“There was an event here earlier. I thought—”

“It was a charity brunch. Quinn does a lot for nonprofit organizations. But no. Your father wasn’t in attendance.”

Oh.

I swallowed over a lump in my throat.

Why did I care?

I shouldn’t. I mean … yeah, why did that bother me so much?

Kash sighed. “You wanted to get your dad’s attention?”

“No.” I said the word quickly. Too quickly.

“It’s okay if that’s what you were doing.”

God.

Another wave of embarrassment rode through me, crashing. He was right. I was acting like a child. I was almost twenty-three, and I had acted out like a rebellious teenager. It was the equivalent of drinking too much, taking drugs, racing cars—what some wealthy kids might’ve done. Not me. I crashed their internet. I basically walked up to their house, and instead of knocking like a normal person, I set it on fire.

“I’m sorry.”

Kash was silent a moment.

“I am.” I smoothed my hand out over my shirt before looking up again.

He was standing a few feet from me, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyebrows pinched together. He didn’t believe me.