“Well, why the fuck not?” he countered. “It’s not like our little hacker girl is going to rat us out. We know where she lives and could turn her in just as easy.”
Ezra looked back at her. “How do you make money from hacking?”
Her brows rose. “Why?”
“Just curious.” He tilted his head.
“Usually, I send out infected emails. I use some social engineering to maximize my chances that someone will take the bait.If I’m targeting a specific place, I’ll do more research on who works in which departments so it looks more legitimate.”
Ryker grinned. “Oh, that’s cool. How much you make?”
Willow shifted in her seat. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t take much for myself anymore. I pay it forward.”
Ezra chimed in, “Why?”
She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Because someone helped me.”
“Who?”
“That’s definitely none of your business.”
His mind wandered to the scars on her body, wondering how deep they actually went. An idea wormed its way into him. “Who are you taking it from? You said it was companies earlier.”
Her jaw clenched, and her eyes darted between them, probably assessing if she should divulge any more. “Why should I tell some guys who are hiding their faces from me and would kill me if I saw them?”
He exchanged a look with Ezra.
“We won’t kill you,” Ezra murmured. “But it’s for your safety anyway.”
Maybe it was a mistake to tell her what they did at all, but there was a part of him that wanted to test her reaction. He’d never been able to tell someone he liked about it.
This won’t go anywhere, dipshit.
Ryker clenched his teeth. It didn’t hurt to imagine, though.
Chapter 16
Willow
They wouldn’t kill her if she saw them?
That was a surprise. Their gorgeous faces might be covered, but they seemed sincere.
Why do I want to trust them?
She cleared her throat. “Well, since you told me what you do… I target insurance companies,” she said, fidgeting with the hem of her borrowed sweater. “You know about my shoulder issue, and you saw the scar. Healthcare is expensive.”
“How did it happen?” Ry asked, his tone gentle, almost coaxing.
That day came rushing back. Fear. Despair. Her hands were gripping the steering wheel as tightly as possible while a barrage of insults came from the passenger’s seat. Then came the fist and the sickening shock of the first hit.
Willow shoved the memory away as quickly as possible, but her heart was racing uncontrollably. She cleared her throat. “It was a car accident.” They didn’t need the full story. The closer she got to them, though, the more she felt like she might be losing control over the situation.
Mean One eyed her closely. “Now, why was that so hard? Unless you’re lying.”
She offered him a pointed look. “It isn’t a pleasant memory, believe it or not.” Desperate to get away from the topic, she continued, “Tell me your names.”
Nice One was watching, assessing her body language.
