Breaking His Code (Away From Keyboard Book 1)

by Patricia D. Eddy

  Al rubs the back of his neck and then nods his head towards the stairwell door. As my footfalls echo on the metal landing, he instructs the rest of the crew to pack up their gear and head up to six. I pull out my phone and read Lucas's message again.

  I can’t come in until one. Something came up. I’m sorry. I’ll work late, but the crew’s going to have to fly solo for a while. Sorry.

  “Something came up? That something better be damned important,” I mutter as I try texting him again. He knows how vital this job is, how much pressure we’re under. His voice mail picks up on the second ring, and as I disconnect, I growl, “I’m going to beat you over the head with my cane, Luc.” When Al joins me, I’m vibrating with anger—or perhaps that’s the extra coffee I ingested to get going today. Unlike Lucas, I managed to show up on only three hours of broken sleep. If I keep stopping at Broadcast every morning, though, I’m going to have to cut some other expense from my budget. Grocery store beans don’t compare in taste or price.

  “Camilla?” Al’s stopped two feet away, and he’s eying me like one would a feral animal. My snarl probably doesn’t help. “Are you all right?”

  “Sorry. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, and I have to spend the whole day debugging. Go on.” I lean against the railing to try to appear less threatening.

  He runs a hand through his short-cropped hair. “I sent the rest of the crew up to six to start the prep work there. I didn’t want to say anything in front of the guys, but a couple of them made some stupid mistakes the first few floors. Lucas has been working his ass off to try and repair everything, but at this point, we’re going to be running right up against the deadline.”

  The tenuous hold I have on my sanity threatens to slip. “Lucas hasn’t said anything.” Failing to keep the frustration and hurt from my voice, I force a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. When I’m no longer in danger of launching into an unprofessional tirade, I straighten and meet Al’s gaze. “What can I do to help?”

  He shifts from one foot to the other as he appears to wrestle with his next words. “If you can get us permission to be here after hours and some overtime pay, my guys and I can work the weekend and try to catch up.”

  “Done. I’ll take care of it today. We’ve got another eleven days before we have to start live testing, and fourteen floors to go. Anything you need—anything—you let me know. Abby’s interviewing another three potential electricians today, so hopefully you’ll have help by next week.”

  “Will do. I’ll tell the guys.” Al pauses at the door and glances back at me. “Are you sure Royce won’t mind the overtime?”

  I stifle a laugh. “Oh, he’ll mind.” As Al flinches, I wave my hand. “Leave Royce to me. He might not want to spend the extra money, but he needs this job to go off without a hitch. You just concentrate on getting the job done, and I’ll take care of getting you and your guys paid.”

  He smiles as he nods. “Thank you.”

  By lunchtime, Al’s confirmed that he and two of his crew—Zach and Lloyd, I think—will join him tomorrow and Sunday, and I’ve upgraded their security badges to give them weekend access to the hotel’s employee-only areas. I’m avoiding the office—and Royce—by stopping for lunch at Mazie’s. Cowardly, I know, but I need a loaded bacon burger to get me through this day. My phone buzzes on the table as I take my first bite, and distracted, I don’t notice a glob of Mazie’s special sauce fall from my burger and land on my red tank.

  “Dammit,” I manage through a mouthful of deliciousness. Now I’m going to have to go home and change before I go back to Coana. No way can I show up with a grease stain right over my breast. Hell, I shouldn’t even go into the office looking like this, but I can’t delay talking to Royce much longer.

  After going through four napkins, I check my phone, and my cheeks flame.

  I want to slide my fingers into your hair, press you against the wall, and kiss you until you’re dripping for me. Then strip you naked so I can taste you, finally taking you over the edge as you scream my name. You’ve been in my dreams every night, and tomorrow night you’re mine.

  My fingers shake a little as I type out my reply. He’s not the only one who’s had intense dreams this week, and I might have packed my overnight bag two days ago, giddy with anticipation—or perhaps arousal.

  What if I have a different plan? Like your naked body under me as I kiss every one of your tats, then take you deep and use my tongue in ways you’ll dream about for weeks.

  I cringe as I send the message. Sex, I’m good at. Actual sexting? Flirting? Not so much. As I finish my last french fry, he replies with a few well-placed fucks and dirty promises, though, so I must have done all right. Feeling a little lighter than when I sat down, I head to my car. As I’m fishing for my keys, two men emerge from a high-end Italian restaurant across the street. My purse slips from my arm as I watch Lucas—dressed in a suit—shake hands with a man I recognize from the latest Seattle TechWorld issue. They’re too far away for me to hear their conversation, but Lucas's tamed dreads, the leather portfolio tucked under his arm, and the handshake can only mean one thing.

  As Raymond Hawthorne, Head of Development at TechLock, walks away, I regain a measure of composure and snatch up my purse. “Lucas!” I wish I could run across the street, but at my speed, I’d probably get hit by a car. Though that might be preferable to this next conversation.

  He cringes as he hears me, looks after Hawthorne briefly, then jogs over to me, loosening his tie as he steps onto the sidewalk. “What are you doing here?”

  “Having lunch. You want to explain what you were doing with Hawthorne?” I brace a hand against my car door and glare.

  Lucas's shoulders slump, and he fiddles with the edge of his portfolio. “Don’t tell Royce. Please.”

  Despite my anger, I keep my voice low. “I have to. You bailed on me, and we’re already behind schedule at Coana. Al and his crew are going to have to work the weekend, Oversight crashes every time I try to run a systems test, and we’re less than two weeks away from turning her on and running through live drills.” I take a deep breath and swallow hard. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  His entire body deflates, and he retreats a step, almost cringing. “I’m a good programmer. Hell, I’m better than good—I could lead a team.” Lucas shoves the tie into his jacket pocket. “But I’m never going to do that while you’re around. Not that I should—I learned from the best. But I want more than always being in your shadow.”

  The lump in my throat threatens to choke me, and I look away so I don’t have to see the discomfort hunching Lucas's shoulders. “I can’t finish this project without you, Luc.”

  He touches my arm. “I wouldn’t leave in the middle of this install. Royce—and you—took a chance on me when no one else would.” As I meet his gaze, his voice cracks. “I don’t even know if they’ll offer me the job. You know my history. Even scoring an interview was a long shot.”

  Though anger still simmers beneath the surface, he’s my best friend, and I can’t stand to see him so insecure. “There’s no way they’ll let you slip through their fingers. You’re better than you realize. The functions you wrote for me two weeks ago were the best you’ve ever done. Maybe better than mine.”

  “Even if that were true…” He scuffs his shiny black dress shoe on the sidewalk and then takes my hand. His warm fingers tighten on mine, and he holds my gaze, pleading. “Don’t say anything to Royce. Not yet. Give me until Monday.”

  I’ve never been a very good liar. My mother always said I wore my emotions all over my face. “I’ve got to tell him something. I need Al and his guys to work the weekend—you too, by the way. We’re in danger of blowing the whole damn thing because of LaCosta’s stupid party. How am I supposed to spin this so Royce doesn’t blow a gasket?”

  “Tell him I got food poisoning or something.” Lucas raises his brows, hope smoothing the tiny lines around his lips and eyes. “Please, Cam.”

  “You ate some ba
d shrimp last night, understand?” When he nods, I continue, “Change out of that suit and get your ass to Coana.” I pull away, then dig into my bag for my keys. “And look appropriately nauseous.”

  Lucas watches me as I drop awkwardly into the driver’s seat. “I’m sorry. I should have told you about the interview.”

  “Yes. You should have.” Before I can dwell any longer, I shut the door, leaving Lucas to watch as I pull into traffic.

  Only the quiet click of keys breaks up the silence of the office. If there’s one constant among programmers, it’s that we like our routines, which means Abby’s listening to Enya, and 90s grunge music leaks out of Shemar’s headphones. Orion hates music, but blasts white noise at an unhealthy decibel level. Me, I prefer Tibetan Bowls when I’m stressed, Pandora’s greatest hits when I’m not. Guess what I’ll be listening to this afternoon?

  After I dump my bag, I rap on the door to Royce’s office.

  “Come in.” His gruff voice scrapes like broken glass over my nerves, and I take a deep breath before I twist the knob. He doesn’t look up as I enter, which affords me a moment to gawk.

  Dark circles swell under his eyes, and his hair sticks up on the sides as if he’s grabbed the short strands and pulled more than once. Takeout containers overflow the trash can, and the whole room smells like stale coffee. When he drags himself from whatever he’s working on, he nods. “Shut the door and tell me what’s going on at Coana.”

  I sink into his guest chair, then pull out my iPad. “We’re running behind schedule on cabling. On the software side, I’ve installed the framework, but the core modules are still buggy.”

  Royce frowns. “I thought we had this under control. I brought in additional help. Abby had me extend offers to two of the electricians this morning. What the hell is going on over there?”

  You mean besides Lucas looking for another job and bailing on me this morning? Clenching my jaw so I don’t blurt out Lucas's secret, I search for kernels of truth to offer. “We’ve discovered a dozen blind spots that we didn’t plan on, three employee-only areas that need upgraded biometrics, and the extra cameras we had to order won’t arrive until Monday.”

  “You’re not telling me something.” He narrows his eyes at me. Biggest disadvantage to working for your former CO? You can’t hide a damn thing.

  “Lucas called in sick this morning. He’s faster than any of the rest of the cabling crew, including Al. Put us at least another half day behind, maybe more.”

  “What the fuck? He’d better be on his death bed.” Royce slams his fist against the desk, rattling his cup full of pens. “Until this job is done, everyone works unless they’re bleeding from the eyes. Hang on. I want to talk to him. Right now.” He wrenches the receiver from his desk phone, and the momentum sends the base crashing to the floor. “Goddammit!”

  If the universe wanted me on Lucas's side, this is all they had to do. No one talks to my team that way, and I’m not Royce’s punching bag. “He got food poisoning, Royce.” The lie rolls off my tongue, but the bitter flavor turns my stomach. “Did you really want him running cable while puking his guts out? No one needs to see that. Or hear, smell…”

  Once he’s righted his phone and retrieved the sizable shard of plastic that broke off from the side, he scrubs his hands over his face. “Fine. But he better be back tomorrow.”

  “He’s headed over to the hotel now. I talked to Al, and he offered to work the weekend—thinks he can pull in two of his guys to join him as well. Won’t put us completely back on schedule, but we’ll be close. I just need you to authorize the overtime.” I clench my hands in my lap, hoping Royce agrees and I can escape quickly to go back to my problematic code. At least when Oversight’s difficult, she doesn’t damage the office equipment.

  “Fine.” He pushes to his feet, then starts to pace as I blow out a breath. “I don’t care what we have to do.” Desperation tinges his words, and he rakes a hand through his hair, tugging at the brown strands as he stares at the ceiling. “I met with ZoomWare today. If LaCosta gives us the endorsement he’s promised, we have to be ready to turn on Oversight for all of ZoomWare’s offices in ninety days. And they want the facial recognition system, too.”

  I go in for a high-five, but Royce shakes his head, and I flop back into my chair. Why isn’t he celebrating? No one has a facial recognition system like we do. This should make him happy.

  He grabs his own iPad. “We’re going to be on another tight schedule for this one. You’re lead. I’m giving you Lucas, Orion, and Abby for this. If you think we need to hire, I’ll advertise. Shemar’s on the consumer app for the next month, and then he’s yours, too.”

  How am I supposed to handle a contract the size of ZoomWare without Lucas? He knows the code, how I like to work, and all of Oversight’s secrets. Breaking in another junior programmer is going to take weeks, if not months. Abby and Orion are fantastic, but they’re only partway through their Python certifications, and Shemar hasn’t even started. My palms dampen, and I fiddle with the hem of my blouse.

  “Cam?” Royce inches forward. “You okay?”

  “Y-yeah. Sorry. Just trying to wrap my head around a project this size. If Coana’s happy, when would we have to start on their next property?” What’s that old cliché? When it rains…

  “Let me worry about that. You tell me what you need to get facial recognition working perfectly.”

  “Another programmer.” If Lucas leaves—and that haunted look in his eyes assured me he will before long—I won’t have the time to hire when this project is done. I need to get someone else in here now. “Al’s shown some pretty strong skills as a project manager. Lucas has been impressed. I could use his help, too.”

  “Al doesn’t want—” Royce rolls his eyes. “He’s sticking with cabling. Apprentice-level work only. His choice.”

  I stifle my sputter, but Royce glares at me anyway.

  “You asked me what I needed. Get me someone with at least Lucas's skill set, have Abby and Orion finish their certifications as soon as possible, and find me someone to help with project management.”

  “Done. That’ll be enough?” Royce taps his notes without looking at me, and for the second time in a week, I think I see a tremble in his fingers.

  “Yes.” Digging for some courage, I stand so we’re on equal footing. “There’s one more thing.” I wave my hand towards the rest of the office. “You’ve built a great company, Royce. We all love what we do, and until a few weeks ago, we all loved coming into work. Every one of us would move heaven and earth for you.”

  He stills, and a muscle in his jaw twitches. I rush to continue before he tells me to get the hell out and “leave it alone” again. “We’re about to get very busy for a very long time. Everyone needs to be at the top of their game. Including you. Something’s changed. You’re slamming doors, jumping down people’s throats. You broke your phone, for fuck’s sake. How long do you think they’ll all stick around in this sort of environment? We’re too close to ‘making it.’ Don’t screw this up now.”

  “Screw this up? I’m working my ass off to keep this company together so we can make it. What the hell am I supposed to do? Bring puppies and kittens into the office for playtime?” He’s straightened, and the fire behind his gaze almost makes me retreat, but I’ve done that too often with Royce, and now we’re both suffering.

  “No. Bring back ‘Beer Fridays,’ buy doughnuts once in a while, suggest we all hit up a happy hour after work—and then show up. Anything to let them know you care.”

  He cringes, looks down at his feet, and then shakes his head. “I care.”

  “I know that. But I’m not sure they do.” I jerk my chin towards the door. “All they see is a boss who’s losing control of his demons.” I reach out and touch his forearm, hoping he doesn’t pull away. “Takes one to know one, Rolls.”

  “My demons are right where they’ve always been. If I’m a little short, it’s just the stress over this project.”

  “Royce, th
is isn’t the Coana job. You need help. Are you even sleeping?” His bloodshot eyes hold the answer. “Talk to me. Get on VetNet. Or see a professional. I could give you the name of my shrink.” The hard muscles of his forearm shift under my fingers. “I would have died for you in Afghanistan. You know that, right?”

  He jerks away. “You almost did.”

  “No. I almost died because some Taliban asshole wanted to take out an entire convoy. That’s not my point. You’re important to me. As is this company. I won’t let it—or you—go down without a fight.” I reach over and grab a pen and Post-It from his desk. “Here’s my therapist’s name. Go talk to her. Or…talk to someone. And try to go easy on the rest of them, okay?”

  As I press the note into his hand, he tightens his grip, holds onto me for a breath, and then releases me and turns away. Without another word, I slip out of his office and head back to work hoping that this time, he’ll listen.

  By the time I sink into my recliner later that night, Royce has sent a company-wide email asking everyone to happy hour the next day. I can’t refuse—not after my plea in his office—even though I’ve been looking forward to my date with West all week. I send a suggestive text, then follow it up with another asking for a favor. Maybe if we engage in a little sexting after his job tonight…or at least heavy flirting…he’ll forgive me for rescheduling.

  Too tired to go back to my buggy code, I check out the latest threads on VetNet.

  Three new members joined us this week, and I welcome them, share a few of my tips for dealing with well-meaning, but dense, family members, and let them know what they’ll find on the resources boards. The Amputee board has a dozen unread posts, mostly WonderLT talking about his physical therapy, and the Vents and Rants board has been quiet, except for HuskyFan.

  HuskyFan: I’ve earned enough from my side job to pay the hospital bills, but I don’t have enough cushion to cover the insurance premiums. I can’t do this alone, and if I ask for help, I could end up in an even bigger hole. Every time my wife looks at me, I see the disappointment in her eyes. My son doesn’t understand why Mommy can’t get out of bed, and my mother-in-law won’t even speak to me. Though that’s probably for the best. One mistake and my whole life goes to shit. I can’t let things go on like this. I have to get flush again. You’re the only ones who understand. Why did I let my brother talk me into enlisting? I could have gotten a job and used my skills to kick some serious ass. I’d be a CEO now. Hell, I could be giving Bill Gates a run for his money. Instead, I come home covered in dirt and cobwebs, and the only time I get to use my skills is working a side job for someone I hate. Why can’t I get ahead?