Zero Day Exploit (Bayou’s End #1.5)

by Cole McCade

  “Ravi.” She nearly fell against the bedside, looking down at him with tears blurring and catching on her lashes. “What happened?”

  “Pump malfunction,” he whispered, voice weak and thready. “Sudden blood pressure drop. It is all right. I’m stable now. I’ll be fine in a day or two. I just need rest.”

  “Are you sure?” She caught his hand, hating how limp and cold it felt against hers. “Is there anything I can do?”

  He smiled, wan and hopeful. “The nurse won’t move my bed.”

  Zero looked up, glancing around the room. Right. The foot of his bed was facing the door. He hated that. Used to drive his college roommates crazy, but it would drive him crazier if someone didn’t fix it. She bit her lip, eyeing the equipment ringing his bed.

  “We’ll get in trouble,” she hedged.

  “It’s itching.”

  She groaned. Even before she spoke, she knew she would give in. “Come on.” She beckoned to Evan. “Keep an eye on the door.”

  Together they moved the bed, Evan always keeping one hand on the IV pole and machinery to keep from jostling it out of place, while Zero clumsily and one-handedly guided the bed to wheel around until the foot of it faced the window. Once he was settled into place, Ravi’s expression eased, relaxing into relief.

  “Thank you,” he said, then turned his head to look up at Evan. “Evan, right?”

  Evan dropped his gaze, before a forced, almost sheepish smile tinged his lips. “Yeah, that’s me. I’m the douchebucket who cost you your job.”

  “I don’t think Zoraya would like a man who was a douchebucket.”

  “Who says I like him?” Zero huffed, only to scowl at Ravi’s slow smile. “Shut up, Rav.”

  He only laughed, hoarse and raspy. Evan looked between the two of them, then lightly caught Zero’s arm and bent low to her ear.

  “Can we talk?”

  She bit her lip. She didn’t want to leave Ravi, but if he needed rest, he didn’t need her hovering over him. “I’m not sure if this is the best time…”

  “I’m fine,” Ravi said, then laughed again when she just eyed him. “I am fine. It was just my blood pressure. It’s back to normal levels. I’ve been stable for hours.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “The nurse said something about emergency surgery.”

  “Only if my condition worsens. And I’m fine.”

  A niggling suspicion struck her, and she drew back, squinting at him. “Rav?”

  “Yes?” he asked just a little too innocently.

  “Did you call me here just to turn your bed?”

  He smiled, shoulders moving against the pillows in a shamefaced shrug. “Alyssa’s stuck in traffic from Long Island.”

  Her laughter unraveled the tension inside her, and she slumped against the edge of the bed as her bones went soft on her and relief left her weak. He was fine. He was fine, but no one had better ever call her the brat again. “You are such an idiot.” She looked up at Evan uncertainly, then tossed her head toward the door. She wasn’t wholly sure she wanted to hear what he’d come to say, yet she couldn’t deny how her heart twisted at the sight of him. “Come on. Hallway.”

  She led Evan outside, then pause to latch the door carefully—then do it again, and again. “Hold on.”

  He frowned. “What are you doing?”

  “It’s a thing. Have to do the latch…I think it was six times?” She counted in her head as she did it three more times. “Or that makes him itchy, too.”

  “It’s funny, isn’t it?” he said, something odd in his voice. “It’s funny how some people show they love people with dramatic proclamations and huge displays and romantic gestures…but for some people, it’s in the small things. Like the small things you do for him.”

  The way he was looking at her nearly broke her. As if the glass of his eyes had cracked, and everything in them was pouring through. Why are you here? she wanted to ask. Why did you come back? But she didn’t. She only looked away, staring sightlessly down the hall. “I quit my job for him.”

  “You quit?”

  “I went in to sort out something with my sick leave, and he was packing up his desk.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just…snapped.”

  “What will you do?”

  “I don’t know.” Another shrug, so stiff it hurt her shoulders. “I’ll figure something out. I’m an odd duck, and ducks float. My dad says that all the time.” She risked a glance at him through her lashes. “You didn’t have to come.”

  “I did. Ravi’s important to you—and you’re important to me.”

  Her breath hitched. “I…I thought you were leaving New York.”

  “I was. Then I drank half the hotel bar and canceled my plane ticket. Some people in Boise are pretty mad at me right now.”

  “Why?” she asked, needing—craving—an answer, yet not sure she wanted to know, the ache of it nearly carving her open.

  “For you. I…I came back for you. I had to.” He laughed shakily and dragged a hand over his skull. “This was so much easier in my head. I mean…I just…” He breathed in and out slowly, hands clenching as he drew himself up, then spilled out, “I was wrong, okay? I was wrong. I believe in something. I believe in you. And I completely fucked that up by running away because I was afraid of losing you like I’ve lost everyone else.”

  She stared at him. The lonely emptiness that had missed him all weekend nearly devoured every word, taking them into her with a voracious hunger—but he’d burned her too many times. “You’ve only known me for a few days.”

  “I want to know you for a lot longer than that.”

  “I’ve only known you for a few days.”

  “Okay.” He paced left and right and left again, then suddenly dropped to his knees in front of her. “Okay. You want to know me?” He took both her hands, handling her cast-mummified fingers with gentle care, looking up at her with something close to desperation, his touch rough and warm. “My middle name is Cornelius. I spent the first sixteen years of my life barefoot on a shrimp boat, and even now the smell of shrimp makes me want to puke. I’ll roll over and go belly up in submission for a good lasagna. My tattoo? Is from the cover of an old Dungeons and Dragons guidebook. My favorite TV show is The X-Files. I’m allergic to fabric softener. I watch musicals. I watch a lot of musicals. And I shave my hair close because if I don’t, I get a curly ‘fro and look like a pale version of Jules Winnfield.”

  Stunned, Zero could only laugh. He was such an idiot, but…that was what she liked about him. What she’d missed about him. “That…may be too much information.”

  “That’s who I am when I’m not being Evan James, Corporate Sledgehammer.” He stood, still grasping tight to her hands, his smile so hopeful she couldn’t look away. “Curly ‘fro and the entire soundtrack of Phantom belted out in the shower.”

  “Off-key. You forgot off-key.”

  “I will cop to that. I never claimed to be ready for Broadway.” He drew her closer, pale green eyes searching so deep she felt as if he could see every minute of longing, every moment she’d told herself she didn’t want him and known it was a lie. “Do you think this Evan is someone you could like?”

  “Maybe. If this Evan is the truth.”

  “This Evan is the Evan you met that night. The Evan who made you laugh by being a complete idiot, before he was an even bigger idiot by not being honest with you.” He released one of her hands and cupped his palm to her cheek, so warm she couldn’t resist pressing into the touch. “This Evan makes mistakes, but is willing to own up to them if you’ll give him a chance.”

  “This Evan needs to stop referring to himself in the third person,” she murmured, a smile tugging at her lips; he chuckled.

  “But it’s so much easier to detach myself from my issues in a creepy way only a therapist could love.”

  “You’re such an idiot.” She bit her lip; the question she wanted to ask hovered on the tip of her tongue, but it took everything in her to force it out. Force it past the ache that h
e’d left behind, the fear that if she gave into him he’d just do it all over again and leave her hanging. “What are you asking me for, Evan?”

  “For you to keep smiling at me,” he breathed, fervent and low. “For you to give me a chance at something. Just a chance. I won’t ask for more until I’ve proven myself to you. Go on a few dates with me. Drag me back to bed and do that thing with your tongue.”

  “Evan!” Heat flushed her face. She lowered her eyes, looking down at their clasped hands. “You kind of have to stay in town for me to do that.”

  “I can stay. I want to stay. I want to do something more than tear things down. I want to help you build something. You’ve got the brains and creativity, Z. You just need the business plan.”

  Her stomach sank. “So you came back to help me start my own company?”

  “I came back because I want to be here for you.” He pulled her closer, hauling her roughly against the hard wall of his body. His arms—those warm, strong arms she’d ached for the night before—settled around her waist, and she couldn’t help but lean into him to feel the rumble of his voice shake through her as he murmured, “No matter what you decide to do.”

  “Even if I decide to dye my hair neon green and open a falafel stand?”

  Amusement lit his eyes. “Why do I get the feeling you’d do that just to prove a point?”

  “I wouldn’t spite myself that much.”

  “But you’d spite me.”

  She curled her fingers in the front of his shirt, tugging him down. “Spite’s not quite what I’m feeling right now.”

  “Care to tell me what you are feeling?” he growled, leaning closer.

  “I’d rather show you.”

  Yet she hesitated, for just a moment. Hesitated as she drew him down, as her lips hovered near his, as she felt his breath on her cheeks. She’d just quit her job. Possibly thrown her entire career down the drain. Was she about to throw her heart after it, taking a chance on a man who’d already hurt her more than once? She’d already taken one risk, and that might have been one risk too many.

  But life was nothing without risks. Her brother had taken a risk on his career—and taken a risk on love. Evan had taken a risk coming back to throw himself at her feet. She wouldn’t know until she jumped if she would fly or if she would fall…but she’d never do either if she stayed in one place. Her idea of taking risks had been dressing like a punk and bucking the company line. It was time to grow up and take some real risks. Time to take her life, her career…and her heart into her own hands.

  Evan was a risk. But he was a risk she was choosing—and she smiled to herself as she closed that last distance between them and kissed him.

  She’d never thought in just three days she could miss someone so much, but when his mouth slanted hard against hers and his fingers crushed so desperately against her back she felt as if everything inside her clicked into place. He still tasted like fire, and he warmed her as no one else ever had. And in his kiss she tasted a promise: that no matter what risks she took, he would be there to hold her up. To be her anchor when her world was cast adrift, to steer her steady in whatever storm her choices stirred.

  She clung to him until she couldn’t breathe. Until her knees went liquid, and she had to hold fast just to keep herself upright. Gasping, she tore her mouth from his, resting her brow to his temple.

  “I’m scared, Evan,” she whispered.

  He laughed, husky and deep. “You know what they say—there’s nothing to fear but fear itself.”

  “What about zombies? Can I fear zombies?”

  “And zombies.”

  “Spiders, too.” She grinned, leaning harder into him. “Spiders are scary.”

  He nipped her lower lip. “…you’re hopeless.”

  “You like me that way.”

  His smile faded. Pale, intense eyes searched hers, dark and hot with emotion that made her heart flutter and twist. “It might be more than like.”

  “Yeah? Don’t get ahead of yourself, mister.” She curled her fingers against his nape. “Let’s start with another kiss—and then we’ll see where this thing goes.”

  “As you wish.” But as he leaned down to brush his lips to hers once more, soft words caressed against her mouth. “Am I home, Zero?” he breathed. “Am I?”

  She smiled, giddy with the warmth inside her, the sweet euphoria that for him…for him, she could be that feeling of home that he’d always craved. That together, perhaps, they could take a chance—and turn that feeling of home into something more. “Yeah, Evan. You’re home,” she said. “We’re home.”

  EPILOGUE

  Six Months Later

  “LITTLE MORE TO THE LEFT,” Zero called, shouting over the whirr and grumble of the forklift as it maneuvered the massive, industrial-grade 3D printer into the corner of the single-room office space. Her single-room office space. It was her name on the lease. Her name on the door, underneath the logo for Afterlife Heart Systems. She was still on the fence about the dripping zombie heart graphic. Alejandro thought it was cute, but there was always the larger audience to think about. Branding, Evan had said. It was all about branding. And people looking for an alternative to current heart replacement technology might not like the implication that Afterlife’s technologies could turn them into a member of the walking dead.

  Ravi set his laptop bag on his desk and moved to her side, eyeing the forklift operator from the delivery company. “You’re putting it there?”

  “It’s the only place it’ll fit.”

  “It’s not very Feng Shui.”

  “Which is your way of saying we need to move the desks. It’s gotta be there, Rav. It’s the only heavy-duty outlet that won’t fry the whole building when we turn it on.” She squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll just have to rearrange it all again after you finish the new furniture set. We’ll figure it out.”

  “We always do,” Evan’s voice rumbled behind her. He slid his arms around her waist, pulling her close, tugging her off-balance until she swayed and laughed. “We figured this out, didn’t we?”

  Grinning fit to burst, she turned in his embrace and wrapped her arms around his neck. “We did. Where have you been, you lazy ass? Even Alejandro’s done more work than you.”

  “I heard that,” Alejandro called from the back of the room, where he was assembling a massive file rack.

  Evan laughed and tugged a strand of her pink-streaked hair. “I was mailing off your patent applications, Miss Blackwell.”

  “You’re the best personal assistant ever.” She squinted at him. “If that’s what you were actually doing. I don’t quite believe you. You’ve got a reputation, you know.”

  He let out a mock-groan and clutched a hand over his chest. “You’re going to break my heart.”

  “We could always manufacture you a new one.”

  “I like the one I have right now.” Still chuckling, he brushed his lips to hers. “The one that beats just for you.”

  “PDA!” Alejandro called.

  “Grow up!” Zero tossed over her shoulder, then snickered and poked Evan’s chest. “That was so cheesy.”

  “I’m cheesy when I’m honest.”

  “I think I can learn to deal with that.” She twined her arms around his neck. “I like you honest.”

  He caught her wrist and turned his head to kiss her tattoo. “Mm…can I be honest right now?”

  “Knock yourself out.”

  He pulled her closer, broad hands smoothing against the small of her back. “I think I love you, Zoraya Blackwell.”

  Her breath caught. The way he said it—so calm, so casual, as if it was a given that he didn’t even have to question—hit deep and hard. “You think?”

  A smile tugged at his lips as he leaned down to brush her nose with his. “I know.”

  “Mmm…maybe I love you too.”

  He arched a brow. “Just maybe?”

  “Don’t make me say it, you idiot.”

  “Oh, just say it,” Alyssa said as she br
eezed past with the Keurig stacked atop a file box. Zero stuck her tongue out at her.

  “You’re all perfectly welcome to butt out of a private conversation.”

  “Then try not having it in the middle of your office,” Ravi countered with a grin. “Just tell him you love him, Zoraya.”

  “Not in front of you guys!”

  “That’s as good as an admission anyway. I’ll take it.” Laughing, Evan squeezed her tight and lifted his head, looking over the wide, warehouse-style office space that was all their own. “You did it, Z.”

  “We did it. I’m glad you stuck around. I couldn’t have navigated this entire mess without you.”

  It was the truth. When she’d first come up with the idea for Afterlife, it had been nothing but that: an idea. She knew what she wanted to do, but not how. Evan had been the one who’d walked her through all those little details that came with starting a business—from strategic planning to investor presentations to incorporation, and he’d even sat in on the medical certification courses required for her to gain proper accreditation as a healthcare services company.

  But he’d never taken over, never railroaded her. It had always been a team effort—from Zoraya’s expertise in programming to Alyssa’s skills in robotics to Ravi and Alejandro’s meticulous attention to detail and flawless design sense, all supported by Evan’s keen business acumen. And it had been Evan who had gone over a thousand resumes with her to help her hire a qualified cardiologist and a tissue generation specialist, both young but with stellar credentials—and both excited to get in on the ground floor of an innovative new startup in 3D-generated replacement heart technologies and biometric management software.

  She’d taken her risks, and it had paid off. She’d be twenty-seven in two months, and she was CEO of her own company—a company where she set the rules, and where she could do something real. Something that would make a difference. Evan was still an asshole, but he was an asshole who told the truth—and he’d never turned his back on her or shut her out, not since that day when he’d come back. They still bickered. They still fought. And they still kissed away the heat of their tempers, turning the fire of anger into the warmth of a slowly-growing mutual trust—and love.