Zero Day Exploit (Bayou’s End #1.5) (9 page)

“Okay. I’ll say you feel there’s little opportunity for advancement, and leave it at that.”

“Thank you.”

He scribbled something else down on his tablet—she caught a glimpse of sharply angled, knifelike handwriting past the light reflected on the screen—then said, “Let’s focus on what you do like. Do you enjoy your actual work? You’re on…UI design, right? What does that mean?”

“User interface design.” She shrugged. “It’s okay. It’s pretty simplistic. I don’t do the actual graphic design part. That’s Alejandro. I just program the functionality so it’s effortless for the user.”

“What would you rather be doing?” He turned the stylus over in his fingers. He seemed to have trouble just being
still
, as if all the thoughts racing in his calculating mind just shivered through every inch of his body and demanded that he
move
. “I don’t just mean here. I want to know what your real passion is.”

“Medical device technology,” she said without hesitation.

“Oh?” Interest flickered in his eyes, and she smiled.

“Not just things like pacemakers and respirators. I mean cutting-edge software that saves lives. There are all kinds of amazing new advancements coming out in hardware. Stuff like 3D-printed fully-functioning plastic and gel organs. But hardware’s nothing without good software.” She had to curb herself from saying more; he hadn’t asked for a sales pitch. She bit down on her tongue to still its flapping, and continued more neutrally, “The right algorithm interfacing with a 3D printed heart can make the difference between a heart failure and someone’s life.”

“This means a lot to you,” he murmured. “You know someone…?”

“Ravi,” she said, a pang sinking in her stomach like stones in deep water. “He was born with a congenital heart failure. Got his first pacemaker at age ten. He’s got a completely mechanical heart now, just like Dick Cheney. I was there with him in college when he was scared before surgery and needed someone to hold his hand. But sometimes it really messes with him.” She lowered her eyes to the basket of rolls and reached out to pick at the edge of the wicker weave, playing with a loose splinter. “It’s scary, thinking it might fail on him at any moment because the technology’s faulty. One glitch from a lazy programmer could kill him. Or a virus—I mean, everything’s networked now. Even artificial hearts. One zero day exploit and he’s dead.”

“One what?”

“It’s…” She searched for a simple explanation in layman’s terms. “It’s a kind of virus or malware that looks for a vulnerability in software and exploits it. It basically penetrates a hole in the software’s security and takes over. Once it’s in, there’s almost no way to get it out.”

Evan blinked, his lips thinning, laughter gleaming in his eyes. “You have no idea how many inappropriate comments I’m biting back right now.”

“You’re a model of tact and sensitivity.” Zero rolled her eyes.

“Practically a Southern gentleman.”

“Is that where the accent’s from?”

“Baton Rouge.”

“Really? I spent a few years near New Orleans. A little town called Bayou’s End.”

“Look at that. We have some common ground after all.” He flashed her a sly, slow smile, but before she could answer he looked down at the tablet again. “So. Programming medical device technology. You won’t get a chance to do that here.”

“No, but I can build my resume to the point where I’ll have a chance somewhere else. I’m trying to stick it out for just a few more years, maybe get a promotion, then see what I can do with a little career progression.”

Evan’s brows knitted. “So in other words, I misjudged you.”

“How’s that?”

“I thought you were some fresh college grad with no plan, wanting to keep partying and rebelling against authority.” Tap-tap-tap, stylus to screen. It was starting to drive her crazy. “Turns out you’ve got a plan. A pretty responsible one. Put your time in, work your way up.”

Her face flamed; she fought not to bristle and snap his head off. Had she really come across as such an irresponsible child? No wonder he’d told her to grow up, and thought she was so shallow.

“That’s kind of how it goes,” she muttered, glaring at the breadbasket. It was better than looking at him.

“Maybe. Or maybe you should take a few risks.”

“You know, I kind of feel like I’ve taken a few too many these last few days,” she bit off.

“Take one more.” He leaned over, angling until she couldn’t help but see him, refusing to let her avoid him. “Come over to my room tonight.”

Reluctantly, she met his eyes. He was trouble waiting to happen; she couldn’t even trust that this quiet earnestness was real. Not when he changed faces like a skilled kabuki actor, putting on one mask after another. “Evan…”

“Strictly business. A hotel’s neutral ground. I won’t invade your space again,” he promised. “We’ll brainstorm.”

“We can brainstorm at work.”

“I’d hate to cut into your productivity.” He glanced over his shoulder, then leaned across the table, voice dropping. “Seriously, Z. They’re talking layoffs. And you’re not exactly on management’s radar as a top performer.”

Cold feelers prickled over her skin; her breath stilled. “What?”

Evan just studied her as he leaned back in his seat, gaze knowing. “We’ll talk about it tonight.” He pushed the bread basket toward her. “For now, enjoy your psomi.”

Z
ERO BROODED THROUGHOUT LUNCH, SUBDUED
and grateful to Evan for leaving her in silence. For all that he pissed her off, he seemed to know just when she needed peace and quiet—and even if she hated to admit it, she appreciated his wordless company while her thoughts spun in crazed circles.

Layoffs. She’d thought this was just some stupid corporate motivational thing, like Franklin-Covey for the brainwashed. Not something that could cost people their jobs. Cost
her
her job. Not a top performer, her ass. Okay, so maybe she could do with an attitude adjustment lately, but she’d always worked well with her team. Even if the job wasn’t perfect, she got things
done
despite the increasing restrictions that demanded forms signed in triplicate just to push one minor UI form update to the live server.

Who else was on the chopping block? Alejandro? Ravi? It could be anyone. Except Rick. Stupid Rick who now had a glass-walled office on their floor and hardly ever came out of it to talk to anyone, instead shooting emails to people who were sitting five feet away and could see him looking right at them. Coward. He had his job security; she doubted she was the only one he’d stolen credit from. She only wondered what he’d do to make himself look good when there weren’t as many people left to screw over.

Evan was a silent shadow when they left the restaurant, trailing in her wake as they walked back to the office and slipped into the elevator. For once she barely noticed the heavy masculine heat of him at her side, just a hint of awareness and an annoying realization that his silence was
still
comforting. Stupid jerk, not being a jerk.

She supposed everyone had their moments.

But he broke their silence as the elevator doors closed, making her start and pull from her reverie as he said, “So I’ll see you tonight?”

“Maybe,” she hedged.

He arched a brow, then shrugged. “Seven o’clock.”

“I don’t even know where you’re staying.”

“The Doubletree in the Square.” A slow smile curved his lips as he hit the buttons for the second and fifteenth floors. “I’ll let reception know you’re coming up.”

She didn’t like that smile. It was the same way he’d smiled when she’d told him he wasn’t getting off the train with her, only for her to practically drag him up to her apartment by the seat of his pants. She cleared her throat and glowered at the buttons.

“You’re being overconfident again.”

“Nothing to be overconfident about if you’re just coming over to talk about work,” he said mildly, and she growled.

“That’s the
only
reason.”

He stepped closer. His hand slipped from his pocket, and his fingers drifted up to grip her chin, grasping gently. So rough. God, how did a slick corporate shyster have hands that
rough?
Nothing about him fit the corporate image. Nothing. Not that devil’s smile, not his broad, coarse body, not the wildness of him.

And not the way her stomach dropped out when he brushed his thumb against her lower lip, leaving her mouth aching and hungry as he breathed, “Is it?”

The elevator dinged. Breathing shallowly, Zero stumbled back. The last thing she needed was for her team to see her rubbing elbows—or anything else—with the most despised man in the building. They hated him, and a few drinks wouldn’t change that. He couldn’t possibly think they actually bought his manipulative act. He couldn’t possibly think
she
was buying any of this. Smug asshole, thinking he could touch her after what he’d done.

The door opened. She thrust away, nearly tripping on the tracks again. “This is my stop,” she gasped, taking a few more steps away, putting more distance between them. Evan only watched her, that slow smile lingering, as if she’d stumbled away from him and right into whatever trap he’d laid.

But he only inclined his head, bowing forward slightly. “Of course, Miss Blackwell. Thank you for taking the time to review things with me.”

Then the doors closed, letting the air back into the room until she could breathe again without his smothering presence so close.

Asshole
.

“Hey.”

Zero jumped, heart going a mile a minute, and clutched at her blouse. “Gah!”

Alejandro looked down at her warily, thick black brows drawn into a thunderous line. “What’s going on with you and the douche?”

Oh shit. How much had he seen when the doors opened? “Nothing,” she deflected, and brushed past him to head toward her desk. Alejandro strode after her, a hulking shadow.

“Bullshit. You weren’t yelling at him yesterday over nothing.”

“It’s not your business.”

“It is when you’re looking pretty chummy,” he snarled. “You trying to kiss ass to keep your job?”

“No. You know me better than that.”

“Do I? Because I don’t see the rest of us taking one-on-one lunch breaks with the Terminator. Maybe you—”

“Maybe I what?” Zero whirled on him, glaring. “Maybe nothing. I slept with him. Okay? You happy?”

It came out before she could stop it, propelled on wings of frustrated, flustered anger—and once it was out, it couldn’t be taken back. At his desk, Ravi froze. Several other heads turned toward them. But Alejandro…Alejandro just stared at her, the crease of his mouth bitter and cold, eyes flat and black and unforgiving. She didn’t blame him. She knew exactly how this had to look.

“So that’s how it is, is it?” he said, almost too quietly.

“No!” She felt sick. How had a simple one-night stand blown up like this? One impulsive choice, and now everyone was looking at her as if she’d betrayed them. As if she was just the kind of manipulative, self-serving person who’d sleep her way to the top. She wasn’t like that. She’d thought her team members were her
friends
, but the disgust and recrimination in Alejandro’s gaze said that was about to change. She swallowed hard. “I didn’t know who he was, okay?”

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “Sure you didn’t. If you make it through the layoffs, guess we’ll all know why.” His upper lip curled and he shook his head, turning away quickly and stalking toward the elevator.

“Alejandro,” she pleaded, but he didn’t stop—and she wouldn’t humiliate herself further by chasing him across the floor.

He fixed her with one more heavy, dark look before the elevator swallowed him up and took him away. She just stared, her stomach a sick and hurting riot, feeling lost—and utterly mortified, as whispers flew between cubicles and dozens of eyes lingered on her, some with contempt, some with smirking malice. Damn it. Everything had gone wrong that night.
Everything
.

And if she wasn’t careful, if she didn’t play it safe around Evan James, her entire life would fall apart.

Ravi pushed away from his desk and drew closer to her, his fingers brushing her elbow. She looked into his soft, worried eyes, wordlessly pleading with him not to turn on her. “Ravi.”

He smiled, pale and quiet. “Just give him time to calm down, Zoraya. He’s upset, and speaking hastily.”

Before she could response, Rick leaned out of his office and snapped his fingers imperiously.

“Lunch break’s over, you two,” he said, mustering up what he no doubt thought was a fierce scowl. It made him look like a newborn bulldog puppy. “Back to it. I want that new Agile script on the production server by close of business.”

The door closed. Zero wrinkled her nose and eyed Ravi. “Agile script? He does realize that makes no sense, right?”

“He’s stressed. Worried.” Ravi shrugged, leaning over to brush against her lightly. “We’re
all
worried.”

“Yeah,” she said, and struggled to ignore the sinking in her gut. “Yeah, me too.”

*     *     *

She hid in her cubicle for the rest of the afternoon. With her back to the room and her eyes on her screen, she could pretend people weren’t talking about her. Every stifled snicker, every whisper, felt like an incision. Death by a thousand paper cuts—and she didn’t even have anyone to talk to about it. Ravi would listen, but Ravi couldn’t multitask; not when it threw off his counts and the particular way of thinking that made him such a brilliant quality assurance tester and software debugger. The only communication she had with anyone for the rest of the day was a few terse emails from Alejandro about the current project.

Strictly business. Right.

The moment the clock ticked over to five, the floor vacated like cockroaches fleeing the flick of a light switch. Zero lingered at her desk. No one asked if she was coming. She just stared at her monitor, shoulders so stiff a deep ache settled in down to the bone. If she was meeting Evan, she might as well stay here. Put in a little extra time.

Why? So Rick can take credit for the extra work again?

There had to be a better solution than this. Than waiting for layoffs, hoping to survive, knowing that even if she did she’d just be stagnating here waiting for her turn, long after her friends had already been downsized. There had to be something she could do. Anything.