1
Cam
“Come on,you sexy thing. Show me what you’ve got.” With a click of the mouse, I compile one of Oversight’s modules—the security software package I’ve spent the past year developing has twenty of the damn things—and sit back to admire my handiwork. On my second screen, a dark square sputters to life, showing me a live video feed of the office and the back of my head. Damn. The messy bun I thought looked so good when I left my condo this morning now has more in common with a rat’s nest than anything else. “Show me the still images,” I murmur as I tap the keyboard. The screen flickers, and I’m treated to a view of the front lobby, then the parking lot. “Gotcha.”
This module’s given me fits for a week, and I pump my fist after I shut Oversight down. The office starts to sputter to life, so I grab my cane and head for the coffee machine. I don’t know why I drink this over-roasted, bitter brew, but I was up most of the night, courtesy of my lousy hip, and I’mhurting.
Once I’ve added enough cream to turn the liquid muddy, I take a tentative sip.Bleck. But I’mdesperate.
“Save some for the rest of us,” Lucas calls as he ambles up to thecoffeecart.
“I don’t know how you drink this swill every day.” I dangle his favorite mug in front of him, the one with “Have you tried turning it off and on again?” printed in apixelatedfont.
Six-foot-three with dreads that brush his shoulders, Lucas looks more like the next GQ cover model than a badass programmer. He chuckles and dumps approximately half the sugar container into his cup. “Any plans for theweekend?”
“The usual: work, VetNet, Halo. When are you going tojoinme?”
“When I won’t feel bad about beatingyourass?”
“I’ll have you know I’m undefeated.” I jab his shoulder, and hechuckles.
“It’ll take more than a single punch to take down my squad. Once this job’s done, you and me, ace.” He winks. “We’ll see who comes outontop.”
“Name the time.” I arch my brows in challenge, but before Lucas can reply, his phone beeps from inside his jacket. Coffee sloshes over the rim of his mug as he tries to extricate his phone, and I reach for a stack ofnapkins.
“Shit,” Lucas mutters once he’s glanced at the screen. Looking vaguely ill, he sets his mug down. “Any chance I can bail a little after three today? I can come in tomorrow to make upthetime.”
“Hot date?” He doesn’t respond, so I shift my gaze from the assignment log scrawled on the office whiteboard to his face. “Must be if you’re clamming up over it.Spill.”
“I don’t know yet.” His tone says casual, but there’s something deeper behind his eyes. “Could be nothing. You know howitis.”
“Luc, I haven’t had a relationship in three years. For all I know, the entire dating scene’s changed. Do people still do the whole ‘getting to know you’ bit? Or have we replaced that with stalking someone on social media?” Chuckling, I wait for his response, but when he can only press his lips together, I sober. “Don’t mind me.” With a gentle pat on his arm, I try to extract my well-worn boot from my mouth. “We’re ahead of schedule thanks to your kickass debugging. I want you to be happy. You deserve a break. I hope he’s wonderful and you don’t come in tomorrow because you’re stillwithhim.”
His smile flashes briefly before we both amble towards our desks. “Thanks, Cam. I’ll make it up to you.Promise.”
* * *
The Coana Hotelglitters in the mid-morning sun—twenty stories of sleek glass and metal capped with a rooftop atrium that offers a view all the way to MountRainier.
Royce is late. His terse text message advised me to start without him, and when I protested, he didn’t respond. Whatever. I know what needs to be done, and I can meet with LaCosta alone. He’s rumored to be a staunch conservative, both in his politics and his social views, but I clean up well enough, and my black blazer hides the tats decoratingmyarms.
Inside the lobby, the scent of freesia envelopes me, and plush carpet muffles my footfalls. The concierge directs me to the fifth floor, where the rich amber walls and ornate sconces lend the hotel an old-world luxury, even though construction was completed only fiveyearsago.
“Camilla Delgado from Emerald City Security to see Mr. LaCosta,” I say when Phillip’s pretty blonde assistantgreetsme.
“Is Mr. Nadiri joining you?” She glances at her computer screen, then back at me, and I try not to squirm as I practicemylie.
“He’s been unavoidably detained. Traffic accident in Bellevue.” I color my bullshit with a bright smile, though inwardly, I want to throttle Royce. While the actual installation and configuration are all on me, he’s supposed to handle theschmoozing.
My phone buzzes—finally. Royce better be downstairs. A quick glance at the screen both irks me and brings a small smile. Royce is still avoiding me, but West—the former SEAL I’ve gamed with almost every night online—can always raise myspirits.
Halotonight?
The week’s worn me out, and I’ve skipped my evening gaming sessions. I rush to reply as Phillip’s assistant gathers a small stack of files fromherdesk.
I hope so. Get ready to have your asskicked.
“Right this way, Ms. Delgado.” His assistant opens the inner office door, and when I step inside, Phillip LaCosta rises to offer a firm handshake. With the formalities out of the way, I sit and fold my hands over the pewter handle of my cane, using the familiarity of the ridges and groves to calm mynerves.
