Broken Build (8 page)

“That’s because I don’t have a wife.” Dave sprinkled Parmesan cheese on his slice and wiggled the jar at Alex who scrunched his nose. “The faster you wolf down the pizza, the faster you can get to the video racer.”

Alex picked the mushrooms and peppers off the pizza. “My mom thinks you’re cute. Do you think she’s cute?”

Dave suppressed a smile. He’d never met Alex’s mom, only spoken to her on the phone and picked up Alex from his grandmother’s house. “I’m sure she’d prefer to be called beautiful than cute.” His cell phone buzzed. “Just a minute.”

Melissa’s singing voice sailed through the line. “Oh, Dave, darling. Where are you? I dropped Pete off at the airport.”

“I’m on a date.” Dave cupped the phone and handed four tokens to Alex.

“How dare you? I suppose you’re lining up additional funding sources? What’s all that noise in the background?”

“A candlelight dinner. Ah… caviar and fondue.” He paused for effect. “Let me know when you’ve filled the bath, honey.”

“You tease. Sounds like a wild house of monkeys.” Melissa lowered her voice. “I’m calling in my rain check. Next time, tell your Director of Engineering to back off. Fireplug of a woman. How dare she corral you back into the building when I was promised a stimulating backrub?”

Dave pushed his hair from his forehead. Greta had grabbed him right before he was to meet Melissa in the parking lot. “It was an important demo. I’m surprised you didn’t come with us. Don’t you want to know what you’re investing in?”

“Da-ave…” Her voice slurred slow and syrupy. “The only investment I care about is your hot bod. Now, tell that date of yours you’re ditching her. I’m filling the spa right now.”

Alex squealed in Dave’s ear. “I crashed just when I was about to level up. More tokens!”

Dave doled out four more tokens while Melissa laughed in a breathless manner. “Hot date, huh?”

“Hmm…. His mother’s pretty hot.” Dave tried not to bite his tongue. Making Melissa jealous was like sportfishing, fighting a hundred-fifty-pound marlin with a thirty-pound test line.

“Yeah, right. She’s using you as a babysitter. Bet she’s out on a date herself.”

“Not really. She works at the Hoot, Santa Clara’s only country western bar. It’s zydeco night with the Swamp Thugs. Wanna meet me there?”

“Ugh… so uncivilized. More like swamp gas. About that two million? I’m going to a reading tomorrow. Madame Zonkers would like to put her hands on your forehead and feel your aura.”

“I’m sure she would.” Dave tucked his tongue into his cheek. Maybe Greta would have another emergency for him tomorrow morning. “What time?”

After agreeing to meet in the afternoon, he hung up. How long could he keep this charade going? Escort rich women for cash. Yep, bet Dad would be real proud of him, huh! His gaze drifted and he caught his breath. His employee, Ms. Jones, was staring at her iPad, working amidst the ruckus of hollering children, electronic beeps and whirls, and the ricocheting swish of an air hockey game. His lips moistened even as his heart rate accelerated. As an employee, she was off-limits. And there was his vow to Jocelyn. The lump in his throat grew. Any larger and he’d have to call an oncologist.

“More tokens!” Alex tugged his arm. “Come on, that boy left. Hurry. I want you to race me.”

* * *

Jen ignored the screams and shrieks of children high on pizza and ice cream. She checked in the changes to the software packaging script and zapped an email to Lester.
Next time, have me review this before committing.

She pulled a lavender envelope from her iPad cover pocket and opened it again. A sympathy card.
I’m sorry for your loss and apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable. Your friend, Dave.
She turned it over. The scribble did not make an indentation in the card stock. A shiver stole its way through her heart. He had called her a friend.

“How can you work with all this noise?” Christy interrupted. Across from them, Mrs. Walker’s five-year-old grandson pounded the table with a spoon while his mother cut the birthday cake.

Jen laid her iPad down and surveyed the arcade room and general pandemonium. “Remember our strategy. Make the Walkers happy and they’ll give you more freedom. Isn’t Nate cute? Why don’t you play with him?”

Christy made another sour face. “You’re the one who likes babies. Not me.”

Jen winced, but covered by gesturing toward the arcade. “Hey, you want to drive? That racing game’s free, let’s go.”

Christy shrugged and slouched toward the game booth. “Sure, anything’s better than watching that snot nose slobber in his ice cream.”

She was probably upset because they never had birthday parties. Mami always remembered to bake a cake, but it had been the three of them and cake mix with no frosting.

Jen shoved her iPad into her backpack and followed, admiring a sleeping baby boy whose eyelids fluttered in his dreams. She had just plugged in her tokens, when a chubby boy of about ten bumped her.

“What the beep?” the boy exclaimed. “I was here first.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought it was empty.” Jen clambered out of the seat and stumbled over her backpack.

A man’s arm steadied her. She turned and faced his neck and tailored shirt. A whiff of magnetic danger, woodsy with a hint of spice, drew her gaze up. The corners of the CEO’s panther grey eyes wrinkled. A jolt of panicked adrenaline shot through Jen. What if he recognized her? She stumbled backward.

“Whoa, there, do you need to put your head between your knees?” He lowered her to the spectator bench nearby.

Her pulse drummed through her veins. “I’m fine. I stood too fast.”

He released her arm and squatted in front of her. “It’s okay. Don’t mind the kid. The car’s yours.”

He looked at her too intently, but his face was relaxed, not one of a man about to fire her or one who recognized an enemy from the past.

Jen’s cheeks simmered. “I, uh, have work to do. My backpack…”

She reached for it, but he grabbed it and held it behind his back. “You just checked a minute ago. It’s okay to have fun with your family. I’m not that much of a slave driver, am I?”

“Not you, but—” She bit back the words. Not wise to argue with him while he was being friendly.

He hefted her backpack over his shoulder and gestured with his head. “I’ll race you.”

It was too late. The boy and Christy were in the game booth, screaming and shouting while they wrestled with the steering wheels, trying to bump each other off the road.

Dave nudged Jen toward a pair of motorcycles, whispering close to her ear, “Prepare to be road kill.”

His soft chuckle zapped currents of delight through her body, and her heart looped a three-sixty wheelie.
Damn, he’s hot.

Chapter 7

Saturday morning, Jen checked her profile against the mirrored medicine cabinet. Her Roman nose was no longer as prominent as before the surgery. She touched the birthmark on her chin. She should have had it removed when she had the plastic done. Last night had been close, too close. Yet Jewell gave no hint he knew who she had been. She blew out a big breath, and her shoulders tingled. He’d been attracted to her, of all people, and almost kissed her. Too bad she’d have to stay away from him. Jen finished applying her makeup and stepped out of the bathroom.

“All dolled up to go for a jog?” Sherry looked up from the television with a smirk. “By the way, where were you last Saturday night?”

Jen refused to acknowledge her. She walked to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. With Rey dead, she didn’t need a roomie anymore—especially a nosy thirty-something waitress who ate her food. She slammed the fridge door. “I thought I told you to stop stealing my yogurt.”

Sherry dropped the empty carton into the wastebasket. “Oops. I’ll leave a dollar on the table.”

Max wagged his tail and sniffed at Jen, expecting a treat. She stroked his head and pulled a box of cereal from the cabinet.

“I was just wondering…” Sherry clicked the remote. “You going out with Rey and he ends up dead?”

Jen spilled cereal into the bowl. “I didn’t go out with him.”

“Sure. I saw you guys leaving the apartment together.”

“It wasn’t a date.”

Sherry dragged herself from the couch and plucked a soda from the fridge. “Don’t you even feel freaky about it? Someone you know is dead, just like that.”

“Yeah, I do. But I can’t dwell on it. He’s just some guy I met at the fitness center.”

Sherry’s eyes twinkled. “He was kind of cute, I’ve gotta admit.”

Jen lost her appetite, swept the rest of her cereal in the sink, and turned on the disposal to drown out Sherry’s grating voice. She was not about to discuss Rey or anybody with a woman she’d met a month ago. A lump swelled in her throat. Today would be his funeral. She couldn’t imagine how his mother and sister must feel. And if it were true he had a daughter…

She pulled a jacket over her sweater and slipped on her running shoes.

“So what’cha doing today?” Sherry pitched the empty can at the wastebasket and missed.

“Work.” Jen bit her tongue to avoid more nastiness and stuffed her laptop into her backpack. Sherry was here to share the rent, not butt into her business.

Sherry shrugged and grabbed Max’s leash. “Come on. Let’s leave Ms. Prickly Pants to her misery. Oh, and your lawyer friend was by last night. I told him you went to the Pizza Arcade.”

Jen didn’t dignify that remark with a response. She grabbed her keys and rushed out the door to the carport. Her heartbeat didn’t steady until she was well away from her apartment. What if Sherry talked to the police and told them she had gone out with Rey? She gritted her teeth to hold back tears.
Rey, why did you have to die?

And Rodrigo. His sad eyes burned in her memory. When Jen had returned from staying with her uncle, he had refused to talk to her, told her to leave him alone, even tried to pay her to go away.

A car horn blared behind her. Jen stepped on the gas and made the left turn before taking a deep breath.
Can’t change the past.

She drove down Trimble and turned left on Zanker. She had to install the new fileserver today. A single car sat in the Shopahol parking lot. Jen pulled next to it and smashed the curb with a sickening crunch. Damn. She reversed it and cut the engine.

A gust blew dried leaves in a circle on the sidewalk. Jen locked her car and bent to examine the damage—a cracked air dam on her brand new Eclipse. She dropped her keys and spit on her finger to rub out the black scratch.

The neighboring car’s bumper stretched over the sidewalk. That’s why she had misjudged. Her eyes widened. Dried brownish streaks flaked off the bumper and grill, and a tuft of black hair was pinched to the license plate holder.

Jen stood and backed from the car—a white Camry! She must not scream. Drive away. Pretend she didn’t see it. Whose car was this? Her breath came in sharp puffs, and she doubled over, trying not to hyperventilate or faint. She quickly retrieved her keys from the sidewalk. A pair of trousered legs met her on the way up. The scream erupted from her throat, and strong hands clamped her wrists.

Steel-grey eyes bore into hers. “Calm down. Are you okay?”

Words scattered from her throat. She tried to pull away, but the man, the CEO, the delectable Dave Jewell held her tight. He picked up her backpack and pulled her toward the building.

“I-I ah…” Jen gasped, but she followed him through the door.

“Let’s get you some water.” He handed her the backpack and steered her through the lobby toward his office. “It’s only a little front end damage. I’m sure your insurance will take care of it.”

He appeared calm, too calm to have blood on his car. Jen’s brain burst with silent screams. She forced herself to breathe evenly. A CEO wouldn’t be driving a Camry, would he?

There had to be an innocent explanation, and she sure as hell didn’t want to get involved. She’d pretend nothing was wrong. Consciously relaxing, she disengaged from his hold and accepted the bottle of water. “Sure. I’ll be down in the server room. I hope Bruce unpacked the boxes and racked the filer. Is that his car parked next to mine?”

Dave looked up from his Blackberry. “Huh? I have to go. I came to grab a file. Let me know if you need anything else.”

He jingled his keys, one with a Toyota emblem, and he patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry about your car. I’ll pay for the damage. I should have had parking blocks installed, especially where the curb’s too high. Let’s go check it out. I know a body shop that’ll do you good.”

Jen fought for her breath again. How could he be so light-hearted and casual? But wasn’t that the case with psychopaths? Especially charming, handsome, successful ones. The last one anyone suspected. He acted as if he didn’t remember meeting her last night at the pizza place. Oh, yes. Stupid. Of course. He was the boss, and this was work. Well, she’d pretend she never shared a video game with him, either.

“No… no, I have to  go to the lab.”

“Okay, I’ll take a look on the way out and call someone to fix it. You just worry about the filer. Promise me you won’t break anything?” He smiled and pantomimed tipping his nonexistent hat.

Was he a loon on top of being a murderer? Jen shuddered and backed out of his office. When she saw him exit, she ran to a window near her cubicle.

Dave squatted in front of her car. He traced the crack and pulled on the broken air dam. He glanced at the white car and froze. Slowly he eased himself to his feet and looked at the office building. Their gazes locked.

Jen threw her backpack over her shoulders. She had to get away. He’d seen her staring. She tore down the stairs toward the back exit. Yes. It would set off the alarm. But she had no choice. She didn’t want to know about the blood nor be the one to tell the police.

The motion sensors lit the lights over the cubicles. She dodged and wove through the maze of partitions, and rounded a corner. Her foot caught in the slots of a pallet, and her ankle turned with a jolt of pain. She fell, splattering empty boxes and Styrofoam packing material.

“Whoa, Jen, are you all right?” Bruce bent over her, his bulky frame blocking out the overhead lights. Running footsteps approached them.