Knowing Vera (Romantic Suspense, Family Drama) (Chance for Love) (25 page)

Pancit Bihon

½ lb large shrimp, shelled and cleaned, mixed with cornstarch

1 lb thin sliced steak, cut into thin strips, mixed with cornstarch

3 scallions, chopped

6 cloves garlic, minced

3 slices ginger, minced

Shredded romaine lettuce, 2 cups

Assorted vegetables (Chinese snow peas, straw mushrooms, chopped orange bell pepper, whatever you have)

8 oz package Pancit Bihon (thin rice sticks)

2 Tbsp soy sauce

1 Tbsp fish sauce

2 Tbsp lime juice or calamansi

1 tsp Tabasco sauce (or more to taste)

1 Tbsp banana ketchup

Pepper to taste

Cooking oil

Water or chicken broth

1. Heat oil in a wok. Stir fry beef until tender. Add shrimp, scallions, garlic and ginger mixture. Cook until shrimp just turns color.
   
2. Stir in vegetables and sauce ingredients. Sprinkle pepper to taste.
   
3. Boil water or chicken broth while cooking above.
   
4. Immerse rice sticks for a few minutes, pull out and fold into the wok with the meat and vegetable mix. Let most of the liquid be absorbed by the rice sticks and serve.
   
5. Garnish with lemon slices, cilantro
   

Variation: substitute thinly sliced pork loin for beef and 1 tsp bagoong for the tabasco sauce

Striped Sea Bass

2 large sea bass, cleaned, scaled, and headless

½ cup tomato ketchup or banana ketchup

1 Tbsp soy sauce

1 Tbsp fish sauce

2 Tbsp lime juice

1 Tbsp cooking sherry

1 tsp sugar

3 scallions, chopped

6 cloves garlic, minced

3 slices ginger, minced

3 dried hot peppers, chopped or ½ tsp red pepper flakes

½ orange bell pepper, chopped into tiny pieces

Cooking oil

1. Score the fish vertically at 1 inch intervals
   
2. Heat oil in wok until hot. Fry each side of the fish for 5 minutes, pouring hot oil with a ladle on the exposed side
   
3. Set fish aside
   
4. Heat a tablespoon of the oil in a nonstick skillet. Add in chopped scallions, garlic, ginger, and hot peppers.
   
5. Add chopped bell pepper
   
6. Stir in sauce mixture until reduced.
   
7. Pour sauce mixture over fish and serve with rice.
   

A good side dish to serve this with is sautéed kangkóng (kōngxīncài or ong choy) with minced garlic, 1 Tbsp dark soy sauce and 1 Tbsp lime or calamansi juice.

Many thanks to my critique partners and beta readers: Melisa Hamling, Chantel Rhondeau, Flara Richards, Stefanie J. Pristavu, F.L. Williams, Leilani Sullivan, Emerald Barnes, Michele Shriver, my daughter Lori, Heather Pfingsten, Elena, H. Elliston, Brandi Pletcher, Cate Beauman, Christi Moné Marie, Gina Dragone, C.K. Raggio, and Michelle Jossette.

I also appreciate the help of Stacy Eaton on police procedures, Katie Mettner on amputation recovery and prosthesis details, Rebecca Berto, the resident expert living in Melbourne, Australia, and Gina Dragone, who visited the Dandenongs for me. Leilani Sullivan and Stella Torres provided details on Filipino culture and customs.

I’m grateful for my editor, Lauren K. McKellar, for her careful edits and detailed comments. My cover artist, Robin Ludwig, created the perfect cover, capturing a poignant moment for Vera and Zach. And finally, my writing coach, Melissa Foster, pushed and prodded me to personalize Vera and make her more sympathetic by giving me concrete examples of places to fill in her emotions.

Thank you all for enduring my questions and supporting me in moments of indecision and uncertainty.

Finally, no book is complete until served to readers. Many thanks to each and every one of you who gave me a chance. Your blog posts, messages, reviews, and emails motivate me to come up with more fun and exciting stories. Happy Reading and Have Fun!

Rachelle Ayala is the author of dramatic fiction crossing genres and boundaries featuring strong but flawed characters. She writes emotionally challenging stories and is not afraid of controversial topics. However, she is an optimist and laces her stories with romance and hope.

Rachelle is an active member of online critique group, Critique Circle, and a volunteer for the World Literary Cafe. She is a very happy woman and lives in California with her husband. She has three children and has taught violin and made mountain dulcimers.

Visit her at: Website:
http://rachelleayala.me
Blog:
http://www.rachelleayala.com
or follow @AyalaRachelle on Twitter. Subscribe to mailing list for upcoming books and giveaways.
http://eepurl.com/lR5kv

Meet Jen and Dave in
Broken Build (Silicon Valley Romantic Suspense
),
a story of redemption and healing. Can a man love a woman who caused the greatest calamity in his life? Mix in a huge dose of chemistry, an unsolved murder, a missing child, and a relentless adversary. Can Jen and Dave's budding romance survive or will her secret tear them apart forever?

Chance for Love Series #1

Excerpt Copyright © 2012 Rachelle Ayala

All Rights Reserved

Chapter 1

The gangbanger car drove by, its ground effects practically hugging the asphalt. Jen Jones raced through a vacant lot littered with beer bottles. She pushed the timer on her sports watch and jogged up the potholed driveway of her apartment complex.

The garish pink two-level building could have passed for a quick-stop motel. Bars covered the windows, and the pulsing of Mexican
corridos,
accordion and bass horns, blared from an open door. Despite the popular image, Silicon Valley was not all red tile roofs, German cars, and venture capital.

The car slowed. A man waved a red bandana and hooted,
“Ay mamacita!”

Stupid wannabes.
Jen slipped off her sweatband and stepped into the foyer. Sherry, her roommate, walked by with her golden retriever, Max.

“Muscle Boy’s been by again,” she said.

Not good news. Jen stopped at the mailbox and opened it. A small pink envelope dropped to the ground.

Sherry picked it up and handed it to her. “For you. Baby shower? Wedding?”

Jen stuffed the envelope into her pocket. “Junk mail.”

Max strained at his leash and whined. Sherry tilted her chin toward the street. “I told him you’d be back after your run.”

“Sure, whatever.” Jen rushed through the small courtyard and bounded up the stairs. Once inside her bedroom, she tore the envelope and pulled out an aftershave-scented note.

Silence comes with the right price, but LOVE conquers all.

Unsigned and not amusing. She turned the page over. Indentations. Definitely heavy-handed. Ugh. Muscles were way overrated. She tossed the note into the trash and rummaged under her mattress for five twenties. This blackmail game was getting old. If only she could stop him for good…

After a quick shower, Jen pulled on a pair of worn jeans and a sweater and placed her laptop on the kitchen table. The slanted rays of the setting sun reflected off the screen.
Another Saturday evening with nothing to look forward to but work.
Better check the software build.
A few keystrokes later, Jen connected to her company’s network. Her coworker Praveena’s instant messaging window popped up with its attending ringtone.

Praveena:
I need to check in a fix. The build’s broken.

Jen:
Again?

Praveena:
Sorry.

Heavy knocking vibrated the door. “Jen, you there?”

Jen’s jaw tightened along with her fists. He wasn’t supposed to meet her here. She ignored him, but the banging continued. “I know you’re in there.”

She yanked the door open before he disturbed the neighbors. Rey Custodio, aka Muscle Boy, stood on the doormat.

She groaned, not bothering to hide her aggravation. “You promised to stay away.”

He raised his sunglasses over spiked black hair and wiggled his snakelike eyebrows. “Hey, hey, missed you at the gym.”

“I’ll get your money. Wait here.” She moved to close the door, but he blocked it with his shoulder and sidestepped into her apartment.

“Actually, I came to see you.”

“I’m busy right now.” Jen gestured toward her computer. The instant messaging app jingled, and Jen brushed past Rey to her laptop.

Praveena:
Checked in.

Jen:
OK, will restart.

Rey pulled a chair to the kitchen table and straddled it backward.

“I didn’t invite you in.” Jen moved the laptop away from his prying eyes. She logged into the build servers and scanned the error messages. The build had already aborted on a compile error deep in the source tree. Scrolling through the code, she located Praveena’s latest changes and labeled them.

Rey placed a memory stick on the table. “The code you gave me last week broke.”

“Broke? Or you couldn’t take the time to figure it out?” Jen typed in a few more commands, checked the available disk space, and started the build script. She blew between her teeth. What would it take to shake Rey loose from her? The leech.

“I need your help, sweetie.” He beamed at her with his arms across the back of the chair.

Jen pushed the stick back to him. “I only left out a few steps. Don’t you want to learn anything?”

He trapped her hand. “I could be more forgetful if you’d cooperate.”

She stared at the back of his square hand, decorated with the sharp points of a tattoo. She had to remain calm—perhaps mislead him—make him think what he had on her wasn’t that important. Yeah, right. If her company did a thorough background check, she’d be fired, maybe even jailed.

She met his eyes with a confidence she did not feel. “It’s better for you to figure out things for yourself. I can’t take the tests for you.”

Rey let go of her and grinned. “Go out with me. Since you haven’t given me good code, you owe me dinner and dancing.”

“I’m not sure how you figure that.” Jen backed from the table. Why would he want her company’s code for an intro computer science class at State? Sweat moistened Jen’s palms. She couldn’t betray her employer, but she couldn’t allow Rey to spill what he knew.

“We should renegotiate.” He walked to the fridge and helped himself to a soda.

“That’s Sherry’s.” Jen snatched the can from him and put it back. “What do you really want?”

“If I like you, I might forget your faults.” He opened his hands and flashed his white teeth, looking surprisingly handsome, for a moment.

Perhaps he could be charmed into keeping his mouth shut. Besides, Jen had nothing better to do. Sherry had the night off, and sitting through the Saturday night primetime lineup while babysitting the build was not exactly top on Jen’s bucket list. Neither was going out with her blackmailer, but a girl’s gotta do…

“If I have dinner with you, you’ll call off the blackmail?”

One side of his face lifted in a sideways leer, and he crowded her against the kitchen counter, his aftershave overpowering like chemical waste. “Depends on how much you beg.”

Yuck. Jen stomped to her bedroom and grabbed the five twenties. She returned and waved them in his face. “This isn’t working out. Take it and leave.”

“Jennifer, Jennifer, you’re my date tonight.” He pushed the money back. “I’ll be a good boy. Promise.”

Jen swallowed hard and stuffed the bills in her pocket. “Name’s not Jennifer. It’s Jen. Jen Jones.”

“Jennifer Cruz, you can’t hide from him forever.” He shook his head with the grim expression of a doctor pronouncing a death sentence. “Might as well fess up.”

“He can’t know. If I lose my job, who’s going to pay your bills?” She shot what she hoped was a stun-gun glare. “Besides, what’s with the baby pink envelopes?”

His eyes glittered with amusement while he opened the door. “That’s for the baby girl we’re going to have.”

Arrogant son of a…

Jen glanced out the window. Sherry was coming through the courtyard with Max.

“Let’s go before my roommate gets back.” She grabbed her keys from the hook and looked for her purse before remembering she had lost it the day before. “You better drive. I haven’t replaced my license yet.”

How could she be so stupid to leave her purse at Starbucks? Of course no one claimed to have seen it when she returned later. Jen tucked the laptop under the sofa and grabbed her iPad in case her boss needed to reach her. After locking the door, she dragged Rey down the back stairway.

Rey stepped over an overturned tricycle and opened the car door. Jen huffed, not surprised he parked on someone’s excuse for a lawn. She slid quickly into the vinyl passenger seat of his too-low muscle car, a nauseous yellow 4-door Dodge Charger Super Bee reeking of stale weed. The fake piney scent from the hanging air freshener added to the cheesiness.

“Il Forno okay with you?” he asked.

“Sure.” She sank into the seat and arranged her hair like a curtain over her face. Rey turned the ignition and fiddled with his GPS system. Jen lowered the window, tempted to bail. The car jerked backwards and jumped the curb. Had he even looked in the rear-view mirror?

An Asian girl in too-tight running shorts jogged by. Ray whistled at her and gunned the motor. A block later, he leaned toward Jen at a stoplight with his lips puckered.

She dodged his advance. “I’m not your girlfriend.”

“Friends?”

“If you really want to be my friend, you’ll be nice to me.” She poked his bicep, eliciting an almost sweet smile from him.

“If you’re nice to me,” he said in a surprisingly low voice. For a moment, he reminded her of his brother, the man who was briefly her fiancé before dropping her like a hot
tamale
. No explanation, no communication, just a sad look and a door quietly shutting.

“I’ll try.” She swallowed at the memory. Rey’s brother, Rodrigo, had died a few months ago in a tragic accident. He must have told Rey about her. Pressure swelled her throat. Did Rey also know about the baby?

Rey boomed rap music all the way up Highway 101 and exited at University Avenue. After circling the block twice, he hooked a sharp U-turn and snagged a parking space from a minivan that had been waiting with its signal on.

The minivan rolled away, the driver no doubt glaring at them. They walked the few short blocks past the valet parking to the restaurant’s stone façade entrance.

A glamorous couple entered ahead of them. Jen looked at her jeans. “Are you sure? I’m not exactly dressed…”

“Like a million bucks.” He held out his arm.

* * *

Dave Jewell, CEO of Shopahol, pressed the key fob and locked his Camry. Stately mansions spread in the cul-de-sac behind him. He walked toward Atherton Avenue.

“Hey, handsome.” A woman driving a black Mercedes S550 pulled onto a driveway in front of him. “What’cha doing here?”

He peered into the open window. “Waiting for you, beautiful.”

Claire Tyler popped the locks. Dave crossed to the passenger side and pushed a button to bring the seat all the way back. Claire leaned over, and he graced her with an air kiss. No sense messing up her finely traced lipstick. He had plenty of time to do that after dinner.

She turned the Benz onto Highway 101. “Practice the pitch with me again?”

He swept dark-brown hair from his forehead. “Social shopping combines the power of group buying in a competitive bidding environment. Grow your flock’s influence and be rewarded with lower prices. But bid too low and run the risk of losing the deal and your flock members. Our system allows merchants to optimize the capture of consumer demand by spurring sales at higher price points than a flat-out lowball price.”

Claire fondled his knee while merging to the fast lane. “Cutie, you sound like a schoolboy reciting his lines. So how’s the code scaling? I heard you had glitches with reordering the price queues.”

Gee, had she been talking to his Director of Engineering? Dave rubbed the back of his neck. He was close. If the Black Friday field trial went well, he’d receive contracts and a loan extension with a chance to go public the following year. But if not, he would have to lay off staff right before the holidays.

Claire pinched his thigh. “You’ve gone awfully quiet.”

“It’s timing, that’s all.”

“Yevita or Adventurine?” She named two high-class restaurants and took the exit to University Avenue.

“How about Italian? Il Forno. My treat.” He tugged at his tie. The management and wait staff there were known for their discretion.

Claire took a wide turn and pulled in front of valet parking. Minutes later, Dave escorted her through the front door. She nodded to the maître d’, and they were seated immediately.

While she went to freshen up, Dave scrolled through the disturbing flood of messages on his Blackberry. He pressed the speed dial to Greta, the Director of Engineering. She answered on the first ring.

“Why’s the build broken?” He gestured to the waiter. “Drink menu?”

“We had some last minute fixes,” Greta said.

“I want a good build by midnight. I can’t emphasize how important it is.” He hung up before hearing her reply.

Claire swept into the booth and flashed him a million dollar smile. Three million to be exact. To make payroll, he’d first have to make her pant and scream. He rummaged in his pocket and found a breath mint.

“This place has gotten a bit shabby.” She brushed the lapel of her linen jacket and glanced at the young couple across from them.

Dave followed her gaze. A young woman stared into her iPad while her gangbanger boyfriend picked at his tribal tattoo. His muscle shirt stretched too tightly, he snapped his fingers trying to get her attention.

Her face was furrowed in concentration. Warmth spread over Dave’s chest, and he swallowed. The woman had the bone structure of a model. She looked vaguely familiar—long milk-chocolate hair, elegant eyebrows, and lush lips. Dressed in a rumpled, oversized sweater and faded jeans, she was possibly an engineer. Silicon Valley was full of them: never tiring, endlessly working, all for a shot at the elusive stock offering. Her jaw was set tightly, but her eyes held a sad story, blinking a little too fast. What was she doing with the brute whose fists were clenched below the table?