Love Bytes (9 page)

Violet pushed her chair back and grabbed her messenger bag. Francis’ show of emotion unsettled her, made her feel shaky and weak. It was as if a dam had broken and everything burst forth in a wild display of sloppy feelings. She fought to keep her voice steady and unemotional, though she was trembling and on the edge of tears. “You are free to see anyone else you want. That was the deal.”

“Like you have? Your friend?” The calculating Francis was back, his eyes sharp and focused behind his lenses. “Are you seeing coffee shop Joe, hmm? Tell me the truth, Violet. All I want is the truth.”

Her voice was quiet, emotionless. “No, I’m not seeing him. I don’t know who the flowers are from.” She picked up her messenger bag and placed the strap on her shoulder, rubbed at her chest.

Francis stood in front of his desk, staring at her, his white shirtsleeves rolled to the elbow as usual, the watch she’d given him gleaming silver on his wrist. She let her gaze roam over him, taking him in. Navy sweater vest, no tie, tan khakis.

“Did this whole…”  He made a helpless gesture with his hand. “Did this mean anything to you? Or is your emotional strangulation so complete that it’s nothing but a lark?”

Emotional strangulation
? Violet stared at him, wanting to answer, wanting to tell him that, of course, he meant everything to her. That she wasn’t emotionally strangled at all. But she dropped her gaze from his, tongue-tied, unable to form the words that would close the chasm that had opened between them.

Someone knocked on the door. “Francis, are you available?” It was Rogers.

Seizing her chance to get away, Violet eased toward the door and opened it.

Rogers gave her a look of near disgust and pushed past her. “Francis, what’s going to happen? With the firm and all.”

“Give me a second, would you?” Francis snapped at Rogers. He called after her. “Violet!”

She turned around, raised a hand, and gave him a fake smile. “I have to go, Francis. You handle it any way you feel is proper. I pulled the numbers up on my computer. You’re free to take a look and make any decisions you need to make. I have to go.”

Chapter Fourteen

Violet concentrated on the road as she drove, thankful for the light late morning traffic. As she pushed open her back door, the tight feeling in her chest persisted, despite the deep breaths. She tossed her keys and messenger bag on the kitchen table, watched them skitter across the polished wood surface to rest next to the wooden fruit basket. The apples had gone bad who knows how long ago and there were clouds of fruit flies congregating around the rotting fruit. Two tears ran down her cheeks and she swiped her hand across her face, angry at herself. She never thought of herself as a cruel person, but her words to Francis were just that. Yet, as much as she yearned for that connection with him, she was so afraid that if he got any closer, he wouldn’t like what he saw.

The whole situation was so trite it was laughable. She was scared of Francis, scared of commitment, scared of making herself vulnerable to someone, giving them the power to snap her in two. She
was
a mouse, scurrying back in her hole at the first sign of danger, hiding from the world.

Emotional strangulation indeed.

Violet tossed her coat in the general direction of a living room chair and marched down the hallway to her bedroom where she threw herself on her rumpled bed. There hadn’t been much time for housekeeping in the past two weeks. Dry-eyed, she stared at the ceiling, following the cracks in the paint. Everything had crashed and burned. No software, no business, and no Francis. The thought of losing him made her chest heave and she grabbed a pillow and squeezed it in a tight embrace. What a fuck-up she was.

Her skull felt like someone was knocking on it with a rubber mallet and her eyes were hot and blurry. Enough of this pity-party.

Violet pushed herself off the bed and went into her office, her bleary-eyed gaze falling to the stack of bills piled next to her laptop.

“Damn it to hell,” she said, her voice creaky and tired in the silence. Might as well look at them now. She could handle the cold, hard reality of bills and money. 

Violet sat down at her desk, retrieved her letter opener from the top drawer, and picked up the first envelope.

****

Using the figures that Violet had left on her computer, Francis assured the three programmers that they would be paid through the end of March. No further projects were planned as of yet and if any were, he’d keep them informed. Meanwhile, they might want to start dusting off their resumes.

He spent the next few hours chasing down the beta testers and letting them know what happened. In between calls, he tried Violet’s cell phone, but she wasn’t answering. It was his own fault:  he’d pushed her too hard. If those flowers were from Joe, and he suspected that they were, he refused to believe Violet had any idea that he had sent them. He also didn’t believe there was anything between them. As wonderful as this new clarity was, it did him no good now. 

The programmers had gone home with their paychecks and worried looks. He didn’t blame them. There was still the question of the lease of the place and the bills that would come in at the end of the month. Despite the work to be done, he couldn’t hang around the office anymore. It was too stifling.

At home, he stood in the front alcove, flipping through the mail. He started to take off his coat when he realized he didn’t have his phone.

“Shit,” he said, one arm still in its overcoat sleeve. He tried to convince himself that he didn’t need his phone. It could wait until tomorrow. What he needed was a hot shower, a meal and to talk with Violet, and not necessarily in that order.

You don’t need it. Leave it at the office. It’ll be fine.

“Dammit,” he said and shrugged back into his coat. He’d go, grab the phone and come right back home. An hour, tops. Then he’d call Violet.

****

Violet sat back in her office chair, a grin tugging at her lips as she stared at her credit card statement. If this were true, then a few of her problems were solved. She jumped up from her desk and ran through the house to the kitchen where she dug through her messenger bag for her cell phone. Francis had to know about this. Right away. Despite their broken relationship, he would want to know about this.

Francis had called five times, which made her smile. She called him back, but got the voicemail. He must be in a low coverage area because he always answered his phone. She sent a text with the good news and danced in place as she waited for his reply. Violet grinned in the semi-darkness of her kitchen. Her phone buzzed in her hand.
Meet me at the office.
Violet smiled. She had sent him the best news of the year and he didn’t even use an exclamation point. Typical Francis. Violet snatched her keys and her messenger bag and dashed to her car.

****

The offices were dark but as she moved through the empty corridors, Violet could make out a thin sliver of light from under their office door. A flash of warmth spread through her and she smiled. She would tell him the good news, then she would apologize and everything would be okay.

She pushed open her office door. “Francis, I’ve got great—” Her words came to an abrupt stop when she saw the programmer sitting behind Francis’ desk. “Rogers,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

Someone seized her from behind and she was half-carried, half-dragged to a chair. Instinct made her struggle but a stunning blow on the side of her head collapsed her knees and she sank down, the anonymous hands like vises around her upper arms. Was this some sort of a holdup? Where was Francis?

Panicked breaths wheezed in and out of her chest and she struggled to stop shaking. She’d heard of computer espionage, of companies stealing, sabotaging, but that had been remote, a news story that passed over her screen, never to be thought of again. Yet here she was, in the thick of it.

Rogers got up from Francis’ desk, walked around and leaned against the front.

“Hi, Violet.” He spoke as if they were meeting over lunch. “About MathMages. Where’s this backup copy?”

Logic trumped fear for a second. “How do you know about…” She licked her trembling lips. “What are you talking about? What is this…besides kidnapping?” Wisecracking wasn’t in her best interest, but she couldn’t comprehend that Rogers, the one programmer who had been with them the longest, who was Francis’ fucking
friend
, was questioning her with some goon holding her captive. Numbness worked its way down her arms and she wiggled her shoulders. “Tell your friend he’s holding me too tight. My arms are numb.”

Rogers snickered. “Do I look like Francis to you? You’re not jerking
me
around.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to know where the backup copy is.”

A harsh laugh burst from her mouth and she shook her head. “There’s no backup. You’ve got your information wrong.”

Rogers nodded. “Okay, Violet. Let’s stop this game right now.” He reached behind him and picked up Francis’ phone from the desk. “It’s right here.”

“That was a ploy,” she lied. “I wanted to see him. He was angry with me and I wanted to apologize.”

“You’re full of shit, Violet.” He looked around the darkened office. “This is going to sound clichéd, but we can either do this the easy way or the hard way. You’re going to log on, find this backup copy and destroy it.”

“Why would I screw up my own stuff?  That’s stupid.”

Rogers shrugged. “Who knows?  People will be more concerned about your murder.”

At the word “murder,” Violet blinked, her vision dimming. He was kidding, right?  He wasn’t actually going to kill her over
software
?

“What have I ever done to you to make you treat me like this? Haven’t I been fair to you?” She tried to get up, but the man behind her held her down.

“It’s not always about you, Violet. Avarix Software offered me a better deal. Much more money than I would have gained from your shitty bonus.”

Violet shook her head. “But Avarix has investors, backers... they’re running with a lot more capital.” She trailed off. There was no use trying to convince him otherwise. He was going to kill her for whatever amount of money and prestige that Avarix offered him. “You’re stupid if you think that they’ll keep you on. You’re a whore for the next high roller.” She wanted to spit at him, but her mouth was too dry.

Rogers laughed as his lecherous gaze crawled over her body, lingering at her breasts, moved lower. “Takes one to know one.”

“Fuck you.”

The man behind her grabbed a handful of her hair, pulled it until she stood up. Tears of pain welled in her eyes and she bit down on her lip to keep from sobbing.

“Enough,” he snapped, the harsh voice familiar.

It couldn’t be. “Joe?” She craned her neck to look around.

He smiled at her, the same gentle smile he’d given her when he handed her cups of coffee. “Yeah, it’s me.” He gestured. “Take off your coat, sweetie. Get comfortable.”

Violet put her gloved hands to her face. “I am so fucking stupid.”

Her whispered confession made Joe laugh a little. “You’re not stupid, Violet. I’m just that good.” He stepped around the chair and grabbed her by the hair again, twisted her curls in a tight fist as he used his other hand to unbutton her coat. “Now take it off.”

Blinded by tears, Violet shed her gloves and coat with shaking hands, letting it drop in a dark pool on the floor, offering no resistance when Joe pushed her back in the chair. Her mind clicked. She wasn’t going to die tonight, not until she apologized to Francis.

Violet stared up at him. “No wonder Francis disliked you.”

He hit her across the face. “You keep your mouth shut unless I tell you to say something. You understand me?”

Violet nodded. She couldn’t stop shivering and she wished she had her coat. The left side of her face burned. She was afraid now, really afraid. Not so much of Rogers, but of Joe, who seemed ready to do anything to her.

Joe turned to Rogers. “That’s how you treat them. Don’t stand for their bullshit.”

Rogers cleared his throat. “I feel sorry for Francis, poor guy. You must drive him nuts.”

Joe laughed. He patted her shoulders. She flinched, expecting him to pull her hair again. “Don’t feel sorry for Francis. From what I hear, he was getting it from little Violet here on the regular.”

Rogers whistled. “No shit. Francis and Violet.”

“Oh, hell yeah. From what I heard, he was giving it to her pretty good. Now I know how she likes it.” He slipped his fingers under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “And I’m going to give it to her just like that.”

Violet closed her eyes, pressing the tears back. Creeps and perverts wouldn’t be moved by tears. Facing them head on was the best plan of action. They wouldn’t kill her until she gave the information. The trick was to keep from giving them the information they wanted and to keep herself from dwelling on the fact that she might not make it out of here alive.

Brushing the hair out of her eyes, she wiped the tears away and gave Rogers her best smile. Joe stared at her, his gaze flat and without emotion. She didn’t know what scared her more, his crazy stare or the fact that despite everything, he seemed as easygoing as he had been in the coffee shop.

“Okay, fellas.” She forced a bright tone into her voice. “I guess you want me to destroy this extra copy of the software, right? Well, I can’t login from here. We have to go down to the lab.”

“What do you mean you can’t login from here?” Rogers scowled.

Violet laced her fingers together. “Francis locked down all the individual computers so that any work done on the project could only be done from where you guys worked. Made it easier to trace stuff.” Francis had done no such thing, but Rogers wouldn’t know that.

Rogers turned to Joe. “We’ll go to the lab. It’s closer.”

“Fine.” Joe’s voice was gravelly, like the sound of a tractor trailer starting up on a winter’s morning. “This is going to take much longer than it should. Waiting for shit to boot up. Aren’t your servers fried?”