Broken Build: Silicon Valley Romantic Suspense Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Broken Build

  Rachelle Ayala, 2012

  Copyright ©2012, Rachelle Ayala

  All Rights Reserved

  Dedication

  José Ayala

  PRAISE FOR BROKEN BUILD

  When truth collides with hope—another riveting tale sure to keep you guessing!

  – Melisa Hamling, bestselling author of Twenty Weeks

  Keeps you up way past bedtime, chasing bad guys and falling in love.

  – Chantel Rhondeau, author of Always & Forever

  Shocking twists... amazing chemistry, yummy with an edge.

  – Christina McKnight, author of Only In Her Dreams

  A mind-teasing mystery and captivating romance where forgiveness is the key.

  – Christine Raggio, writer

  Action-packed, twists and turns that keep you guessing until the very last page.

  – Cate Beauman, author of the Bodyguards of L.A. County Series

  Full of suspense, mystery, humor, and romance. Techy, but never boring!

  – Flara Richards, reader

  Amazing chemistry, and Dave always worrying about Jen is so romantic!

  – Roopa Prabhu, software engineer

  Copyright © 2012 by Rachelle Ayala

  All rights reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real events or real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All trademarks belong to their respective holders and are used under trademark fair use.

  Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, Authorized King James Version.

  Cover design by Robin Ludwig Design Inc.

  Edited by Cherie Reich of Surrounded by Books Publishing

  >>><<<

  Psalm 127:1 Except the LORD build the house, they labor in vain that build it

  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—perha
ps 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 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 sunk 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’d 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?

  Claire kicked his shin, reminding him of his price tag. The rest of the evening, he spent engrossed in complimenting her taste, her beauty, and her impeccable style. Married to one of the wealthiest men in the Valley, she was not averse to providing a little angel investing on the side. He took her hand across the table and caressed it, fixing her with eyes he hoped were full of desire.

  “Damn!” A sharp voice emitted from the next table. “The fuckin’ build’s broken.”

  Claire glared over her tiramisu. “This is the last time I’m slumming here with you.”

  Dave winced and looked over. The young woman closed the cover on her iPad. “I have to go. The servers need rebooting.”

  “You can’t do it remotely?” The boyfriend pushed his chair back and shoved something into his pocket.

  “Security disabled it. Idiots.” The woman threw a wad of bills on the table and hurried out. Her boyfriend followed in a slow gait, but not before plucking a bill off the table.

  Claire shuddered. “Such a foul mouth.”

  Dave pulled out his wallet and signaled the waiter. He rolled a slow kiss across Claire’s palm. “Let’s take a bottle of Brunello back to my place.”

  * * *