Breaking His Code (Away From Keyboard Book 1) Read online

  “Two months ago.” He looks away, and a muscle ticks in his jaw. “After the Food King job.”

  I cringe, then finish the rest of my scotch in a single swallow, the alcohol burning as much as Lucas's secrets. “You saved my ass on that one.”

  Lucas traces a furrow in the scarred wood of the table. “I wanted to prove myself. I thought if I did everything right, Royce would give me my own project. Catching that unhandled exception was pure luck.”

  “Without the Coana job, he would have.” Even I hate how empty my words sound.

  He shrugs and his broad shoulders hunch slightly. “With my history…can you blame him for passing me over?”

  “Yes. That was years ago.”

  “I put a man in the hospital, Cam. I went to jail. How do you think that looks to a potential employer? Royce only hired me because you vouched for me. Don’t bother denying it.”

  “You served your time. That has to be worth something.” I’m reaching, I know. But Lucas doesn’t deserve to continue to pay for a single mistake. Neither do I, but I long ago gave up hope of reconciling with my family.

  Lucas shakes his head. “Maybe not, but employers are always going to see my past before my skills. I’m ready for a fresh start. Even so, I don’t know that anyone’s going to make me an offer once they do a background check. I never expected TechLock to call. Or Software Associates. Or Jilba.”

  “You deserve every one of those interviews. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of. Hell, I can’t even talk to my father anymore. My mother only contacts me on my birthday, and she always tells me how much of a disappointment I am.”

  With a snort, Lucas reaches over and pats my hand. “Honey, I’ve done more to disappoint my mama than almost anyone in this bar.” He chuckles. “You should have seen her face when I came out. I was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.”

  “You never told me that story.” His easy admission soothes my raw nerves, and I try for a smile.

  “She came home from church and caught me buck-ass naked with Paulie Tyrell sucking my dick. Kind of hard to pretend to be straight after that.” Lucas grins, and a faraway look settles in his eyes. “Mama tanned my hide. Not for being gay, but for skipping church and lying to her. Didn’t speak to me for a week. Longest seven days of my life. I never kept a damn thing from her again.”

  Memories of my own personal hell float to the surface. My father’s cold fury, my mother’s tears. Not now. “I wish I’d known her.”

  “She was the sweetest woman you’d ever meet—unless someone tried to hassle me. Then, she’d rival the toughest soldier on the battlefield.” Lucas catches the eye of the bartender again, winks, and then reluctantly returns his gaze to me.

  Catching the hint, I push away from the table and sling my bag across my chest. “I’ve got to get home. If I want to have any sort of a weekend, I’ve got to find out why Oversight keeps crashing.”

  He reaches for my arm. “Let me help.”

  When I hesitate, his voice turns pleading. “Honey, I’m dying spending my days crawling through ducts filled with cobwebs and layers of dust so thick, the dust bunnies have mutated into horses. I need to get my hands back into the code.”

  Tears burn the corners of my eyes, and I blink hard to keep them from spilling over. I hate that exhaustion has turned me into an emotional wreck, but between late nights talking—or having insanely hot FaceTime sex—with West and Oversight’s rapidly multiplying bugs, I’m stretched so thin I fear I’ll snap in two.

  “I’ll send you the card reader module. Find out what’s eating up all the system resources, okay?”

  Relief softens his shoulders, and he stands and wraps his arms around me. I sink against his bulk, so happy to have my friend back, I don’t even care how hard I have to work to replace his programming skills or how strange the office is going to feel without him.

  “Now let me go,” I say as I give his shoulder a light shove. “That bartender of yours looks like he’s about to go off shift. Maybe you should offer to buy him a drink. Don’t even think of starting the debugging until tomorrow.”

  Lucas turns his gaze to the bar. “Oh, honey. That fabulous man needs much more than a single drink.”

  Drunk coding isn’t smart, but at least by the end of the night, I’ve managed to track down one of the bugs causing Oversight to go belly up at regular intervals. “There you go, baby,” I croon as I check in the latest code changes. “Be nice to mama, will you?”

  If only she’d listen to me. Another fault flickers across the screen, and I curse. The clock ticks past midnight as I make myself a cup of coffee and then cast a longing stare towards my bedroom. I don’t flop into my recliner—I fall—and once I’ve rubbed my gritty eyes, I launch the debugger again.

  The buzzing phone doesn’t register until the device dances off the table and hits the floor with a thud. “Dammit.”

  I’m getting worried. Let me know you’re okay.

  Three other unread messages wait for me. Shit.

  Can’t wait until tomorrow, angel. Missed you tonight. I tried Call of Duty and got my ass kicked.

  Sorry for the late change in plans, but can you meet me at my dojo at ten? I can’t get away earlier, and I’d like to show you something.

  You still alive?

  Once the call connects, I launch into a heartfelt apology. Though I’m so tired, I’m not sure I’m capable of conveying any emotion. “I’ve been debugging for the past four hours. Didn’t even hear my phone vibrate until just now. I’m so sorry, West.”

  The strain in his tone belies his next words, “My job last night, yours tonight. Don’t worry, angel. It’s my turn to ask for a favor, though. Do you mind meeting me at the dojo?”

  “Of course not. I’d love to see it.” Oversight beeps as she crashes again, and I try, unsuccessfully, to muffle my curse. “If this code doesn’t murder me overnight.”

  “I’m sure you’ll beat it into submission. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  No questions, no elaborating? Something’s definitely wrong.

  “West? Are you okay?” I set my laptop aside and close my eyes, trying to imagine him in bed, wishing I had the time and the energy for a repeat of our previous FaceTime session. “I didn’t mean to ignore you—”

  “It’s not that, Cam. I promise. Just a bad night. Don’t stay up too late. You’re going to need your stamina this weekend.”

  I hang up after promising to get some rest, worry over his lack of enthusiasm driving me deep into Oversight’s code again. Despite her problems, at least here, I understand the rules.

  10

  CAM

  L arge windows look out over the street, and inside, half a dozen men and women wipe down mats while others heft duffel bags or drape towels over their shoulders as they head for the door.

  West’s dojo holds a corner spot in South Lake Union, but as I lock my car, a huge “Grand Opening” sign across the street catches my eye. Cross Your Fit, with its industrial design and big, bright lights showcasing hard bodies and gleaming equipment, is full, a thumping bass beat so loud, I can feel the vibration in my chest from a hundred feet away.

  West’s unassuming shop, the punching bags hanging on one side, mats covering the other, doesn’t hold the same excitement., though, before my injuries, I’d have loved a place like this.

  The pretty young woman at the front desk greets me with a smile. “How can I help you?” When she glances down at my cane, she adds, “Are you here to sign up for the Horizon program? The upcoming session is only for kids, but if you’d like to put your name on the waiting list, I can notify you when our adult accessible classes are open for sign-ups.”

  She’s so earnest that I can’t muster any anger. Besides, it’s not like I can manage to punch, kick, and grapple anymore. West never mentioned anything about accessible classes, though. Is this why he asked me down here rather than picking me up at home?

  “No. I’m a friend of West’s.”

  “Ah.” A kno
wing smile reveals her dimple. “Down the hall, first door on the left.” She turns her attention to one of the sweaty customers as I skirt the soft mats. Too many late nights and not enough time in the pool has left me stiffer than usual, and I meet several stares with my best “what the hell are you looking at?” glare. West’s office door is cracked, and his voice carries into the hall.

  “Look, I’ve got fifteen kids signed up already, and I’m about to announce the adult program. I can’t cancel Horizon now. You promised me if I paid by the end of the month, you’d discount the premiums.” He falls silent, and I peer through the narrow opening. Leaning against his desk, his back to me, his head sags forward as he blows out a breath. “Fine.” He jabs the screen, then mutters, “Fucking bastards.”

  As he tosses the phone next to his keyboard, I clear my throat. “West?”

  The tension melts from his body as he turns, and when he smiles, I adjust my grip on my cane, as I’ve suddenly gone a little weak in the knees. In three strides he’s in front of me, and then I’m in his arms, unable to stop myself from moaning as he claims my lips and slides a hand up my back.

  With how we left things the previous night, I half-expected him to pull away, but the heat in his kiss reassures me that we’re solid.

  “I should take you right here on the desk,” he murmurs in my ear when he comes up for air.

  “Does that door lock?” Though I’d pay dearly for the acrobatics necessary to fuck him on a piece of office furniture, I’m not sure I can wait for tonight.

  He cups my cheek, his palm warm and smooth against my skin. “Yes, but there’s no soundproofing, and you’re not exactly quiet when you come.”

  Flames race up my cheeks, and I step back, unable to hold his gaze any longer. Desperate to redirect the conversation, I grasp for a safe topic. “The woman at the front desk asked me if I was here to sign up for your new ‘accessible’ classes. What did she mean?”

  He blushes and shoves his hands into his pockets. “After I joined VetNet, I got a message from an amputee—WonderLT?—who asked me if I knew of any gyms like mine that took on clients with missing limbs. So I started poking around. I found a few that have personal trainers with experience, but none that offer classes. And nothing at all for kids.”

  “And you decided to change that?” This man is too good to be real. My heart stutters as he nods.

  “We’re supposed to launch the new program next month. A six-week ‘camp’ for kids, and if that goes well, a second kids’ camp and a twice-a-week class for adults. My instructors and I have all worked with physical therapists to help us adapt our workouts for amputees, the blind, and people with balance problems.” He frowns and glances back at the phone on the desk. “The insurance premiums are going to eat me alive, though. Once you get kids involved, the prices skyrocket. Kids with special needs—an extra five grand a month.”

  Supposed to launch. Not going to launch. His words play on repeat as I run my hands up his arms. “That’s why the CrossFit place—“

  “Yeah. I was counting on those membership fees to pay the bills. I’ve thrown everything I have into this place.” West pulls me close, and for a moment, I think I’m all that’s holding him upright. He breathes deeply, his nose buried in my soft curls, and when he draws back to meet my gaze, he’s smiling once more. “Hey, want to test out a few moves for me?”

  “Wh-what?” His one-eighty leaves me reeling, as does the suggestion that I’m in any shape to test out a few moves. “I can’t.” Tightening my fingers on my cane, I swallow hard, hating that I have to wipe that grin off his handsome face. “What you do here…I wish I could join in. I don’t just have balance problems, though. My left leg is too weak to support me on my bad days—and today is a bad day. Unless you’ve got a couple of ‘moves’ that can be done seated—”

  “More than a couple. A whole class of them.” He quirks a brow in invitation, and damnit if I don’t want to feel…useful.

  Before I realize what I’m doing, my hand finds his, and I let him guide me out the door and into the hall.

  “I trained with a few members of the Israeli military between tours,” he says as we enter the main room. “Fell in love with Krav Maga—the sheer power and efficiency. Anyone can learn to protect themselves.”

  I pause, unprepared for the silence of the studio. In the few minutes we spent in his office, everyone cleared out. Even the blonde at the front desk. The scent of cleanser hangs in the air, and the thick windows insulate us from the thumping bass across the street.

  “You closed for the day?”

  “Until 5:00 p.m. The afternoon classes don’t draw enough of a crowd to pay an instructor.” His voice roughens, and when he meets my gaze, strain tightens his eyes. Sparing one long look at the CrossFit studio, he shakes his head. “Fuckers.”

  Once he’s kicked off his shoes, West grabs a chair from the side of the room and then sets it in the center of the thick, blue mats. He eases my cane from my hand. “I won’t let you fall.”

  I can’t help the momentary panic as he leads me across the squishy floor. I hate mats. But curiosity wins out over nervousness, and once I’m seated, the floor-to-ceiling mirrors reveal a hint of excitement on both of our faces.

  West brushes his lips against my cheek, sending goosebumps peppering my bare arms. “Krav Maga teaches you how to use your own strength as an advantage. No matter how much stronger your opponent is.” He steps in front of me and rests his hands along my collar bone. “If I tried to strangle you, what would you do?”

  Slowly, he slides his hands closer, never tightening his grip or breaking eye contact, but still, my heart stutters, and I fight to keep my breathing calm. I grab his wrists, trying to pull his hands down, and then to the sides, but he’s too strong. “West.”

  As he lets go, I draw an unsteady breath, and he drops to his knees, wraps his arms around me, and lets me lean against him. “I’m sorry. I should have let you do that to me first.”

  “I’m okay…” I want to be, but though I haven’t trusted anyone in a long time like I trust him, my heart still pounds.

  “Look at me, Cam.” When I meet his gaze, concern darkens his eyes. “Nothing’s going to happen to you when I’m around. I promise. If you don’t want to continue, we can go kayaking.”

  He looks so sincere, I can’t wimp out, nor do I want to. “I get to strangle you?”

  With a laugh, he nods. “Try. Both hands.”

  I’m not sure what he’s hoping to prove, but at least this doesn’t require me to fight against some irrational self-preservation instinct, so I wrap both hands around his neck. “What now?”

  “Don’t let me pull your hands away.”

  “Yeah, right.” I lock out my muscles, and to my surprise, he struggles to remove my hands. When he releases my wrists, he sits back on his heels.

  “You’ve got great shoulders and lats, Cam. Swimming gives you more upper body strength than most women. Even without that, pulling someone’s hands down or to the side is the least efficient method of breaking a choke hold. Try again, and this time, use as much strength as you can. You won’t hurt me.”

  When he straightens, I return my hands to his throat. How he’s not panicking, I don’t understand, as I can feel him swallow against my grip, but he smiles, the light in his eyes reassuring me. In a single breath, my hands fly apart, and I don’t even know how he broke free. “What did you do?”

  He nods and I try again. This time, he slows his movements. As he jams his hands upwards against my wrists, my hold breaks. “There are two weak points in any choke hold: the wrists and the shoulders. Force one of those to bend, and you can easily get free. Most people try to pull down. That’s working against your opponent’s strength: their lats and abs.”

  “Can I try?” Though I trust him, my breath quickens when he wraps his hands around my neck. Despite the tension in his biceps, when I snap my arms up and hit his wrists, his hands shoot up and away. “Shit.”

  “That’s the first m
ove we teach in self-defense. Even if you only have one arm, you can usually escape a choke hold with that technique. Want to try something else?”

  He’s excited now, but so am I. “Yes.”

  When I master a second technique—defending against a frontal attack—West ends up flat on the ground, the assailant turned victim, and the rush of adrenaline fills me with longing. I ease myself down, the thick mats allowing me to straddle him, my hands braced on his sculpted chest, the heat of him no match for my desire set aflame.

  “Watch out, angel. Don’t tempt me if you’re not very sure about this.” He licks his lips, and the few reservations I have fly out the window. Since we’re hidden from view by the heavy bags, I strip off my tank.

  “Your move, soldier.”

  He pulls me down, his erection pressing into my hip. “Last chance.”

  “Fuck me, West. Please.” He’s gentle as he eases my shorts down my hips, then with a final glance towards the mostly-hidden door, he straightens. His abs ripple as he strips off his shirt, and when he’s naked, I wrap my fingers around his cock, stroking the length as he shudders in my grip.

  I intend to continue my ministrations, but he reaches down and pinches my nipple through my black lace bra, and the shock of pain sends a rush of need shooting through my core. My back arches as I release him, and he slides a finger under the hem of my panties, teasing my center.

  Moaning as I thrust my hips closer to his hand, I’m rewarded by exquisite pressure against my mound. Too soon, he pulls away but then yanks my panties down my legs. “I want to taste you.”

  I’d give anything in the world to feel his tongue against my clit, but he offers freely, and as his hands frame my hips and he starts to lap at my folds, stars twinkle at the edge of my vision. I can’t breathe, can’t hold on, and when he scrapes his teeth along the throbbing bundle of nerves, white hot pleasure implodes within me. I can’t hear myself scream, can’t see or sense anything besides West. He tugs on a condom and as he pulls my hips up, sliding his cock deep inside in a single, swift move, I claim his lips.