Zero Day Exploit (Bayou’s End #1.5) (20 page)

“Hello?”

“Hello?” an unfamiliar voice said. “May I speak to Zoraya Blackwell?”

An odd chill ran through her. “This is she.”

“My name is Nurse Maria Salvaggio. You’re listed as an emergency contact for Ravi Brahmbatt. He’s currently being treated at—”

Everything else the woman said faded into white noise. She sagged against the wall, listening numbly, terror pulsing to the beat of her heart, a sick wild thumping music that drowned out everything else.
Device failure
, she caught past the muted roaring in her ears.
Emergency surgery.
Her tongue swelled to fill her mouth, and she was barely aware of promising to be there soon before she let the phone fall numbly from her ear.

Evan watched her with his brows drawn together. She looked up at him, her trembling making her body feel as if it would fly apart. “I’m sorry. I can’t have this conversation right now.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Ravi,” she whispered around her thick tongue. “It’s Ravi.”

His eyes widened, before he drew himself up and reached over her head to pull her jacket down. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll go with you.”

I
N THE CAB, SHE CLUNG
to Evan’s hand all the way to the hospital. She had so many questions, so much confusion, but right now those things didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except that warm hand in hers, holding tight and easing her fear, providing the wordless comfort she needed as she silently prayed for the cab to move just a little faster, for traffic to part for her and let her through.

At the hospital, she spilled out into the snow and rushed inside. A breathless question at the front desk sent her upstairs, Evan hot on her heels, and God, she thought she might have fallen apart if he hadn’t been there with his hand against her back the moment she opened the door and saw Ravi laying there. He was so pale. So pale, his brown skin washed to a clay color, too many tubes protruding from his mouth and nose and arms, that sick hospital smell making her want to throw up when it made her think of nothing but a slow and wasting death.

“Ravi.” She nearly fell against the bedside, looking down at him with tears blurring and catching on her lashes. “What happened?”

“Pump malfunction,” he whispered, voice weak and thready. “Sudden blood pressure drop. It is all right. I’m stable now. I’ll be fine in a day or two. I just need rest.”

“Are you sure?” She caught his hand, hating how limp and cold it felt against hers. “Is there anything I can do?”

He smiled, wan and hopeful. “The nurse won’t move my bed.”

Zero looked up, glancing around the room. Right. The foot of his bed was facing the door. He hated that. Used to drive his college roommates crazy, but it would drive him crazier if someone didn’t fix it. She bit her lip, eyeing the equipment ringing his bed.

“We’ll get in trouble,” she hedged.

“It’s
itching
.”

She groaned. Even before she spoke, she knew she would give in. “Come on.” She beckoned to Evan. “Keep an eye on the door.”

Together they moved the bed, Evan always keeping one hand on the IV pole and machinery to keep from jostling it out of place, while Zero clumsily and one-handedly guided the bed to wheel around until the foot of it faced the window. Once he was settled into place, Ravi’s expression eased, relaxing into relief.

“Thank you,” he said, then turned his head to look up at Evan. “Evan, right?”

Evan dropped his gaze, before a forced, almost sheepish smile tinged his lips. “Yeah, that’s me. I’m the douchebucket who cost you your job.”

“I don’t think Zoraya would like a man who was a douchebucket.”

“Who says I like him?” Zero huffed, only to scowl at Ravi’s slow smile. “Shut up, Rav.”

He only laughed, hoarse and raspy. Evan looked between the two of them, then lightly caught Zero’s arm and bent low to her ear.

“Can we talk?”

She bit her lip. She didn’t want to leave Ravi, but if he needed rest, he didn’t need her hovering over him. “I’m not sure if this is the best time…”

“I’m fine,” Ravi said, then laughed again when she just eyed him. “I am
fine
. It was just my blood pressure. It’s back to normal levels. I’ve been stable for hours.”

She narrowed her eyes. “The nurse said something about emergency surgery.”

“Only if my condition worsens. And I’m fine.”

A niggling suspicion struck her, and she drew back, squinting at him. “Rav?”

“Yes?” he asked just a little too innocently.

“Did you call me here just to turn your bed?”

He smiled, shoulders moving against the pillows in a shamefaced shrug. “Alyssa’s stuck in traffic from Long Island.”

Her laughter unraveled the tension inside her, and she slumped against the edge of the bed as her bones went soft on her and relief left her weak. He was fine. He was
fine
, but no one had better ever call
her
the brat again. “You are such an idiot.” She looked up at Evan uncertainly, then tossed her head toward the door. She wasn’t wholly sure she wanted to hear what he’d come to say, yet she couldn’t deny how her heart twisted at the sight of him. “Come on. Hallway.”

She led Evan outside, then pause to latch the door carefully—then do it again, and again. “Hold on.”

He frowned. “What are you doing?”

“It’s a thing. Have to do the latch…I think it was six times?” She counted in her head as she did it three more times. “Or that makes him itchy, too.”

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” he said, something odd in his voice. “It’s funny how some people show they love people with dramatic proclamations and huge displays and romantic gestures…but for some people, it’s in the small things. Like the small things you do for him.”

The way he was looking at her nearly broke her. As if the glass of his eyes had cracked, and everything in them was pouring through.
Why are you here?
she wanted to ask.
Why did you come back?
But she didn’t. She only looked away, staring sightlessly down the hall. “I quit my job for him.”

“You quit?”

“I went in to sort out something with my sick leave, and he was packing up his desk.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just…snapped.”

“What will you do?”

“I don’t know.” Another shrug, so stiff it hurt her shoulders. “I’ll figure something out. I’m an odd duck, and ducks float. My dad says that all the time.” She risked a glance at him through her lashes. “You didn’t have to come.”

“I did. Ravi’s important to you—and you’re important to me.”

Her breath hitched. “I…I thought you were leaving New York.”

“I was. Then I drank half the hotel bar and canceled my plane ticket. Some people in Boise are pretty mad at me right now.”

“Why?” she asked, needing—
craving
—an answer, yet not sure she wanted to know, the ache of it nearly carving her open.

“For you. I…I came back for you. I had to.” He laughed shakily and dragged a hand over his skull. “This was so much easier in my head. I mean…I just…” He breathed in and out slowly, hands clenching as he drew himself up, then spilled out, “I was wrong, okay? I was wrong. I believe in something. I believe in you. And I completely fucked that up by running away because I was afraid of losing you like I’ve lost everyone else.”

She stared at him. The lonely emptiness that had missed him all weekend nearly devoured every word, taking them into her with a voracious hunger—but he’d burned her too many times. “You’ve only known me for a few days.”

“I want to know you for a lot longer than that.”

“I’ve only known
you
for a few days.”

“Okay.” He paced left and right and left again, then suddenly dropped to his knees in front of her. “Okay. You want to know me?” He took both her hands, handling her cast-mummified fingers with gentle care, looking up at her with something close to desperation, his touch rough and warm. “My middle name is Cornelius. I spent the first sixteen years of my life barefoot on a shrimp boat, and even now the smell of shrimp makes me want to puke. I’ll roll over and go belly up in submission for a good lasagna. My tattoo? Is from the cover of an old
Dungeons and Dragons
guidebook. My favorite TV show is
The X-Files
. I’m allergic to fabric softener. I watch musicals. I watch a
lot
of musicals. And I shave my hair close because if I don’t, I get a curly ‘fro and look like a pale version of Jules Winnfield.”

Stunned, Zero could only laugh. He was such an idiot, but…that was what she liked about him. What she’d
missed
about him. “That…may be too much information.”

“That’s who I am when I’m not being Evan James, Corporate Sledgehammer.” He stood, still grasping tight to her hands, his smile so hopeful she couldn’t look away. “Curly ‘fro and the entire soundtrack of
Phantom
belted out in the shower.”

“Off-key. You forgot off-key.”

“I will cop to that. I never claimed to be ready for Broadway.” He drew her closer, pale green eyes searching so deep she felt as if he could see every minute of longing, every moment she’d told herself she didn’t want him and known it was a lie. “Do you think this Evan is someone you could like?”

“Maybe. If this Evan is the truth.”

“This Evan is the Evan you met that night. The Evan who made you laugh by being a complete idiot, before he was an even bigger idiot by not being honest with you.” He released one of her hands and cupped his palm to her cheek, so warm she couldn’t resist pressing into the touch. “This Evan makes mistakes, but is willing to own up to them if you’ll give him a chance.”

“This Evan needs to stop referring to himself in the third person,” she murmured, a smile tugging at her lips; he chuckled.

“But it’s so much easier to detach myself from my issues in a creepy way only a therapist could love.”

“You’re such an idiot.” She bit her lip; the question she wanted to ask hovered on the tip of her tongue, but it took everything in her to force it out. Force it past the ache that he’d left behind, the fear that if she gave into him he’d just do it all over again and leave her hanging. “What are you asking me for, Evan?”

“For you to keep smiling at me,” he breathed, fervent and low. “For you to give me a chance at something. Just a chance. I won’t ask for more until I’ve proven myself to you. Go on a few dates with me. Drag me back to bed and do that thing with your tongue.”

“Evan!” Heat flushed her face. She lowered her eyes, looking down at their clasped hands. “You kind of have to stay in town for me to do that.”

“I can stay. I
want
to stay. I want to do something more than tear things down. I want to help you build something. You’ve got the brains and creativity, Z. You just need the business plan.”

Her stomach sank. “So you came back to help me start my own company?”

“I came back because I want to be here for you.” He pulled her closer, hauling her roughly against the hard wall of his body. His arms—those warm, strong arms she’d ached for the night before—settled around her waist, and she couldn’t help but lean into him to feel the rumble of his voice shake through her as he murmured, “No matter what you decide to do.”

“Even if I decide to dye my hair neon green and open a falafel stand?”

Amusement lit his eyes. “Why do I get the feeling you’d do that just to prove a point?”

“I wouldn’t spite myself that much.”

“But you’d spite me.”

She curled her fingers in the front of his shirt, tugging him down. “Spite’s not quite what I’m feeling right now.”

“Care to tell me what you
are
feeling?” he growled, leaning closer.

“I’d rather show you.”

Yet she hesitated, for just a moment. Hesitated as she drew him down, as her lips hovered near his, as she felt his breath on her cheeks. She’d just quit her job. Possibly thrown her entire career down the drain. Was she about to throw her heart after it, taking a chance on a man who’d already hurt her more than once? She’d already taken one risk, and that might have been one risk too many.

But life was nothing without risks. Her brother had taken a risk on his career—and taken a risk on love. Evan had taken a risk coming back to throw himself at her feet. She wouldn’t know until she jumped if she would fly or if she would fall…but she’d never do either if she stayed in one place. Her idea of taking risks had been dressing like a punk and bucking the company line. It was time to grow up and take some real risks. Time to take her life, her career…and her heart into her own hands.

Evan was a risk. But he was a risk she was choosing—and she smiled to herself as she closed that last distance between them and kissed him.

She’d never thought in just three days she could miss someone so much, but when his mouth slanted hard against hers and his fingers crushed so desperately against her back she felt as if everything inside her clicked into place. He still tasted like fire, and he warmed her as no one else ever had. And in his kiss she tasted a promise: that no matter what risks she took, he would be there to hold her up. To be her anchor when her world was cast adrift, to steer her steady in whatever storm her choices stirred.

She clung to him until she couldn’t breathe. Until her knees went liquid, and she had to hold fast just to keep herself upright. Gasping, she tore her mouth from his, resting her brow to his temple.

“I’m scared, Evan,” she whispered.

He laughed, husky and deep. “You know what they say—there’s nothing to fear but fear itself.”

“What about zombies? Can I fear zombies?”

“And zombies.”

“Spiders, too.” She grinned, leaning harder into him. “Spiders are scary.”

He nipped her lower lip. “…you’re hopeless.”

“You like me that way.”

His smile faded. Pale, intense eyes searched hers, dark and hot with emotion that made her heart flutter and twist. “It might be more than like.”

“Yeah? Don’t get ahead of yourself, mister.” She curled her fingers against his nape. “Let’s start with another kiss—and then we’ll see where this thing goes.”

“As you wish.” But as he leaned down to brush his lips to hers once more, soft words caressed against her mouth. “Am I home, Zero?” he breathed. “Am I?”