Love Bytes by Dahlia DeWinters Page B

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