Chapter Seven

"Morning," Renly said, striding across the Stark Security break room to where Ryan stood by the coffee maker. "You okay?"

Ryan looked up, trying to pull his mind back on track. "Sorry. What?"

Renly pointed toward the machine. "It works better if you press the shiny green button."

"Right. I think I read that in the brochure." He hit the switch, and the magical elixir began to flow. It had been a shitty morning, mostly because he couldn't get a read on his wife. All he knew was that something was off. And that today was definitely a non-stop coffee day.

"Thanks for the invite last night. Sorry I couldn't pop over but Abby had other plans for us."

"No prob—" He cut himself off, frowning. He'd invited Renly over to watch a flick after Jamie announced she was doing the girl thing with Nikki and Abby. Renly thanked him for the invite, saying he already had plans, and Ryan had thought nothing more of it.

Until now.

Frowning, he took his mug and headed straight for the privacy of his office, barely noticing the way Renly's eyes tracked him.

A moment later, Renly stepped into the office and closed the door behind him.

"What's up?" Ryan asked from behind the desk.

"That's what I was going to ask you."

"I'm fine." He could hear the curtness in his own voice and silently cursed his wife. The woman could definitely get under his skin.

"Might be my imagination, but with me being a hotshot security guy, I like to follow up on my gut. And my gut's saying my boss has something on his mind. So spill. What's wrong?"

Ryan hesitated, then shook his head. "Probably just a misunderstanding. Seriously, don't worry about it."

Renly hesitated, but eventually nodded and started to turn away.

Oh, hell. "Actually, wait." Ryan hated that he was probably being paranoid, but he hated more not having answers. "Last night when you told me that Abby had made plans for the two of you, you meant together, right?"

"Uh, yeah. Very together."

"And just the two of you?"

Renly's brows rose. "Getting a little intimate there, boss man."

"Oh, hell, I—"

Renly laughed. "Just giving you shit. Yeah. Just the two of us. And again I ask, what's going on?"

"Nothing. Like I said, just a misunderstanding."

For a moment, Renly studied him, clearly wanting some explanation for the odd questions, but at the same time, not wanting to interrogate his boss.

Finally, the hierarchy won out. "Okay, man. Holler if you need me. I'll be at my desk all day. Damn paperwork. That's what I get for being so awesome and closing cases."

Ryan chuckled, then sat back in his chair as Renly shot him one more inquisitive look, then shut the door behind him. Immediately, Ryan reached for the control knob on the side of his desk, turned the dial, and watched as the blinds slowly lowered. Then he sat back in his chair wondering why on earth Jamie had told him that Abby had been with her and Nikki.

He couldn't think of a single goddamn reason.

Which meant that Jamie had lied to him. But why?

If it were near Christmas, his birthday, or their anniversary, maybe Abby had been her cover for shopping. But they were months away from all of those.

He picked up the phone, and was just about to call her when he heard a soft tap at his office door.

He considered ignoring it, then sharply chastised himself. He wasn't going to let his own paranoia—hopefully it was paranoia—interfere with work. "Come in."

A second later the door swung open, and Moira's smiling face greeted him, framed by dark, curly hair so unlike his own. "Hey big brother. What's up?"

His grin was automatic and felt pretty damn good. He hadn't seen her for over a month, and considering his current mood, she was a welcome intrusion. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Like you're sitting behind your desk, feeling all giddy and happy that your little sister is here."

"You know me so well, you'd think we were related."

"Oh, please." She waved a dismissive hand. "You aren't nearly pretty enough to share genes with me."

"Watch it, kid," he said as he came around the desk to give her a hug, then stepped back and looked her up and down. She'd been a surprise to his parents, and his father had died in the line of duty when she was only eight. Ryan had always felt half-father, half-big brother to her. And she knew it well.

Now, she rolled her eyes at his critical appraisal. "I'm fine."

"Really? Because—"

She shook her head and held up a hand at the same time. "I'm making the right decision. Advertising isn't for me."

"Then what is?" She'd recently dropped the bomb that she'd quit her job at a major ad agency.

"I don't know. But I haven't enjoyed anything that I've done since I got out of school. It's all office politics, with maybe ten percent creative."

"Maybe you should try a smaller firm."

She cocked her head. "I already told you what I want to try. But that's not why I'm here."

For the first time, he caught a serious note in her voice. "Then why are you here?"

Her shoulders rose and fell. "Moral support, dummy. But you look like you're doing fine, which makes me feel a hell of a lot better, because I was expecting big drama. Well, not expecting—I knew it all had to be bullshit—but I figured you'd still be…" She made an exploding motion with her hands.

"Moira, what the hell are you talking about?"

She took a step back, looking like she wanted to slap her own face. "Shit."

"Moira." His voice was low. Flat. "Tell me what the fuck is going on."

Her teeth grazed her lower lip. "You really haven't seen?"

"Since I don't know what we're talking about, I can't tell you whether I've seen it or not."

"You really should have someone monitoring social media. So much stuff is revealed there, and you guys are in the security business."

"Dammit, Moira…"

She sighed, then reached into the back pocket of her jeans. She pulled out her phone, unlocked it, and passed it to him.

He took it…and his entire body turned to ice when he saw the paparazzi photo of Jamie walking out of the Women's Haven Reproductive Clinic, her head down, her arms wrapped around herself as she hurried down the hedge-lined sidewalk.

Innocent enough if it was just the photo. But it was the headline blaring in a neon font that really kicked him in the gut: Preggers! Actress Jamie Archer confirmed pregnant!! But is she still?

There was a link, of course, and he followed it to an article—if that's what you could call the kind of tripe that celebrity chasers pedaled. The "article" reported that the pregnancy was confirmed by an "unnamed source" at the clinic, and that abortion was discussed.

His stomach twisted, but he kept reading as—in some warped facsimile of journalism—it went on to report that she was married to him, that he was the head of Stark Security, a prestigious private security company founded by billionaire Damien Stark, and that Stark's wife—Nikki—had been Jamie's closest friend since childhood.

He put the phone face down on his desk. "This isn't..." but he couldn't finish the sentence, because he didn't know what it wasn't.

"Oh, god."

He looked up to see Moira blinking back tears as she studied his face.

"I—I'm so sorry. I came to commiserate on the press turning your personal lives into bullshit news bites. But you didn't know. You didn't know about this stupid post—and yeah, it's already gone viral—and I can tell from your face that you didn't even know about the pregnancy, either."

She exhaled, then sat in one of his guest chairs. "Maybe there isn't a pregnancy. Maybe the whole thing's made up."

He said nothing, because what the hell was he supposed to say? That his wife had never told him she was pregnant? That she'd never even hinted at it, much less raised the possibility of an abortion?

It couldn't be true. How the hell could it be true?

Except maybe it could. He'd noticed her tender breasts. Her recent craving for sweets. And the fact that her jeans were fitting just a little too tight.

Not to mention the look on her face when he'd passed her a coffee.

So, yeah. He believed the pregnancy.

But surely she wouldn't terminate. Not without talking to him. That would be a horrific breach of trust. She'd have to be wildly freaked and acting on pure impulse, because—

His breath hitched. Jamie was one of the most impulsive people he'd ever met. "Fuck." The curse was almost a whisper, but across the desk, Moira nodded.

"What can I do?"

"Nothing." He snapped the word at her, then wanted to kick his own ass. "I'm sorry—"

"Oh, please. It's me."

He managed a small smile and a nod. "If anyone had to tell me, I'm glad it was you."

His intercom buzzed, and it occurred to him that his phone was unusually quiet considering what he now knew was out there in that most unsocial of all virtual places — social media.

"Not now."

"Just checking to see if you need anything," his assistant said. "Other than for me to keep screening your calls."

He actually chuckled at that. "Thanks. You're going to be missed around here."

"I'm going to miss being here. But there's work and there's life."

He nodded. Right then her plan to spend a year traveling sounded like a damn good one. "Ask Leah to come in, will you?"

"Of course, sir."

"Maybe the whole thing's bullshit," Moira said. "I mean, she was probably at the clinic, though these days, who knows. That could be an AI version of Jamie. Or she might have gone there to hold a friend's hand. Or to get a birth control prescription."

"Because her regular doctor is suddenly unavailable?"

"I just mean that you don't know what you don't know. And the only thing we do know is that tabloid reporters twist the shit out of the truth."

"Maybe so," he said, but he was only placating his sister. Jamie was really pregnant.

Or she had been.

A sharp crack startled him, and he realized he'd snapped the pen he'd been holding in two. He looked up, his gaze meeting Moira's knowing one.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, as Leah tapped at the door.

"I'm going to go," Moira said once Leah had entered. She moved around the desk to give him a hug. "Call me. If for no other reason than that stonewalling me will give you something else to think about."

"I'm not giving you a job, Moira."

Her smile was bright as sunshine. "We'll talk about it later, big brother." And then she was out the door.

"A job?" Leah's brows rose almost to her bangs.

Ryan waved it away. "I need to know who's behind this story. Who sent it to The Eye. Who confirmed the pregnancy? Any information you can get, I want."

"On it." She started toward the door.

"And send me links to any other sites circulating the same story. And social media stats. I want to know how viral this thing is."

"I'll get Denny on it, too, if that's okay. You know she'll be able to get you the stats and links faster than I can."

"Good. I want answers, Leah. See if you can get them for me today."