Except the longer he stayed away, the worse his writer’s block became until it was damned near crippling. He felt stifled and stymied and altogether useless in every way. He sighed and got up. Maybe he should go for a drive, get some air, see if that knocked something loose in his head.
He'd just grabbed his keys off the hook by the door when his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and frowned down at the unfamiliar number. He probably should let it go to voicemail, but he answered before he could stop himself. “Hello?”
“It’s Alisha. I need to see you,” she said without preamble. “Now.”
“Uh, okay,” he managed to get out. His heart lodged in his throat at the unexpected sound of her voice, a bowling-ball sized lump of regret weighing down his gut. “Where?”
“Max’s Diner, Fifth Street. One hour.”
“Okay,” he said, frowning. There was an odd note of anxiety in her voice that he didn’t remember being there before. Concern welled inside him. “Is everything all right, Alisha?”
“Just be there,” she said, sounding about as exhausted as he felt. “I’ll explain everything when we meet. I can’t get into it over the phone.”
She ended the call before he could respond, leaving him standing there, feeling adrift and anxious himself. Maybe she’d found out new information about the auction house, something concrete this time, and wanted to share it with him. He kind of hoped so. For once, he wouldn’t mind being proved wrong. They could work on the story together, get him back into a groove again.
But by the time he reached the diner, doubt had set in once more. If she had found something, why would she involve him? She’d made it clear from the outset she’d planned to investigate on her own, especially after he’d expressed his doubts about the story. She had no reason to invite him back onto the case. So, if it wasn’t about the story, then what?
He walked into Max’s and spotted Alisha at a table near the back of the crowded diner. There were dark circles under her eyes and she looked unusually ruffled today. He wondered if she was sick. Honestly, he was feeling a bit nauseous himself at this point. He slid into the chair across from her and tried to feign a cheerfulness he didn’t feel. “Hey, thanks for calling me. How are you, Alisha?”
Before she could answer, a waitress came by to get his drink order. Simon got coffee, then waited while the server poured it for him before focusing on Alisha again. “So, what’s up?”
Alisha blinked at him a moment, then blurted out, “I’m pregnant, Simon. It’s yours.”
Five
Time seemed to slow around him and the room tunnelled as he took that in. A million words raced through his head at once, but all he managed to say was, “I’m sorry. What?”
“I’m having a baby, Simon,” Alisha repeated, slowly this time like he was an idiot. “Your baby.”
“But…but how?” He couldn’t quite get his brain to work properly. “Why?”
Alisha gave him a flat stare across the table, chock full of “Seriously?”
“Sorry.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, hoping to wipe away some of the shock. A baby. He was going to be a father. There were so many questions in his mind.
Before he could ask any of them, Alisha continued. “I want you to know, though, that I’m not ready to be a mother. Not sure I ever will be. So, I’m thinking maybe adoption.”
That brought Simon up short, finally jarring him from his daze. “Wait a minute. Don’t I get a say here?”
“No. You did quite enough that night at my place. From here on out, it’s my decision, my body. And don’t worry, I don’t want or expect anything from you.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. He could hardly believe this was really happening, but Alisha wouldn’t lie to him, not about this. If she said she was pregnant, she was. If she said it was his, he believed her. Even his cop friend Eddie had said that Alisha was a good person, just stretched the truth a bit sometimes for a story. And well, she was Mike’s sister. Mike was the best person Simon knew. That counted for a lot in his book. So yeah. Alisha was pregnant. With his baby.
Welcome to fatherhood.
“I, uh… Wow.” He shook his head, sitting forward to clasp his hands atop the table. “Not going to lie and say I’m not surprised, because yeah. A baby. Uh, congrats? Is that something I should say? I have no idea what I’m doing here.”
Alisha chuckled and a bit of the awful tension between them eased. She sat forward too, looking as discombobulated as he felt. “It’s a lot. I know. Trust me, I know. I’m still trying to take it in and figure out what I want to do. The timing isn’t ideal, not with my career in shambles and all…”
He frowned. “What happened? You’re not working at The Seattle Standard anymore?”
“No, I’m still there—I’m just not on the crime beat anymore.” She looked up at him. “But I thought you knew that, considering you got me transferred.”
“What? Me? No. I had no idea.”
“Yeah. After you came to see me in the newsroom that day, my editor called me in.” She sighed. “He’d seen me talking to you and overheard our conversation. He said if a true-crime writer like you didn’t have faith in my ability to know whether or not a story was legit, he couldn’t either. They transferred me over to the Home and Lifestyle division.”
“Oh, God. I’m so sorry, Alisha.” And now he felt like an even bigger ass, if that was possible. He knew how much her job meant to her, how badly she wanted to prove herself. There was no such thing as a career-making story in the Home and Lifestyle section. “If I’d known what would happen, I never would’ve gone there that day. Truth. I just wanted to make it clear to you that I couldn’t work with you on the story—and let you know that your source might have been wrong so you wouldn’t keep barking up the wrong tree. But it had nothing to do with you being a good journalist or not. I’m really sorry.”
“Save it.” She shrugged. “The last thing I need right now is pity. I’d much rather—” Before she could finish her sentence, her phone buzzed on the table. She held up a finger for him to hold on, then answered. “Yeah? Right. Really? Of course I know where Warren is, but—oh, not the auction house? His home address? No, I…Okay, great. Thanks. Wait, let me get a pen.”
Simon could tell from her narrowed gaze that this was no call about homes or lifestyles. This was all about her story.
* * *
“There’s something big going down at Warren’s house tomorrow,” her contact said over the phone line, and Alisha’s pulse sped. Even though she’d been taken off the crime beat, she’d still kept up with her story in her spare time, making files and keeping them at her apartment. She still believed there was a story there, and she was bound and determined that she’d be the one to find it. This could be the big break she’d been waiting for. “Word has it the Andronettos will be there too.”
She met Simon’s eyes across the table, weighing her options. She could try and play it off, leave, and go on her own, but from his sombre expression, it was clear that he knew something was up with the case. So, instead, she grabbed a napkin and scribbled down the information her contact gave her, then ended the call.
“What was that about?” Simon asked, trying to read what she’d written on the napkin before she covered it with her hand. “The story?”
“That was my source. He said something is happening tomorrow at Thomas Warren’s home. He didn’t give specifics, just said it was big and that the Andronetto brothers will be there. If I can get proof of illegal activities, then I can bust this whole thing wide open. I should get home—I want to do a little more digging into the Andronettos’ associates so I can ID anyone who might be there tomorrow.”
“Okay,” he said, fishing out his wallet to plunk some cash down on the table to cover both their bills plus a hefty tip, then stood. “When should I pick you up tomorrow for the stakeout?”
“Why would you be coming with me?” Alisha said, following him out of the crowded diner. “You didn’t wa
nt anything to do with this story, remember? I can handle this myself, just like I planned to from the start.”
“I’m sure you can,” he said, holding the diner door for her. “But you don’t have to. We’re a team now, remember?” His gaze dropped pointedly to her abdomen and back again. “At least for the next eight months. Come on. Give me another chance, please? Plus, if things go south, you might want some protection.”
She rolled her eyes. “But you believe there’s no story here, so why would there be any danger?”
Simon winced, and she felt a little surge of victory at the sight. But in spite of herself, her resolve softened when she saw how genuinely worried he looked. Could she really refuse to let him go with her when he just wanted to make sure she was safe? And whether he believed in the story or not, she did—and that meant she thought there was a very real chance they could face some trouble. Didn’t she owe it to herself to bring Simon along for her protection? For their baby’s protection? She wasn’t ready to be a mother, and she wasn’t planning to raise the child herself, but for now, the growing baby was her responsibility, and she took that seriously.
They stood there a moment longer while she considered his offer. Even though she knew she’d give in, there was no reason not to enjoy watching him squirm a bit. But eventually she said, “Okay, fine. You can come.”
“Good.” He walked her over to her car. “And now that that’s out of the way, let’s agree on something, all right?”
Alisha gave him a dubious side glance. “Like what?”
“Like if this turns out to be nothing again tomorrow, you agree to drop this story.”
Exhaling, she stared past him at the busy street beyond. “Okay. But if there turns out to be something to all this after all, then you’ll have to admit you were wrong—and stop interfering with my investigation.”
Simon watched her a moment, then held out his hand. “Deal.”
Damn. She’d been hoping he’d fold. But now, it would make her victory all the sweeter when she won. Finally, she shook on it. “Okay. Meet me at my place tomorrow at six. We’ll take my car.”
He nodded, and opened her car door for her, closing it gently behind her once she’d slid behind the wheel. “I’ll be there,” he promised.
Six
Simon was still reeling from Alisha’s news when he got back to his apartment.
Pregnant. A baby. He was going to be a dad.
Wow.
He tossed his keys on the table by the door and dropped his phone on the charging pad, then slumped down on his sofa, a weird mix of emotions churning inside him—shock, uncertainty, fear, excitement. That last one threw him for a loop most of all. He’d never even thought about fatherhood. And he wasn’t sure how to feel about it now—especially when Alisha seemed determined to put the child up for adoption. But still, just the idea of a kid coming into the world that was part him and part her—the thought of it made him smile.
But then, if she didn’t intend to keep the baby, did that necessarily mean he had to give up the child, too? What if he decided to raise their baby himself? He could handle it on his own, yeah? Sure. Yes. Simon was sure he could. He’d stepped up before in his life when it was necessary and he’d damned well do it again now, if needed.
Not that co-parenting with Alisha wouldn’t be the best solution, because it would. Maybe he could find a way to convince her of that, once they’d both had some more time to adjust to the idea. All that adoption paperwork took time anyway. Time he could put to good use getting himself prepared for either course of action.
Regardless, he would always be there for his baby and would always make sure his child had everything they needed. A fresh wave of adrenaline pumped through his system and had him up on his feet and changing for a workout. Exercise helped clear his head and order his ideas, and tonight he needed that more than ever.
After about an hour of running on the treadmill, he heard his cell phone ring. He shut off the machine and walked over to the charging pad to grab his phone. “This is Simon.”
“Hey, Si,” his agent Victoria said. “Just checking in to see how things are coming along with the book.”
And just like that, his endorphins nosedived. “Uh, okay,” he lied. “I’ve got some ideas I’m kicking around.”
“Okay,” his agent said, sounding less enthused than he’d hoped. “The publisher’s been calling me. They’re getting antsy to see your proposal. The editor was expecting something by now. They gave you an extension when you said you were on to something but needed a little longer to put it together. But the new due date for the outline and first three chapters is next week. We don’t want to jeopardize your first multi-book contract by missing deadlines. Please tell me you’ve got something strong pulled together by now for book two.”
“I’m…working on it.”
“It’s still not ready?” Victoria asked, sounding genuinely worried. “Simon, that’s a problem.”
“I know. And tell them I’m sorry. It’s just…” He grabbed a towel to swipe over his face, then sighed. “You know I’ve had a lot going on in my life and things are finally settling down now.” Or they had been. He wasn’t ready to let the world know about the baby yet, so he settled on a half-truth instead. “Anyway, tell them that yes, I’ve got what I think could be a fantastic concept, if it pans out.”
“I’m listening.”
He filled her in on Alisha and the Andronetto brothers and the possible nefarious items being funnelled through the auction house. His agent listened quietly through it all, then stayed painfully silent once Simon finished.
Finally, Victoria said, “Right. Well, just be careful you don’t go down a rabbit hole here only to find out it leads nowhere.”
“I won’t,” he said, hopefully with more confidence than he felt. “I’ve got a gut feeling about this.”
“Just be sure your gut isn’t lying to you, Simon. You’ve got a lot on the line here. Your first book performed well, and the publisher’s very happy about that, but with things in flux with the media, there’s going to be a lot of scrutiny on this second project. You need to nail it—prove all your detractors wrong.” His agent hesitated. “Laura’s back in the press again too.”
“Aw, shit.” He raked a hand through his hair. He’d been so busy chasing after Alisha the past few days he hadn’t really kept up on the headlines. “What now?”
“Just more of the same, basically,” Victoria said. “Smearing your name wherever and whenever she can. All I’m saying, Simon, is please. Don’t screw this up. We’ve both worked too hard to get you here.”
“Understood,” he said, exhaling slowly. His agent was right. There was a lot at stake and now, more than ever, he couldn’t afford to mess it up. “I’ll get working on something now. And don’t worry. I’ll be careful.”
The call ended, but Simon’s angst went on. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand, he needed to honour this book contract, needed to keep his publisher happy. On the other hand, he couldn’t walk away from Alisha and her story now either. Not with the baby involved. He needed to stick by her side, not only to investigate, but also to ensure that she and the baby stayed safe.
* * *
Alisha was cleaning out her car in the parking lot of her apartment building the next afternoon. It wasn’t that it was horribly messy, but it had been a while since she’d had someone other than herself along for a stakeout and she needed to make sure there was room. Yep. That was the reason. Not because she was trying to impress Simon Stone. Hell, it would take a lot more than clearing out the garbage and old candy wrappers from her crappy little hatchback to do that. Besides, who cared what Simon thought? Not her. Nope.
She’d just dumped another bag full of trash into the dumpster when her cell phone rang with a FaceTime request. She pulled it out with one hand and answered, not bother to check the caller ID. “Alisha speaking.”
“Hey, sis. How’s it going?” Her brother’s grinning face greeted
her while his deep voice purred through the line. The guy could give Barry White a run for his money.
“Mike! How are you?” she said, grinning back. She propped her phone up on the dashboard so she could use both hands while she continued wiping down the interior. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much,” her brother said. “Just had a free minute or two and thought I’d check in.” He squinted into the screen. “Are you cleaning?”
“Yep. Getting the car ready for a stakeout tonight. Simon’s coming over later to help me investigate.”
“Simon? You’ve never mentioned a co-worker named Simon.”
“That’s because he’s not a co-worker. It’s your friend—he wanted to help me investigate this story.”
“You mean Simon Stone?” Mike scrunched his nose. “How the hell did you guys meet up again?”
She explained about them running into each other at the bar a few weeks back. “Anyway, he’s interested in the story for his new book and I could use the help, so yeah. We’re doing it together.”
Her cheeks heated slightly as the words hit far too close to the truth, but luckily her head was down while she dusted the console so hopefully her brother didn’t see it.
If he noticed anything odd about what she’d said, he didn’t show it, thankfully. “Well, in that case, I’m glad. Simon’s a good man. He’ll have your back.”
Alisha hadn’t really expected to get into the whole pregnancy thing yet, but considering she had no idea when she might talk to Mike again, now seemed as good a time as any to break the news. At least if her brother started yelling at her, she could just hang up. “I’m glad you’re such a big fan of his, because there’s something else I need to tell you.”
Her brother’s smiled faded to a frown. “That sounds ominous.”
“No,” she said, sitting back and swiping a hand over her sweaty forehead. “Not necessarily. Depends on how you look at it.”
Guarding His Fake Family Page 4
