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Sula winks at me from across the room before reaching for a platter of chocolate brownies I heard were supplied by Amaryllis Bakery and helping herself to two.
Carys Burke-Lennon, Beckett Miller’s attorney and one of Paige’s best friends, eyes her narrowly. “Why are you not drinking?”
“I am,” she protests. With immaculate precision, she chops her brownie into perfect chunks before dropping the pieces into her wineglass. Lifting the goblet to her lips, she takes a “drink” before chewing with precision. “See?”
Carys leaps to her feet and points accusingly at Angela Burke—her sister-in-law—who is trying to restrain her smile behind a glass of full-bodied merlot. “She’s pregnant again and you didn’t say a word?”
Angie lifts her hands in self-defense. “To be fair, I knew before her husband.”
The “How?” and “What?” come from every direction. Angie flashes the flushed Sula a wink. “I got a 9-1-1 call from Sula when Ward, the kids, and I were driving up to the beach house in Rhode Island. Sula accidentally left her early pregnancy test on the guest bathroom counter. She wanted me to overnight it to her.”
I raise my hand. Carys calls on me. “I love she raises her hand. Yes, Fallon.”
Addressing my question to Sula, I wonder, “Why would you not just pee on another stick?”
Angie toasts me. “Which is exactly what I told her since I didn’t think FedEx would be too thrilled to have something with urine overnighted in the mail.”
By this point, we’re all doubled over laughing. That’s when the elevator dings and Paige remarks, “Oh, good. Lee made it.”
I scrunch my brow. “Lee?”
Austyn reaches for my hand and squeezes it hard. “Leanne Miles—owner of Castor, a government contractor who specializes in software development. Uncle Ethan’s done work with her in the past.” At my obvious tension, she reminds me, “You’ve met her before.”
“I have?”
The woman in question stops in front of me and Austyn. I blink rapidly because she’s memorable. After Austyn springs up to hug her, I get to my feet slowly and continue to study her carefully. Like Sarah McLachlan’s “Building a Mystery” the energy from this woman calls to me—dangerous and tempting. Much the same way Ethan’s has just with a uniquely feminine twist.
Even as she rubs her hand on her extended baby bump, pieces of a puzzle are snapping into place. I don’t question the conclusions I’m drawing in my head because somehow I know they’re right. Ethan. Work. Leanne. They’re all tied together. Somehow, this vivacious woman is responsible for part of my pain. I can feel it.
I know it.
Taking a step back from her offered hand, I place my glass on the end table and confront her. “You were one of the people involved with what Ethan was doing, and you have the gall to show up here?”
There are gasps of shock around the room at my blatant confrontation.
Leanne’s face morphs from cautious pleasure into deep regret. “No, Fallon. Harming you was never intentional.”
“You can go to hell.” I turn to head to the guest wing, where I’m temporarily staying.
Leanne grabs my wrist to stop my progress. “It wasn’t you he was investigating, Fallon. It was Devil’s Lair.”
“Why?” I shout. “Can someone answer that?”
Pain swirls in her eyes. “Soon. Just please hold on to your faith in us a little longer.”
“Lady, the only thing I know about you is you have good taste in movies, and you’re in cahoots with my ex-lover. Give me one reason I shouldn’t spit on you right now for assisting Ethan in kicking me when I was at my absolute lowest?”
“These women.” She looks around the room, eyes lingering on Paige and Austyn. “They know me, Fallon. They know who I am, what I used to do, what I do now.”
I tap my foot. “Which is?”
A gusty sigh escapes. “When I was younger, I was a special operative.”
I blink. “Excuse me? Like spy shit?”
She cautiously releases my wrist. “Not in the traditional sense. I could—can—hack into anything. Let’s just say I was at a crossroads in my life when Uncle Sam made me an offer I couldn’t dare refuse.”
“And this involves me, how?”