Page 6 of Moonlighter

“Okay, thank you,” I say softly.

Carl gives me a kind smile. He’s still a handsome fella. It’s easy to see where the Bayer brothers got their good looks. Maybe Carl’s hair has thinned, but his shoulders are square and his posture is commanding. “You’re headed to an unfamiliar location, to a high stress event. We won’t let you face that alone.”

“Thank you,” I say again, my eyes hot. People at work sometimes describe me as having ice in my veins. But it’s not true today. Carl’s kind words make my eyes sting. And here’s something I didn’t know about being pregnant—it makes you more emotional. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt as vulnerable as I do right now.

Carl takes a small remote control device out of his pocket, and points it at the clear glass wall. “Is this our guy?” When he presses a button, an image resolves on the surface of the glass, seemingly out of thin air.

I would be very impressed by this slick technology if I weren’t looking at a life-size photo of Jared Tatum, my ex. Honestly, “ex” is even a stretch. It doesn’t take too long to realize a man is a liar and a weasel.

It doesn’t take long to get pregnant, either. But that’s on me.

So maybe I’m having a petulant loser’s baby. But at thirty-two, with no soulmate in sight, to raise the child myself was an easy decision. I always wanted a family, though I assumed I’d have a nice husband first.

But the talent pool of men my age just keeps getting thinner. The nice guys are already married. And the few who aren’t don’t date. Or they date women younger than I am.

Besides, I’m so used to my independence that I’m beginning to think I’m not marriage material. I don’t like to take help from others. Or advice. You don’t get to be a CEO without trusting your own gut above all others.

And, either way, I’ll have a baby at New Year’s, in less than six months. Becoming a single mom is my choice to make, and I’ve made it.

“Who is this guy?” Eric asks beside me. If I’m not mistaken, there’s a note of disdain in his voice.

I force myself to look up at the screen again. “My ex,” I say curtly. “We dated in March and April, until I realized he was only interested in my father’s venture capital fund.”

“Jared Tatum, thirty-three years old,” Carl supplies. “Founder and CEO of Fitband International.”

“That better be him,” Max says. “Otherwise I’ve hacked into an unrelated man’s email and bank accounts.”

“You hacked him? Is that legal?” I hear myself ask. And then I realize that’s a stupid question. Of course it’s not legal. The reason I pay this security firm so well is that they’re willing and able to do things that ordinary people can’t. “Never mind, I retract the question.”

Max clicks his pen. “There’s actually no law against this particular hack. But my methods are a trade secret.”

“I understand completely.” Max knows all my secrets, too. I trust him with my life and my corporation.

He nods. “So, I’m going to explain what I did, because it’s instructive, not just for this moment, but for your own protection.”

“Okay.”

“First we determined that your ex likes pork buns, specifically the ones from this place around the corner from his building.”

“Ben’s Buns,” I say.

“That’s the place. So I built a little app that offers fifty percent off pork buns. We papered your ex’s car and apartment with flyers until we convinced him to download the app and try it out.”

“Excuse me,” Scout says with a mouth full of taco. “Whoconvinced him to try it out?”

Max chuckles. “Okay, fine. Scout was the brains of this part of the operation.” Their eyes meet, and there’s a moment of tension.

Hmm. Interesting.

“So…” Max turns to me again. “Your ex probably makes more than most people will ever have, but the man likes to save money on pork buns. He clicked through the Terms of Service on this app and ordered some pork.”

“Oh.” I think I know where this story is going.

“The TOS gave me the right to any and all data from his phone.”

“No shit?” Eric says. “You evil bastard.”

Max grins. “Yup. He’s ordered twenty-eight dollars worth of buns. So I purchased his digital footprint for fourteen bucks.”