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Good question. They were getting nowhere with Pike. “When are they due back?”
“Later today, but we need to take action before then.”
“Hammer,” Pike shouted. “Hammer!”
He unmuted the phone. “What?”
“When are you coming back to deal with this? I’m not getting hazard pay here, and I’ve got to tell you, O’Neill, your wife is—”
“Ex-wife,” Liam barked.
“We’re working on it,” Hammer insisted. “But we need to know how old the kid is. Just give me your gut feeling, Pike. Is it a month? A year?”
“I have no goddamn clue,” he screeched. “It’s small and it screams. I’m trying to be helpful, but…shit.”
“God, you two are morons,” Beck cut in, all business now. “Pike, can the kid walk?”
“I don’t know. She held him a lot, but now he’s sitting in a little cage thing, drooling.”
“It’s called a playpen,” Beck snorted. “Tell me how she held him. Was it in her arms or on her hip?”
“Mostly on her hip, but when she fed him, she, like, cradled him.”
“Breast or bottle?”
“Bottle, damn it,” Pike groused. “But I would have liked to have seen her tits. Gorgeous woman. Nice rack.”
Hammer rolled his eyes.
Liam banged his head on the table, wishing he could just get an answer. Or disappear altogether.
“Did he reach up and grab the bottle when he ate?” Beck continued.
“Yeah,” Pike answered.
Liam was damn glad Beck knew what questions to ask. He didn’t have a clue.
Beck nodded. “Okay. Does he have teeth?”
“I saw two on the bottom when he screamed earlier. That kid has a healthy set of lungs.”
“Hang on, Pike.” Hammer darted an expectant glance at Beck. “What do you think?”
The doctor shrugged. “Based on what I’ve heard, my best guess is somewhere between five and seven months.”
That fit perfectly with Gwyneth’s silken-spun timeline. Dread sank into Liam’s belly like a boulder.
“Fuck,” Hammer breathed.
“God, did I really knock her up that night?” Liam groaned, slapping a hand down his face.
“I think we’ve got a better idea now, Pike,” Hammer said. “Thanks. We’ll be in touch.”
“Wait! When the hell are you coming back?” Pike sounded antsy.
Liam and Hammer shared a gaze of silent communication. The answer to that was something they still had to work out.
“Not sure yet. I’ll keep you posted.” Hammer ended the call.
Liam’s head pounded as if a drum line practiced on his skull. “We have to tell Raine something when she gets up.”
The coffee finished brewing, and Hammer pounced on it, nearly shoving Beck aside to pour a steaming mug. He took a sip with a long, satisfied sigh. “Until we’re sure that kid is yours, I think our responsibility is to shield her from Gwyneth.”
“Withholding the truth isn’t the answer,” Liam interjected. “Besides, Raine is clever. She’ll figure it out.”
“She will.” Beck nodded knowingly. “She’s proven herself pretty capable at handling whatever life throws at her, even you two bozos. You just need to sit Raine down and tell her about Gwyneth’s unexpected visit the right way.”
“There is no right way,” Hammer asserted. “Not without facts.”
“I agree,” Seth piped up. “If you tell Raine that Gwyneth is here to pin paternity on you, then it turns out your ex is here for a totally different reason, you’ve upset her for nothing.”
Liam blinked in disbelief. “You’d withhold the truth? Guess that explains why you’ve never managed to keep a sub for much more than a night.”
“Never wanted one for longer than that,” Seth shot back. “I’m not saying lie to the girl.”
“Neither am I,” Hammer insisted.
“If you go mute, Raine will figure out long before you fess up that something’s wrong,” Beck chided. “You want to protect her, Hammer, but how is she supposed to feel secure if she knows you’re not being honest?”
“Exactly.” Liam nodded.
“I’m worried. We’re asking Raine for a lot of trust. I don’t think we’ve given her enough of a foundation yet.” Hammer sent him a sour glare.
“Well, as entertaining as it is to watch you two ladies smack each other with your purses, I don’t have time.” Beck glanced at his watch. “I got a call from the hospital, and I have to get back and assist in an emergency surgery this afternoon. So Liam, I can take that spanking new Escalade of yours and leave, but I won’t be back for at least five or six days.”
Liam blanched. “That long?”
“Transplant patients are high maintenance.”
“We can’t leave Gwyneth and that baby at my club,” Hammer pointed out. “She needs to find a hotel. Or better yet, go back to London.”
Liam’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the screen, swore, and shoved it in his pants again. “Damn it, she won’t stop calling. And I don’t want this hanging over my head for days. I’d rather find out what she wants and put it behind me.” Liam stood. “What if I ride down with Beck and hear what Gwyneth is bleating on about, then bring the car back by nightfall?”
