Shit. I called Sid. No answer. I called again and he didn’t pick up. I hurried back into the bedroom, hating to wake Blake, but I couldn’t shake the worry.
I sidled up next to him, draped my leg over his, and peppered him with tiny soft kisses. If I was going to wake him up, at least I’d do it pleasantly. He finally stirred, rousing with a smile and a fantastic case of morning wood. As tempting as that was, I needed him for something else right now.
“Baby, the site’s down again. I can’t get hold of Sid.”
He got up, slipped on his jeans, and followed me out to the dining room. He glanced at my screen and fished out his own laptop from his overnight bag, settled on the couch, and powered on.
“Coffee?” I asked.
Already he looked incredibly focused, though barely awake, his hair an adorable mess. I figured out the coffee, and while I waited for it to brew, I refreshed the site again. This time it came up instantly, with a large singular logo overlaying the site beneath it. The logo text read clear. M89.
Blake was typing furiously. I didn’t dare ask, but I had a sinking feeling that being targeted wasn’t random anymore. I shuffled back to the coffee maker, filled a mug, and took it to him. He took it wordlessly, working as if I wasn’t there. I stared patiently waiting for him to come back to me.
“Can you tell me what’s going on? For real this time?” I said, my voice quiet.
He looked up at me, his eyes tired.
“The photo of us at the conference. It went viral. You probably saw a spike in traffic. Most of that was legit, but they took notice.”
“So this isn’t random.”
“Not anymore,” he said, his eyes dark with regret.
“Why are they after you, Blake?”
He shook his head and raked his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry, Erica, but I’m going to fix this. I promise.”
I nodded, trusting he would.