Chapter Seven
By late afternoon, Chloe’s brain felt like mashed cauliflower, if mashed cauliflower could also be mildly panicked and questioning every life choice it had ever made.
She’d reread Robin Day’s résumé three times and finally offered her the manager position. The woman radiated calm competence with a yoga-teacher center of gravity paired with a business-school brain. The unicorn of hires. Relief washed over Chloe to have that finalized.
“Welcome to the team,” she’d told her, sounding, for once, as if she actually had her life together.
It was one big thing off her plate. Plus, Robin could start right away. Another bonus.
Oliver had also been solid, but Chloe trusted her gut. She felt a steadier, more instinctive ease with Robin. She seemed stable. Not the type to bail when things got too hard.
Leo had returned earlier, and he and Kayne had disappeared, something Chloe chose not to dwell on, because the last thing she needed was mental imagery of two oversized alphas stalking the hallways in tactical harmony. She had no idea where they’d gone. Probably glaring at things. Men did that.
The construction crew had clocked out, leaving the building in a rare hush.
Chloe took a quiet lap around the track on the second floor.
Setting sunlight poured through the windows, catching drifting sawdust like suspended glitter.
The place still screamed construction site, but it also, finally, looked like her future.
Her gym. Her dream. Her mess to fix.
She ran her hands along the metal rail, feeling the cool bite beneath her fingertips. The new flooring wasn’t in yet and blue painter’s tape lined every corner, but the air smelled of fresh lumber and citrus cleaner. It was somehow oddly soothing. Almost peaceful.
Until a voice behind her drawled, “You shouldn’t be up here alone.”
Chloe jumped and spun around.
A construction worker stood near the ladder at the far end of the track. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing a gray work shirt smudged with white plaster dust. His hard hat hung from two fingers slung lazily by his thigh.
She didn’t recognize him, but there were still workers she hadn’t met, so she told herself the cold flicker in her stomach was overeager imagination, influenced by a certain overprotective security specialist.
“Sorry,” she whispered, because apparently she was apologizing in her own building now. “I didn’t mean to get in your way.”
“You’re not in my way.” His tone was steady and low. Off somehow, like a note in a song that didn’t belong. “Just dangerous to wander.”
She forced a polite smile. It was her gym. She owned the place. Who exactly was he to tell her where she could stroll? “I’m being careful.”
He didn’t smile back or do anything, really. Just watched. Too long. Too interested.
Her pulse quickened. Kayne’s stupid voice whispered in her head: Trust your instincts, cher.
She told that voice to mind its own damn business.
Chloe was being dramatic. Kayne had her jumpy with his talk of security, cover stories, and fake boyfriends. Her imagination was running laps.
“Are you working on something up here?” she asked, injecting forced brightness into her tone. “I thought everyone had gone home for the day.”
“Finishing the trim.” He jerked his chin toward the baseboards. “Needed measurements.”
“Oh. Great.” She edged sideways toward the stairs subtly enough (she hoped) to pass as casual. “Everything’s looking really good.”
He stepped closer. Not overtly, but enough that her spine stiffened instinctively.
“You own this place,” he said. Not a question. A statement.
“Yes.” Her smile wobbled.
He rubbed his thumb against his fingertips as if testing grit. “A lot of responsibility for someone your size.”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
His eyes met hers. They were dark and flat with zero warmth and absolutely no curiosity. Just assessment. It was wrong in a way she felt before she understood.
“You’re small,” he clarified. “Seems like a big project to take on by yourself.”
She swallowed. “I’m not alone. I have a staff now.” Or she would soon. “And a business partner.” Technically, a brother. “And,” she almost said a boyfriend, but the idea of invoking Kayne as a security blanket made her uncomfortable, “and a whole team helping.”
“I’ve been watching the progress,” he said. “Nice how hands-on you are.”
His gaze dipped to her fingers and rose again with an intent that made her skin prickle. “But you shouldn’t be the last one here. And you should be more careful walking around alone.”
The words landed like a warning. Or a promise.
Chloe’s stomach tightened. “Thanks for the advice. I was just leaving.”
“You shouldn’t be the last one here,” he repeated, voice softening in a way that made it worse. “Ever.”
Her throat clenched. He didn’t move aside. She had to circle wide around him, pretending she wasn’t doing exactly that.
When she reached the stairs, the back of her neck tingled. She glanced over her shoulder. He was still standing there. Watching. Expression unreadable.
She practically flew down the steps. When she hit the first floor, her lungs burned from holding her breath.
He hadn’t followed. Everything was fine except for resentment rising alongside fear.
She didn’t want to be scared in her own building, didn’t want to feel small.
And she certainly didn’t need Kayne’s voice in her head whispering, you’re not overreacting.
Maybe it was nothing, and she was simply exhausted. Or maybe Kayne’s hypervigilance had infected her.
And yet, the hair on her arms refused to settle.
She power-walked toward her car, forcing a laugh that sounded unconvincing even to her own ears. “Get it together, Chloe,” she muttered. “You’re fine. Everything is fine—”
A shadow flickered in her peripheral vision.
Chloe spun, fist cocked, ready to strike because apparently this was who she was now.
Kayne caught her wrist mid-swing. “Whoa, cher,” he said, low and firm. “Easy.”
Her heart catapulted into her throat. “Kayne! You scared the life out of me!”
“I noticed.” He lowered her arm gently, as if she might shatter if he wasn’t careful. “You always greet people with a right hook?”
“Only men who sneak up on me in dark parking lots,” she snapped.
The encounter upstairs crashed back into her mind like a runaway freight train.
Kayne’s expression sharpened instantly. “Did something happen?”
“No,” she blurted, too fast and entirely too defensive. “I’m tired and apparently jumpy. And you can’t just materialize behind people like a ninja.”
His jaw flexed. Not with irritation but resolve. “You can’t go anywhere alone.”
“Kayne—”
“No debates, Chloe.” He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “That’s why I’m here.”
Her breath caught. “I still think you’re overreacting.”
His voice dropped, quiet but unyielding. “Let me decide what’s overreacting.”
Chloe swallowed, the last of her bravado draining away. For the first time since the encounter upstairs, the world steadied beneath her feet because she wasn’t alone.
And because Kayne looked at her as if he’d burn the whole damn city down before letting anything touch her.
#
Kayne could read people pretty well. Chloe was practically glowing neon with I am hiding something from you, please ignore it. He didn’t know her, not really, but he’d seen enough to recognize a woman who didn’t share her vulnerability easily.
He didn’t buy her “I’m fine.” Not with the way her pulse jumped under his fingers when he caught her wrist. Or the rigid line of her shoulders. Not with the quick shutter in her eyes when he asked if anything had happened inside. It was fear sharp enough to cut, buried fast enough to deny.
But he didn’t push. Not yet.
“Come on,” he said quietly, keeping his hand at the small of her back, firm but gentle. “I’ll follow you home.”
“I don’t need an escort,” she retorted.
“Not a debate.”
She huffed at him, a small, irritated puff of air, but didn’t argue. He took the win. She didn’t hand those out easily either.
They stepped into the lot. The fall sun hung low along the horizon, casting long shadows across the cracked asphalt. It was the kind of lighting that said, murder documentaries love me. The air held a bite, hinting evening was coming fast.
Kayne scanned the lot, automatic and instinctive. It was clear and quiet with a few scattered vehicles. A dumpster overflowed with demo debris. No movement.
Then he felt a prickle down his spine. It wasn’t a sight or a sound, just the shift of the atmosphere. The sense of being observed.
He moved Chloe behind him with one smooth motion. “Stay close.”
“Kayne, I can walk to my—”
A screech sliced through the air that shrieked like steel on steel. Tires. Fast. Bright headlights exploded into view, blinding and too damn close.
Kayne reacted without thought. He locked an arm around her waist and hauled her into him as he pivoted. Her feet barely skimmed the ground.
A black sedan tore out from behind stacked construction pallets as if it had been waiting for them. Hunting them.
“Hold on,” he barked, twisting them aside as the car screamed past, close enough that he felt the heat off the engine six inches away. Maybe five.
Chloe gasped, fists bunched in his shirt. The sedan hadn’t slowed, tapped the brakes, or swerved to avoid them.
It had driven straight at them.
Kayne’s mind went cold and lethal with a sniper’s stillness. It was the place he visited when things went sideways.
The car fishtailed, tires shrieking, then it rocketed toward the exit and disappeared with a smear of burned rubber and exhaust.
Kayne kept Chloe in his arms for another full second. Not because she needed it.
Because he did.
Plus, the tremor in her breath told him she wasn’t as okay as she wanted him to believe.
Her voice shook. “Oh, my God—did you see—Kayne, we almost—”
“Yeah.” His jaw locked. “I saw.”
“That wasn’t an accident.”
“No,” he said. “It wasn’t.”
She trembled, disbelief cracking through her composure. He hated that look on her, how fast she tried to swallow it down. It sliced him straight down the middle.
He gently cupped her elbows. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head. “N-no. It came out of nowhere.”
“No,” Kayne said quietly. “It came for you.”
Her breath caught, and he felt it like a sledgehammer landing in his gut.
Kayne scanned the lot again, checking tire marks, approach vectors, and blind corners.
His brain reconstructed the attack without effort, his peripheral vision painting a map of what happened.
The pallets hid the line of approach. The driver knew the layout and where Chloe exited. And they knew the workers were gone.
It was planned, not impulsive. Calculated. Too damn close.
This wasn’t a bored stalker with a keyboard. This was an escalation.
He turned her gently toward him. She didn’t pull away. “Listen to me, Chloe.” His voice stayed calm but iron-backed. “You don’t go anywhere alone. Not to your car. Not down a hallway. Not even a bathroom break.”
She blinked. “A bathroom break? Seriously?”
“People get kidnapped in those.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“It absolutely is.”
“Kayne—”
“No.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “No debates, cher. Not after today.”
She swallowed. “It was nothing.”
He leaned in just a fraction. “Let me decide what’s nothing.”
She tried to hide a shudder by looking anywhere except at him.
“He wanted you scared,” Kayne said. “That’s his mistake. You’re not alone anymore.”
His thumb brushed her arm. He’d intended it as reassurance, but it landed as something else entirely. The way her breath caught and eyes held his sent heat rolling through his veins anyway.
“We’re taking my vehicle,” he decided. “Yours stays here. I’ll drive you tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
Her quick capitulation gave him pause. Chloe Giordano didn’t roll over for anyone. So why now? Because she trusted him? Or because she was terrified? Did it matter?
He kept his hand on her back as he guided her toward his SUV, senses blazing. The stalker hadn’t just watched. He’d acted.
And Kayne did not ever let the people he protected get hit.
He opened the passenger door. Chloe climbed in, hands trembling just enough to betray her.
Kayne rounded the hood, jaw set, blood simmering. Whoever was hunting her had just made the worst mistake of their goddamn life.
He was going to make sure they knew it.