Chapter Thirteen
Kayne spotted him out of the corner of his eye. Joel Erickson, the construction worker with the resting scowl and the habit of watching Chloe a little too long. The man hovered near the end of the hallway, hands shoved in his pockets and shoulders tight as rebar.
Kayne slowed his steps, pretending to study a clipboard. Meanwhile, Joel kept glancing around suspiciously.
And there it was.
Joel checked the hall again, then eased toward the locked supply room. The one no construction worker had any reason to access. Joel jiggled the handle. Locked. He looked annoyed, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a keyring.
Kayne snapped to attention, every system online and warning light lit.
Where the hell did he get a key?
Joel tried one. Then another. Click.
Kayne moved. He didn’t hurry or rush, but he still managed to close the distance as if he had all the time in the world. He reached the man just as Joel pushed the door open three inches.
“Whoa there, big guy,” Kayne drawled, closing a hand around the edge of the door before Joel could slip inside. “Funny place to go exploring, don’t you think?”
Joel jerked as if someone had hit him with a live wire. “Jesus, you scared me.”
“Doing my best,” Kayne said mildly, though heat throbbed in his veins, and it was not at all welcome this early in the day. “Now, how about you tell me why you’re sneaking into a locked storage room?”
Joel swallowed. His Adam’s apple bobbed hard. “Not sneaking. I, uh, I thought the cleaning supplies were in here.”
Kayne arched a brow. “Even though the sign right above your head says Electrical & IT Storage?”
Joel glanced up at the label and paled. “Oh. I didn’t see that.”
“Uh-huh.” Kayne took the keyring from his hand. “And these? You win ’em in a raffle?”
Joel’s mouth tightened, defensive and irritated. He appeared to be more offended at being caught than worried about why. “Stu said there were extra mop heads in storage. Look, man, it was a mistake.”
“Stu got a last name?” Kayne asked casually. “Or does he just go by the one, like Madonna?”
Joel blinked. “What?”
Kayne stepped closer, letting the man feel every inch of the threat he wasn’t saying aloud. He didn’t touch him. He didn’t need to. “Let me be real clear. If you need something, you come ask. You don’t go testing random locks.”
Joel’s nostrils flared. “I wasn’t testing anything. I told you, it was an accident.”
“Then why the wrong set of keys?” Kayne dangled them. “Construction crew uses the silver-ring set. But you? You’re holding the black-ring set reserved for management. Which you aren’t.” Kayne had no idea if there were different keyrings, but it sounded good.
Joel stiffened, trying to school his expression and failing badly.
Kayne grinned slowly. It wasn’t a friendly smile. “I know the difference because I made it my business. So I’ll ask again: where’d you get these?”
Joel’s voice thinned. “Someone must’ve handed me the wrong ones.”
“Must’ve,” Kayne echoed. “Happens all the time. And by all the time, I mean never.”
A bead of sweat slid down Joel’s temple. Good. Fear at least meant he understood the stakes.
Kayne stepped forward the last inch between them, enough to make the man shift uncomfortably.
“Listen closely,” Kayne said. “This gym is Chloe’s dream. So if anyone starts poking around areas they shouldn’t, I get twitchy.”
Joel’s eyes flickered. For a split second, the mask slipped into annoyance tinged with something else. Something watchful, possibly predatory.
Kayne filed that away.
Joel forced a shaky breath. “I’m not causing trouble. I’m here to do my job.”
“Good.” Kayne stepped back enough to let him breathe. “Then do it somewhere not behind locked doors. Now go back to Stu, tell him you couldn’t find the mop heads, and let’s both pretend you were never here.”
Joel hesitated, then nodded stiffly. “Fine.”
He walked off faster than a man who had nothing to hide. He didn’t look back. Another mark against him.
Kayne waited until Joel turned the corner, then he entered the door Joel had been so desperate to access and scanned the interior.
The room contained shelves of routers, cable spools, access-point backups, and two network hubs he’d personally checked yesterday.
It was where the new security system would be housed.
The heart of the place. Nothing was visibly disturbed, but something in the air felt off, as if the room knew it had almost been violated.
He shut the door, relocked it, and pulled out his phone.
We’ve got a problem, Chloe. I’ll explain when I see you. Stay where you are.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket and headed toward her office, already planning what he’d do if his gut proved right.
Joel Erickson might’ve claimed he went looking for mop heads. Kayne’s gut told him he’d been looking for something else entirely.
And that something had to do with Chloe.
#
Chloe should’ve known something was off the moment Danica breezed into her office carrying a venti caramel whatever with the smug confidence of a woman who believes calories don’t apply to her if she holds her drink at a flattering angle.
“Hello, sister dearest,” Danica sang, kicking the door shut with a heel sharp enough to puncture drywall. “I brought caffeine for your overworked little soul.”
“I didn’t ask for one.”
“I know, but you always look so tired,” Danica clucked as she set the drink down and gave Chloe a pitying once-over. “You’re stressed and puffy.” She tsked and pursed her lips. “I’m sure Kayne has noticed, but he’s too much of a gentleman to say anything.”
Chloe bit back a comment that would’ve absolutely started World War III. “Thanks,” she said instead, because adulthood was about compromise and deep breaths.
Danica flopped onto the visitor chair, blonde hair swinging like a shampoo commercial. “Anyway, guess who saw something so weird earlier?”
Here we go. “This better not be about the new manager again.”
“Nooo.” Danica waved that off. “This was actually concerning. Like stalker-concerning.”
Chloe’s heart hiccupped, a sharp, ugly skip she couldn’t smooth over. “I’m sorry, what?”
Danica leaned in, delighted at the attention. “I went by your apartment to borrow your blender yesterday, and I happened to glance across the street. Someone was watching your building.”
All the air left Chloe’s lungs. Just gone as if a trapdoor had opened beneath her stomach.
Danica shrugged delicately. “A guy, I think. Just standing there, staring at your windows. Totally creepy.” She sipped her drink nonchalantly.
“I meant to mention it to you yesterday, but I forgot because Leo sent me that emergency ‘stop charging things to his account’ text.” Danica rolled her eyes and sipped her drink again, smearing gloss on the lid.
“Besides, I didn’t want you to overreact.
You get so dramatic about safety stuff.” She laughed lightly.
“I figured it was, like, a homeless person looking for . . . whatever homeless people look for. A warm grate? I don’t know. ”
Chloe’s skin crawled with a cold, prickling wave that didn’t fade. Every instinct she had screamed at once. “Danica, someone broke into my apartment yesterday.”
Her eyes widened. “They did?”
The office door swung open without warning.
Kayne stepped inside, his shoulders broad, mouth firmed, and expression carved in stone. The air pressure in the room seemed to recalibrate around him. “Start from the top,” he said.
Danica blinked at him, then immediately crossed her legs and adjusted her posture in a way that made Chloe want to throw her computer at her sister. She repeated the story to Kayne, adding just enough flourish to make herself sound helpful instead of negligent.
“Why didn’t you say somethin’?” Kayne’s voice dropped to a soft Cajun growl that could’ve cut steel.
Danica’s smile faltered. “Um. Well. It wasn’t, like, a big deal.”
“It’s a big deal now,” he said. “Describe him.”
Chloe watched her sister’s bravado crumble like a dry cookie. “I-I don’t know, he was across the street. Hoodie, I think? Or a jacket. Maybe brown. Or gray?” She flicked her hair, flustered. “It was dark-ish.”
“What time?” Kayne pressed.
Danica looked at Chloe helplessly. “I don’t know exactly. Maybe around three?”
When she should have been at work.
“Did you go into the apartment?” Kayne asked.
“Well, yeah. I needed to borrow Chloe’s, uh, mixer.”
“You said blender earlier,” Chloe said.
Her sister wrinkled her nose. “Same diff. I need it to make margaritas.”
“You tried to steal my blender,” Chloe muttered.
“Borrow, steal, semantics.” Danica flapped a hand, already bored with the interrogation.
“Was the apartment messed up?” Kayne wanted to know.
Danica scoffed. “Are you kidding? Chloe is a neat freak. Everything has to be in its place.”
“How did you get in?”
“I know where she stashes the key in the light sconce.”
Chloe’s stomach dropped. If Danica knew, then so did anyone watching.
“You should’ve asked me first,” Chloe murmured.
“You would’ve said yes.”
Kayne redirected instantly. “The man. What did he do?”
“He just stood there,” Danica said. “He didn’t move. When a car drove by, he stepped back into the shadows.” Her eyes widened theatrically. “It was super horror-movie-esque. But I didn’t want to freak you out, so I—”
“You should’ve said something,” Kayne cut in.
The temperature shifted like a pressure change before a storm. Danica definitely felt it. She visibly shrank back, finally understanding this wasn’t about her.
Kayne stepped closer, not threatening, but not gentle either. “Listen to me carefully. If you ever see someone watching your sister, you tell us immediately. Understand?”
Danica swallowed. “Yes. Okay.”
“What direction did he go?” Kayne asked.
“I don’t know. I glanced down at my phone, and when I looked up, he was gone.” She tried a smile that landed closer to a grimace. “I figured he was a creeper, but not, like, a dangerous creeper.”
Kayne exhaled slowly. “They’re the same thing.”