Chapter Thirteen #2
Chloe’s hands were trembling now, and she didn’t even notice until Kayne did. He moved behind her, one palm brushing her shoulder to steady her. She leaned into it before she could stop herself.
Danica eyed the gesture. “Your taste is impeccable, Chloe.” And then, completely misreading the room, she said, “I’d love to stay and talk, but I have calls to make.”
Chloe resisted the urge to stick her foot out and trip her. How could she not have said something? How could she have decided this was nothing?
Worse, how long had someone been watching her, close enough to know where the key was hidden?
#
Chloe barely had time to catch her breath before the front doors of the gym swung open and Leo strode in like a storm wearing Italian leather. He carried purpose in every step, causing people to instinctively straighten their spines.
Behind him came a woman—no, a vision—who looked as if she’d stepped out of a Scandinavian myth and decided to moonlight as a runway model.
Chloe froze mid-step when Kayne walked over and hugged her. It was brief and professional, yet it somehow sent something jagged spearing straight through her. Surely it wasn’t jealousy. Was it? That would be ridiculous and totally unwarranted, not to mention entirely inconvenient.
Kayne ushered the woman over. “Chloe, this is my coworker, Anja Johansen.”
Chloe blinked. “She’s security?”
The woman’s hair was so blonde it was practically white, swept back in a sleek ponytail that should’ve looked simple but somehow radiated authority. Her light-gray eyes took in the gym with one assessing, utterly unbothered sweep. What, had the Valkyries started doing private security on the side?
She wore fitted black tactical pants, a charcoal tee, and a jacket that said I can break your wrist sixteen different ways and not spill my coffee.
Anja’s mouth quirked. “Is that a problem?”
“No,” Chloe said too quickly. “No problem. It’s just . . .” She gestured vaguely. “You’re so beautiful.”
Anja studied her for half a second, then smiled. Not flashy or false. “Well, thank you. So are you.”
Chloe shook her hand. Her grip was firm. Confidence wrapped in bone and muscle.
“Anja used to be a detective in Pittsburgh,” Kayne supplied. “She’s handled homicide, organized crime, undercover ops. She’s the real deal.”
“And I’m an agent with CObrA Securities now,” Anja added, her tone light, almost shy, which didn’t remotely match the deadly competence rolling off her. “I’m here because Kayne said things have escalated.”
“More than I like,” Kayne grumbled.
Anja turned her attention back to Chloe, her gaze softening just enough to be human. “Are you okay?”
“Honestly? No. But I’m working on it.”
Anja nodded once decisively, as if Chloe had passed a test she hadn’t realized she was taking. “Good. Fear helps keep you alive. Denial gets people killed.”
Oddly, Chloe smiled. Not because anything was funny. Nothing was even remotely laughable. But because Anja radiated a calm that reached inside Chloe’s internal chaos and straightened it one careful notch. “You sound like Kayne.”
“Same training,” Anja replied.
“How did it go at the apartment?” Kayne wanted to know.
“It doesn’t appear to be a forced entry,” Anja said. “No pry marks along the jamb.”
Chloe winced and avoided Kayne’s eyes.
Anja’s gaze sharpened. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Boy, she was good. Kayne good. Chloe had a feeling Anja, like Kayne, missed absolutely nothing.
With a sigh, she confessed, “I have a bad habit of forgetting my keys. Instead of calling Leo every time to bail me out, I started leaving a spare in the light sconce.”
“Ah.”
Just one word, but it landed heavily. Chloe could practically feel the judgment being filed away, tagged, and stored.
“There were no cameras in the apartment complex,” Anja continued.
Kayne grunted. Chloe didn’t need him to say it; she could hear his thoughts anyway. Why would you live somewhere without proper security? She felt faintly ridiculous under the combined weight of their competence.
“The police aren’t too concerned since nothing was taken and no one was hurt.” Anja settled her tablet on the counter. “Walk me through every entry point, interior room, staff member, contractor, visitor, delivery, and suspicious incident since last Tuesday.”
Chloe blinked. She was most definitely a female Kayne.
“And after that,” Anja added calmly, “I’ll need a list of anyone who’s made you uncomfortable. Ever.”
“Oh,” Chloe squeaked. “That’s, uh, extensive.”
Kayne leaned down, brushing his shoulder against hers. “Start with Erickson.”
Anja’s head snapped toward him. “Who is he? What happened?”
“Construction worker,” Kayne said, his voice darkening. “He made Chloe uncomfortable. I dealt with it, but today, I caught him trying to open a restricted room.”
Anja’s gray eyes sharpened as if she’d scented blood. “Did he give a reason?”
“Yeah. Supplies.” Kayne’s tone said liar.
Anja’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, it hardened. “I’ll talk to him. I want to see how he reacts.” She turned back to Chloe. “I also want to see your office where the note was left.”
“Of course.” Chloe hesitated, then blurted out, “Thank you for being here. Really.”
Anja finally lifted her gaze, and when her smile came, it was small but genuine. “I’m not here as a favor. I’m here because Kayne asked, and because this is serious. You’re not alone in this anymore.”
Something warm slid through Chloe, startling her.
Kayne’s hand brushed her lower back. “Told you, cher.”
Chloe swallowed hard, because the more people who saw the danger, the more real it became.
#
Anja found Joel Erickson behind the building, hauling a stack of lumber with a little more force than necessary. His posture was rigid, shoulders hunched, jaw moving as if he was grinding his teeth to dust.
Good.
People who thought they were being watched tended to trip over their own nerves.
Those who thought they were in the clear told stories.
Kayne had given her a rundown of his brushes with the law. He had a history of violence against women, but the charges didn’t stick. Patterns mattered, even when the paperwork failed.
She approached with a steady gait, unthreatening and authoritative enough to make a grown man straighten without knowing why.
“Joel Erickson?” she said.
He turned fast. His eyes skittered over her, and then came back again, slower and appreciative this time. She was used to the looks. Sometimes she leaned into them. Men underestimated her. That mistake usually cost them. She’d swoop in and take them down before they knew what had hit them.
“Who wants to know?”
“I’m Anja Johansen. Security.” She didn’t add CObrA; if he knew what that meant, it would scare him. And if he didn’t, it didn’t matter. “Got a minute to talk?”
He glanced at his coworkers, who were definitely watching, and then wiped his palms on his jeans. “Uh. Sure.”
Anja stepped aside, letting him choose where to stand. It was a detective trick: when you give a nervous person a little control, they forget how much power they’ve already handed you.
Joel hesitated, then moved toward a stack of drywall with open space behind him and nothing at his back. He stopped there, picking the worst possible place.
Anja folded her arms loosely. “I heard you were accessing a restricted room earlier today.”
He stiffened a fraction, but it was enough. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Explain it to me,” she said.
He blew out a breath. “The supervisor said we were low on mop heads. He told me they were in storage, so I went looking.”
“In a locked electrical room?”
His cheeks flushed. “I didn’t see the sign at first. The light was weird.”
“The light,” she repeated, “was weird.”
He nodded vigorously. “Yeah. Glare off the hallway tiles. I thought it was the maintenance closet.”
Anja tilted her head a fraction, a sign she was listening, not judging. “Okay. Then how’d you get in?”
“I, uh,” he stalled. “I had the wrong keys. Stu must’ve handed me the wrong set.”
She hummed, as if that tracked. “Stu Winthrop, right?”
He blinked. “Yeah.”
“Couple years older than you?”
He nodded.
“You two close?”
“Just coworkers.”
“Ever borrow keys from him before?”
“No.”
“Ever needed to go into that hallway before?”
“No.”
“Ever needed mop heads before today?”
No answer this time. The color climbed his neck.
He understood now. Anja let the silence sit between them, heavy and patient, giving him room to squirm without pushing.
Then she softened her shoulders and broke the tension with a small, sympathetic breath.
“Joel, mistakes happen. People grab the wrong keys all the time.”
Relief cracked across his face so cleanly it almost made her smile.
She didn’t.
“But,” she added gently, “from what I understand, you didn’t stop at one key. You kept trying.”
Joel swallowed. “I didn’t want to go back and ask again. Stu was already irritated. I thought maybe I was just misremembering the door.”
Anja nodded once. “So you kept trying because you didn’t want to look foolish.”
He latched onto that like a lifeline. “Yes. Exactly. I didn’t want to look like an idiot.”
“Joel.” She lowered her voice, shifting her tone to kind, human. “You do understand what’s going on here, right? Someone stole equipment. People are being threatened.” She didn’t mention Chloe to him. If he wasn’t the perp, he didn’t need to know what was going on.
His eyes widened in genuine surprise. “I didn’t know that. Nobody told us.”
“It’s confidential,” she said softly. “But behavior that looks wrong, especially around restricted areas, gets attention.”
“I swear I wasn’t doing anything,” he said. “I promise.”
She studied his breathing, posture, eye movements, and micro-expressions.
He held her gaze. Didn’t blink too fast. He didn’t scan for exits. Didn’t touch his face or shift his feet. His voice stayed level, spiking only with embarrassment, not fear of being caught.