Chapter Fourteen #3
Chloe shifted behind him, trying to stand straighter. He felt the effort it took, the way she rallied on sheer will, dragging that stubborn spine upright as if pride alone could erase how close she’d come.
“I’m okay, everyone,” she said. “Really.”
She wasn’t. Kayne knew it. Leo knew it. Even Anja’s expression softened when her gaze landed on Chloe, the hard lines easing a fraction.
Kayne dipped his head, murmuring low enough that only she could hear, “You don’t have to pretend.”
Her inhale hitched, but she didn’t argue.
Leo scrubbed a hand down his face. “Okay. All right. I’m sorry,” he said, voice rough. “You scared the hell out of me, Chlo.”
Chloe’s eyes softened in that way that made Kayne’s chest twist uncomfortably. She reached out, squeezing Leo’s hand. “I scared myself.”
That tiny confession punched the air straight out of Kayne’s lungs, leaving something hollow and aching behind.
Anja straightened from the ladder, dusting off her palms. “We need to assess the site, and maybe consider moving Ms. Giordano’s walk-throughs to later in the day. Preferably when gravity isn’t actively trying to kill her.”
Leo nodded hard. “Yes. Agreed. Great idea.”
Chloe huffed, irritation cutting through the fear. “I’m not fragile, guys.”
Kayne saw the shimmer she couldn’t quite hide in her eyes, the faint tremble in her fingers, and the tight little swallow she didn’t realize gave her away.
“No,” he said. “You’re not fragile, but you’re important. That’s the difference.”
Her breath caught. Just for a second, but it was enough.
Anja cleared her throat deliberately. “We’ll give you two a moment,” she said, tugging lightly at Leo’s sleeve.
Leo resisted until her fingers closed a little firmer, guiding him back toward the entrance.
Kayne didn’t turn to watch them go. He was too busy studying the woman whose life he’d almost lost three times in forty-eight hours, and wondering exactly how many more seconds he had before Chloe shattered every defense he had left.
#
Kayne stayed close while the crew cleared the area, Chloe tucked safely behind a stack of crates that Anja urged her to sit on until her legs quit trembling. Chloe kept insisting she was fine; her legs kept disagreeing with impressive consistency.
The foreman, Hal, kneeled beside the fallen ladder, a tool belt hanging crookedly on his hip, panic sweating through his shirt despite the cool air rolling in from the open bay doors.
“Give me a second,” Hal muttered, pulling out a wrench with hands that wouldn’t quite steady. “It shouldn’t have fallen. It shouldn’t.”
Kayne didn’t answer. His teeth were clenched too tightly, and he wasn’t convinced any words that made it out would be fit for civilian ears.
Hal twisted one bolt, then another. His brows slammed together. “Oh, hell,” he whispered.
Kayne stepped closer. “Talk to me.”
Hal rocked back hard on his heels, the color draining from his face. He pointed at the top hinge. “This wasn’t an accident.”
Chloe’s breath hitched behind him.
Hal worked one bolt free and held it up between shaking fingers.
“See this? Somebody backed it out. Not all the way. Just enough to pass a glance.” His swallow was audible.
“It’d hold long enough to look safe, but the second someone shifted their weight,” he made a small, helpless motion with his hand. Down.
Kayne crouched and took the bolt. It was too clean. No rust or stress marks. The threads were chewed, stripped fast and careless by someone in a hurry.
“Could it have been wear and tear?” Kayne asked, even though the answer was already crawling up his spine.
Hal shook his head hard. “No. This was hands-on. Intentional. Maybe when they were stealing equipment or when no one was looking.” His voice cracked. “But this was set up. They wanted one of our guys to fall.”
Kayne closed his fist around the bolt. No one had planned for Chloe to be under the ladder when it was stepped on.
That part was sheer bad luck. But stripping the bolt?
That was deliberate. Someone wanted a fall and the possibility of real harm.
And that would’ve devastated Chloe if someone had been gravely injured in her gym.
Her presence hadn’t been an accident. It had been an unexpected bonus to the deranged perp.
He stood, fighting to keep the storm off his face as he turned toward Chloe.
She was watching him as if she were bracing for him to confirm what she already felt in her bones.
“I’ll check every piece of equipment,” Hal promised. “Twice. Three times. I swear, if I find out which one of my guys—” He shook his head. “We’re getting close to being done, but we might be delayed while replacing equipment.”
Chloe excused herself to go to her office. Kayne didn’t follow.
That alone told him how bad it was.
He did watch her until she was safely inside her temporary office with Leo.
He stayed behind, back pressed to a concrete pillar, breath measured as if he was coming off a mission instead of a near miss that had ripped something open inside him.
The construction floor echoed with boots, voices, and metal, but it all felt distant, like sound underwater.
He stared at the dust on his knuckles. They were still shaking.
He hadn’t kissed her to comfort her. He’d kissed her because for half a second he’d been certain he was about to watch her die. That kind of instinct didn’t come with apologies. Or excuses.
Kayne exhaled slowly, counted it down, locked everything back where it belonged. The want. The fear. The stupid, dangerous hope that had flared when she kissed him back as if she’d been drowning too.
He was supposed to be the wall, but walls didn’t crack.
On a hunch, he jogged up the steps to where the ladder had fallen. He was almost afraid to look at the surrounding floor. His gaze swept the concrete, instinct first, logic second. Fear sliced through him when he found what he was looking for.
A single chain link.
Kayne clenched his teeth, straightened his spine, and slid his mask back in place before heading to the IT room. Anja was there, crouched in front of a bank of monitors, fingers flying as she calibrated feeds. She didn’t look up when he entered.
“Camera fourteen’s got a blind spot,” she said mildly. “I’ll fix it.”
“Good.”
A beat passed. Then, “For the record,” Anja added, still not looking at him, “you’re going to want to disable the internal archive on camera seven.”
Kayne stilled. “Why?”
“Because it has a very clear angle of the second-story landing.” Click. Tap. Click. “And an even clearer angle of you kissing Chloe Giordano like you forgot where you were.”
Silence stretched, thick enough to trip over. He would not blush. Would. Not.
Kayne stared at the back of her head. “Delete it.”
“I already did.” She finally glanced up at him, one pale brow lifting. “I’m a professional.”
Another pause.
“You’re also sloppy when you’re emotional,” she continued calmly. “Which is inconvenient, because you’re usually neither.”
He huffed a breath through his nose. “You done?”
“Almost.” She shut down the screen and rose, shouldering past him. “Next time you decide to have a life-altering moment, give me a heads-up. I’ll adjust the camera angles.”
She paused at the door and looked back. “For what it’s worth, you caught her before the ladder did.”
Then she left him there with the hum of machines, the ghost of Chloe’s breath on his mouth, and the unsettling certainty that pretending this was just a job was officially a lie.
Worse, it was one he didn’t want to tell anymore.