Chapter Twenty-Four Chloe
The common room is already chaotic when Spock and I walk in for breakfast. Conversations overlap with bursts of laughter, silverware clatters against plates, and someone shouts from across the room for the syrup.
Every biker seems to be here, most with their women beside them, while the kids add their own special brand of mayhem.
Rather than feeling overwhelmed, I feel a yearning.
Spock guides me through the crowded room with his hand resting against my lower back. He pulls out a chair for me at the large table where Puma and Alisa are eating with Wildcard, Brigit, Spark, and Juliet. After making sure I’m settled, he claims the seat beside me.
At the next table, Elina, Mal, Slade, Angel, and Colt are packed together. They giggle between bites, their voices rising above the adults as they tease each other and steal food from each other’s plates.
I look around the room, taking in the leather kuttes, sleepy smiles, and easy affection. A few of these people are related by blood, but most aren’t.
It doesn’t matter.
I finally understand what Puma is trying to build here. Not merely a motorcycle club or a business empire.
A family.
The realization settles deep in my chest. I’ve spent so much of my life standing on my own that being surrounded by this kind of fierce, unconditional connection feels almost foreign. I’ve always had my dad, but it has been only the two of us for a long time.
When Spock’s knee presses against mine beneath the table, I wonder what it might feel like to belong here, too.
The image has barely formed when Juliet sets down her coffee mug and turns toward Spock and me.
“I finished the background checks on Paul Scaro and Steven Blackwood.”
Spock’s knee remains pressed against mine as his entire body tenses beside me. The change is subtle enough that I doubt anyone who doesn’t know him would notice. His shoulders stiffen, and his attention locks on Juliet.
I lower my fork. “You found something?”
“A few things.” Juliet glances between us. “I know Blackwood is the one you’re most interested in because of his behavior at the construction site, but I want to start with Paul Scaro.”
A chill works its way down my spine.
Scaro hired my company to construct Riversedge Apartments. He’s demanding and impatient, but that describes half the developers I’ve worked with. Until now, I’ve had no reason to suspect he might be involved in anything beyond the usual pressure to finish a project on time and under budget.
“What about him?” I ask.
Juliet leans her forearms on the table. “Scaro has ties to Red Rock Construction.”
My stomach tightens. “What kind of ties?”
“He’s used them for several projects over the past six years. Two apartment complexes, a small shopping center, and a luxury housing development on the edge of Henderson.” She pauses. “Red Rock was the primary construction company on all four projects.”
I stare at her, trying to make sense of the information. “Then why didn’t he hire them for Riversedge?”
“That’s the question,” Juliet says. “From what I can tell, Red Rock bid on the project.”
My appetite disappears.
Across from us, Puma stops eating. Alisa’s gaze shifts to him before returning to Juliet. Wildcard sits back in his chair, his expression losing the relaxed warmth it held only seconds ago.
“Did their bid come in higher than Chloe’s?” Spock asks.
“I haven’t been able to access the full bidding records yet,” Juliet replies. “But I found enough references in emails and permit documents to confirm that they were competitive.”
Spock rests one arm along the back of my chair. The gesture looks casual, but I feel its possessive weight surrounding me. “Could be Scaro didn’t trust them.”
“It could,” Juliet agrees. “Maybe something happened during one of their previous projects. Cost overruns, delays, poor workmanship. There are plenty of legitimate reasons for a developer to change construction companies.”
“But you don’t think that’s the only possibility,” I say.
Her expression turns grim. “His reasoning could be more nefarious.”
The word lands like a rock in my stomach.
At the next table, Colt lets out a triumphant yell while Mal accuses him of cheating at some game they’re playing with packets of sugar. Their laughter clashes with the tension gathering around us.
“Like what?” I ask.
“I don’t know yet,” Juliet admits. “That’s why I think someone should talk to Scaro—or at least keep an eye on him. If he has a problem with Red Rock, we need to know what it is. And if he hired you because he’s working with Red Rock, we need to know that, too.”
My thoughts race through every conversation I’ve had with Scaro. Every complaint. Every demand. Every time he insisted I justify a delay or explain an expense that wasn’t my fault.
“Maybe he chose me because my bid was better,” I say, although the explanation sounds weak even to me.
“Maybe,” Juliet says gently. “But with everything happening at Riversedge, it would be a mistake to assume that.”
Spock’s hand settles on my shoulder, his thumb moving once against my skin. “We won’t assume anything.”
A knot forms beneath my ribs. I don’t like the idea of the Demon Dawgs confronting one of my clients.
I especially don’t like the way Puma’s face has gone blank, all traces of humor vanishing from his eyes.
Men like him don’t have polite business conversations.
At least, not when they believe someone has threatened a person under the club’s protection.
Yet I can’t ask them to leave Scaro alone.
Not when he might know why someone is sabotaging my site. Not when his connection to Red Rock could explain why Blackwood tore open that wall—or why my father was attacked.
Puma wipes his mouth with his napkin, then turns toward Wildcard.
“You and I might want to have a discussion with Scaro.”
Worry coils tighter inside me as Wildcard gives a slow nod.
Part of me wants to tell them not to do anything reckless, but mostly I need to know exactly what Paul Scaro is up to.
Spock’s hand remains on my shoulder as he turns his attention back to Juliet.
“What did you find on Blackwood?”
The question is delivered in a low, controlled voice, but I feel the tension in his fingers. Whatever doubts he had about my foreman before this conversation have hardened into suspicion.
Juliet glances at me. “Blackwood told you he was an independent contractor before you hired him, right?”
“Yes.” I nod slowly. “He said he’d been working for himself for several years but wanted something more stable. Riversedge is a large project, and I needed someone experienced enough to manage the site when I couldn’t be there.”
It made sense at the time. Blackwood had known what to say during the interview. He’d talked about the difficulties of running his own business and how tired he was of constantly searching for the next contract. He’d claimed he missed being part of a team.
Juliet’s expression tightens. “That’s only partially true. He was an independent contractor, but not for several years. He worked for himself for a few months before you hired him.”
My spine straightens. “How many months?”
“Three that I can confirm. Possibly four, depending on when he actually stopped working for his previous employer.”
Spock’s thumb stills against my shoulder.
“Who was his previous employer?” he asks.
Juliet holds his stare. “Elvis Monroe at Sin City Construction.”
The name has impact.
I glance from Juliet to Spock. His jaw locks, and the dangerous stillness that comes over him makes my heart beat faster. Across from us, Puma and Wildcard exchange a look that doesn’t bode well for my competitor, Elvis Monroe.
“Blackwood worked for Monroe for almost eight years. He started as a general laborer and worked his way up to site supervisor. From everything I found, Monroe trusted him with some significant projects.”
I push my plate away, my appetite completely gone. “He never mentioned working for Elvis.”
Blackwood listed several projects during his interview, but he talked about them as if he’d managed them independently.
I assumed they were contracts he’d secured through his own company.
He’d been careful with his wording. Careful enough to give me the impression he wanted without making every statement an outright lie.
“He basically created a false work history,” I say.
“Not entirely false,” Juliet replies. “The projects were real, and he did supervise many of them. He simply left out the fact that he completed them while working for Monroe.”
Brigit frowns. “Wouldn’t a reference check have caught that?”
Heat creeps into my face, even though her tone holds no accusation. “His references checked out. Two developers confirmed that he supervised their projects, and a subcontractor vouched for him. I didn’t ask who signed his paychecks because his résumé said he was self-employed.”
“They helped sell the lie,” Spock says. “Monroe had to have been involved.”
The anger beneath his voice has sharpened.
“Maybe Monroe didn’t know,” I suggest, but then shake my head.
There is no way that Monroe didn’t help Blackwood snow me.
I look down at my hands. Blackwood hadn’t merely exaggerated his experience to secure a job.
He already had the experience. Eight years with Monroe would have been a strong qualification, assuming he’d left on good terms. So why lie?
My thoughts return to finding Blackwood tearing open drywall after hours. He claimed he was correcting an electrical mistake, but something about the situation felt wrong. His defensiveness. His anger. The way he tried to make the problem my fault because I’d been occupied.
Now I know he has ties to the company that bid against me for the Inferno Ridge project.
“Do you know why Blackwood left Sin City Construction?” Puma asks.
“Not yet,” Juliet says. “Officially, he resigned. There are no lawsuits, criminal complaints, or obvious disputes between him and Monroe. A few months later, he applied to work for Chloe.”
Juliet looks at me. “He came to you, didn’t he?”
“Yes.” The unease inside me deepens. “I advertised the position, but Blackwood contacted me almost immediately.”
Spock shifts closer, his arm pressing more firmly around me. “Sounds like he wanted onto that site, or into your company.”
I want to argue. I want to say there could be an innocent explanation, that people omit unpleasant former employers from their résumés all the time.
But Blackwood didn’t only omit Sin City Construction. He rewrote eight years of his life to hide that connection.
My gaze slides toward the children at the next table. They’re still laughing, oblivious to the fear winding tighter inside me. Only minutes ago, the room felt safe and welcoming. It still does, but now I’m painfully aware of why Spock brought me here.
Someone attacked my father and targeted my project.
And I hired a man connected to one of my competitors, giving him unrestricted access to the entire construction site.
“Why?” I ask.
“That’s what we’re going to find out,” Puma says.