“Noise is all over the place in here,” she said, trying for breezy and landing somewhere near brave.
“Until we know who your threat is,” he replied, “everything is noise.”
She didn’t argue.That told him everything.
When they reached the far end of the track, they stopped at a plastic barrier sectioning off the construction zone.Kayne swept it with a glance and wasn’t thrilled with how easy it would be for an outsider to slip in if they timed it right.
“We’ll block this off,” he said.“And I’ll need the shift schedule for every contractor.”
Chloe exhaled.“Kayne?”
He turned.“Yeah?”
Her eyes openly searched his.It made his body stiffen almost painfully.“Thank you.”
He wasn’t sure if she was thanking him for honesty, reassurance, competence, or simply not leaving her fear hanging in the air.But the sincerity in her voice landed hard, hitting him deeper than he expected.
Kayne gave her a small nod.“Anytime.”Which, he suspected, was about to become very literal.Because for the first time since he’d taken the assignment, he wasn’t just protecting a client.
He was protectingher.
And that was a line he wasn’t supposed to cross.
But as she held his gaze—trusting, brave, hopeful, and a little afraid—he knew he’d cross it anyway.
#
Kayne followed Chloedownstairs and through the hallway toward the temporary office wing, keeping half an eye on her and half on the construction crew.They weren’t doing anything wrong, just sanding, lifting, and hammering, but his instincts kept pricking anyway.It was something about the static in the air and the way a few heads turned toward her, lingering a fraction too long.
She didn’t notice.Of course she didn’t.Chloe drifted through chaos the way some people moved through sunlight, frighteningly unaware of the shadows watching her glow.It was admirable yet terrifying.She had no idea how exposed she was, how easily someone like Talbot, or, God forbid, someone worse, could hide in a crowd and take her innocence for granted.Chloe was too damn trusting for her own good.
“Okay,” she murmured, shuffling her stack of résumés, the edge of her lip caught between her teeth.That little nervous habit was starting to feel personal.“First candidate is a guy named Oliver Pearsall.He has a military background but also worked at a rec center.I think that’s a good mix, right?”
He didn’t answer right away.A guy in a paint-splattered hoodie slipped down a side hall with quick, purposeful steps.He was headed in the wrong direction with no tools on him.Kayne tracked the movement, his body going still.
“Kayne?”she prompted.
He dragged his attention back to her.“Yeah.Military’s fine.Depends on the guy.Some vets are squared away.Some are squared-away nightmares.”
Her eyes sparked with amusement.“You’re not supposed to say that out loud.”
“I’m not supposed to say a lot of things out loud,” he replied, dry as gravel.“But here we are.”
Her half-exasperated snort hit him harder than it should have.He needed to get a grip.
They reached her temporary office, which currently consisted of a metal desk, two folding chairs, a scatter of paint cans, and a small jungle of plants arranged like sentries around the walls.It was a decent fortress for a woman who didn’t realize she needed one.
She flipped on the light.It buzzed like an irritated hornet before settling.
“Please ignore the chaos.And the smell.And the,” she waved a hand, “everything.”
Kayne took up a position near the door.He leaned casually but was ready to move in a heartbeat.“I’ve worked in worse.”
She arched a brow.“Really?”
“I once did recon from a swamp latrine with fire ants in my boots.This is the Ritz.”
Her pleasant, unguarded laughter snapped something low in his gut taut.He’d do a lot to keep that sound around.
