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.
