Page 102 of Seen Knot Heard

A smile curls Chloe’s sweet lips. “I’m sure she does, and I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

As she turns to join Dom at the table, I admire the tempting sway of her hips. But without her as an immediate distraction, the negative whispers rise once more in the back of my mind.

Someone on my construction team is reporting to my father. Someone I trusted. And I’m no longer as confident that the timely arrival of the inspector can be laid at Louie’s feet.

I hate all this unnecessary drama. If a bank had just approved our application, I wouldn’t have to worry about my father. If we had stopped Chloe’s vile mother from handing her over to Louie, she wouldn’t have had to suffer. Then there’s still the lurker…

Despite our cameras, we haven’t caught the man on video. Could the person reporting to my father be our mysterious lurker? Or is he linked to Louie? There are too many options, leaving me further unsettled.

As Chloe takes the hand vacuum from Dom, I drag my eyes away from them and catch Blake watching me.

He studies me before tilting his head toward the hallway and mouthing,Gym?

I nod, grateful for the escape. Exhausting my body is the only way I’ll quiet my mind right now. Since I can’t drag Chloe off to test our bond…

I clear my throat, drawing Chloe and Dom’s attention. “Blake and I are going to head down to the gym for a bit. If we’re not back up for dinner, don’t wait for us.”

Chloe’s brow furrows, but she doesn’t push. “No problem. We’ll let Holden and Quinn know.”

Dom’s expression shifts into one of understanding. “Don’t go too hard on the punching bags. I’d hate to have to patch you up later.”

“No promises.” Blake claps me on the shoulder, turning me away from the two.

We head down to the basement gym and change into our workout clothes.

Then I pull on gloves and head straight for the punching bag.

Since I can’t take out my frustration on my father, this is the next best thing.

With a grunt, I unleash a flurry of jabs and hooks at the bag, my muscles warming up with each impact.

After half an hour, sweat drips into my eyes, but I barely notice, too lost in landing the next punch. At least like this, I block out my father’s voice in my head.

“Easy, there.” Blake, who had been warming up on the treadmill, catches the bag as it swings, bringing it back into alignment. “Technique, remember? Don’t hurt yourself while working off steam.”

I grunt and take a step back, shaking out my arms. He’s right. Sloppiness in the gym could lead to an injury, which would be another setback.

Blake pulls on the focus mitts and holds up his hands. “Channel it. Use it, but don’t let it use you.”

I bounce on the balls of my feet as I settle into a rhythm. Jab, cross, hook, uppercut. The satisfying thwack of glove against mitt echoes through the gym, mingling with our harsh breaths.

We trade off, Blake pushing me to keep my guard up, to stay light on my feet. To think, not just react. The familiar dance helps clear my head, the vise around my chest loosening with each punch.

“Better,” Blake says after a while, lowering the mitts. “How’s the headspace now?”

I grab a bottle of water from the mini fridge and take a long swig, considering. I’m still irritated at our current situation, but aside from my dad adding pressure, inspectors will always be a part of any construction. Even if someone is behindthisvisit, an inspector having a bad day could lead to the same setback. That’s why we build in lots of padding.

“We’ll fix the shit list, then call in your friend down at the office so he’s the one who checks the work.” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Dom’s already digging into the inspector. If we discover he was paid to throw a wrench into our project, we’ll get his license revoked and let our lawyers handle a lawsuit.”

Blake grins. “Let’s hope he’s stupid enough to splurge on a big purchase he can’t explain.”

“That would simplify things.” People not used to money who have a sudden windfall almost always splurge without thinking about how that will raise red flags. “In the meantime, we’ll weed out the mole.”

As much as I hate to admit it, the list of suspects is depressingly short. People I’ve known for years, who I thought were loyal. Briefly, my thoughts turn to Emily, who’s intimately aware of every aspect of our lives, but I shake the suspicion away.

If we can’t trust Emily, then we can’t trust anyone.

Chapter Thirty-One

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