Page 74 of Down Knot Out
“Or they know we put up cameras.” The thought sits heavy in my gut.
“Could have been someone who was just downon their luck, looking for quick cash,” Emily says, though her tone suggests she doesn’t believe it.
I close the laptop with more force than necessary, the snap punctuating my frustration. “You don’t believe that any more than I do. If that was the case, something would have showed up in a pawnshop or online.”
“No,” she admits. “It’s too targeted toward delaying the project. A desperate worker would grab whatever was valuable and accessible, not cherry-pick items that slow us down.”
My mind circles back to the thought that’s been growing at the edges of my consciousness for weeks now.
“My father knows exactly what equipment would cause maximum delays without being noticeable,” I say, voicing the suspicion aloud for the first time.
Emily doesn’t dismiss the idea right away, which tells me she’s considered it, too. “Burton Senior would benefit if this project fails.”
“He’d have me back under his thumb.” Bitterness curls through me. “Phase One running behind schedule, investors getting nervous… It’s the perfect condition for him to swoop in and take controlfor the good of the company.”
My father’s face forms in my mind. Not angryor overtly manipulative, but wearing that expression of paternal disappointment that’s served him so well over the years. The look that says,I expected better from you, but I’m not surprised you failed.
“Your father’s an asshole, but he’s not subtle.” Emily folds her arms across her chest. “This feels different.”
She’s right. My father prefers grand gestures and public pressure. Board meetings where he questions my leadership. Veiled comments to investors about my inexperience. Not this slow, insidious erosion of progress.
“Still, we should increase security on the specialty equipment.” I stand and smooth the creases from my slacks. “Change the patrol routes, mix up the timing.”
“I’ll talk to the night security team. Make sure they understand we’re dealing with someone who knows how we work.”
The heat inside the trailer has grown to uncomfortable levels, sweat beading along my hairline. I stride for the door, eager to escape back into the open air.
Sunlight blasts away the dimness, and I squint. The construction site sprawls before us, workers moving, the project taking shape despite theobstacles thrown in our path. My project. My vision. My chance to prove I’m more than just Maxwell Burton’s son.
Someone wants to take that away. I won’t let them.
The thought slips away as movement on the water catches my attention, where a white shape cuts across the bay, sunlight glinting off its wake.
The water taxi is early.
My heart lifts at the sight, my conversation with Emily forgotten as I track the boat’s approach. They’re early, a full hour ahead of schedule, but I can’t find it in me to care about the disruption to my day. Not when Chloe is on that boat, returning to where she belongs. With us.
With me.
Emily follows my line of sight across the water. “Looks like your people are back.”
I try to school my features into a semblance of professional interest rather than the hungry anticipation pulsing through my veins. “So they are.”
My feet are already moving, carrying me toward the path that winds down to the dock. Emily falls into step beside me, tablet tucked under her arm, her stride matching mine despite her shorter stature.
The last time I stood on these weathered boards, Chloe had just escaped Louie’s compound. I’d frozen as she stepped off the boat, hollowed out and pale, her pink hair limp around her face, her movements stiff with pain and exhaustion. I’d held myself back, unsure of my welcome, and watched while my bondmates stepped in to care for our Omega.
Not this time. I refuse to waste a single moment questioning where I belong.
The water taxi grows larger as it approaches, the noise of its engine carrying across the water. I spot two figures on the deck, Dominic standing at the rail in a dark suit that catches the breeze, and beside him, a smaller shape that can only be Chloe.
My pulse quickens. Even at a distance, she’s not the same girl who came to us shattered. She stands tall now, shoulders squared, head high, no trace of the wounded woman. As the boat approaches, I catch the gleam of her pink hair twisted into a flawless chignon, the clean lines of a navy blazer that molds to her curves.
The transformation stirs contradictory feelings within me. Pride at her confidence, a twist of unease at the change, and beneath it all, a fierce possessiveness that burns hotter with each meter the boat closes between us.
The water taxi slows as it approaches the dock, Kyle cutting the engine to a low rumble. Dominic spots us waiting and raises a hand in greeting. Even across the distance, I catch the exhaustion in his movements, the slight stiffness in how he holds his shoulders.
Whatever happened on the mainland took its toll.
