Page 25 of Saving Her Heart
I wade through the water in the lobby, checking for any obvious hazards. The water's clean, at least—just tap water from the faucets. But the damage is extensive. The carpets are ruined; the baseboards are swelling, and I can hear the sound of multiple faucets still running upstairs.
"Clear," I call back to Kendall.
She immediately takes charge, directing maintenance to shut off water to different sections, organizing residents to move their belongings to dry areas, calling restoration companies. She's in her element, calm and competent despite the crisis.
I'm watching her work when Declan arrives.
"This is definitely connected," he states the obvious, surveying the damage. "Too coordinated to be random."
"Brad?"
"Maybe. But this feels bigger. The graffiti's amateur hour. This?" He gestures at the flooding. "This takes planning and knowhow."
My phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number.
Unknown: This is just the beginning. She quits, or it gets worse. Much. Worse.
I show it to Declan. "They're not even trying to hide it anymore."
"Makes them dangerous," he says. "Desperate people do desperate things."
I look at Kendall, who's now ankle-deep in water, helping an elderly man save his photo albums. Her sweatshirt is soaked, her hair's falling out of its bun, and she looks exhausted. But she's not giving up.
"We need to set up surveillance," I tell Declan. "Full coverage on all her properties."
"That's a lot of manpower."
"Then we get it."
"You really think it's that serious?"
Another text comes through.
Unknown: Next time it won't be water.
"Yeah," I say, forwarding the threat to Captain Ramirez. "I think it's that serious."
The rest of the morning is a blur of water extraction, insurance calls, and damage assessment. By noon, the worst of the flooding is under control, but Kendall looks ready to collapse.
"Come on," I tell her. "You need food and dry clothes."
"I need to?—"
"Everything's handled for now. Your team knows what to do and the restoration company is in full swing."
She looks around at the destroyed lobby, the exhausted residents, the massive fans the restoration company is setting up. "This is my fault."
"No, it's not."
"If I'd just quit?—"
"Whoever's doing this wins." I turn her to face me. "You don't quit, Kendall. It's not who you are."
She looks up at me, and for a moment, all the walls are down. I see the exhaustion, the fear, and the determination not to break. And underneath it all, something else. Something that makes me want to pull her close and promise everything will be okay.
"Jax," she starts, then stops. We're standing too close, water soaking through our shoes, surrounded by chaos, and all I can think about is how much I want to kiss her.
"Well, well. Isn't this cozy."
