Page 53 of Spock’s Snare

“Financial, personal, professional,” Spock replies. “Anything that explains why a developer would meet privately with a foreman and leave the company’s owner out of it.”

I bristle at the reminder.

Paul should have called me if he had concerns about Riversedge. He shouldn’t have returned to the site and gone behind my back. Steven shouldn’t have spent the day locked in the office, and he damn sure shouldn’t have torn into a finished wall after everyone left.

Too many things aren’t adding up.

“I’ll check property records, business filings, court cases, and social media,” Juliet says. “If their names appear together anywhere, I’ll find it.”

“Send me whatever you get,” Spock says.

“You got it.”

He ends the call and slides the phone back into his pocket.

“What do we do now?” I ask.

“We let Juliet and Spark work. You call the electrician tomorrow and find out if there was a legitimate reason to open that wall.”

“And if there wasn’t?”

“Then we figure out what Blackwood was doing.”

My gaze returns to the opening. Earlier, it looked like pointless damage. Now, I can’t stop wondering whether Steven intended to remove something, plant something, or create a problem he could blame on me later.

Spock steps into my line of sight.

“We’ll figure this out,” he assures me. “Blackwood, Scaro, the sabotage—all of it.”

The certainty in his voice eases some of the pressure building in my chest. “You sound awfully confident.”

“I am.” His gaze moves over my face again, checking me as carefully as he inspected the damaged wall. “But we’re done here tonight.”

“I still need to—”

“No.”

I lift an eyebrow. “No?”

“No more work. No confronting Blackwood. No calling Scaro.” He reaches for my hand and curls his fingers around mine. “After I show you where we placed all the cameras, I’m taking you to dinner.”

I should resent his bossy attitude, but having him take control is just what I need right now. So, instead of arguing, I accept my fate.

CHAPTER NINETEEN: SPOCK

After taking Chloe on a tour of her site to show her where we installed the security cameras, I take her to her office.

I point toward the upper corner behind her desk. “That’s the last one.”

Chloe tilts her head back, studying the small camera mounted near the ceiling. From its position, it captures the door, her desk, and most of the office.

“I angled it so anyone coming or going will be recorded,” I explain. “It’ll also show if someone gets into your desk or files when you aren’t here.”

She lowers her gaze to mine, but I can’t read her expression.

I rub the back of my neck. “I should’ve asked before I put a camera in your office.”

“You put cameras everywhere else without asking.”