Page 8 of Spock’s Snare

“How long have you worked for Chloe?”

“I started working for her a couple of weeks before she won the contract for Inferno Ridge. She was betting on winning it and hired me to take over this project since Inferno Ridge would be a massive undertaking.”

“Chloe said that the vandals started hitting this site after she won the contract. Is that how you remember it, too?”

He considered my question before slowly nodding. “Yeah, that sounds about right. We didn’t have any problems when I first started. I almost didn’t take the job because I didn’t think she’d win the contract. I’m glad I was wrong.”

“Why did you think we wouldn’t have selected her? She had a solid work history. I’ve seen her projects. She does good work.”

“Well, yeah, but it was you guys.”

I frown at his statement. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re bikers. Aren’t bikers usually misogynists? At first I thought you believed that either Bill or I was in charge, which is why you picked us. You wouldn’t believe the number of clients that passed on us when they realized Chloe owned the business.”

His comment has me wanting to hit something. “I picked DC Construction because of Chloe. Of everyone I interviewed, she was the one who saw what we were trying to build.”

He nods. “That makes sense. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you picked us. But a woman running her own construction company has made it harder for us to get jobs. I suggested having Bill be the face of the company, but she declined. Chloe is stubborn.”

“But you’re still here?” I ask.

He looks shocked at my question. “Why wouldn’t I be? Chloe is amazing. Don’t think that I’m badmouthing her. I’d never do that. I was just pointing out that she’s faced some challenges as a woman in a man’s world.”

I don’t respond even though something about the guy makes me want to punch him. “Right. Well, I should be heading back to the clubhouse. I have some calls to make.”

Before leaving, I check in with the prospects. They’ve cleaned the message off the wall and washed away the blood. Now they have a bucket of paint and are covering the wall so that no trace of the message remains. I nod in approval. “Did you bring the cameras?”

Reggie nods. “We’ve got them. We’ll put them up before we leave.”

“Good. When you’re done with that, take a look around the site and take some pictures. Spark can use them to figure out how many more cameras we’ll need and where to install them. Then get back to the clubhouse.”

They give me twin nods before I head to my bike. As I point my bike toward the clubhouse, I call Spark. “Add one more name to your list. Steven Blackwood. He’s Chloe’s foreman. There is something off about the guy.”

CHAPTER FOUR: CHLOE

I pull into my father's driveway and glance over at him in the passenger seat. He's sitting stiffly, one hand braced against the door. He glowers at me.

“You need to stop worrying about me. I’m fine. The doctor gave me some pain meds.”

I shake my head as I turn off the engine. “Stay there until I can come around and help.”

“I don’t need help,” he grumbles, but at least he doesn’t reach for the door handle. He waits for me to exit and make my way around to him. I come around the truck and offer him my arm. He rolls his eyes dramatically, but when he steps out, he leans on me just enough that I notice. The sight twists something inside my chest.

We move slowly into the house.

Everything looks exactly as it always has—family pictures on the walls, worn leather recliner facing the television, the smell of coffee and sawdust lingering in the air. Normally, the familiar surroundings comfort me. Today they just remind me how close I came to losing him.

I try to steer him toward the bedroom, but he refuses to move in that direction. Instead, he aims for his recliner.

“You should be in bed,” I chide him.

“The doctor said that I need to rest. I can rest here. Besides, I probably shouldn’t put pressure on the wound.”

I consider his comment and realize he has a point.

“Okay, I’ll give you that one. How about some coffee or tea?”

He scrunches up his face. “Tea? Since when did I start drinking tea?”