“Don’t go alone”
Cloe had not heard Mac come out of his office. She looked up from her screen and he was standing at her desk, jacket off, reading the email over her shoulder. Close enough that she could feel the warmth coming off him.
She angled the screen toward him without speaking.
He read it twice. His jaw tightened once.
“Storage room B is two floors down,” he said. “I’m coming with you.”
“It could be nothing.”
“It could be a setup.” He looked at her. “Someone planted a listening device under your desk three days ago. I’m not sending you into a room alone based on an anonymous email.”
She wanted to argue. The part of her that had spent nine years handling everything alone wanted to say she was fine, she could manage, she did not need an escort to open a filing cabinet. But tha
