Obsessed

Chapter 24

Ronnie stood in the hallway with the phone pressed between her shoulder and ear, pacing just outside the security office as the alarm technician on the other end explained the report.

“…and that’s where the problem lies,” the man said. “The basement sensors were never properly calibrated. The concrete interferes with the signal. Honestly, whoever did the initial install should’ve run a hardwired bypass down there.”

Ronnie’s hand tightened around her sleeve. “So you're saying someone could’ve gotten in through the basement without tripping anything?”

“Exactly. The system didn’t register the breach because it was never properly configured for that area.”

Ronnie felt her stomach twist. That was how Elise got in. That was how someone had been in her house, taking photos, watching her. She thanked the technician, hung up, and immediately turned on her heel.

She had to find Mark.

She moved through the precinct quickly, heading toward his office. His desk sat empty, the chair slightly askew. She turned to leave when Jackson popped his head out of the nearby records room.

“Looking for Marshalls?”

“Yeah. You seen him?”

Jackson smirked, sipping his coffee. “Down in the gym. Guy’s been stress-lifting. Can’t say I blame him.”

Ronnie gave a tight nod and made her way downstairs. The precinct gym sat in the far back wing of the building—concrete floors, open steel beams overhead, and the persistent hum of fluorescent lights. The moment she opened the door, the scent of sweat, rubber mats, and iron weights hit her. A few officers were scattered around—one on a treadmill, another doing pull-ups—but she didn’t see Mark immediately.

Then she heard the rhythmic clank of a barbell being racked.

She turned—and froze.

Mark was lying on the weight bench, bench pressing a heavy bar stacked with plates. His body gleamed with a sheen of sweat, chest heaving with each rep. He was shirtless, revealing the thick slabs of muscle that sculpted his torso like a living statue. His chest was broad and strong, a light dusting of dark hair sweeping across it and trailing down his abdomen in a perfect line—guiding her eyes to the waistband of his black athletic shorts.

His biceps bulged with every press, veins prominent along his forearms. The scar on his right shoulder was jagged and pale, a long-healed reminder of something violent. His abdominal muscles were sharply defined, rising and falling as he exhaled. Every line of him was hard—battle-hardened and meticulously trained.

Ronnie swallowed and had to remind herself to breathe.

Mark finished his final set, hooked the bar into place, and sat up slowly, rolling his shoulders back as he wiped his face with a small towel. He reached for his water bottle, and it wasn’t until he tilted it back that he noticed her standing there.

Ronnie quickly cleared her throat and straightened her cardigan. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your… gun show.”

Mark grinned, breath still a little ragged. “You like what you see?”

“I was looking for your face,” she said, trying to sound unimpressed—though her ears felt hot. “But sure, the rest is… obvious.”

He chuckled and stood up, grabbing his T-shirt from the bench and pulling it over his head. “What’s up?”

Ronnie crossed her arms, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. “I got a call back from the alarm technician. He said the reason the system didn’t trip is because the basement wasn’t wired properly. The concrete down there interfered with the sensors.”

Mark’s relaxed expression immediately sharpened. “So it was a blind spot.”

She nodded. “A perfect one. If Elise got in that way, that means he—or whoever helped him—knew exactly where the system’s weakness was.”

Mark wiped sweat from his neck and grabbed his hoodie. “That had to be premeditated. Most people wouldn’t guess something like that. Someone scoped your house, found the flaw, and used it.”

Ronnie swallowed. “He was in my house, Mark. In the basement. That’s how he got in to take those photos.”

His jaw clenched. “We’re fixing it. Today. I’ll call in a private security tech, have the whole system rechecked, top to bottom. No blind spots this time.”

Ronnie hesitated, watching the tension coil in his shoulders. “Thank you. I didn’t want to wait to tell you.”

Mark looked at her, really looked at her—like he was trying to memorize every flicker of anxiety on her face. “You did the right thing. You always do.”

She shifted, her hand still curled in the hem of her sleeve. “You didn’t finish your workout.”

“I’m good.” He smiled gently, then tilted his head. “You hungry? You kind of stared at me like I was a bacon-wrapped dumbbell a second ago.”

She gave him a soft shove, trying not to laugh. “Let’s just go fix the security system.”

He followed her to the door, his hand briefly grazing the small of her back as they left the gym.

The drive to Ronnie’s house was quiet but not uncomfortable. Mark glanced over at her a few times, noting the way she pressed her lips together, how she tapped her thumb on her thigh when she thought he wasn’t looking. He didn’t say anything—just reached over and gently took her hand in his. She let him.

The house looked the same as when they left it, but the sense of violation still lingered in the air like smoke.

Mark went straight to the basement first. He crouched near the alarm panel while Ronnie pointed out the issue. The wires leading into the concrete wall were frayed and uneven, like they’d been forced into a half-finished setup. Whoever installed it had probably decided the concrete would be enough of a deterrent. They were wrong.

“Looks like whoever installed this cut corners,” Mark muttered, eyes scanning the mess of wires. “Amateur job. We’ll need to run a hardwired system down here—something solid, uninterruptible. I’ll call Langley. He used to do military-grade installs. Quiet, discreet.”

Ronnie stood a few feet back, arms folded. “You think Elise knew about the wiring flaw?”

Mark stood and dusted off his hands. “He or someone working with him did. No way it was random.”

Before she could respond, her phone buzzed. She stepped into the hall, answering with a distracted, “Hello?”

“Hey, sugarplum,” Marvin’s voice chirped on the other end, cheerful as ever. “Listen, Gale and I were talking, and we want to give Theo his Christmas gift a little early this year.”

Ronnie blinked. “Christmas is still two and a half weeks away."

“Well, you’ve got a lot going on and Theo’s been a champ with everything lately, so we figured—why wait? We booked a trip to Disney World. Flight leaves Friday. Well stay for a while until things get sorted out, we'll take him to Sea World as well.”

She was silent for a second. “Disney World?”

“We’ve got the tickets, we’re booking the hotel, and it’s all covered. We’ll keep him safe, happy, and spoiled while you focus on… everything you need to handle.”

Ronnie’s throat tightened. “Are you sure?”

“We wouldn’t offer if we weren’t. He’ll be safe with us, and you won’t have to worry. He’ll get sunshine, parades, and too much sugar.”

She smiled, a little watery. “He’ll love it.”

“Thought so. We’ll pick him up Thursday night?”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Thank you, Marvin.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

She hung up and turned to see Mark standing near the stairs, watching her.

“That was Marvin,” she said, voice quiet. “They’re taking Theo to Disney. Said they wanted to give him his Christmas gift early.”

Mark raised a brow. “That’s a hell of a gift.”

“They’re doing it so I don’t have to worry about him while we sort this out.”

“You’ve got good people,” he said, walking closer.

“I really do.”

For a moment, they just stood there, the tension from earlier softened by the kindness of her family and the brief glimpse of safety for her brother. Then Mark reached out and gently brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “Just… trying to breathe.”

Mark’s eyes flickered down to her lips, then back up again. “Let’s finish securing the house. Then maybe you and I grab a coffee and talk through what we know.”

She hesitated. “Talk like—talk talk?”

“Talk like strategy,” he said. Then smirked, “Unless you want it to be something else.”

She rolled her eyes. “Back to serious mode, Marshalls.”

“Yes, ma’am.”