Page 7 of Love Me Stalk Me
"Callahan, this is Isabella Russo, our store manager," Reyes says.
She offers a polite, businesslike smile. "Nice to meet you."
I shake her hand. It's warm. Steady.
"You too."
Her lips press into a tight line that isn't quite a smile but isn't dismissive either. Professional. Distant. She nods toward Reyes. "Tom mentioned you'd be coming in today. Have you had a chance to review the security system yet?"
I shake my head. "Not yet. Wanted to get a look at the store first."
She nods, tucking the tablet under her arm. "Good. I know corporate already gave you the rundown, but I'll be blunt—we're understaffed in loss prevention. We're dealing with high-end clients, high-risk merchandise, and corporate expectations that don't always align with reality. I need to know if I can rely on you."
I don't blink. "You can."
She studies me.
Reyes clears his throat, filling the silence. "Callahan's got extensive experience. Military background, worked high-profile private security after that. He'll get the security issues locked down."
She flicks her gaze back to me. "Army?"
I nod. "Ten years."
She nods, accepting the answer without prying. But then, after a brief pause, she tilts her head slightly. "I heard you also have a background in cybersecurity."
I watch her, debating how much to say. "That's right."
"How deep does that go?" she asks, crossing her arms, curiosity slipping into her tone. "We're dealing with more than just grab-and-run theft. High-end fraud, internal shrink, even digital scams—clients trying to do chargebacks on merchandise they actually walked out with. I need to know if you're the kind of security that can handlejustphysical threats, or if you can see the ones happening behind the scenes, too."
She's smart. Smarter than Reyes gives her credit for.
"I see all threats," I say simply.
Her lips twitch, like she doesn't know if she believes me. "All threats?"
I nod. "If there's a way in, I can find it. If there's a blind spot, I'll patch it. And if someone thinks they can outsmart the system, they won't get far."
She studies me, like she's trying to decide if I'm just saying what she wants to hear.
"Every store I've worked for," I add, "had their numbers flipped in the first three months. You've got thieves walking through your front doors who don't even realize I already know who they are."
Her fingers tap lightly against her tablet. "No one's ever that good."
My lips twitch with quiet amusement. "No thief I've ever tracked has gotten away. If they were smart enough to, I wouldn't have known they were stealing at all."
She huffs a short breath, a mix of amusement or maybe grudging respect, then nods. "We'll see."
It's not a challenge exactly, but it's close.
I like that.
"Your schedule will mirror mine for the first few weeks," she continues. "That means early mornings, late nights, weekends. You good with that?"
"I'm used to worse."
"Good," she says again, and there's a directness about the way she says it, the efficiency of it, that I like. She doesn't waste words. Doesn't ask questions she doesn't need the answer to.
We go over the rest of the logistics. The existing security protocols, how loss prevention handles incidents, where the biggest issues have been. She's direct, focused, and I can already tell she's used to managing people who don't listen to her.
