The Investigator: Norcross Series

by Hackett, Anna

Her pulse did a little dance. “People who don’t mind buying a stolen painting.”

  “Ding-ding. I don’t have confirmation that it’s your stolen masterpiece, though.”

  “Okay.” But the chances were pretty high.

  “I have a gallery assistant whose sister’s friend is seeing this guy. He’s not nice, and has a club where some of San Francisco’s criminal element like to frequent. Apparently, he’s great in bed, that’s why she won’t dump his shady ass.”

  “What club?” Haven asked.

  “Doll face, the kind regular, law-abiding citizens like us don’t know about.”

  “Okay, thanks Harry. If you hear anything else, let me know.”

  “Sure thing, Haven.”

  She ended the call and stared blindly across the main hall. Her gaze fell on a man in the main gallery, not far from the schoolkids. He’d already circled the room once, and he wasn’t really looking at the art for very long. She frowned. He wore jeans, a jacket, and motorcycle boots.

  Art lovers came from all walks of life, but she wasn’t getting the right vibe from him.

  She moved closer, pretending to survey a display case of ceramics. The man was close, and leaned a hand against one of the pillars.

  The blood in her veins turned to ice. She saw freckles on his hand, in a spiral pattern.

  He was one of the thieves! The man who’d hit her.

  She took a step back. She needed to get upstairs to Rhys, Vander, and Easton.

  At her movement, the man’s head whipped up.

  Familiar cold blue eyes she’d seen in her nightmares hit hers.

  Shit.

  She spun. “Security!”

  The man lunged. He grabbed the back of her shirt and yanked. She spun and kicked at him. Kids started screaming.

  The man spun her and wrapped an arm around her waist, with her back pressed to his front. She jerked and twisted.

  Then she saw him lift a gun and press it to her head.

  She went still. The kids’ screaming intensified. Haven’s mouth was dry as dust, and she realized that panic had a really bad taste.

  “Come with me, or I’ll shoot the kids,” he said, voice low.

  Haven gulped in air, panic bubbling up in her throat. She couldn’t stop a whimper escaping.

  “Let her go,” a deep voice said.

  She turned her head. Thank God. Vander stood there with a gun drawn, held easily in his hands. Easton was one step behind him, a gun also in his hands. There was no sign of Rhys.

  “I’m leaving with her,” the man growled. “No one needs to get hurt.”

  Vander’s face was a blank, scary mask. “Let. Her. Go.”

  “Just back off,” the thief snapped, pulling her back a step.

  “You know who I am?” Vander asked.

  Okay, Haven didn’t think Vander could get scarier, but he looked like he was going to cut this man open, slowly, and surely, and enjoy every minute of it.

  “Don’t give a shit,” the man said.

  “Not from around here, then,” Easton murmured.

  “Name’s Norcross,” Vander said. “Now, let her go. You aren’t leaving here.”

  “I will hurt her.” The man gave her another yank and the gun dug into her temple.

  Then she heard the squeak of shoes on the marble and turned her head an inch. Two kids stepped through a doorway right beside them. As soon as they saw the man with the gun, they froze, shaking in terror.

  His arm shifted, the gun moving away from Haven and toward the kids.

  Screw this. Haven was so sick of being beat up and pushed around. And she wasn’t letting this asshole hurt innocent children.

  She reached back, grabbed a handful of his junk and squeezed hard.

  The man made a strangled sound, his arm loosened. Haven yanked away, and the gun went off, right by her head.

  Damn, that was loud. Heart pounding, ears ringing, she turned and kneed him between the legs. He cried out.

  Suddenly, Rhys came out of nowhere and tackled the man.

  Haven managed to stay on her feet, but Rhys and the man hit the polished floor, sliding a few feet.

  Then Vander and Easton were there. Easton pulled Haven away.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Her ears were still ringing, but she nodded. Pressure built in her chest. Oh, no, she didn’t want to have a major freak-out right now.

  She needed a distraction, needed to do something. If she didn’t, she was going to splinter apart.

  She turned and saw the kids still standing there, terrified.

  “It’s okay.” She went to them, holding out her arms. “Come on, we’ll find your teacher. It’s over now.”

  “We had to go to the bathroom,” the boy said.

  “The man had a gun,” the little girl whispered.

  “I know.” Haven had felt that, up close and personal.

  “You’re talking loudly,” the boy said.

  Haven touched her ear and tried to speak a little quieter. “Come on.” She grabbed the girl’s hand.

  She quickly led the kids over to a panicked teacher, who was herding the children out of the main hall with the help of several of Haven’s museum staff.

  “Get them out of here, Ron,” Haven ordered. “Ensure they get free tickets to come again.”

  The man nodded.

  Once they were gone, Haven started shaking. She glanced back, and saw that Vander had her attacker cuffed, and was yanking him to his feet. He glared at her.

  Oh, shit. She twisted her shaking hands together.

  Rhys stepped in front of her—his handsome face set like stone.

  She stared at him. “I… Um… Can’t stop shaking.”

  Then he yanked her to him. Her face pressed against his chest and she breathed him in. She felt the warmth of him through his shirt.

  God, he was so warm, and she suddenly realized that she was so cold. Frigid. She wrapped her arms around him, sliding her hands under his jacket. Then she held on.

  The best thing was, his strong arms wrapped around her and he held her back.

  * * *

  Rhys led a still shaken Haven into her office. He was pissed as hell that she’d been in danger— again.

  She’d held it together during the attack, but now she was dealing with the aftermath.

  Haven’s office was like her—neat, tidy, with touches of class. She had a wooden desk with a shiny surface, and nothing out of place. A pretty painting hung on the wall, and an interesting twist of a sculpture rested on a cabinet nearby.

  “I’ll be fine.” She swiveled on her heels, tucking some hair back behind her ear. Her face was impossibly pale which made her bruises stand out even more. “You don’t have to stay. I know…you don’t want to be near me.”

  She sank back against the desk, still shaking.

  Rhys moved closer. “Just breathe, Haven.”

  She nodded, and dragged in a quick breath. He got closer and she stilled. Her big eyes locked on his face.

  “Rhys—?”

  “What the hell were you thinking?” he snapped.

  She jerked. “What?”

  “He had a gun to your head and you grabbed his balls? He could have killed you!”

  Something sparked in her eyes. “There were kids right there. He threatened to shoot them.”

  “Vander, Easton, and I had it under control.”

  “I couldn’t risk the kids, Rhys.” Her lips trembled, and she pressed her hands to her cheeks. “Why won’t the shaking stop?”

  He was still pissed, but he pulled her close again. Fuck, he liked the feel of her. She fit against him perfectly.

  Her hands clutched his shirt, twisting. “Thanks for tackling him.”

  “Be quiet.”

  She was for a beat. He drew in the scent of her shampoo. Coconuts. Made him think of a tropical island, and Haven in a bikini.

  He’d just watched her risk her life for two kids. He tightened his hold.

  “Rhys? I…I wanted to
say sorry for what I said yesterday. I have no right to judge you and twist things about you to keep myself safe.”

  His heart thudded. He pulled back to look at her face. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, instead staring at the buttons on his shirt.

  “I, um, well, you know I had a bad ex. That still colors a lot of stuff. I don’t—”

  “Shh.” He tipped her chin up. “I know about Becker.”

  She grimaced.

  “He sounds like an asshole.”

  “He is. Grade-A.”

  “He played you.”

  “He cheated on me. It’s not nice to catch your boyfriend getting a blow job in his office.”

  “Shit.” The guy was clearly an idiot to have Haven and cheat.

  “Anyway, that spilled over, I took it out on you. So, I’m sorry.” She fiddled with a strand of her hair.

  “Okay,” he said.

  She managed a tremulous smile. “Great. I’m glad we cleared the air.”

  He circled her narrow waist with his hands and lifted her onto the desk. She gasped, and her mouth dropped open.

  He pushed closer, and traced his fingers along her cheekbones, the shell of her ear.

  “Rhys,” she breathed.

  He ran his fingers over her lips. Damn, so soft, and gave him so many ideas.

  Then her tongue darted out and brushed his fingers. He felt it all the way to his cock and groaned. “I’ve got to kiss you.”

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  He took her mouth—hot and hard. The taste of her exploded in his mouth.

  She wrapped her arms around him, sexy moans coming from her throat. She tried to get her legs around his hips, but her skirt was too tight. She made a frustrated sound.

  Rhys reached down, gripped the hem, and jerked it up.

  “You like me kissing you on your desk?” he growled.

  “Yes.” With more freedom, her legs clamped onto his hips and she undulated against him.

  “Got a naughty side, Haven?” He leaned over her and ground his cock against her. She cried out.

  She was a hot little thing. All class on the outside, with sexy hidden underneath.

  “Um, just with you,” she said.

  That confession made his cock throb. He was damn glad to see the fear and shock bleed from her face. Now her features were flushed, her eyes bright with desire.

  He cupped her breast and she bit her lip.

  “We can’t do this here,” she panted.

  “Probably shouldn’t.”

  “Easton and Vander will probably be up here soon.”

  “Yeah.” God, he could smell her arousal. He slid a hand between her thighs.

  She bucked. “Oh.”

  All she had on was a tiny thong, and she was soaked. “This wet for me, baby?”

  She made an incoherent sound.

  Screw it. Rhys needed a taste of her. He dropped to his knees.

  Her eyes widened. “Rhys?”

  He nudged her thighs apart, shoved the scrap of cloth aside, and then his mouth was on her. Haven moaned and her thighs clamped on his head.

  He slid his hands under her skirt and cupped her ass. He licked her. She tasted like heaven. He explored her pretty pink folds, then sucked on her clit.

  Soon, she was riding his face, her hands tugging in his hair. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

  He licked her again. “I’m not going to stop, baby. I want you to come.”

  Her husky cries were driving him crazy. His cock felt like steel.

  “Rhys!”

  He felt her release coming. He gave another hard suck of her clit, and she shattered for him. Her body convulsed and she cried out his name.

  Oh, yeah, he planned to hear that again, soon. When he had his cock lodged deep inside her.

  He held her as she came down. Her hands released from his hair and she blinked at him.

  He pushed to his feet and kissed her. He knew she tasted herself on his lips, but she didn’t hesitate. She kissed him back with hungry need.

  Then she yanked her head away. “Rhys, we shouldn’t have done that.”

  In her eyes, he saw the walls he’d shattered slowly rebuilding. He cursed Leo Becker to hell and back.

  Straightening, he pulled her skirt back into place. He saw her trying to avoid looking at the bulge in his pants.

  “We won’t talk about this now.” But later, for sure. “We need to discuss what happened downstairs.”

  He watched her pull herself together. “The man was the leader of the thieves who took the Water Lilies.”

  Rhys’ pulse leaped. “You’re sure?”

  She nodded. “Same eyes. I’ll never forget them. And he has freckles on his hand that I recognized.”

  Another piece of the puzzle clicked into place.

  “Why did he attack me?” she asked.

  “Maybe he was worried you could ID him.” Rhys slid his hand into his pockets. “Haven, there’s a link to the theft and the mafia.”

  Her eyes went huge. “Mafia? Like wise guys and gangsters?”

  Rhys fought back a laugh. “Like dangerous organized criminals. These ones are of the Russian variety.”

  “Rhys, I don’t know anything about the mafia.”

  “I know, baby. Another member of the robbery crew has a Russian mafia tattoo on his neck. The guy who tried to snatch you off the street also has links to a local Russian mafia contact.”

  She rubbed her face. “This makes no sense.”

  But Rhys knew it would as he kept putting the pieces together. “When you get home, you make sure your door and windows are locked, and your alarm is on. Me, or someone else from Norcross, will take you to and from work from now on.”

  “Rhys—”

  “At work, you’ll have a security guard with you at all times.”

  She bit her lip. “Rhys, are you sure—?”

  He held up a hand. “It’s the way it needs to be for now.” He put his hands on either side of her hips on the desk, and leaned forward so their noses brushed. “I will keep you safe, Haven.”

  “Why?” she whispered.

  “You know why.”

  There was a flash of fear in her eyes. “I can’t be with you. I’ve sworn off men, remember?”

  They’d see. He didn’t bother arguing with her now, especially when he had the taste of her on his lips.

  “We’ll work it all out. Haven, don’t worry.” He pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “It’ll be okay.”

  Chapter Eight

  Vander dropped Haven off at home.

  He did a sweep of her apartment, his dark-blue eyes like storm clouds. “After I leave, lock the door and set your alarm.”

  Haven nodded.

  “Rhys or I will be here in the morning to pick you up.”

  She nodded again. “Thanks, Vander. I appreciate all the trouble.”

  He got close and used one long finger to tip her chin up. It was the first time he’d touched her. Vander Norcross wasn’t a toucher. He was way too intense and solitary.

  “You’re one of ours, Haven. You work for Easton, you’re Gia’s friend, and you’re Rhys’.”

  “I am not Rhys’.”

  Those dark eyes stared at her until she wanted to squirm.

  “We’ll keep you safe. Lock the door, alarm on.”

  “Okay.” She closed the door after him, but knew he was still standing there in the hall. His presence practically vibrated through the door.

  She flipped the locks and set the alarm. Okay, her life was officially off the rails. She’d been attacked again, and then Rhys Norcross went down on her on her desk and gave her the best damn orgasm of her life.

  Haven pressed a hand to her forehead. She needed a glass of wine and a hot shower.

  Shower first. Once she was under the hot water, she let it beat down on her head, and she relaxed a little. Until she started thinking of Rhys’ hands and mouth on her.

  Dammit. She flicked the water off and got out.

  She cha
nged into her pajamas. Who cared that it was only three o’clock in the afternoon? Her short-shorts and tank top were comfy. She tugged on a loose, gray knit cardigan. In her kitchen, she poured herself some wine, then forced down some cheese, crackers, and prosciutto.

  Haven flopped onto her couch. She was pretty sure Rhys was not giving up. She’d have to find some strength to fight the pull of him.

  Now, she needed to do something to find her lost Monet. Damn, she’d forgotten Harry’s call. She needed to tell Rhys about the rumors of the auction.

  Her phone rang. She snatched it up and recognized the number instantly. Her stomach clenched, a sour sensation washing through her.

  Leo’s number.

  Her phone was brand new, and her new number was for San Francisco. He shouldn’t have it. Unease skittered through her. Leo was not what she needed right now.

  Ignoring it, she slid the phone in the pocket of her cardigan. Leo was her past, and she wanted him to stay there. He didn’t exist for her.

  She slumped down onto her back. When she closed her eyes, she could feel Rhys’ hands pushing her thighs apart. Felt his mouth on her, his stubble scratching the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

  Groaning, she squeezed her thighs together. She might need to get her vibrator out later.

  A smell tickled her nose. Was that gas? Had she left the stove on?

  Heaving herself up and off the couch, she headed for the kitchen. She checked everything and ensured all the burners were off.

  Spinning, she frowned. The smell wasn’t stronger in the kitchen. She wandered back to the living room and sniffed. Maybe she’d imagined it?

  The next second, the world erupted in noise and flames.

  Something hit Haven’s head, and with a scream, she dropped to the floor. She rolled under her dining room table.

  Everything was shaking. Oh God. Oh God. Fire. She smelled burning, saw flames and smoke. Everything was in shambles around her.

  And there was a freaking hole in the floor of her living room.

  Panic made her throat tight and her movements jerky. She quickly crawled toward the door.

  She had to get out. She had to warn others in her building.

  Mrs. Girard. The old lady used a walker and wasn’t very steady on her feet.

  With a goal in mind, Haven’s head cleared. She got her front door open and wondered if her alarm was still operational.