He turned and handed her a mug of coffee, then dropped a kiss to her bare shoulder.
She shivered. How could one man be so devastating to her senses?
Quickly, she turned back to the frypan. She was in so much trouble. She was getting in deep, and a trickle of fear skated down her spine. She closed her eyes. Despite the fear, she wanted him. She’d wanted Rhys Norcross for a long time, and he was going above and beyond to keep her safe.
“You finished up with all the reasons why you can’t be with me?”
She turned to look at him. “Not yet.”
He smiled at her—slow and sexy.
“Go away.” She made a shooing motion with her hand. “And stop looking so sexy.”
Even his deep chuckle was sexy.
“Go play with your toy cars.”
He shot her a glare. “They’re models.”
She rolled her eyes.
By the time she’d plated up their food, Rhys was sitting at the island, staring at a sleek, black laptop.
Haven froze.
He was wearing glasses.
A hot, muscled badass in glasses. Her panties went damp in a second.
“Haven?” He was looking at her.
“You wear glasses?” she said.
“Not often. Sometimes I need them for computer work.” He cocked his head. “Why?”
“Nothing.” Resisting the urge to fidget, she pushed his plate to him, then sat on the stool beside him. She pressed her thighs together.
Rhys’ grin was cocky. “You like the glasses.”
She ignored him. He hardly needed his ego stroked.
“I need to fuck you again?” he asked.
She dug her fork into the eggs. “No. We’ll never find the painting if we’re always—” don’t look at the glasses “—in bed.”
“I still have a long list of places where I need to fuck you.”
She shivered.
“And Haven, I can wear my glasses.”
She shot him a look and then set to work on her eggs. He ate as well, tapping one handed on the laptop.
“I’ve called all the dealers I know,” he said.
“Me, too.” Apart from the vague rumor of the auction, they had nothing else to go on. “At least it seems they’re having trouble finding buyers to attend the auction. That’s why Leo needed me. To authenticate the painting.”
Rhys’ jaw tightened. “We’ll keep tugging on the strings. Sooner or later, someone will see or hear something.”
He pulled the laptop closer and Haven spotted the appraisal photo of the Water Lilies on the screen. She’d taken it herself.
She let out a gusty sigh. “It’s so beautiful. If they ruin it…”
Rhys made a sound.
“It is beautiful,” she insisted. “What I like is that you need to look deeper than just a first glance. The good stuff always requires more effort.”
She saw that he was looking at her with an intense look.
“Rhys, the Water Lilies. A stolen Monet you have to find.” She touched his jaw and turned his head back toward the computer. “Look at the brushstrokes. The shading to give depth. The colors.”
His brow furrowed. “Makes you wonder what’s under the water.”
“Exactly.” She beamed at him. “Yes. And look at the lilies. You can almost feel the breeze on your skin. It’s like a hidden message.”
“A puzzle,” he murmured.
“Yes, but there’s no right or wrong answer. It invokes different things in different people.”
He made a humming sound. “What’s it invoke in you?”
“Emotion. Feeling. A sense of belonging to something bigger than myself.”
His gaze was on her like a laser. “You don’t feel like you belong?”
She felt a pain under her heart. She’d forgotten that he was a very good investigator. She shifted on her stool. “Rhys…”
“I’ve always had my family, my siblings,” he said. “Then I joined the Army, and I had another place to belong.”
“You’re lucky,” she whispered.
“But I do understand that feeling of wanting more. Of wanting something that clicks and feels right. That makes all the noise in your head stop and things just go still.” He reached out and took her hand, turned it over.
She swallowed. “In the Army, I know you were on some super-secret team.”
“It’s classified.”
“Right. But I still know that the work you did must have been dangerous.” She hesitated. “Hard and difficult.”
He gave her a small nod and she saw nightmares echoed in his eyes.
“That’s what causes the noise?” she asked quietly.
Another nod. “Keeping busy dulls it for a while.”
She smiled. “Fast cars, fast boats, and fast women.”
His fingers clenched on hers. “Yeah. But now I’ve found a woman who slows me down and quiets the noise just by looking at me. And who makes me look at brushstrokes.”
The air lodged in her chest. What was he saying?
Suddenly, Rhys’ cell phone rang. He glanced at her for another beat, then pulled the phone closer and put it on speaker. “Ace.”
“Hi, Rhys. I know it’s Saturday, but I might have something on the painting.”
“What?” Haven blurted.
“Hi, Haven.” There was amusement in Ace’s voice. “The warehouse you guys broke into, I dug through the shell companies that own it. It was a fucking tangle, but I found a link to a guy called Aleksandr Volkov. A big art collector.”
Haven frowned and tapped her nails against the counter. “The name’s vaguely familiar.”
“He has a private collection,” Ace continued. “Although not all of it is legitimately sourced.”
Anger flared in Haven’s gut. She hated thieves. “How do you know all this?”
“Babe,” Ace said. “I’m the best hacker in the Northern Hemisphere.”
And so modest too.
“Name sounds Russian,” Rhys noted.
“You are a crack investigator, Norcross,” Ace said.
“Fuck you,” Rhys replied good-naturedly.
“Volkov was high up in the Soviet government. After the fall of the Soviet Union, he ended up with lots of land. He sold it, made millions, and eventually ended up in San Francisco.”
“Any overt links to the Zakharov family, or Boris Petrov here in San Francisco?”
“Nope, but I’m guessing I won’t have to dig far to find them.”
“Okay, keep digging. Thanks, Ace.”
Haven swiveled on her chair. “This Aleksandr Volkov might have the painting. Maybe he’ll run the auction.”
“Maybe,” Rhys said. “But we don’t jump the gun. We need to gather more intel and check him out.”
Frustration gnawed at her.
Suddenly, Rhys’ phone rang again.
“Hey, Rhys,” A jovial male voice said.
“Jerome,” Rhys replied.
“There’s a party tonight on a friend’s yacht. You said you wanted to come. Guy owns a slew of boats. There’ll be free booze flowing, and no doubt willing models everywhere. That’s usually Kellerman’s style.”
Haven stiffened, her eggs turning to dust in her mouth.
“Something came up, Jerome,” Rhys said.
He’d planned to go to a party. Haven swallowed. “Go if you want,” she whispered. “I’ll go and stay with Easton.”
Rhys’ face darkened.
“Or Vander,” she said.
“Rhys, you got someone there?” his friend asked.
“Yeah. Look, I can’t make the party, Jerome. Have fun.”
“Sure thing, Rhys. Another time.”
“Yeah.” Rhys ended the call.
“Go,” she insisted. “You’ve made plans.” To party with models.
“You aren’t staying with my brothers,” he ground out.
“They can keep me safe. I know Easton has excellent security at his house.” She’d been to a couple
of parties at Easton’s gorgeous house near Billionaire’s Row in Pacific Heights. “I don’t know where Vander lives.” She dredged up a smile, even though her breakfast was sludge in her belly. “But it’s probably a bunker built into a hill that can withstand a nuclear blast.”
Rhys shook his head. “Don’t try to be funny when I’m pissed.”
“Rhys.”
He dragged her off her stool and between his legs. She was surrounded by him, felt the heat pumping off him.
“I agreed to the party when I was pissed with you.”
She stared at him.
He fingered her hair, rubbing it between his fingers. “I don’t want to go to the party.”
But one day, he would.
“Did you hear me?” he asked.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“I don’t think you’re hearing me, or getting it.” He kissed her—slow and sweet. She clung to him, and soon, he was all she could think about.
He nipped her bottom lip. “Vander lives above the Norcross office.”
“Really?” She hadn’t known that.
“He’s got an awesome rooftop terrace, but he rarely lets anyone up there. Vander’s a little paranoid about his privacy and security.”
“Vander, paranoid? No way.”
Rhys grinned and tugged on her hair again.
The doorbell rang and he frowned. “Stay here.”
She shifted back onto the stool, watching as he strode to the door.
He checked the peephole and his face hardened. He opened the door. “What the hell are you doing here, and how did you get up here?”
A woman strode in. She was tall, blonde, and fabulous. She wore a short, snug skirt, and a knit top that draped her lean torso. Her blonde hair was an artfully styled mass of curls.
“I haven’t seen you in a long time, lover.” She ran a long nail down the center of Rhys’ bare chest.
Haven wanted to leap up and scratch her eyes out.
“You never returned my calls,” the blonde continued.
“Guy doesn’t return your calls, Heidi, it usually isn’t a sign that he’d appreciate a visit.”
Haven sat frozen. Oh, God.
The woman spotted Haven and stilled. All the sexiness drained from her face. “Oh, someone new. Not one of your regular friends with benefits.”
“Heidi, leave,” Rhys bit out.
“And here I thought I was special.” A flicker of real emotion crossed Heidi’s face and it made Haven feel bad. “You brought me home. People told me that you never do that.”
So, she’d felt special. Haven’s belly tightened to a hard ball.
“Yes, and it didn’t mean anything except that you had an annoying roommate I wanted to avoid,” Rhys said. “I’m seriously regretting it now.”
Haven saw that he looked stiff and unhappy.
“She’s here.” Heidi waved a hand in Haven’s direction.
“She lives here.”
Heidi’s eyes widened so much Haven expected them to roll out of her head and plop on to the ground.
“Right, well, take it from me,” Heidi said. “It won’t last. Enjoy him while you can.”
Rhys growled. “Heidi, go. Forget my number and address. And I’ll be having words with whoever the fuck you charmed to let you in.”
The woman tossed her head.
Something in Haven shriveled. She knew all of this. She knew everything Heidi was saying was the truth. She turned to look at Rhys. He was blank faced, and that made her go still. He wasn’t mad, or making a joke.
He turned to look at her, his dark eyes empty. But Haven thought she could see a hint of… Panic? Pleading?
She remembered what he’d said earlier, about quieting the noise.
Dredging up her courage, she slipped off the stool. She strode over to him and when she got close, he quickly wrapped an arm around her pulling her back against his chest.
Heidi’s gaze sharpened on them.
“I get it,” Haven said. “You want him. You want more of him.”
The woman stayed silent.
“Well, you can’t have him, because he’s mine.”
Rhys’ arm convulsed on her.
Heidi sniffed. “I’m just doing you a favor. He’ll get rid of you. It won’t last.”
Rhys spun Haven around and pulled her up on her toes. “I don’t want to let you go. I want you right here. I’ve wanted you right here since I first looked into your eyes.”
“Rhys,” Haven breathed.
“Get out,” Rhys said, not even looking at the blonde.
“Oh, I’m gone.” Heidi spun, and stalked out like she was on the catwalk. She slammed the door closed behind her.
Haven blinked. “Do you think she practices how to walk like that?”
Rhys lowered his head, running his nose along Haven’s. “I know we didn’t finish breakfast, but I need to fuck you again.”
She felt a little spasm between her legs. “Okay.”
“Let’s check the shower off the list next.”
Another little spasm. “Okay.”
Chapter Fourteen
Rhys sat at his laptop, researching the art collector Aleksandr Volkov.
He couldn’t find much information about the man, and Rhys didn’t like it. Everyone left a trail, and if you didn’t, you were hiding something on purpose. He tapped his pen against his notepad.
The guy had a big house in Sea Cliff, and a winery in Napa. If he was holding the painting for the Zakharov family, it was likely at his house.
He heard Haven muttering and glanced over. She was sitting cross-legged on his couch. She’d changed into yoga pants and a pink top. All of it hugged her body.
His cock twitched. Shit, the damn thing was trying to kill him. He liked sex a lot. It was fun and felt good. But what he and Haven had been doing was something else. It was intense, mind-blowing, well beyond just fun.
He watched her shift, her legs tucked up beneath her. She was using his tablet, and earlier had called her dealer friend, Harry. The man hadn’t heard anything else. He did know about Volkov, though. Apparently, Harry preferred not to do business with the man. Harry had confirmed that Volkov was a serious collector.
Knots began to form in Rhys’ gut. He really didn’t want Haven near the man.
She huffed out a breath. Her hair was still piled up on top of her head, but several strands had escaped, framing her face.
So damned beautiful. Rhys wanted to tumble her onto the couch and—
The doorbell rang.
Her head shot up, and he sensed her anxiety from across the room.
“I’ve got it.” He rose. Through the peephole, he saw his sister.
“Morning.” Gia breezed in on a cloud of her favorite perfume.
“It’s just ticked over afternoon,” Haven said, and Gia shrugged nonchalantly.
The women hugged.
“You’re okay?” Gia asked.
Haven nodded. “Yes.”
Gia’s gaze moved between Haven and Rhys, then back to Haven. “The stubble-burn and the massive hickey on your neck tells me that you’re really okay.”
Haven threw a cushion at Gia.
Grinning, Rhys sat back on the stool at the island.
“Shut up, G, or I’ll give you play-by-play detail of how good your brother is with his hands, his tongue, and his—”
Gia made gagging noises, then her face turned serious. “You’re really okay?”
“Yes. I don’t think Leo would really hurt me—”
Rhys growled. He didn’t have the same confidence in Becker. “You’re not getting near that fucker again. You see him, you run away.”
“So,” Gia said. “I know you’ll have to wait a bit for your insurance payout, but you need more than one party dress and some activewear. I’m here to take you shopping. We’re hitting the mall and replenishing your wardrobe.”
Rhys frowned. “Gia—”
“That means you’re on bodyguard duty, dear brother. And comin
g shopping.”
He groaned. He’d seen his sister shop.
But then he saw the way Haven’s face lit up. She did need things, and he figured this was a good distraction from everything going on.
Damn. Looked like he was going shopping.
An hour later, Rhys was trailing Gia and Haven through a department store. He was already carting several bags for them.
His phone rang, and he juggled purchases to pull it out of the pocket of his jeans. “Hi, Vander.”
“Hey. Where are you?”
“Mall, with Haven and Gia.”
His brother snorted.
“Laugh it up.” Rhys saw Haven hold up a shirt, then laugh at something Gia had said. “It’s not too bad. Haven needs more shit.”
“Still, I’ve seen Gia around clothes and shoes, so I’m glad it’s not me. Look, I’m still running down a lead, but I spoke to a few people, and there have been more rumors about an auction. Apparently, there are out-of-town buyers coming in.”
“Shit. We need to find the painting.”
“My gut says this Volkov’s the key.”
And it paid to trust Vander’s gut. “Yeah, the dealer friend of Haven’s confirmed he’s a big collector. Kind of guy who could pull off an auction of a stolen painting.”
“We’ll keep an eye on him. Well, have fun looking at shoes.”
Rhys laughed. “Lingerie’s up next, bro.”
“Lucky bastard.”
“You need a woman, Vander.”
Vander made a sharp noise. “I haven’t found one I wanted to keep.” He paused. “Is this the one for you?”
Rhys’ throat tightened and he swallowed. “She’s special.”
“She is. Sweet, smart, deserves some good. Treat her right, brother.”
“Yeah. Bye.” He glanced over at the women. “You guys done?”
Gia sniffed. “No.”
Haven met his gaze and smiled. He smiled back. Yeah, he’d kill to protect her. Die to keep her safe.
“Ugh, you guys making goofy eyes at each other.” Gia rolled her eyes.
Haven’s phone rang, and she pulled it out of her tote. “It’s Harry.”
“Put it on speaker,” Rhys said.
They moved to a quieter spot and huddled over the phone.
“Hey, Harry.”
“Hi, doll face. Listen, I’ve got some news for you and your badass.”
“He’s here with me. And Gia. You’re on speaker.”
The Investigator: Norcross Series Page 13
