The Investigator: Norcross Series

by Hackett, Anna

  “Come on,” she said. “No time to waste.”

  She heard Rhys mutter under his breath. She was pretty sure it was something about her always getting her own way.

  * * *

  Rhys moved up the stairs in front of Haven. He paused at the top. There was no sound in the kitchen. They’d taken out a lot of Volkov’s guards, but the man struck Rhys as the kind of guy who’d have his own private army.

  He waved to Haven to follow him across the huge kitchen.

  Suddenly, a large body barreled out of a doorway. The guard slammed into Rhys.

  Haven screamed. “Rhys!”

  His Glock went flying and hit the tile floor. The guard jerked an elbow up, and Rhys blocked it. They crashed into each other and slammed to the floor.

  Rhys heaved, and they rolled across the kitchen floor, grunting as each of them tried to get the upper hand.

  They rolled again, hitting a cupboard. Plates rained down, smashing on the floor.

  Rhys landed a punch to the man’s gut and the guard made a pained sound. Gripping the man’s legs with his, Rhys twisted, sliding an arm around the guard’s neck in a choke hold.

  The man made an enraged noise. He bucked hard, almost dislodging Rhys.

  With a cry, Haven appeared. She was holding a broom. She whacked the handle downward, hitting the guard’s side. He grunted and jerked.

  Rhys struggled to subdue the man and when Haven hit again, this time the broom whacked Rhys’ back.

  “Shit, Haven.”

  “God, sorry. I’m trying to help.”

  He tightened his hold on the guard until the man slumped into unconsciousness. Once he was out, Rhys jerked his head. “Get some zip ties out of my pocket.”

  She crouched, grabbed them, and set about tying the guard’s hands. Tight.

  “Babe.” Rhys rose. “You’ll cut off his blood flow.”

  “My tolerance for assholes is low, Rhys. Very low.”

  He cupped her cheek. “Let’s find the Water Lilies.”

  He snatched his Glock up, and they headed into the living room. There was no sign of anyone, nor a multi-million-dollar painting.

  “Rhys, look,” Haven hissed.

  He followed her gaze. One of the French doors leading outside was open.

  Quietly, they moved that way. Once they got closer, he saw a slim man in a suit holding the Water Lilies, making his way past the pool.

  “Oh no, he doesn’t,” Haven muttered.

  They rushed outside.

  “Stop!” she yelled.

  The man jerked, and for a second, Rhys thought he was going to fall in the pool.

  The man faced them, and swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

  Rhys recognized the man. Mark Allcroft. Rhys had seen him in the news. He owned some social media company teenagers loved. He was young, with a slight build, and a face covered in freckles.

  “Don’t move,” Rhys warned.

  Allcroft swallowed again, nervously eyeing Rhys’ gun. “Please—”

  “Shut up,” Haven snapped. “That painting is stolen.”

  “It is?” The man lied unconvincingly.

  “Oh, please. You knew.” She strode up to him.

  Rhys stayed still, his gun aimed on the man.

  Haven snatched the painting out of Allcroft’s hands. “Thank God. I’m returning this to where it belongs.”

  “But…but…I paid for it.”

  “Oh, you paid money for a stolen painting? Boo-hoo.”

  Rhys moved closer. “You can explain it to the police.”

  “The police?” Allcroft’s voice went high and squeaky, his face stark white.

  Haven sniffed, then before Rhys realized what she had planned, she shoved the businessman.

  With a cry and windmilling arms, Allcroft fell into the pool with a big splash.

  Rhys shook his head. Haven tossed her ponytail back. “That felt good.”

  He tucked his gun into his holster, then took the painting and set it on a deck chair.

  Her eyebrows rose. “What are—?”

  He picked her up and kissed her. With a husky noise, she wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him back.

  It felt so right. Holding her, kissing her. He kept kissing her, drinking her in as she writhed against him. She was safe, and that was all that mattered.

  Then Rhys heard a clearing throat. He lifted his head and saw Vander and the others standing on the terrace.

  “You’ll be happy to hear that we cleared the house.” Vander eyed the man flailing in the pool. “That our buyer?”

  “Yes.” Rhys set Haven down, but kept her close.

  “Cops are on the way,” Vander said.

  “How did he end up in the pool?” Rome asked.

  “Haven pushed him in,” Rhys replied.

  She lifted her chin. “I’m not sorry.”

  “Get him out,” Vander said.

  Saxon and Rome started around the pool.

  Haven leaned into Rhys. “Thanks for coming for me.”

  He tipped her face up. “You didn’t think I would?” Fuck, he’d thought he was finally getting through to her.

  “I knew you would, I just wasn’t sure you’d find me before Volkov flew me off to Mexico.” She grimaced.

  Rhys’ gut hardened. He wanted to hurt Volkov all over again. “I’m the best investigator in San Francisco, remember?”

  Saxon, walking past him with the sodden tech billionaire, snorted. “You’re not going to tell her about the tracker?”

  “Tracker?” Her eyes widened and she gripped the diamond resting against her chest. “You put a tracker on me?”

  “Haven—”

  She grinned. “Considering what happened, I’m totally okay with that.” She smacked a kiss to his lips.

  He slid a hand into her hair, and so many things moved through him. Damn, she turned him inside out.

  “Police are two minutes out,” Ace said in their earpieces.

  “It’s over,” Haven murmured. She looked at the painting, then scanned Volkov’s house. “The danger, it’s done.”

  “Yeah, baby.”

  She started shaking. “Oh, God. I held it together this long, why am I freaking out now?”

  “Adrenaline crash. It’s normal.”

  “You aren’t shaking.”

  “I’m trained to deal with it.” He pulled her close, his hand resting at the nape of her neck, massaging gently. “Just breathe, Haven.”

  “I’m tired of freaking out. I’m definitely tired of being kidnapped.”

  Rhys’ mouth moved into a flat line. “I’m tired of that, too.” He scooped her off her feet and into his arms. “But you don’t have to worry about that anymore.” He headed inside. He’d raid Volkov’s cellar and find her something to drink.

  She’d need to give a statement to the cops, but she could do it while he held her.

  “Wait,” she said, “the painting.”

  Fuck the painting. “We’ll get it later.”

  She looked like she was going to argue, but then she relaxed into him, and snuggled against his chest. “Okay.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Haven moaned, straddling Rhys, riding him hard. His fingers dug into her hips. Flesh slapped against flesh.

  She looked down to find his hot gaze on her face. His hand stroked her jaw, and he slid his finger in her mouth. She sucked on it hard.

  She was lost in him. The pleasure was so intense that she felt it everywhere. She sucked his finger deep, and he cursed, his hips bucking up beneath her.

  “So fucking beautiful, Haven. Mine.”

  His hands left her hip, sliding around to find her clit.

  She leaned over him, her hips moving faster. Her release was building, shimmering. She was right on the edge and she wanted to jump.

  She slammed down, his thick cock stretching her, his thumb on her clit. Then the edge was gone and she was freefalling.

  “Rhys.” Her hoarse scream echoed off the walls.


  “Yes, Haven. I’m here. Watching how gorgeous you are taking my cock, coming on my cock.”

  Everything inside her spasmed. With a growl, he surged up.

  In a blink, she was on her back with Rhys over her, moving inside her with fast, hard thrusts.

  God, he was beautiful. Magnificent.

  With a groan, he came, his muscles straining, his face twisting.

  They lay collapsed on the bed, skin cooling. She traced one of the tattoos on his arm. “I need to get moving. I’m due at the museum.”

  He grunted, kissed her, and rolled off.

  As she headed to the shower, she glanced back. A little thrill went through her.

  All those gorgeous, hard muscles stretched out on the bed. It had been four glorious days since they’d recovered the Water Lilies at Volkov’s estate in Napa.

  The first two days, they’d spent in bed. They’d had an insane amount of creative sex, eaten, slept, watched movies. They’d discovered that they both loved the sci-fi genre. She’d been sure he’d prefer action movies, but the inaccuracies drove him crazy. He’d been sure she’d love chick flicks, but the over-the-top, embarrassing situations in rom-coms made her wince.

  Now, they were both back at work. She was safe, and the Monet was hanging back on the wall in the Hutton where it belonged. Life was back to normal.

  She glanced at the sexy man on the bed. His body was relaxed, but for the last couple of days, he’d seemed…preoccupied. Even now, she saw the small furrow on his brow.

  A lump formed in her throat and she ducked into the bathroom. She flicked the shower on.

  Haven looked in the mirror. Her hair was a mess. It looked like she’d just had wild sex. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling. She had a hickey on her neck. Anytime it faded, Rhys bit her again.

  She shivered, feeling it between her legs. She’d told him that she loved him, but he hadn’t returned the words.

  Her smile faded.

  Maybe he wanted her gone? She was essentially living with him, and the dangerous circumstances that had forced the situation were gone. Maybe he was tired of her?

  She touched the mark on her neck. No. The distrusting, uncertain Haven was gone. She’d been through hell and survived. She was stronger.

  Rhys liked her. He felt something for her. And her feelings were her own. She’d offered her love to him, and she wouldn’t demand anything from him in return.

  She was safe. She had a hot man in her bed. She was back at the job she loved.

  Life was good.

  It was time she searched for a new apartment though. Her insurance payment would come through soon. She’d borrowed Rhys’ laptop earlier and pulled up a few websites, and looked at apartments in her price range.

  The thought of leaving Rhys’ place made her belly clench. She glanced at her toiletries lined up on the sink. She liked cooking with him, waking up beside him every day.

  But she had to finish regaining back control of her life, and she didn’t want to overstay her welcome.

  She slipped into the shower and then got ready for work. Finally, makeup done, hair up in a twist, and wearing a black skirt and crisp, white shirt, she walked into the kitchen.

  She found a shirtless Rhys drinking coffee against the island. Yum.

  “Breakfast?” His gaze lingered on her skirt.

  “I need to run. We’re almost ready to go live with the interactive exhibit, and I have things I need to double-check.”

  “Mmm.”

  He was clearly distracted by her skirt. The man had a thing for her skirts.

  “We also have the fundraiser party to finish planning. It’s this weekend. With all of the excitement and interest after the theft—” She pulled a face. It hadn’t been so exciting for her. “—Gia said we should capitalize on it. Get donors to open their pockets for our charity.” The charity was one she’d selected that provided art resources to schools.

  “That sounds like Gia.” Rhys dropped a kiss to Haven’s lips. “Have a good day, angel.”

  “Don’t get shot at.”

  He smiled.

  “Or get in a car chase.”

  He shook his head, amused.

  “Or rescue some beautiful damsel in distress who’ll fall for you, forcing me to scratch her eyes out.”

  His smile faded. “Only you, baby.”

  That was nice. She gave him another quick kiss, then waved as she headed out the door.

  She walked to the museum. She had to admit, she was still getting used to being safe on her own and knowing that she could walk anywhere she wanted. No thug was going to try and snatch her.

  When she reached work, she dumped her bag in her office. Then she got sucked into a whirlwind of tasks.

  She checked on the interactive exhibit. The touchscreens were all ready to go. It would be wonderful, and allow guests, especially kids, to interact and understand the art more. Instead of art being untouchable, something expensive up on the wall, it would be something they could savor and enjoy.

  “Haven.”

  She spun and saw Gia walking toward her. Her friend wore a dark-blue dress with a snug skirt, her hair in a French roll. But despite looking her usual, put-together self, there were lines of strain around her mouth, and dark circles under her eyes.

  “Hey.” Haven hugged her. “You look tired.”

  Gia glanced away. “Busy. So busy.”

  “With work?”

  “Yes. Work’s always busy.”

  It wasn’t like Gia to be evasive. “G?”

  Her friend sighed. “You know Willow.”

  Haven kept her face impassive. Willow was Gia’s friend from high school. Apparently, they’d been best friends growing up, both dreaming of college, and opening a classy PR firm together.

  Only, Willow had been caught having sex with her professor, flunked out of college, and later gotten into drugs. She sporadically cleaned up and reconnected with Gia.

  The random contact always made Gia unhappy.

  “She has a thing,” Gia said.

  Haven squeezed her friend’s arm. “Sorry. Especially when you’ve just finished dealing with my thing.”

  “Which wasn’t your fault.” Gia straightened and dragged in a breath. “I’ll do what I can to help Willow, but try to steer clear at the same time.”

  Haven nodded. A part of her admired her friend’s loyalty. “Hey, you want to come with me to check out apartments later?”

  Gia frowned. “Apartments?”

  “Yes. Mine blew up, remember?”

  “But you’re living with Rhys.”

  “Because I was in danger. Now I’m not.”

  Gia’s frown deepened. “Have you told Rhys?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Mmm. Okay, I have to run. I have some ads for the fundraiser for you to approve.”

  “Email them to me.”

  They kissed each other on the cheek.

  “You need a killer dress,” Gia said. “It’s only a few days away.”

  “Which reminds me that I need to talk with the caterer.” Haven’s mind whirled as she did a mental To-Do list. “And talk to my team about decorations. Go, get out of my hair.”

  With a wave, Gia left.

  Haven checked with her team working on a new sculpture exhibit. Then she checked on the location for the party—a large exhibit hall with a wall of windows and a long balcony outside. They’d be decorating with fairy lights and lanterns. It would look amazing.

  Her heels clicked as she moved back into the main hall and stopped in front of the Water Lilies.

  A sense of rightness moved through her. Things were up in the air with Rhys, but she was happy. She drank in the painting, and for a second, everything was right in her world.

  “Haven.”

  She stiffened and turned. Leo stood several feet away. He wore dark slacks and a dark shirt, his hands in his pockets.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  “Don’t call security,” he said. “I’m not stayin
g long.”

  She just looked at him. For a brief moment, she could see why he’d once attracted her. He was a handsome man.

  “I just wanted to say…” He blew out a breath. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

  She nodded, but she realized she didn’t care. Leo was her past.

  He eyed her face. “Fuck, you really are over me.”

  “Yes, Leo.”

  “Does he make you happy?”

  “Yes. I know I can trust him, that he will be loyal and always keep me safe.”

  Leo nodded. “I want you to be happy.” He turned, and started to walk away.

  “Leo?”

  He glanced back

  “Are you safe?” she asked.

  He nodded. “The tech buyer already paid the money before your man got the painting back. The money got Zakharov off my back.”

  Ugh. It felt wrong that criminals had still gotten a payday out of all of this.

  “That said, some mysterious hacker took most of the funds. All the Zakharov family got was a small fraction. Still, it was more than what I owed them, so I’m off the hook.”

  A mysterious hacker? She frowned. Rhys had mentioned that Ace was a good hacker.

  Leo was looking at her.

  “Find your happy, Leo. Preferably without the help of the Russian mafia.”

  He smiled. “Goodbye, Haven.”

  He left. And finally, she hoped she would never see him again.

  “Haven.” An assistant rushed in. “We need your help with some restoration decisions.”

  “Coming.”

  * * *

  Rhys ended his phone call and looked at his desk. He had two new cases waiting for him. He’d already put out some feelers to contacts for one.

  “Hey.” Vander appeared in the doorway.

  Rhys flicked a finger at his brother.

  “Spoken to Gia lately?” Vander asked.

  “No.”

  “I talked to her this morning. Willow is dragging her into some shit again.”

  Rhys grimaced. No one in the Norcross family, bar Gia, could stand the woman. Even as a teen, she’d been wild. She’d come onto Rhys and his brother so many times they’d lost count. Once, she’d been sleeping over with Gia, and he’d caught Willow trying to sneak into his bed naked.