The Investigator: Norcross Series

by Hackett, Anna

  She was needy and selfish, and Gia refused to give up on her.

  “We need to monitor that,” Rhys said. “Gia likes to pretend she’s tough, but she’s got a marshmallow heart under it all.”

  “Yeah, I’ll do it since you’re busy with domestic bliss.”

  Rhys grinned. “Yep.”

  Haven was clear of Becker’s mess, and safe. The Water Lilies was back in Easton’s museum. Volkov was in jail. And Haven was in his bed every night. Best of all, she loved him.

  His chest tightened. She loved him, now he just needed to keep convincing her that they were good together. He wanted her to stay, and when the time was right, he wanted to marry her.

  “You think Ma would want to help me pick out a ring?” Rhys asked.

  Vander raised a brow. “You’re going to put your ring on Haven?”

  “Yes.” Soon. Because then not long after that, he wanted kids. He wanted to see Haven swollen with his baby.

  Vander shook his head. “You take Ma with you, you’ll get no say in what ring you pick.”

  True, Clara Norcross was opinionated with a capital O.

  “I think I’ll head over to the Hutton and take Haven out for lunch.”

  “You mean take her for a lunchtime quickie.”

  Rhys smiled. “You should get a woman, Vander.”

  His brother shook his head and left quickly. Coward.

  Rhys opened his laptop. He’d deal with a couple of emails, then head out to find his woman.

  Saxon appeared, a major scowl on his face.

  “What’s bugging you?” Rhys said.

  “Vander said Willow is messing with Gia again. I hate that woman.”

  Sax seemed pretty worked up. “Well, we’ll keep her from dragging Gia in too far.”

  “She needs to cut that bitch off.”

  “Gia hasn’t in all these years, so I’m not sure she can.”

  A muscle ticked in Saxon’s jaw, then he stomped off.

  Rhys opened his browser and found a tab open. He frowned. It was a real estate website, with searches for rental listings.

  What the fuck?

  He flicked through it. Haven had been looking at apartments? She’d favorited several of them. She was planning to move out? Hell, no.

  He grabbed his keys and phone, and headed out. He stewed all the way to the Hutton, and he parked out front. He waved to the security guards as he strode inside.

  He found Haven in a side gallery, talking with two assistants. They were hanging some paintings. Haven was smiling as she directed them. He watched her give a few suggestions, smile, then stop to fix a small statue resting on a pedestal.

  Fuck, he could watch her work all day. She just lit up.

  Finally, she noticed him.

  “Rhys.” She smiled and he realized that she looked at him the same way.

  He closed the space between them, and saw her eyes widen.

  “You are not moving out.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “I found your apartment searches. You are not moving out.”

  Her face eased into smooth, unreadable lines. “I’m safe, now. There’s no danger anymore. I can’t stay with you forever.”

  He noted her assistants watching them with rapt attention, but he didn’t care. “Why not?” he demanded.

  Her mouth tightened. “Because.”

  “Because why?”

  “Because you haven’t asked me to live with you!” The words burst out of her. “Because you haven’t told me that you love me.”

  Rhys blinked slowly. “I thought I’ve been showing you how much I needed you, how much I want you to stay?”

  Her chest was rising and falling fast. “I need the words, Rhys. Since my mom died, no one’s said them to me.” Her nose wrinkled. “Except Leo, and he doesn’t count.”

  “Don’t say that fuckwit’s name.” Rhys wrapped an arm around her, pulling her up on her toes. She let out a little squeak.

  “Haven Amelia McKinney, I’m totally, completely, one-hundred-percent in love with you.”

  Her face softened, a glimmer of tears in her eyes. “You are?”

  “Yes.” He brushed her lips with his. “You’re not moving out, because I won’t let you.”

  “You’re a bit bossy.”

  “And you like it.” He kissed her properly—deep, and filled with all the love he felt.

  Behind them, her assistants started clapping. Haven laughed, hugging him close. “I love you, Rhys. Thanks for being there for me when I needed you.”

  “That’s my job now. I’ll always be there for you, angel.”

  * * *

  Glasses clinked, the conversation was lively, and the party was amazing. Haven hoped it inspired everyone to donate. A lot.

  She was so excited for the art charity to get enough money to help all the schools in the San Francisco area.

  She wound her way through the gala, calling out greetings to guests, checking the servers were all okay, scanning the art on the walls and pedestals dotted around the room. Everything looked fabulous.

  She glanced up. The ceiling was filled with floating red lanterns, and the walls dripped with fairy lights. It looked magical.

  Although, she was well aware the party was bursting at the seams because of the notoriety of the theft of the Water Lilies. She was certain everyone was hoping something shocking would happen.

  She’d worn black tonight. The dress was cut stylishly low in front, then hugged her body to her knees before it flared out in a mermaid-style bottom. The entire dress shimmered with strands of silver.

  She nodded at some guests, and spotted Easton hobnobbing and looking dashing in his tuxedo.

  Close by, Vander stood with their parents. Mr. and Mrs. Norcross looked like they were enjoying themselves. Mrs. Norcross looked like an older version of Gia and looked fabulous in her gray dress. While all the siblings looked more like their mother, Mr. Norcross had passed his tall, fit body onto his sons. He’d also given Vander and Easton their blue eyes.

  Mrs. Norcross had not hidden any of her elation when she’d found out that Haven and Rhys were together. In fact, she’d dropped by the museum the day before and left Haven a stack of wedding magazines.

  Haven looked around and wondered where her hot Norcross brother was.

  As Haven glanced around, she spotted Gia talking with a group of men, waving one arm, her other hand clutching a champagne flute.

  Tonight, Gia wore a midnight blue, one-shouldered dress. It floated to the floor and she looked like a tiny Greek goddess. A large split flashed a lot of slim leg.

  G was no doubt charming the rich, old men into giving lots and lots of money to the cause.

  Smiling, Haven walked along the wall, checking the artwork. The Water Lilies hung in a place of pride on the wall. She smiled at it. After bribing Rhys with several sexual favors, he’d admitted that Ace had hacked the account of the Zakharov family, and taken back as much of the money as he could. It’d all been given to the police, and the rumor was that it was going to be donated.

  An arm snaked around her and tugged her into a shadowed alcove.

  She didn’t worry or panic about another potential kidnapping, instead, she snuggled into her captor’s hard body.

  “You look edible,” Rhys murmured in her ear.

  Despite them having quick, delicious sex on the vanity in the bathroom before they’d come to the party, she’d spent a lot of time ogling him tonight. He looked hot in his tuxedo with his messy shock of dark hair. He was gorgeous, and all hers.

  She tilted her head back and kissed him.

  “How long until we can leave?” His hands skimmed down her body.

  “A few hours, unfortunately.”

  He let out a frustrated growl. “I want to get you home and strip this sexy dress off you.” He nipped her earlobe.

  Haven moaned. Home. Their home. Rhys’ place was now officially their place.

  “I love you,” she murmured.

  “Lov
e you too, angel. I’m very, very happy I managed to scale those walls of yours.”

  She smiled. He hadn’t scaled them, he’d obliterated them.

  She’d called her dad and told him about Rhys. He’d been happy for her in his distant way. Her mom would have loved Rhys.

  “We could probably sneak off to my office.” She looked up at him. “No one would miss us for a little while.”

  His grin was sharp and predatory.

  Suddenly, there was a commotion in the party. Frowning, Haven turned.

  The crowd was looking out onto the balcony. A few of the guests were out there, enjoying the evening air. Haven tried to peer over the heads of the crowd.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  Rhys frowned and tugged her forward. “Not sure.”

  People gasped and the crowd parted.

  Haven’s eyes popped open. What the hell?

  A man in a tuxedo was striding along the balcony. Through the glass, she saw him draw a handgun. The air locked in Haven’s chest and she felt Rhys stiffen.

  A few cries of alarm went up.

  The man was normal-looking. He had an ordinary face—not handsome, not unattractive, just bland. He had an ordinary build—not tall, not short.

  Haven swung her head.

  He was aiming the weapon at Gia.

  Haven’s chest locked. Her best friend strode along the balcony from the other direction, her blue dress flaring out behind her. She reached into the slit of her dress, and pulled out her own gun.

  Oh, my God. Rhys’ hand convulsed on Haven’s.

  The man fired and Gia didn’t even flinch as the shot went wild. Then, cool as a cucumber, Gia fired. The man dodged.

  Then Gia spun, and ran, her dress trailing behind her like a flag.

  The man leaped up, fired, then gave chase. He and Gia disappeared out of view.

  Haven saw Saxon move. He sprinted through the crowd, burst through the doors onto the balcony, then raced after them.

  Vander brushed past them, Easton one step behind him.

  “Rhys, stay here. Control the crowd, and look after Haven, and Mom and Dad.”

  “Got it,” Rhys replied.

  “Be safe,” Haven said.

  She watched Vander and Easton head out the door and rush after their sister. Rhys slid an arm around her.

  “Gia will be fine,” he said.

  Haven nodded. God, they’d just gotten everything on an even keel and now this. She sucked in a deep breath, fighting back a skitter of fear. She lifted a hand, signaling to the uniformed security guards to close the balcony doors.

  “Ms. McKinney.” Her head guard reached her. The woman wore a neat pantsuit in dark gray, her salt-and-pepper hair in a neat bob. “We want everyone to stay inside until we know what we’re dealing with.”

  “Of course, Rachel.”

  The woman nodded. “We’ll get everything under control, so don’t worry.” Rachel glanced at Rhys. “And your brothers can handle themselves.”

  Rhys lifted his chin and the woman strode off, barking orders at her guards.

  Right now, Haven was more concerned about Gia. “Well, one thing is for sure, our life is not boring.”

  He dropped a kiss to the top of her head.

  Hiding her worry, Haven cleared her voice to address the guests. “Well, never a dull moment at the Hutton.”

  Titters of laughter broke out.

  “Please, eat, drink, and continue to enjoy yourselves. Our excellent security team has everything in hand.” Please have it in hand, and please stay safe, Gia.

  Haven grabbed a drink for herself and gulped it.

  Rhys took the glass away. “Don’t worry.”

  “I’m going to worry, Rhys. A man shot at Gia and she shot back.”

  He lowered his head and nipped Haven’s lips. “Guess I’ll have to find a way to distract you.”

  She melted into him. She knew now that she could lean on him and he’d help hold her up. She didn’t have to shoulder everything alone. “I love you.”

  “Love you back.”

  Haven knew that she could depend on her hot investigator and his love, every day, for the rest of their lives.

  * * *

  I hope you enjoyed Haven and Rhys’ story!

  There are more Norcross stories on the way. Stay tuned for THE TROUBLESHOOTER, starring feisty Gia Norcross, coming in October 2020.

  If you’d like some more sexy, fast-paced contemporary romance, then check out my Team 52 series about a covert black ops team (Vander Norcross even makes a cameo in one book!)

  Read on for a preview of the first Team 52 book, Mission: Her Protection.

  Don’t miss out! For updates about new releases, free books, and other fun stuff, sign up for my VIP mailing list and get your free box set containing three action-packed romances.

  Visit here to get started: www.annahackett.com

  Preview - Mission: Her Protection

  It was a beautiful day—ten below zero, and ice as far as the eye could see.

  Dr. Rowan Schafer tugged at the fur-lined hood of her arctic parka, and stared across the unforgiving landscape of Ellesmere Island, the northernmost island in Canada. The Arctic Circle lay about fifteen hundred miles to the south, and large portions of the island were covered with glaciers and ice.

  Rowan breathed in the fresh, frigid air. There was nowhere else she wanted to be.

  Hefting her small pickaxe, she stepped closer to the wall of glacial ice in front of her. The retreating Gilman Glacier was proving a fascinating location. Her multi-disciplinary team of hydrologists, glaciologists, geophysicists, botanists, and climate scientists were more than happy to brave the cold for the chance to carry out their varied research projects. She began to chip away at the ice once more, searching for any interesting samples.

  “Rowan.”

  She spun and saw one of the members of her team headed her way. Dr. Isabel Silva’s parka was red like the rest of the team’s, but she wore a woolen hat in a shocking shade of pink over her black hair. Originally from Brazil, Rowan knew the paleobotanist disliked the cold.

  “What’s the latest, Isabel?” Rowan asked.

  “The sled on the snowmobile is almost full of samples.” The woman waved her hand in the air, like she always did when she was talking. “You should have seen the moss and lichen samples I pulled. There were loads of them in area 3-41. I can’t wait to get started on the tests.” She shivered. “And be out of this blasted cold.”

  Rowan suppressed a smile. Scientists. She had her own degrees in hydrology and biology, with a minor in paleontology that had shocked her very academic parents. But on this expedition, she was here as leader to keep her team of fourteen fed, clothed, and alive.

  “Okay, well, you and Dr. Fournier can run the samples back to base, and then come back to collect me and Dr. Jensen.”

  Isabel broke into a smile. “You know Lars has a crush on you.”

  Dr. Lars Jensen was a brilliant, young geophysicist. And yes, Rowan hadn’t missed his not-so-subtle attempts to ask her out.

  “I’m not here looking for dates.”

  “But he’s kind of cute.” Isabel grinned and winked. “In a nerdy kind of way.”

  Rowan’s mouth firmed. Lars was also several years younger than her and, while sweet, didn’t interest her in that way. Besides, she’d had enough of people trying to set her up. Her mother was always trying to push various appropriate men on Rowan—men with the right credentials, the right degrees, and the right tenured positions. Neither of her parents cared about love or passion; they just cared about how many dissertations and doctorates people collected. Their daughter included.

  She dragged in a breath. That was why she’d applied for this expedition—for a chance to get away, a chance for some adventure. “Finish with the samples, Isabel, then—”

  Shouts from farther down the glacier had both women spinning. The two other scientists, their red coats bright against the white ice, were waving their ar
ms.

  “Wonder what they’ve found?” Rowan started down the ice.

  Isabel followed. “Probably the remains of a mammoth or a mastodon. The weirdest things turn these guys on.”

  Careful not to move too fast on the slippery surface, Rowan and Isabel reached the men.

  “Dr. Schafer, you have to see this.” Lars’ blue eyes were bright, his nose red from the cold.

  She crouched beside Dr. Marc Fournier. “What have you got?”

  The older hydrologist scratched carefully at the ice with his pickaxe. “I have no idea.” His voice lilted with his French accent.

  Rowan studied the discovery. Suspended in the ice, the circular object was about the size of her palm. It was dull-gray in color, and just the edge of it was protruding through the ice, thanks to the warming temperatures that were causing the glacier to retreat.

  She touched the end of it with her gloved hand. It was firm, but smooth. “It’s not wood, or plant life.”

  “Maybe stone?” Marc tapped it gently with the axe and it made a metallic echo.

  Rowan blinked. “It can’t be metal.”

  “The ice here is about five thousand years old,” Lars breathed.

  Rowan stood. “Let’s get it out.”

  With her arms crossed, she watched the scientists carefully work the ice away from the object. She knew that several thousand years ago, the fjords of the Hazen Plateau were populated by the mysterious and not-well understood Pre-Dorset and Dorset cultures. They’d made their homes in the Arctic, hunted and used simple tools. The Dorset disappeared when the Thule—ancestors to the Inuit—arrived, much later. Even the Viking Norse had once had communities on Ellesmere and neighboring Greenland.

  Most of those former settlements had been near the coast. Scanning the ice around them, she thought it unlikely that there would have been settlements up here. And certainly not settlements that worked metal. The early people who’d made their home on Ellesmere hunted sea mammals like seals or land mammals like caribou.