Saving Mr. Norcross (Norcross Security)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

The weather was perfect.

Brynn Norcross stepped out the door and tipped her face up to the sunshine. The bright Italian sunshine. More precisely, the bright Sicilian sunshine.

Breathing deeply, she slowly circled the sparkling pool and headed for the carved stone railing. She leaned against the warm stone. Down below, the Ionian Sea sparkled like a blue jewel, with the town of Taormina a perfect, elegant backdrop.

Taormina was a historic town perched on a hilltop on the east coast of the island.

She’d been charmed by its restored medieval buildings, ruins of an ancient Greco-Roman theatre, and the winding streets littered with restaurants, shops, and cafes.

Everywhere she looked, there were spectacular views, not to mention Mount Etna in the distance.

Leaning on the railing, she enjoyed the warmth on her skin.

Even though it was the fall and the nights were cooler, the days were warm.

She was wearing a small black bikini that her husband would appreciate.

The gorgeous villa they’d rented oozed charm and history, all while being modern on the inside.

All the ingredients for a perfect vacation.

Brynn let out a long, calming breath. She needed this vacation.

They both did.

Her husband didn’t relax very easily. Her nose wrinkled. That was the understatement of the century. Vander was focused, intense, and dangerous. She’d never change anything about the man she loved.

But lately, he was wound tighter than usual.

He ran the most successful private security company in San Francisco, but that wasn’t what was worrying him. He thrived on the stress and risk of his work. He was doing what he’d been born to do.

No, what was worrying him was her.

She’d always thought nothing would scare Vander Norcross. She pressed a palm to her still-flat stomach. Apparently, getting pregnant was the one thing that struck fear into him.

She sighed. It wasn’t just the baby; it was her job, as well. Vander lived to protect. It was in his DNA. Having a homicide detective for a wife wasn’t easy for him. He’d managed it well enough after they’d first gotten together and she’d proven to him that she could take care of herself.

But her pregnancy, and the most recent incident, had shaken him. Her fingers moved across her belly to the scar on her side. It was newly healed and still pink.

Getting stabbed was not fun. Hell, it had shaken her.

Tangling with a career criminal high on meth was challenging on a good day, but add in a very large knife, and the situation had gone south quickly.

Another officer had been stabbed, and she’d leaped in to save the man’s life and gotten slashed for her trouble.

She’d been hurt and bleeding, and terrified for the new life growing inside her.

When she’d woken up in the hospital with fifteen stitches in her side, she’d had to watch her husband struggle with his rage and anger.

After he’d learned that she was okay, he’d kept it contained and bottled up, but she knew it was there.

He’d refused to talk about it and insisted he was fine.

Brynn ground her teeth together. He wasn’t fine.

Getting Vander to open up was never easy.

He’d come a long way from the man she’d first met when she was going undercover with a motorcycle club, but there were times when he held a lot in.

And every day since she’d been hurt, she’d felt a distance between them.

Then she’d had the idea for them to get away. When she’d suggested this vacation, he’d jumped at the chance. This from the man who rarely took a vacation.

It was what they needed. The added bonus was that this trip had a connection with his heritage. His mother, Clara Norcross, was Italian-American and one side of her family was from Sicily. Plus, Vander’s brother Rhys, and his wife Haven, had come along, too. They’d rented the villa next door.

Since Brynn loved them both, she was thrilled. They’d already spent two spectacular days wandering the beautiful streets of Taormina.

She leaned her elbows on the railing and gazed at the azure-blue sea. She wanted Vander to relax, to stop obsessing over the fact that she’d been hurt, and to process the scary thought of bringing a child into the world. A tiny human who they’d be responsible for.

So far, she still felt that distance between them and it ate at her. It wasn’t overt. He still kissed her, still loved her fiercely at nighttime, but there was just something she couldn’t put her finger on.

She wanted it gone.

Vander Norcross was hers. Every inch of his battered soul.

She’d fight for him. Always.

Strong arms closed around her from behind.

She didn’t jolt. She would know him anywhere—his strength, his warmth, his scent. Plus, the man moved silently all the time, so she was used to him sneaking up on her.

Hard muscle pressed against her back and warm lips brushed her bare shoulder. “Good morning.”

She felt that deep voice right to her core. “Morning.” She turned in his arms, went up on her toes, and kissed him.

“You slept well?”

“I did.” She pressed a kiss to his muscled chest, very happy that he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

Her husband was incredibly gorgeous. Thankfully, most people didn’t realize how attractive he was since the first impression they got of him was dangerous.

Vander radiated “don’t fuck with me” vibes.

Looking at him always set off some instinct in the hindbrain that warned you he was a man who could incapacitate everyone in the room before you even moved.

She smoothed her hands up his chest. “Thankfully, my husband did his best to wear me out last night, so I slept very deeply.”

His lips quirked. “My pleasure.”

Love flooded her. She loved when he was playful, but she loved his darkness, as well. God, and that face. The Italian was evident in his strong jaw, bronze skin, and long line of his nose. He had just the right amount of stubble.

His hand shifted and hovered over her belly for a second. Her breath caught in her lungs. Then warm fingers pressed against her skin.

He was still adjusting to the idea of being a father. Hell, it had only been a month since she’d found out, so they were both acclimatizing to impending parenthood.

“I like this bikini.” He toyed with the tie on the side of her bottoms.

“I thought you might.”

“Feel okay?” he asked.

“I feel fine, Vander. It’s still early.” Her nose wrinkled. “No doubt morning sickness will rear its head sooner or later.”

His dark-blue eyes flashed. He hated anything that hurt her, especially when it was something he couldn’t control.

She wasn’t showing yet, but she liked to imagine her waist was a little thicker. She couldn’t wait until she had a baby bump.

Then his fingers shifted again, and touched her healing injury.

His face shut down.

She reached up and cupped his cheek. “Hey, I’m okay.”

“That asshole could’ve killed you. Both of you.”

“He didn’t.”

“Your job is dangerous.”

Conflicting emotions washed through her. They’d had this argument so many times over the last two weeks. “And I could walk out on the street and get hit by a bus. Life is full of risk. I’m careful and I’m good. You know this.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw.

“Vander—”

He nodded and stepped back. “We should have some breakfast. We’re meeting Rhys and Haven so we can tour the Greek theatre ruins.”

Frustration filled her chest—an ugly mix she hated. This. He kept shutting her out like this. “We need to talk about this, Vander. I want—”

“Later. Right now, let’s have breakfast.” He swiveled and strode back into the villa.

She closed her eyes. It would be fine. They were a team. He’d get over this crazy overprotectiveness.

Her hand clenched and she pushed away from the railing, tamping down her worry, and followed him inside.

“Oh my gosh, I don’t think I’ll need to eat for a week. That pasta was divine.”

Vander held the door open for his sister-in-law. Haven was a slim, pretty brunette who adored his brother. She smiled her thanks at Vander, her cheeks flushed from wine and laughter.

Rhys followed, a hand on his wife’s lower back. He was always touching her.

Of all of the Norcross siblings, Rhys was the first to fall in love. He’d always been more of a risk taker than his two older brothers, or at least more willing to leap into new situations.

Then Brynn stepped up beside Vander. He took a long moment to take in every inch of his beautiful wife.

She was wearing a gorgeous, red dress that hugged her lean, fit body, and showed off her killer cleavage.

He’d enjoy taking it off her later. Her brown hair spilled around her shoulders.

Brown was such a plain word for it. It was streaked with so many shades—caramel, mahogany, chocolate.

He’d given up trying to identify all the colors.

She shot him a hesitant smile, her light-blue gaze on his face. Watchful. Cautious.

She was worried.

He cupped her jaw, and she pressed into his palm. Her skin was smooth and her nose sprinkled with freckles he loved, such a contrast to her inner toughness. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. No line he wouldn’t cross to keep her safe and happy.

He’d find a way to force himself to relax on this vacation and wipe that worry off her face, if it was the last thing he did.

He followed her inside the villa.

From the outside, the villa oozed Italian charm, with ivy growing over the stone walls.

Inside, it had been modernized, with a nod at keeping the historical feel.

White-washed walls, high ceilings, and refinished wooden floors spoke of an ageless richness.

All the arched windows highlighted lush gardens or the blue sea.

The furniture was wooden, heavy, and no doubt expensive, while the kitchen and bathroom were updated and elegant.

“Vander, drink?” Rhys called out from the built-in bar.

“Sure. I’ll have the Eagle Rare.” He’d brought a bottle of his favorite bourbon with him.