Chapter 2
Chapter Two
R hys Norcross paused at the top of the museum steps, watching as Gia’s driver pulled up in front of the Hutton. Gia helped Haven inside the car and, with a flash of taillights, the Mercedes slid into traffic.
Fuck . He shoved his hands in his pockets. In his head, he kept seeing the swelling on Haven’s pretty face. He was pissed. He wanted to find the assholes who’d hurt her and pound them into the pavement.
Vander stepped up beside him. “At least you finally got her to talk to you.”
“Ha, ha,” Rhys growled.
His brothers and friends at Norcross found it hilarious that Rhys had failed to get Haven to interact with him. She’d caught his eye at a party at Gia’s a few months back. She was pretty, with a gorgeous laugh, and secrets in her blue eyes. Something about Haven McKinney got to him.
The woman could’ve been a member of their old Ghost Ops team with her ability to avoid him.
Seeing her beaten, scared… Fuck, someone was going down.
“I’m not letting her avoid me anymore.”
Vander raised a dark brow. “She isn’t the kind of woman you play with, Rhys.”
“I’m going to play with her, and a whole lot more.” He dragged in a deep breath. “But first, I need to find these thieves and teach them a lesson.”
“And find our brother’s hundred-million-dollar painting.”
“That, too.”
Easton strode out of the museum’s grand entrance, his cell phone pressed to his ear. “Yes. Do it.” He slid the phone into his jacket pocket. “My insurance company is…not happy.”
“We’ll find the painting,” Vander said. “I’ll call Hunt and see what the police turn up.”
Detective Hunter “Hunt” Morgan had been Delta Force with them. An injury had forced him out of the military early and he’d joined the San Francisco PD. He had beers with the Norcross team regularly, and they called him when they needed police involvement. He was often pissed with them.
“And Rhys is the best, and extra-motivated by a set of pretty, blue eyes and excellent legs,” Vander added.
Rhys shot his brother a pointed look.
Easton glanced at Rhys. “Finally got Haven to talk to you.”
Rhys shot his brother the finger.
Easton’s lips quirked, but then his face turned serious again. “Be careful with her, Rhys. She’s been through a lot. Not just this. She hasn’t said much about Miami, but I get the feeling that it wasn’t good.”
Hmm, it might be time for Rhys to do a little digging on his pretty brunette. “I’m going to take care of her. First up, though, I need to find your thieves.”
“You have the security footage.” Easton blew out a breath. “Assholes posed as delivery drivers for a delivery that was due tomorrow.”
“How did they know that the delivery was due?” Rhys mused.
Easton shrugged a shoulder. “They shot the guards, then forced Haven to disconnect the alarm on the painting before beating the shit out of her.”
“She’s tough,” Vander said. “She hit the panic button.”
Rhys’ gut turned to rock. If they’d caught her while she was doing that, she might have been hurt far worse.
He’d seen a lot of fucked-up stuff in his time.
Their Ghost Ops team—made up of the best of the best from all the special forces teams across different branches of the military—had been sent in to do the toughest, grittiest jobs.
Like Vander, Rhys had been Delta Force before he’d joined Vander’s black ops team.
They’d done all the jobs that the government denied.
He breathed deeply. Ghost Ops was done. Finished. He’d loved fighting for his country, but he liked working for Norcross even better. He got shot at far less.
Vander had been an excellent commander, and now he was an excellent boss. They still had some messy cases, and some straddled the line between lawful and not. Norcross Security had no trouble venturing into the shadows to get a job done.
They all knew that life wasn’t as black-and-white as people who lived in nice houses, in their safe, little worlds liked to believe.
Pressure built in Rhys’ chest, white noise growing in his head. It happened whenever he started thinking of shit from old missions. Whenever it did, he usually jumped in his car or boat.
Speed made it ease.
But now, the thought of how soft Haven’s skin was under his fingers made him feel better. Stroking her cheek, seeing her chest hitch, the bright flare of awareness in her blue eyes. Hell yeah, that made him feel much better.
You’re not going to hide from me now, angel.
“I want to get back to the office,” Rhys said. “I’ll take a look at the security footage, and see if we can find the truck.”
“It’ll be a rental,” Vander said.
“I’ll find them.” Rhys always did. He loved the thrill of the chase, putting all the pieces of a puzzle together.
“Anything you need from me,” Easton said. “Just let me know. I want Haven safe, and I want my painting back.”
“We need to tighten up on the delivery protocols,” Vander said. “Make sure this doesn’t happen again.”
“Keep me posted, bro.” Easton headed for his sleek, gunmetal-gray, Aston Martin DBS Superleggera parked on the street.
Rhys and Vander climbed into the Norcross SUV they’d driven in. As soon as Rhys had heard what happened, he’d jumped in one of the Norcross fleet of black BMW X6s. Vander had barely had time to climb in before Rhys was speeding off to the Hutton.
Now, he drove a little slower toward the Norcross office. The Hutton Museum was right in the city, but the Norcross office was in South Beach, right at the border with the Embarcadero.
“You got your head in the right place?” Vander asked.
Rhys’ hands flexed on the wheel. “Yeah. You?”
Vander had a short fuse when it came to violence against women and children. Once, on a mission, he’d abandoned their primary objective to rescue women and kids trapped in a rape house by a warlord. The warlord was no longer breathing.
“Yeah,” Vander replied. “Find these fuckers, Rhys.”
“Oh, I plan to.” They’d hurt Haven, so he’d make them pay.
* * *
Looking at herself in the mirror the next morning, Haven stifled a cry.
She looked like she’d gone a few rounds in the boxing ring…and lost. Dismally.
She sighed, probing the swollen and bruised left side of her face.
No amount of makeup was going to hide that.
Keeping things simple, she pulled her hair up into a ponytail, and winced at the ache in her side.
She touched her tender ribs. Nothing was broken, but it still hurt.
She fished around in Gia’s cabinet, pulled out some painkillers, and popped two pills. She’d need these today.
She’d spent the night in Gia’s lovely guest room. Her friend had a gorgeous two-bedroom apartment in SoMa, with killer views of the city and the bay. Haven’s place was way smaller, and while it was cute, it was nowhere as plush as Gia’s light, airy space.
After Easton had retired from the military, he’d turned his attention to business. Apparently, the oldest Norcross had a knack for making money. He’d started with real estate, then invested in various businesses. He took care of investing for his siblings and parents, too.
Despite the lovely room and comfy bed, Haven had slept like crap.
She’d kept rolling onto her injured side and waking herself up.
Plus, she’d had a nasty nightmare. It had starred the thief who’d hit her, his glittering, blue eyes staring at her through his balaclava before it morphed into Leo shouting at her.
Blowing out a breath, Haven finished getting ready for the day.
They’d detoured by her apartment in Pacific Heights on the way back to Gia’s the night before, and she’d grabbed some clothes.
Today’s skirt was gray, and she had a ruby-red shirt on.
It might take the attention off the bruises on her face.
She glanced in the mirror again and winced. Or maybe not.
She headed into Gia’s bright, light-filled kitchen. It was ironic that her friend had a chef’s wet-dream kitchen that she barely used. Gia could cook, she just had no time for it.
There was a scent of coffee in the air, and Gia turned from the coffee machine. She took one look at Haven’s face and her lips firmed into a flat line.
“I’m going to kill those assholes.”
“It looks worse than it is.” Haven slid onto a stool at the island.
Gia looked stunning in a fitted, white, sleeveless dress. It followed her curvy body like a determined lover. Her dark curly hair was partly pulled back, while the rest of her curls fell down her back.
“Well, it looks like you went a few rounds with a bulldozer, and lost.”
Haven wrinkled her nose, which tugged on her bruises. “Thanks for the pep talk. Now I feel beautiful.”
“You aren’t going to work,” Gia said.
Haven stiffened. “Yes, I am. I’m bruised, not bedridden.”
Her friend’s brown eyes narrowed. She slammed a piece of toast down in front of Haven.
Haven’s stomach churned. She really wasn’t that hungry. She was worried about the security guards, and stressing about the painting being gone.
“I want to stop by the hospital and check on David and Gus.”
“Of course, you do.” Gia pushed a mug of coffee across the island. “As always, worrying about everyone else but yourself.”
Haven grabbed her hand. “Thanks for looking after me.”
Her friend was silent for a moment. “I hate that you say that with a faintly surprised tone to your voice.”
Haven hunched her shoulders. Her mom had died when Haven was eleven. Her dad was off saving sick kids in Africa. She saw him whenever he was in the States, but it wasn’t often, and when he was here, he was usually busy fundraising. She’d been looking out for herself for a long time.
“I will always be here for you, Haven,” Gia continued softly. “My brothers will deal with the situation.”
Surely Easton was pissed the Monet was missing. He had to be angry that Haven had let the damned thieves in. Guilt felt like a thousand needles stabbing at her skin.
“I spoke with Vander this morning,” Gia said. “Your guards are both conscious, and doing well.”
Haven pressed a hand to her chest. Thank God. Gus loved reading thrillers, so she’d take him a few. And David had a weakness for chocolate-covered almonds he thought he was hiding. She’d grab them some gifts and visit them first thing.
Grabbing a knife and the jar of honey, she spread some on her toast.
“And,” Gia continued, “Vander said that Rhys is hot on the case. My baby brother is pissed, and determined to find who hurt you.”
Haven’s heart went pitty-pat. No . Don’t go there . She sipped her coffee, trying to keep her face blank.
Gia leaned a hip against the island, her laser-like gaze on Haven. “Nothing to say?”
“No.” She took a bite of toast.
“Nothing to say about the dreamy-eyed hunk cradling your face, vowing vengeance for you?”
“You can’t call your brother a hunk, there’s a rule against that.”
“Facts are facts, girlfriend. I, unfortunately, have had to deal with having three hot brothers all my life.” Gia’s gaze sharpened. “So, Rhys…”
Haven sipped the coffee too fast and burned her tongue.
“I’ve sworn off men. Besides, need I remind you that, one—” Haven held up a finger “—he’s your brother?
My best friend’s brother. That has trouble written all over it.
And two—” another finger went up “—he’s also my boss’ brother.
That’s a big no-no. I already messed up getting involved with my boss’ family in Miami. Big mistake.”
Gia grabbed her hand. “I know Leo the creep hurt you.”
“He taught me a lesson.” Haven tossed her ponytail back. “I don’t need another man messing up my life. Especially not one who won’t stick around long. Men like Rhys, who can have their pick of any women, never do.”
“Mmm.” Gia managed to say a lot with one hum.
After a few hurried bites of her toast, Haven stood. “I’m going to work.”
She was also going to do her own research on who might have taken the Monet. She might not be a former military badass, or a hotshot investigator, but the art world was her domain.
Offloading a painting like the Water Lilies wouldn’t be easy. She had several people she wanted to call…
Gia’s front door opened. Easton strode in, wearing another perfectly tailored suit, and a blue shirt that looked good on him.
“That key is for emergencies,” Gia said archly. “You could knock.”
“I don’t knock.” Easton looked at Haven. “You aren’t going in to work today.” He looked at his sister. “Can I have a coffee?”
Gia rolled her eyes. “Yes.” She pointed. “The coffee machine is right there.”
Easton tugged on Gia’s hair and then started making himself a coffee.
Haven pulled in a breath. “I can go to work. I want to work.”
“No,” Easton said.
God, give her strength . “I don’t want to just sit around.”
“I’m your boss. You rest. You were attacked last night.”
She swallowed. “I know that. I want to help get the painting back.” Her voice broke.
Easton turned slowly, then stalked around the island. Watching him come closer, she stiffened. He rested his hands on her shoulders, and she smelled the crisp, citrusy scent of his cologne. She stared at the buttons on his shirt.
“Haven, look at me,” he ordered.
She did.
“You are not to blame here.”
“I let them in.”
“Anyone would have made that decision. They were well-prepared. This is not your fault.”
“Gus and David—”
“Not. Your. Fault. Now, let Vander and Rhys do the job they’re very good at. I want you to go home and take it easy.”
“Fine.” Trying to reason with any of the Norcross family was an exercise in futility. She’d have better luck beating her head against the wall.
Easton tugged her ponytail, just like he’d done to Gia. “Good girl.”
As Gia and Easton went back to their coffees, Haven tuned out their conversation. She didn’t care what Easton said, she wasn’t going to relax.
Her painting had been stolen, her guards hurt, her museum invaded. She wasn’t going to sit and do nothing. She was going to find the damn Water Lilies .