Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
T error had claws, and they were ripping at Haven’s belly.
Rhys had been shot. No. No .
Volkov grabbed her, pressing the gun to her head. But she didn’t care. She stared at the desk where Rhys had gone down. Rhys . His name was a cry inside her. She couldn’t breathe.
Then, he rose, looking shaky. She blinked. He didn’t have any blood on him, and she suddenly realized he was wearing a vest.
Rhys and Volkov glared at each other. Rhys had his gun aimed at Volkov’s head.
“Put the gun down.” Volkov shoved the barrel against her cheek and she winced. “Do it, or I’ll hurt her. Put it down and kick it over to me.”
Rhys moved, circling around the desk and lowering his gun.
“Rhys, no.” He’d be defenseless.
He set the deadly-looking rifle down, and kicked it across the wood floor. “I’ll do anything to keep you safe.”
Her lungs compressed.
“Handgun as well,” Volkov added.
Rhys pulled a pistol out of the holster strapped to his thigh and tossed it down.
I’d do anything to keep you safe.
Any lingering doubts she’d had about how Rhys felt about her, or how she felt about him evaporated. For a beat, it was just the two of them in the room, looking at each other. He’d die for her, do anything in his power to keep her safe.
She loved him. Oh, God . And it was her job to do the same for him.
She was not letting him die here.
Turning slowly, she stomped her high heel down on Volkov’s foot.
He yelped. She shoved him and arms flailing, he slammed into the wall. She leaned down and yanked one of her shoes off. The shoes he’d forced on her.
She flew at him, and whacked his chest with the heel. She felt it gouge in. She did it again.
“You asshole! You shot my man. You put me in this cheap dress.”
Volkov staggered. She whacked him in the arm and his gun went flying. She stabbed the shoe again, hard enough for the heel to break skin.
With a cry, he fell backward and Haven leaped on him, slapping his face.
Rhys kicked Volkov’s gun well out of the way. “Okay, Wonder Woman.” He lifted her off the man.
Volkov curled into a ball on the floor.
“I’m not done,” she bit out.
There was a noise at the door and Vander strode in.
“You’re late,” Rhys said.
“Sorry, ran into a little trouble.” He eyed Volkov, his eyebrows rising. “What happened?”
“Haven beat the shit out of him.”
She tossed her head back. “And I’m not finished.”
Vander’s lips twitched and he crouched down, binding Volkov’s hands. “Stabbed with a high heel?”
“Beaten up by a beautiful woman,” Rhys added.
Vander shook his head, dragged Volkov up, and shoved the man into the chair Haven had been tied to. With a few zip ties, Vander had Volkov immobilized. “Move and I’ll shoot you.”
Volkov swallowed and stayed silent.
“I’m glad you two find this so amusing,” Haven said. “He shot Rhys in the chest!”
Vander’s face turned serious and he rose. “You okay?”
“Vest caught the brunt of it.”
“Still hurts like a—” Vander looked at Haven “—a lot?”
“I’ll deal with it later, but first…” Rhys gripped Haven’s arms. “What the hell were you thinking, attacking him like that?”
Her eyes widened. “You’re mad at me?”
“He had a gun to your head,” Rhys barked. “He could’ve killed you.”
“And he could have killed you! He’d already shot you, and I wasn’t letting him shoot the man I love again.”
She froze. Oh God, she’d just said that aloud.
Rhys stared at her and something moved through his eyes. Then he yanked her into his arms and kissed her.
Haven stayed frozen for a second, then kissed him back. His tongue plunged into her mouth, and she sank her hands into his hair. More . She needed more.
When he finally broke the kiss, she was panting. He pressed his face to her hair, his arms tight and secure around her.
“At least you won’t complain about my shoes or shoe shopping again,” she said quietly.
He shook his head and smiled.
“Where’s the Water Lilies ?” Vander asked.
Haven stiffened. “Volkov took it out of here. Didn’t you find it?”
Vander shook his head and touched his ear. “Saxon, any of you guys got eyes on the painting?” He must have gotten a response because a second later, Vander shook his head.
Oh, God. “Volkov said the buyer arrived. Please don’t tell me the asshole took it already.”
“No vehicles have left since we arrived.” Vander toed Volkov. “Where’s the painting?”
“Fuck you,” the man said back.
Vander crouched and murmured something too quiet for Haven to hear.
Volkov’s eyes widened and his lips trembled. “Cellar level. The buyer drove in to collect it, and we completed the deal.”
“Let’s move,” Vander said.
Haven kicked off her other shoe and followed the men out. Rhys was keeping her close.
They jogged down the hall.
“Ace, I need fast access to the cellar level,” Vander said.
In the living room, Saxon, Rome, and Easton joined them.
“Haven.” Easton hugged her.
“I’m okay.”
“This way.” Vander led them through a massive kitchen. The appliances and countertops all gleamed. He opened a door and wide stairs led downward, lights flicking on automatically along gorgeous stone walls.
In the cellar level below, one long wall was lined with impressive shelving filled with bottles of wine. There were also several stacks of large barrels, and as they continued on, they passed a tasting room with a long table and chairs.
At the end of the corridor, Vander pushed through a door. Just beyond it was a delivery area, with doors open, revealing a driveway leading up. A van was parked inside, its back doors open wide.
Two men turned around and saw the Norcross team. They instantly lifted their hands in the air.
“The buyer is some tech billionaire,” Haven said.
“Where’s your boss?” Rhys asked.
The men shrugged.
“The painting?” Rhys asked.
“Mr. Allcroft hasn’t come back with it yet.”
Vander cursed and reached in and yanked the keys out of the truck. “Spread out,” he told his team. “Find him.”
Rhys turned to Haven. “I want you to find a place upstairs and stay—”
“Nope.” She turned, heading back toward the stairs. “I’m going to find that damn painting, Rhys.”
He glared up at the ceiling, and it looked like he was fighting the urge to handcuff her to something.
“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.”