Chapter 4
Chapter Four
S he picked out some clothes that hadn’t been torn up or tossed around and shoved them in a bag.
Gia felt sick to her stomach. Her place, her home, her sanctuary had been invaded and desecrated.
“Appreciate it, Hunt,” Saxon’s deep voice said from the living room.
He was on the phone. Hunt was Detective Hunter Morgan, an old Army buddy of Vander and Saxon’s who now worked for the SFPD.
When she paused in the doorway, Saxon slid his cell phone away. His gaze moved over her. “Police are on their way.”
She nodded.
“You packed some things?”
“What was salvageable.” No way she wanted to touch anything some asshole had ruined or pawed through.
Once two officers from the SFPD arrived, and she and Saxon had given a highly edited statement, she let Saxon shuffle her into the SUV. She was chilled and a little shell-shocked.
She listened to him call Vander in the vehicle, and she stared out at a night-drenched San Francisco.
“Fuck,” Vander bit out. “Gia okay?”
Saxon glanced at her, and she felt the weight of his gaze.
“She will be.”
“You called Hunt?”
“Yeah. Officers are there now. They’re going to dust for prints and check the building’s security feed.”
“Good. Sax, I just spoke with Dennett. He doesn’t have the gems.”
Saxon cursed.
Gia twisted her hands together. “Then who broke into my place?”
“Someone else who wanted the stones,” Saxon said grimly.
Oh, no.
“Take Gia to my place,” Vander said.
“Whoever’s involved knows who she is,” Saxon said. “If they’re looking for her, they’ll expect her to stay with one of you guys.” A pause. “She can stay at my place. You know it’s secure.”
What? Gia looked at Saxon’s profile.
It didn’t take much to remember that kiss. That hot, hungry, all-too-delicious kiss. It would be so very easy to lose herself in Saxon Buchanan, but Gia couldn’t afford to do that. Her heart knocked against her ribs. She knew he was a danger to her.
She couldn’t stay with him.
She cleared her throat. “I don’t think—”
“Take care of her,” Vander said.
“You don’t need to tell me that,” Saxon fired back.
Gia made an annoyed sound. “Hello, grown woman here. Who makes her own decisions.”
They ignored her and kept talking. She crossed her arms and stared out the window.
“We need to find those fucking gems,” Vander said. “Call me if you need me.”
Saxon drove into Nob Hill. The wealthy suburb was home to historic mansions and swanky hotels. The big four railway barons—the Nobs—had made their homes here in the 1800s. She was pretty sure the Buchanans could track their family tree back that far. She knew Saxon’s parents had a mansion here.
He stopped in front of a four-story, cream house with charcoal trim. It was deceptively simple, sandwiched in between two larger buildings. She watched the garage door slide open.
Gia was well aware of what real estate cost in the area.
They drove down into an underground garage, and he parked the X6 beside his Bentley.
She climbed out, her running shoes squeaking on the polished-concrete floor.
There was room for four cars, and at the back were some closed doors, storage space or maybe a gym.
“Come on.” He got out and reached for her bag.
They headed up some stairs and came out on the lower floor of his home. Beautiful marble floors opened up to a magnificent, curving staircase with a polished, wooden handrail. As they headed up the stairs, she glimpsed a high-tech media room and a glassed-in wine cellar.
He dropped her bag on the next level, but kept heading upward. They passed a third level before they finally reached the top. Gia walked into the open-plan living area and kitchen, gob-smacked. She’d never been to his place before. Saxon lived in her dream house, dammit.
The floors were warm wood and she watched as he strode into a giant, white kitchen with a huge, stone island. Off to the side was a long, steel table, with a banquette built in on one side.
The entire space was light, sleek, and spacious.
Gia walked toward the modern, cream couches situated to face a flat-screen TV on the wall. To the side, huge sliding doors framed a perfect view of the city—downtown, the Coit Tower, the Bay Bridge, and the water.
She realized now why the house had the living area at the top. To maximize the views. She did a slow circle. On the other side of the space was a wooden deck with potted trees and plants, and comfy-looking outdoor furniture.
“Your home is incredible,” she said. “Beautiful.”
He looked up from the mail he was reading at the island. “Glad you like it.”
There was something in his tone that she couldn’t quite read. “How many bedrooms?”
“Four. The master takes up the entire level below. The second level has three bedrooms.”
She swallowed. It was a big house for a single guy. She looked at him. He’d shed his jacket and tossed it over a stool. As she watched, he rolled the sleeves of his blue shirt up, showing off his tattooed forearms.
Badass in off-mode.
Her belly flooded with heat, and memories of their kiss swamped her. Saxon had kissed her. And it had been the hottest kiss of her life. Places inside her were still tingling.
She watched him pull out some glasses, then a bottle of amber liquid. He poured a splash into each glass, then walked over and handed her one.
He touched the rim of his glass to hers. “I think you need this.”
She nodded and then she tossed it back. The whiskey burned down her throat.
“My apartment.” Her voice cracked. Oh, God .
He reached out and touched her hair. “Willow led them straight to you.”
“She didn’t mean to—”
“Stop making excuses for her.”
Gia made an angry sound and stalked to the windows. “I know she screwed up, but she’s my friend.”
“You’re too damn loyal.”
Gia spun. “I’m not like you.” She flung a hand out. “Do whatever you want, have fun, stay removed, then move on.” She’d seen the way he discarded women. Usually glossy, leggy blondes.
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
She had no right to judge his lifestyle.
She sighed. “I’m poor company tonight, Saxon, and I’m in a really bad mood.
God, I’ve lost all of my things.” She set the glass down on the table and pressed her face to her hands, despair and sadness tangling through her. “My apartment meant something to me.”
Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around her, holding her tight.
Desperate for more, she pressed her face to his firm chest and held on. Her hands clutched the back of his shirt, fisting against hard muscles. She breathed him in. Saxon’s scent always made her think of thunderstorms and crashing waves.
“It’s just stuff, baby,” he murmured.
She nodded. God, she was getting comfort from Saxon Buchanan.
Then she heard a cell phone ringing and realized it was hers.
She pulled away. When she grabbed the phone, she saw a number she didn’t recognize. “Hello?”
“Gia.”
Her hand clenched. “Willow.”
Saxon’s face hardened.
“Oh, God, Gia.” Willow sounded panicked.
“Are you all right?”
“I need the gems. Now.”
Gia’s belly turned in a sickening circle. “Someone broke into my place, Will.” Saxon’s hand landed on her shoulder, squeezed.
Willow’s breath hitched. “Gia…”
“They followed you, Willow. They attacked me and ransacked my place. I’m sorry, but the gems are gone. And it wasn’t Dennett.”
Harsh breathing came across the line. Willow made a strangled sound. “I’m dead.”
“We’ll work it out—”
“I’m dead , Gia.” There was a cry, then the line went dead.
Gia felt the prick of tears.
“This isn’t your fault,” Saxon said.
“It feels like it. She’s scared.”
“She brought this on herself.”
“Saxon, have some compassion.”
He leaned in close. “That dried up when she put you in danger.”
Gia bit her lip. Emotions welled up inside, and it was all too much.
She pulled away, striding across his gorgeous living area. The lights of the city blurred, and she wondered where Willow was. Where the gems were.
She sensed Saxon behind her. “Gia.”
“Don’t start, Saxon. I don’t have the defenses to duel with you right now.”
“Then let me show you to your room. You can run a bath and relax.”
“God.” She faced him. “Do not be nice to me. I need asshole Saxon back.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, which just drew her attention back to his muscular arms and tattoos.
“And stop looking so hot, too,” she snapped.
His brows drew together. “Gia—”
“I’m used to you finding my faults and rubbing them in my face. So, fire away. Tell me this is my fault.”
“I don’t enjoy rubbing your face in your faults. And this is not your fault.”
“You do. You’ve always picked on me and made me lose my temper. Ever since I was young.”
“So I’d quit noticing you when I shouldn’t,” he bit out.
Gia blinked. “What?”
He smiled. “And I like riling you because it’s so easy to do. You get so fired up and passionate.”
She scowled. “Saxon—”
“You need to stop moping about Willow and what happened at your place. Deal with it.”
Ah, there was the Saxon she knew. “God, you can be cold.”
“You need to—”
Gia’s temper flared. It was easier to be angry than sad and upset. “Stop telling me what to do!”
He grabbed her arms.
“And hands off,” she snapped.
“That’s not what you wanted earlier.”
She glared at him. “We aren’t talking about that kiss… ever .”
“We’ll be doing more than kissing soon.”
His words sent her pulse haywire. “I hate you.”
“I’m trying to help you,” he said.
“I don’t need your help. What do you know about suffering? About being stuck in a bad situation? You were born into money and had everything—”
“Not everything.”
The cold tone of his voice made Gia freeze.
He stepped closer. “You don’t know everything about me, Gia.”
She stared at him, wondering at the shadows moving through his eyes. “Saxon…”
“No. I think we’ve reached our limits on deep and meaningful tonight. Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”