by Anna Hackett
She needed to visit Norcross.
Saxon’s warnings echoed in her head. She bit her lip. She didn’t believe Dennett was stupid enough to go up against her brothers. Still, she needed to be smart. She’d change, and get an Uber straight over to the Norcross office.
Hurrying into her bedroom, she stripped her work dress off and pulled her hair out of its twist. She pulled on her yoga gear—black leggings, lilac top, and her favorite hoodie sweatshirt that she only wore at home. The gray fabric settled comfortingly around her. No one would expect stylish Gia Norcross to be wearing a hoodie.
As she walked through the living room, she glanced at the shelf and felt the weight of those damn gems. She wanted them gone, and she wanted Willow safe.
Gia grabbed her keys and phone. She decided to be extra careful and take the stairs. Dammit, Saxon had her imagining the bogeyman everywhere.
In the lobby, she pulled the hood up over her hair and swiped the Uber app on her phone.
The car arrived, and as far as she could tell, no one was paying her any attention.
It was a short ride to South Beach, where Vander had purchased an old warehouse several years back to house the Norcross office—then completely gutted and renovated it. Now, the bottom level of the warehouse housed the fleet of BMW SUVs that the Norcross team used, a high-tech gym, and cells. Okay, technically, holding rooms. The next level was mostly open plan, with glass-walled offices that the guys barely used. Every time she’d visited, the Norcross men were in the field doing badass security and investigations stuff. Sitting at a desk was not their favorite thing to do.
She’d helped Vander pick out the interior for the office. The inside had a concrete-and-steel, industrial vibe that suited Vander. The upper floor and roof terrace were Vander’s private domain and home.
Gia slipped out of the Uber with a thank you, and headed down the street, looking quickly toward the warehouse.
Suddenly, a small, wiry body raced out of an alley and slammed into her.
“Hey!” she cried.
The man, only inches taller than her, pulled a knife. “Give me the bag.”
“I don’t have a bag.”
“The gems,” he barked.
Oh, shit. He must be one of the guys who’d been following Willow.
“She gave them to you,” the man snapped. “I want them.”
Gia stiffened. Then in her haughtiest voice, she said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The knife slashed and Gia felt a sting of pain on her forearm.
Anger exploded inside her. She’d had a crappy, trying few days. Her mama liked to say that Gia had inherited her fiery, Italian temper from her.
Gia struck. She chopped her hand into her attacker’s arm. With a shout, his knife dropped to the pavement.
She kicked him in the crotch, but he deflected at the last second and she caught his thigh. She kept attacking. She’d been taught well, but she knew she would never be as strong as a male attacker. She had to attack fast and hard, before he realized that she meant business.
She rammed her elbow into his neck and he coughed. Then he reached out and grabbed her hoodie and hair, and yanked.
Ow. Ow. Ow. Tears threatened. Her scalp felt like it was on fire. She jerked her arms up violently, breaking his hold, and probably losing a few strands of hair in the process.
But now he attacked full force.
His body drove into hers, slamming her into a nearby brick wall. It knocked the wind out of her.
He snatched the knife off the concrete and pressed it to her throat.
Gia froze. Oh, shit. She felt the sting on her neck. Her first worry was about what germs and grime might be on the blade.
The man’s eyes glittered with rage. Screw this. She rammed her knee up between his legs. Really hard.
He made a horrible noise and she almost felt sorry for him. He dropped the knife again, and she shoved away from him.
The man raised his head, and she saw the frightening promise of retribution on his face.
“Hey!” a deep male voice roared.
Her attacker spun and awkwardly ran off, hunched over and hobbling.
Gia picked up the switchblade. “I’m keeping this, asshole.”
A tall man appeared beside her.
Ace Oliveira, Norcross’ guru of all things tech and electronic, looked nothing like any geek she’d ever seen. He was tall, dark, and Brazilian. His long, dark hair was pulled back in a sexy ponytail, showcasing the angles of his handsome face. His body was long, rangy, and muscled.
“Gia, you okay?”
“Yes.” But the shaking was setting in. “I’m okay.”
His dark eyes were concerned. “You’re bleeding.”
She swiped a hand across her neck. “Um, I think I’ll head home.”
Ace’s gaze narrowed.
“Can you…um, forget you ever saw this?”
“No.” He took her arm, his grip strong, and herded her toward the Norcross office.
Shit, she was afraid of that.
Saxon had just finished up with some searches on his laptop—tapping a few PI databases—when he heard the dangerous snap of Vander’s voice.
“What the fuck?”
Pushing back from his desk, Saxon strode into the central open area of the Norcross office.
Ace and Vander were scowling at a small woman with her back toward Saxon and a hood over her head.
But he’d recognize that curvy little ass anywhere. Hell, he’d dreamed about it constantly.
“Gia?”
She turned.
Saxon’s blood ran cold.
Blood was smeared across her neck and on one arm of her sweatshirt.
He advanced and she held her hand up. “I’m fine—”
Saxon crossed the space in a few strides. He cupped her cheek, tilting her head back.
“Guy with a knife attacked her out front,” Ace said.
Saxon’s blood ran from ice cold to boiling hot. “I told you to stay in your office, or at home.”
She dragged in a breath. “I know—”
“I told you that you were still in danger.”
“You said that I might be in danger.” That chin lifted. “I got an Uber, and I wore different clothes.”
Saxon studied the line marring her delicate throat, and something ugly churned in his gut. If the bastard had cut her any deeper—
Saxon gripped her arm. “How did that work out for you?”
The anger in his voice made her stiffen.
Vander frowned. “Saxon.”
“I’ll get her cleaned up.” He towed her across the office. She tried to pull her arm away. “Don’t test me right now.”
Vander was watching them, his gaze like a laser. “I think I need to send Dennett a stronger message.” Vander hit the stairs and was gone like smoke.
Gia’s eyes widened. “What does that mean?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Saxon pulled her into a small room they kept stocked with medical supplies. They didn’t often get injured, but it happened, and none of them liked a trip to the ER.
There was a double bed pressed against the wall, and he made her sit.
“You don’t need to worry about Vander.”
“But I do. He’s my brother.” Her brown gaze met his. “And I know you worry about him, too. He’s so…”
“Badass?”
“Closed off. Remote. He never smiles anymore.”
Yeah, well, Saxon was well aware of the things Vander had done as part of Ghost Ops. The decisions he’d been forced to make. The men he’d lost.
“He’s home.” Saxon pulled out the medical kit. “He has his family.”
When he looked up, he found her watching him.
“Does your family help you?” she asked quietly.
Saxon snorted. “I try to see them as little as I can.”
Something moved in her dark eyes. “I thought…well, you’re an only child and your family’s rich. I figured you were spoiled and in
dulged.”
“Why do you think I spent so much time at your house when I was younger? I can’t stand my parents.”
“Oh. They’re…difficult?”
Difficult? He fought back a laugh. “If you mean, cold and self-absorbed elitist assholes, then yes.” He pulled out an antiseptic pad and started wiping her neck. His anger came back full force. “Dammit, Gia.”
She winced. “I’ve scratched myself worse than this.”
It wasn’t deep, but it could have been worse. Way worse. Fuck.
He spread some cream over the cut, shocked to find his damn hands weren’t steady. The thought of Gia hurt, of her dead. His chest felt like a rock was sitting on it.
“I told you not to wander the streets.”
“Okay, okay. Get the ‘I told you so’ out.”
“This isn’t the time for jokes.”
She sighed. “I know.”
That’s when Saxon felt the small tremors running through her. Her skin felt cold. “You’re okay now. You’re safe.”
She pulled in a shuddering breath and nodded.
He pushed up the bloody sleeve of her sweatshirt. There was a smaller, but deeper cut on her forearm, and he cleaned it next.
She pouted, staring at the tear in the fabric. “This is my favorite sweatshirt.”
He stared at the blood smeared on her skin. It blasted through the last of his self-control. “He could have killed you.” Saxon exploded upright and gripped the back of his neck. “He could have stabbed you, cut an artery—”
“I’m fine, Saxon.” She watched him steadily.
He growled. Her face was cool, and he could see her practically pulling herself back together. So damn tough.
He wanted to punch something. He dropped back on the bed and carefully put some cream on the cut. Her skin was a smooth, beautiful bronze.
Her breath hitched. He looked up and saw her watching him. His gut clenched. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Mostly you annoy the crap out of me. This is my annoyed look.”
“That’s not your annoyed look.” He pressed a bandage over her arm.
Then he reached up and touched her neck. He felt the pound of her pulse, feathered his thumb over it.
She was alive.
His body shuddered.
Gia licked her lips. “Saxon?”
“Not going to let anyone hurt you again.”
“Okay.”
He didn’t think. He let his instincts drive him—something he never allowed. He dragged her into his lap and heard her gasp.
Her eyes were huge. “Saxon?”
He covered her mouth with his, pulling her as close as he could.
Her hands pressed to his chest, and he felt the bite of her nails, and then they were sliding into his hair.
He slid his hands up her slim back and she straddled him. This kiss was all tongues and teeth. Heat and need. Like they were trying to eat each other.
She moaned—a throaty, needy sound.
Blood pounded through Saxon, and his cock was as hard as steel. Then he moved his hand and heard her hiss. He’d touched her injured arm.
Hell. She was hurt and he was pawing her. He drew back, both of them panting.
“This… God…” she said breathlessly. “I don’t like you.”
“Yeah, same, Contessa.”
He was sure both of them heard the lies. They liked each other just fine, they just didn’t want to like each other.
Then Gia cupped the back of his head and yanked him back to her. They kissed again, just as hot and hungry. She moaned into his mouth.
When she lifted her head, she touched her lips, her face dazed. “Oh, God, what are we doing?”
“Acting on something we both know has been there for a long time.”
Fear shot through her eyes. “No.”
“Yes.”
She tried to pull away, but he held her tight.
“Saxon, this is crazy. You’re my brother’s best friend, we don’t like each other, we drive each other insane, and—”
“I’m claiming you, Gia. I’ve wanted you a fucking long time, and I’m not letting the excuses get in the way anymore.”
“What?” she squeaked.
“You’re mine. This is the start of you and me.”
She shook her head. “No way.”
“Yes.” He tightened his grip.
Her curls flew as she shook her head wildly. “You’ve bumped your head or something.”
“Nope.” He captured her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. “You know, Gia. You’ve fucking known from the first moment we laid eyes on each other.”
She closed her eyes. “I’m in some crazy dream, or maybe I bumped my head.”
He grinned. “I remember you used to close your eyes and hope I’d go away when you were a teenager. A pretty teenager who I had to fucking stay away from.”
Gia’s eyes snapped open. She held up a hand like a traffic cop. Gia’s “hand” was legendary. “Saxon, I can’t deal with this right now.”
He nodded. “I know. Right now, my number one priority is keeping you safe.”
She gently pulled free of his hands. “Um, I have something to tell you. Promise you won’t get mad.”
His gaze narrowed. “No.”
“Saxon, please.”
He blew out a breath. “Well, you’ve been in a standoff with a man with a gun, and now you’ve been in a knife fight, so what else? Have you been wrestling tigers? Taken on a tank with a nail file?”
She shot him a look designed to shrivel a man’s testicles. “No. Willow came to see me.”
Saxon scowled. That woman. He wanted to shake Gia.
“She came to my place. She said guys were after her. Dennett’s men.”
“And she fucking led them right to you.” Fury was like an acid burn in his veins.
“Saxon.” Gia’s hands moved to his forearms. “She gave me the gems.”
He cocked his head. “Say again?”
“The gems. They’re at my place.”
He cursed. Then he rose, setting her on her feet. “Come on. I’ll take you home and get the stones, then we’re coming back here, and those rocks are going in Vander’s safe.”
Gia nodded, gnawing on her bottom lip.
Shit. He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to devour his best friend’s little sister.
She fiddled with her curls. “I promised her that I’d take care of them until she could organize a safe handoff to Dennett.”
Saxon growled. “That plan has changed. Vander and I will get them to Dennett.”
Gia’s shoulders sagged. “Maybe that’s for the best.”
“You are not fucking having any more knives at your throat.” He took her hand, lacing their fingers together. He pulled her out of the medical room.
“This is the perfect chance for you to berate me for my misguided decisions,” she said quietly.
Saxon stopped and spun. She collided with him.
Holding her biceps, he lifted her up to meet his gaze. “I won’t let anyone mar that smooth skin of yours. Or spill your blood. Or hurt you.”
She stared at him.
“You irritate me, but I admire your damn loyalty, Gia. You take care of the people you love. I don’t want you hurt.”
“Saxon—”
The breathless tone of her voice burrowed into his skin. He started moving again before he did something that he’d regret. Something more than just kissing her senseless.
She straightened. “There isn’t going to be an us, Saxon. I can’t be with you. We’ll burn out and leave a trail of destruction behind us. It isn’t worth the risk.”
“We’ll talk about it later.”
“No, we won’t.”
“Yes, we will.”
She made a cute growling sound, and with a smile, he led her down to the garage. He shoved her into a black Norcross BMW X6.
As he drove to her apartment building, he could see that she was still worried abou
t her friend. Willow didn’t deserve it, in his opinion.
They rode the elevator up in silence and got out on her floor. Saxon scanned the hall. There was nobody around.
Then Gia gasped.
Saxon turned his head and saw her apartment door ajar.
“Oh, no.” She raced forward.
“No.” He stopped her and pulled his HK VP9 out of his shoulder holster. “Let me check.”
He pushed the door open.
Gia peered around him. “No!”
The apartment had been ransacked.
Everything was tipped over and smashed. The TV was a broken, shattered twist. Chairs were splintered. Paintings had been pulled off the wall and destroyed.
“Bastardo!” She shoved past him. “Cazzo!”
Saxon stuck to her like glue and quickly checked the bedroom. The mattress was half pulled off the bed and slashed open. Clothes littered the floor, and her fancy, walk-in wardrobe looked like a tornado had ripped through it.
Gia broke out in a string of rapid-fire Italian. He was pretty sure they were curses. No doubt salty and creative.
In the bathroom, the shower door was shattered, and bottles and pots of creams and lotions were scattered across the tile floor. Clearly a perfume bottle had been broken, because the rich scent of Gia’s perfume filled the air.
Whoever had done it was long gone.
Gia picked her way through the destruction, her hands curled into fists.
Her face was blank, and her skin was pale, except for two bright-pink spots on her cheeks. Her mouth was a flat line.
As she moved back into the living room, she stared at the wall.
A shelf hung drunkenly and had been busted open.
“Gia?”
“The gems.” She looked at him. “They’re gone.”
Chapter Four
She 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.”