The Investigator: Norcross Series

by Hackett, Anna

  Then she heard voices. Crap. She ducked down behind some outdoor couches. Her heart drummed so loudly that she was sure the people would hear it.

  “All clear,” a deep voice said. There was a pause. “Vehicle on approach. Acknowledged.” Another pause. “Yeah, the Citation is fueled and waiting at the airstrip.”

  Oh, shit.

  Silence. Haven waited a few more seconds, and prayed the guard had moved away.

  Time to go.

  She jumped up and ran. She rounded the gazebo structure by the pool and ran smack into a hard chest.

  “Oof.” She stumbled back.

  A tall, blond guard in a dark suit scowled at her. “Hey, you aren’t—”

  She lifted the air freshener and sprayed it in his eyes.

  He threw his hands up and cursed. She tossed the can at him and it hit his head.

  Haven ran. Get to the vines. Get to the vines.

  Damn these stupid high heels. The heels kept sinking into the grass. She should have kicked them off earlier, but she hadn’t been thinking straight. She hadn’t gone far when a hand grabbed her ponytail and yanked.

  She yelped. Oh, that hurt. It felt like her scalp was on fire.

  She was swung around to face a scowling Ivan.

  “You again,” she cried.

  He wrenched her arm behind her back and marched her back toward the house. The blond guard met them, his eyes red and streaming with tears.

  “Bitch,” he snapped.

  “I’ve been abducted and held against my will, what did you expect?” She heard a noise from Ivan and glanced at him. “Did you just laugh?”

  “No.”

  She frowned at him. “Sounded like a laugh.”

  “Lipinski, flush your eyes out,” Ivan ordered. He shoved Haven inside the house.

  He marched to the office and Volkov met them at the doorway.

  “Lucky I like a spirited woman, Haven.”

  She rolled her eyes. She was too pissed off to feel scared anymore.

  “But not too spirited. Ivan, tie her to the chair.”

  Ivan shoved her into a chair in front of the desk. He pulled out his handy roll of duct tape.

  “Is a roll of duct tape part of the henchman’s essential toolkit?” she asked sarcastically.

  He ignored her, and taped her arms and legs to the chair.

  Just great. Rhys, please be the hotshot investigator you are and find me.

  Fear rose again, making her throat tight. She tested her bindings but she was tied up tight.

  Another guard appeared in the door and nodded at Volkov.

  The older man smiled. “Good, the buyer is here. Once the transaction is complete, we can be on our way, Haven.”

  Her stomach lurched sickeningly.

  Rhys, please hurry.

  * * *

  Fuck.

  Rhys had never felt this frantic. He picked up Haven’s cracked phone off the concrete and the keys to his GTS.

  He scanned the parking garage, his jaw creaking under the pressure of grinding his teeth together. He had no idea where she was.

  Vander watched him like a raptor, clearly ready to subdue him if Rhys lost it.

  Vander’s phone rang and he pulled it out. “Ace, what have you got?”

  “Take a look.” Ace’s voice came out on speaker.

  Rhys peered at Vander’s phone and they watched the security footage flicker across the screen. A big bruiser chased Haven through the parking garage, before catching her and manhandling her into a silver sedan.

  “She called him Ivan,” Ace said.

  Rhys cursed. “Volkov’s goon. The one who tried to detain her in the library.”

  “I’ll contact Hunt,” Ace said. “Get the SFPD looking for the car.” Ace drew in a breath. “I’m sorry, Rhys. I missed her call when you guys were taking down the truck. Her friend Harry spotted the painting being loaded into a truck.”

  Rhys bit back his frustration. He knew it wasn’t Ace’s fault, but he wished that Ace had taken the damn call. “It’s okay. Let’s just focus on finding her.”

  She should never have left the apartment. When he got her back, he was going to tan her sweet ass.

  If he found her in time.

  He dragged in a breath. “I gave her a necklace. It has a tracker in it. Ace, can you activate it?”

  Saxon raised a brow. “You put a tracker on your girlfriend? Man, you have balls.”

  “I was ensuring my woman’s safety.”

  “Did you tell her?” Saxon asked.

  “Hell, no.”

  Vander shook his head.

  “I got it,” Ace said. “It’s showing that she’s in…Napa.”

  “Napa,” Rhys breathed.

  “Volkov has an estate there,” Vander said.

  “Yeah,” Ace added. “Confirmed. She’s at Volkov’s estate.”

  Rhys’ hands curled into fists. The fucker was going down. “I’m going to kill him.”

  It would take well over an hour for them to drive to Napa. Too damn long.

  “Ace, get the helo ready,” Vander ordered. His cool gaze swept over them. “We’ll get back to the office, get prepped, then go in hot.”

  “Nice,” Rome murmured. His teeth flashed white as he grinned.

  Rhys jumped back on his bike. Soon, they were all back at the Norcross office, in the team locker room off the gym.

  It didn’t take them long to get ready since they had already prepped for the truck breach. Rhys pulled on a Kevlar vest and strapped it on. Next, he pulled an M4 assault rifle out of the weapons locker. It was what they’d used in the military.

  He turned, finding Vander, Saxon, Rome, and Easton all ready, the same as him.

  They headed up to the roof, where a helo—a sleek, black Sikorsky—was waiting for them.

  Vander waved to Magdalena “Maggie” Lopez through the cockpit window. Vander had lured the young pilot away from the Navy. The woman was always smiling, swore like a sailor, and was brilliant at the controls of a helicopter.

  They all boarded, and a moment later, they lifted off and swept over the city, then the bay, heading northeast.

  It was like the old days, heading off on a mission. For a second, Rhys saw desert below. Then he blinked, and Alcatraz Island appeared.

  This wasn’t a Ghost Ops mission. This one was much more important—saving Haven and bringing her home.

  Rhys tried not to fidget on the flight. But as San Francisco Bay gave way to San Pablo Bay, the pressure built inside him—the noise, the fear—it all curdled together. He tapped his boot on the floor.

  Be okay, Haven. Be fucking okay.

  Vander touched his knee. Rhys looked up at his brother, then Easton, then the others. They all gave him steady looks. They had his back. They had Haven’s back.

  He wasn’t alone, and his woman was smart, resilient, and resourceful.

  He nodded.

  “Hold on, baby,” he murmured.

  Soon, the grapevines came into view. They spread out over the hills in long, marching rows.

  Maggie brought them in lower. He saw Vander’s mouth moving, and knew he was talking with the pilot.

  They circled around Volkov’s estate, and Vander pointed. Rhys took in the sprawling house.

  His focus solidified, zooming in on the mission objective. Rescue Haven.

  Maggie flew them away from the house. They didn’t want to alert Volkov and his goons. A helicopter flying in Napa was common enough. The helo touched down on a flat area of grass near some sheds. They exited, and moved into formation, weapons up.

  “Shoot to incapacitate,” Vander said.

  They moved silently and fast, covering the distance to Volkov’s quickly. They approached the house, circling a large pool.

  A guard appeared, raising his weapon, and Vander took him down with a shot to the leg. It took Saxon seconds to disarm and secure the man.

  The team split up. Vander and Rhys went left around the house, while the others went right.


  Rhys ran into two more guards, and he felt savage satisfaction in taking them both down with several hard hits and punches.

  He and Vander left the men trussed up.

  They approached a long bank of French doors. Rhys peered into a large living area, but no one was in view.

  He pointed farther on, and Vander nodded. They kept moving along the building.

  Ahead was another set of glass doors. As they neared, Rhys heard the murmur of voices and held up a hand. He and Vander stopped.

  Carefully, Rhys peered inside.

  He saw Volkov talking to two guards. They were in an office, and the guards were stationed by the far door.

  His gaze swept over the room and then he saw Haven. His chest hitched.

  “She’s alive,” he murmured. She was tied to a chair, looking gloriously pissed.

  The Water Lilies rested against the wall. As he watched, Volkov grabbed the painting, and left the room.

  “Volkov walked out with the painting.”

  Vander nodded. “I’ll enter through the living room and take him down. Can you handle the guards?”

  Rhys glanced at his brother.

  “Right,” Vander said. “Try not to kill anyone.”

  Inside, Rhys heard Haven talking. She sounded angry. She jerked on the bindings holding her to the chair.

  The guards frowned at her.

  Rhys decided to enter fast. He took a few steps back, then ran. He lifted his arm and closed his eyes as he crashed into the French doors, glass shattering.

  Haven screamed.

  Rhys aimed and fired. The first guard jerked and collapsed. The second was moving, but Rhys swiveled and took him down, too.

  He marched over and kicked the guards’ weapons away. Both were groaning. “Try anything, and I’ll kill you.”

  Both went still and stayed silent.

  Then Rhys strode over to Haven.

  “Rhys!”

  “It’s okay, baby.” He pulled his knife and cut through the tape, freeing her. “I’m getting you out of here.”

  Suddenly, the door to the office flew open. Volkov strode in, two guards with him.

  Fuck. Vander hadn’t found him yet. The guards lifted their handguns.

  “Shoot him!” Volkov yelled.

  Rhys leaped away from Haven. If they shot at him, he didn’t want to risk her getting hit. He dove behind the desk and bullets ripped into the wood. Fuck.

  “Stop!” Haven screamed.

  Rhys popped up, and shot one guard, then dropped down again.

  There was another hail of bullets.

  He popped up again, and saw Volkov rushing toward Haven, who was pressed against the far wall. The man had a gun in his hand.

  Fear swamped Rhys. Without thinking, he moved toward her.

  Bam.

  The bullet hit Rhys’ chest. As his body jerked, he got a shot off. The guard yelled and fell.

  “Rhys!” Haven screamed.

  He dropped behind the desk on one knee and grunted. Fuck that hurt. He touched his vest and tried to pull in a breath. It was agony.

  “Rhys, no,” Haven cried from the other side of the room.

  He gripped the edge of the desk and pushed himself up. The pain was outrageous and made his head swim. Hold it together, Norcross.

  Volkov held Haven in front of him, his gun pressed to her head.

  Rhys’ gaze met hers. Her face was pale, her eyes wide and shimmering with tears.

  “Drop your weapon,” Volkov barked.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Terror 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.