“Darling girl, Easton may own most of San Francisco, but Vander runs it. He’ll find them.”
“The painting’s gone, Harry. I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault. I need to find it.”
Her friend frowned. “I haven’t heard a peep. Something that big would make a lot of noise.”
She sighed. “Will you keep your ear to the ground?”
“You know I will.”
“Any whisper, any rumor, you call me.”
“Absolutely. Now—” Harry slipped an arm through hers. “Come and sit. I’ll have Tory make us some frothy lattes, and I’ll show you the latest piece I got in from a local artist I think is going to be huge.”
Haven let Harry fuss over her for a while.
When she stepped out of his gallery, she felt a little better, but the missing painting felt like a weight pressing down on her.
God, it was so damn unfair that she’d just gotten her life back on an even keel, was loving her work, had a good boss in Easton and a great friend in Gia, and then this happened.
Haven headed down the street. Feeling sorry for herself wouldn’t help. She knew that from experience. The weather was lovely and good for a walk. It was a beautiful fall day, not hot, not cold. Whatever it took, she was getting that painting back, and getting her damn life calm and stable again.
She almost ran into a bulky man in a suit in the middle of the sidewalk. “Sorry.”
She darted around him, her heels clicking on the pavement. She wasn’t sure what she could do next to find the painting. But she set her shoulders back. She wasn’t giving up. The Hutton was only a few blocks away. She’d sneak into her office and make a few more calls.
Leo had screwed up her life, and for a while, she’d let him. Not anymore. Haven was in charge, and she wasn’t letting anyone, especially some thieves, get her down.
But, millions of dollars, the voice in her head pointed out. Her stomach turned.
She paused, and practiced some breathing exercises from the yoga classes Gia sometimes dragged her to. No, she still felt stressed, and her face throbbed. Her painkillers were wearing off.
Then she felt a tickle of something on the back of her neck. That feeling any woman walking alone sometimes felt. Was someone watching her?
She heard heavy footsteps behind her and glanced back. There weren’t many people around, just a stocky man in the suit heading in her direction. She frowned.
Wait, wasn’t he the guy she’d bumped into before? He’d been going in the other direction.
He lifted his head—he had a buzzcut, no neck, and a really ill-fitting suit.
His gaze locked with hers.
Sucking in a breath, Haven turned and took off down the street as fast as she could without running. She fumbled for her phone. There was probably nothing wrong—
Strong arms wrapped around her from behind, yanking her backward.
“Hey!” she cried.
The man didn’t say a word, and panic shot through Haven. He dragged her down the sidewalk.
Dammit, she wasn’t getting snatched off the street in broad daylight. Could she have any shittier luck? Surely, she’d had her fair share already?
“Let me go!”
She was not going to let this no-neck jerk abduct her. She kicked him in the shin.
She felt her heel hit bone and he grunted, then he followed it up with a curse. He shook her.
Haven’s shoe fell off, and her phone slipped from her fingers to the sidewalk. She heard locks bleep on a car nearby and fear shot through her. He was dragging her to a car. If he got her inside…
No. No.
Haven twisted and struggled. She screamed, but he stuck a beefy hand over her mouth. Why was no one around?
She let her body weight drop, but Mr. No-Neck just dragged her.
Oh, God. She could be taken anywhere. She’d seen those Liam Neeson movies. She’d be sex-trafficked, fed drugs, raped—
Then suddenly, the goon let her go.
Haven staggered, and fell to her hands and knees. Her ribs ached and her palms stung. Crap, she’d lost some skin.
She heard a thud and spun, her pulse racing.
Then she sucked in a breath and watched Rhys slam a brutal punch into her abductor’s face.
Mr. No-Neck flew back, and Rhys—wearing a charcoal suit and white shirt that fit him in a mouthwatering way that only a woman would notice—advanced.
Two more punches and her abductor went down. Rhys straightened. He didn’t look like he’d even worked up a sweat.
Boiling, pissed-off, brown eyes locked on her.
Chapter Four
Rhys fought back his rage