bare feet and red toenails, which made her realize she hadn’t recovered her shoes yet. They were her favorites.
She felt the men looking at her, and like she was drawn by a magnet, she looked up. Vander was scowling. Rhys’ dark gaze was locked on her.
Haven’s traitorous heart did a little tango in her chest.
Before she knew what was happening, Rhys went down on one knee in front of her.
She saw rage twist his handsome features. Then he shocked her by cupping her jaw, and pushing the ice pack away.
They’d never talked much. At Gia’s parties, Haven purposely avoided him. He’d never touched her before, and she felt the warmth of him singe through her.
His eyes flashed. “It’s going to be okay, baby.”
Baby?
He stroked her cheekbone, those long fingers gentle.
Fighting for some control, Haven closed her hand over his wrist. She swallowed. “I—”
“Don’t worry, Haven. I’m going to find the man who did this to you and make him regret it.”
Her belly tightened. Oh, God. When was the last time anyone had looked out for her like this? She was certain no one had ever promised to hunt anyone down for her. Her gaze dropped to his lips.
He had amazingly shaped lips, a little fuller than such a tough man should have, framed by dark stubble.
There was a shift in his eyes and his face warmed. His fingers kept stroking her skin and she felt that caress all over.
Then she heard the click of heels moving at speed. Gia burst into the room.
“What the hell is going on?”
Haven jerked back from Rhys and his hypnotic touch. Damn, she’d been proven right—she was so weak where this man was concerned.
Gia hurried toward them. She was five-foot-four, with a curvy, little body, and a mass of dark, curly hair. As usual, she wore one of her power suits—short skirt, fitted jacket, and sky-high heels.
“Out of my way.” Gia shouldered Rhys aside. When her friend got a look at Haven, her mouth twisted. “I’m going to kill them.”
“Gia,” Vander said. “The place is filled with cops. Maybe keep your plans for murder and vengeance quiet.”
“Fix this.” She pointed at Vander’s chest, then at Rhys. Then she turned and hugged Haven. “You’re coming home with me.”
“Gia—”
“No. No arguments.” Gia held up her palm like a traffic cop. Haven had seen “the hand” before. It was pointless arguing.
Besides, she realized she didn’t want to be alone. And the quicker she got away from Rhys’ dark, far-too-perceptive gaze, the better.
Chapter Two
Rhys Norcross paused at the top of the museum steps, watching as Gia’s driver pulled up in front of the Hutton. Gia helped Haven inside the car and, with a flash of taillights, the Mercedes slid into traffic.
Fuck. He shoved his hands in his pockets. In his head, he kept seeing the swelling on Haven’s pretty face. He was pissed. He wanted to find the assholes who’d hurt her and pound them into the pavement.
Vander stepped up beside him. “At least you finally got her to talk to you.”
“Ha, ha,” Rhys growled.
His brothers and friends at Norcross found it hilarious that Rhys had failed to get Haven to interact with him. She’d caught his eye at a party at Gia’s a few months back. She was pretty, with a gorgeous laugh, and secrets in her blue eyes. Something about Haven McKinney got to him.
The woman could’ve been a member of their old Ghost Ops team with her ability to avoid him.
Seeing her beaten, scared… Fuck, someone was going down.
“I’m not letting her avoid me anymore.”
Vander raised a dark brow. “She isn’t the kind of woman you play with, Rhys.”
“I’m going to play with her, and a whole lot more.” He dragged in a deep breath. “But first, I need to find these thieves and teach them a lesson.”
“And find our brother’s hundred-million-dollar painting.”
“That, too.”
Easton strode out of the museum’s grand entrance, his cell phone pressed to his ear. “Yes. Do it.” He slid the phone into his jacket pocket. “My insurance company is…not happy.”
“We’ll find the painting,” Vander said. “I’ll call Hunt and see what the police turn up.”
Detective Hunter “Hunt” Morgan had been Delta Force with them. An injury had forced him out of the military early and he’d joined the San Francisco PD. He had beers with the Norcross team regularly, and they called him when they needed police involvement. He was often pissed with them.
“And Rhys is the best, and extra-motivated by a set of pretty, blue eyes and excellent legs,” Vander added.
Rhys