in the doorway.
“Ms. McKinney?”
“Yes, David? I was just getting ready to leave.”
“Sorry to delay you. There’s a delivery truck at the back entrance. They say they have a delivery of a Zadkine bronze.”
Haven frowned, running through the next day’s schedule in her head. “That’s due tomorrow.”
“It sounds like they had some other deliveries nearby and thought they’d squeeze it in.”
She glanced at her slim, silver wristwatch, fighting back annoyance. She’d had a long day, and now she’d be late to meet Gia. “Fine. Have them bring it in.”
With a nod, David disappeared. Haven pulled out her phone and quickly fired off a text to warn Gia that she’d be late. Then Haven headed up to her office, and checked her notes for tomorrow. She had several calls to make to chase down some pieces for a new exhibit she wanted to launch in the winter. There were some restoration quotes to go over, and a charity gala for her art charity to plan. She needed to get down into the storage rooms and see if there was anything they could cycle out and put on display.
God, she loved her job. Not many people would get excited about digging around in dusty storage rooms, but Haven couldn’t wait.
She made sure her laptop was off and grabbed her handbag. She slipped her lanyard off and stuffed her phone in her bag.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard a strange noise from the gallery. A muffled pop, then a thump.
Frowning, she took one step toward the gallery.
Suddenly, David staggered through the doorway, a splotch of red on his shirt.
Haven’s pulse spiked. Oh God, was that blood? “David—”
“Run.” He collapsed to the floor.
Fear choking her, she kicked off her heels and spun. She had to get help.
But she’d only taken two steps when a hand sank into her hair, pulling her neat twist loose, and sending her brown hair cascading over her shoulders.
“Let me go!”
She was dragged into the main gallery, and when she lifted her head, her gut churned.
Five men dressed in black, all wearing balaclavas, stood in a small group.
No…oh, no.
Their other guard, Gus, stood with his hands in the air. He was older, former military. She was shoved closer toward him.
“Ms. McKinney, you okay?” Gus asked.
She managed a nod. “They shot David.”
“I kn—”
“No talking,” one man growled.
Haven lifted her chin. “What do you want?” There was a slight quaver in her voice.
The man who’d grabbed her glared. His cold, blue eyes glittered through the slits in his balaclava. Then he ignored her, and with the others, they turned to face the Water Lilies.
Haven’s stomach dropped. No. This couldn’t be happening.
A thin man moved forward, studying the painting’s gilt frame with gloved hands. “It’s wired to an alarm.”
Blue Eyes, clearly the group’s leader, turned and aimed the gun at Gus’ barrel chest. “Disconnect it.”
“No,” the guard said belligerently.
“I’m not asking.”
Haven held up her hands. “Please—”
The gun fired. Gus dropped to one knee, pressing a hand to his shoulder.
“No!” she cried.
The leader stepped forward and pressed the gun to the older man’s head.
“No.” Haven fought back her fear and panic. “Don’t hurt him. I’ll disconnect it.”
Slowly, she inched toward the painting, carefully avoiding the thin man still standing close to it. She touched the security panel built in beside the frame, pressing her palm to the small pad.
A second later, there was a discreet beep.
Two other men came forward and grabbed the frame.
She glanced around at them. “You’re making a mistake. If you know who owns this museum, then you know you won’t get away with this.” Who would go up against the Norcross family? Easton, rich as sin, had a lot of connections, but his brother, Vander… Haven suppressed a shiver. Gia’s middle brother might be hot, but he scared the bejesus out of Haven.
Vander Norcross, former military badass, owned Norcross Security and Investigations. His team had put in the high-tech security for the museum.
No one in their right mind wanted to go up against Vander, or the third Norcross brother who also worked with Vander, or the rest of Vander’s team of badasses.
“Look, if you just—”
The blow to her head made her stagger. She blinked, pain radiating through her face. Blue Eyes had backhanded her.
He moved in and hit her again, and Haven cried out, clutching her face. It wasn’t the first time she’d been hit. Her douchebag ex had hit her once. That was the day she’d left him for good.
But this was worse. Way worse.
“Shut up,