The Specialist (Norcross #3) - Anna Hackett Page 0,38

was a roar in her head.

Someone was shooting at them.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

Easton wasn’t moving. Her heart stopped. Was he hit? God, was he hurt and bleeding?

“Easton—”

“Hold still. Stay down.” She felt him shift a little. “Vander?”

“Yeah, I’m on it,” Vander growled from nearby.

Where was her dad? Harlow bit her lip, fighting back her fear.

She heard more gunshots close by. She jolted and turned her head. She spotted Vander on the sidewalk, a deadly-looking black pistol in his hand.

Then, the shooting stopped, and Vander sprinted out of view.

“Easton…”

“Just a bit longer, baby. Need to make sure it’s safe.”

He was literally shielding her with his body. Protecting her. She closed her eyes. People looked at him and just saw a rich billionaire. Probably imagined him as a self-absorbed, rich man who had everything.

They didn’t see the hard-working, protective man who’d thrown himself in front of a bullet to protect her.

Something shifted inside her.

He was a man she could lean on. Who wouldn’t let her down.

“Clear!” Vander called out.

Easton rose and pulled her up. He kept her close to his front.

“The shooter’s gone.” A muscle ticked in Vander’s jaw.

“Dad?” Harlow scanned the sidewalk. Her pulse tripped. “Where’s my father?”

Vander blew out a breath. “I saw him take off.”

“No.” She shook her head.

Easton hugged her close.

“Judging by the shots, the shooter was aiming for him,” Vander noted.

“Oh, no.” Harlow clung to Easton.

“He can’t run for long,” Vander said. “We’ll find him again.”

“Come on, baby.” Easton squeezed the back of her neck. “Let’s get to work. Vander will find your father.”

“What if the shooter finds him first? Or Rhoda? Or Antoine? One of them is behind this.”

“They won’t.” Easton forced her to look at him. “Your father made this mess. He knows we’re here to help. He’s just not thinking clearly.”

“And he’s selfish,” Vander muttered. “Putting his daughter on the line.”

God. Harlow let out a shaky breath. Her father kept digging himself in deeper.

She let Easton bundle her into his car. By the time they parked at the office, she’d mostly calmed down.

“Okay?” Easton asked, leading her to the elevator.

“No, but I think getting to my desk and keeping busy will help.”

He ran his thumb across her lips. “Good girl.”

The urge to kiss him was overwhelming. They were alone in the elevator, but it could stop at any second.

“You shouldn’t stare at my mouth like that,” he said.

“I can’t help it,” she whispered. “Because now I know exactly what you look like under your fancy suits.”

He groaned. “Harlow.”

She stepped closer and toyed with a button on his shirt. “And I know the sounds you make when you’re deep inside me.”

He cursed and yanked her close. He spun her back against the mirrored wall and kissed her.

Oh, yum. She stroked her tongue against his. Right here, right now, it was just the two of them and how they made each other feel.

Then the elevator started to slow and he quickly stepped back.

Harlow pinned what she hoped was a professional look on her face. Crap, she’d need to redo her lipstick.

Two suited men entered.

“Mr. Norcross,” one said.

“Morning,” Easton replied.

The elevator moved again, the men talked quietly about some upcoming workshop.

Harlow stepped a little closer and in front of Easton. She reached back, fingers grazing his belt buckle. She heard his low hiss.

She let her hand drift lower, her fingers dancing over the hard bulge in his trousers.

His head moved closer, his breath hot on the back of her neck.

“Very naughty, Ms. Carlson.” A near soundless whisper. “You’re asking for trouble.”

She knew she shouldn’t do this. They were at work. But when her boss had already blown her mind numerous times, and thrown his body over hers to shield her from bullets, it tended to put some things in perspective.

The elevator slowed again. She felt Easton straighten his jacket across his front.

A woman in a gray suit stepped in with a nod.

The elevator headed upward again. Harlow sensed Easton crouch down. She glanced back and saw he was tying his shoe lace.

Then she felt a light caress on her knee. She controlled her jolt and gasped quietly. Those clever fingers continued up the back of her thigh. They slid through the slit at the back of her skirt.

Harlow bit her lip. His fingers brushed the edge of her panties, and she felt a rush of dampness between her thighs.

The elevator slowed again and his hand withdrew. She missed the touch instantly.

Get it together, Harlow.

The others exited and Easton stepped forward, his suit jacket covering any evidence of