The giggling of children made her look up. She moved to the doorway and saw a harried teacher, along with some parent helpers, herding an excited group of schoolkids down the hall.
“Leila, can you finish up here?” Haven said.
The assistant waved. “Sure thing, Haven.”
Haven headed down the corridor and saw the kids in the main hall—where the empty wall that should hold the Water Lilies mocked her.
Then she heard footsteps and the low murmur of male voices. She turned and her chest froze. Vander and Rhys had just entered the museum.
Vander saw her and lifted his chin. “Hey, Haven.”
“Hi.”
Heart pounding, she looked at Rhys. Damn, why did he have to be so damn good to look at? She felt a tingle right through her body. He was wearing another suit today. It was blue, and fitted him in a way that made her toes curl. His gaze went to her injured cheek and eye, and his jaw tightened.
Then his gaze went blank, like he was looking straight through her.
Ouch. It was like she’d ceased to exist for him. That hurt.
He nodded, but didn’t say anything.
“Any news on the painting?” She forced herself to talk around the pressure in her chest. Pull yourself together, Haven.
“Nothing yet,” Vander replied. “We’re here to see Easton.”
She forced herself not to look back at Rhys and cleared her throat. “He’s up in his office.”
With a nod, the men moved past her.
Once they were gone, she pressed her face to one of the stone pillars. Damn. At least the marble was cool on her skin.
Then she straightened. She had work to do. She was not thinking of Rhys Norcross.
She headed down the corridor and heard the kids peppering their teacher with questions.
Haven’s cell rang, and she saw that it was Harry. “Hi, Harry.”
“Darling girl, how are those bruises?”
“Even more spectacular. Now there’s some purple thrown in.”
He made a sympathetic noise and then lowered his voice. “Well, I got wind of something.”
“Oh?” Her heart thudded against her ribs.
“The faintest rumbles about a private auction of a very expensive painting. Invite is going out to…let’s just say, less-scrupulous dealers than myself.”
Her pulse did a little dance. “People who don’t mind buying a stolen painting.”
“Ding-ding. I don’t have confirmation that it’s your stolen masterpiece, though.”
“Okay.” But the chances were pretty high.
“I have a gallery assistant whose sister’s friend is seeing this guy. He’s not nice, and has a club where some of San Francisco’s criminal element like to frequent. Apparently, he’s great in bed, that’s why she won’t dump his shady ass.”
“What club?” Haven asked.
“Doll face, the kind regular, law-abiding citizens like us don’t know about.”
“Okay, thanks Harry. If you hear anything else, let me know.”
“Sure thing, Haven.”
She ended the call and stared blindly across the main hall. Her gaze fell on a man in the main gallery, not far from the schoolkids. He’d already circled the room once, and he wasn’t really looking at the art for very long. She frowned. He wore jeans, a jacket, and motorcycle boots.
Art lovers came from all walks of life, but she wasn’t getting the right vibe from him.
She moved closer, pretending to survey a display case of ceramics. The man was close, and leaned a hand against one of the pillars.
The blood in her veins turned to ice. She saw freckles on his hand, in a spiral pattern.
He was one of the thieves! The man who’d hit her.
She took a step back. She needed to get upstairs to Rhys, Vander, and Easton.
At her movement, the man’s head whipped up.
Familiar cold blue eyes she’d seen in her nightmares hit hers.
Shit.
She spun. “Security!”
The man lunged. He grabbed the back of her shirt and yanked. She spun and kicked at him. Kids started screaming.
The man spun her and wrapped an arm around her waist, with her back pressed to his front. She jerked and twisted.
Then she saw him lift a gun and press it to her head.
She went still. The kids’ screaming intensified. Haven’s mouth was dry as dust, and she realized that panic had a really bad taste.
“Come with me, or I’ll shoot the kids,” he said, voice low.
Haven gulped in air, panic bubbling up in her throat. She couldn’t stop a whimper escaping.
“Let her go,” a deep voice said.
She turned her head. Thank God. Vander stood there with a gun drawn, held easily in his hands. Easton was one step behind him, a gun also in his hands. There was no sign of Rhys.
“I’m leaving with her,” the man growled. “No one needs to get hurt.”
Vander’s face was a blank, scary mask. “Let. Her. Go.”
“Just back off,” the thief snapped, pulling her back a step.
“You know who I am?” Vander asked.
Okay, Haven didn’t think Vander could get scarier, but he looked like he was going to cut this man open, slowly, and surely, and enjoy every minute of it.
“Don’t give a shit,” the man said.
“Not from around here, then,” Easton murmured.
“Name’s Norcross,” Vander said. “Now, let her go. You aren’t leaving here.”
“I will hurt her.” The man gave her another yank and the gun dug into her temple.
Then she heard the squeak of shoes on the marble and turned her head an inch. Two kids stepped through a doorway right beside them. As soon as they saw the man with the gun, they froze, shaking in terror.
His arm shifted, the gun moving away from Haven and toward the kids.
Screw this. Haven was so sick of being beat up and pushed around. And she wasn’t letting this asshole hurt innocent children.
She reached back, grabbed a handful of his junk and squeezed hard.
The man made a strangled sound, his arm loosened. Haven yanked away, and the gun went off, right by her head.
Damn, that was loud. Heart pounding, ears ringing, she turned and kneed him between the legs. He cried out.
Suddenly, Rhys came out of nowhere and tackled the man.
Haven managed to stay on her feet, but Rhys and the man hit the polished floor, sliding a few feet.
Then Vander and Easton were there. Easton pulled Haven away.
“You okay?” he asked.
Her ears were still ringing, but she nodded. Pressure built in her chest. Oh, no, she didn’t want to have a major freak-out right now.
She needed a distraction, needed to do something. If she didn’t, she was going to splinter apart.
She turned and saw the kids still standing there, terrified.
“It’s okay.” She went to them, holding out her arms. “Come on, we’ll find your teacher. It’s over now.”
“We had to go to the bathroom,” the boy said.
“The man had a gun,” the little girl whispered.
“I know.” Haven had felt that, up close and personal.
“You’re talking loudly,” the boy said.
Haven touched her ear and tried to speak a little quieter. “Come on.” She grabbed the girl’s hand.