“Her father’s in debt. Big time.”
“Shit.”
Vander sat in one of the guest chairs. “You know her dad?”
“Not personally. Charles Carlson. Local businessman.”
Vander nodded. “He had some deals go bad. He got desperate.”
Easton met Vander’s dark blue gaze. “And?”
“He got really desperate. Made some shady deals with some shady people.”
Easton clenched his teeth. “Who?”
“Antoine Armand.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah, fuck,” Vander agreed.
Armand was bad news.
“Armand has some semi-legit businesses, but he’s got his fingers in a lot of ugly spaces.”
“Not legal ones, I assume?”
“Right,” Vander said. “Drugs, laundering, prostitution.”
Easton leaned back in his chair. “Charming.”
“Carlson invested in some real estate deals. Anyway, things went bad. He took loans from Armand.”
“Shit.” And Carlson was dumping this on his daughter?
“Armand isn’t known for being generous. He has a cousin who likes to use a knife. If Carlson doesn’t pay up, he’ll end up dead with his throat slit.”
Easton leaned forward, pulse pounding. “Someone tried to snatch Harlow off the street last night.”
Vander’s face hardened. Easton’s brother detested violence against women. He’d seen some horrible things during his missions.
“That matches Armand’s MO. He usually threatens the family.”
Easton thrust a hand through his hair. “So, she’s in danger.”
“There’s more.”
Shit. Easton knew he wasn’t going to like this. He rose and looked out the windows at the Transamerica Pyramid and the city below. He was used to being in control. He liked it. Preferred it.
“This morning, Harlow transferred all her savings to her father,” Vander said. “Just over fifty thousand dollars.”
Easton closed his eyes.
He’d thrown himself into business after he’d left the Army. He’d been driven. Needed to find purpose. Something to keep him busy. He’d made a lot of money, and fifty thousand dollars was change to him, but he hadn’t grown up wealthy. Ethan and Clara Norcross had been hard-working people—their dad was a retired firefighter, and their mom a dedicated homemaker. They’d both instilled a strong work ethic into their kids, and the importance of saving money.
Easton knew just how hard Harlow would have worked to save that money.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. He wanted to chew out Charles Carlson. “He tried to buy himself some breathing room.”
Vander nodded. “Armand isn’t known for being magnanimous.”
Easton turned. “So, you do think she’s in danger?”
“It’s a strong possibility.”
“Fuck.”
“I can spread the word that she has our protection.”
Easton gave a sharp nod. “Do it.”
“How much do you think Harlow knows?” Vander asked.
“No idea. I can see her handing over her savings to her father without blinking an eye.”
“I’ll get back to the office. Make some calls.”
“Thanks, Vander.”
His brother grasped Easton’s shoulder. “We’ll take care of your girl.”
“She’s not mine.”
Vander grunted.
“She’s my employee.”
“Temporarily. It’s sticky, but not impossible to navigate. You have a big, cunning brain, bro.”
Easton smiled. “I’m pretty sure there was a compliment in there.”
“Don’t ruin it.”
Easton’s smile dissolved. “The first thing is to get her safe.”
Vander nodded. “Whatever you need, you just let me know.”
“Thanks.” It didn’t matter what they faced, the Norcross siblings stuck together.
Easton strode to the door. He needed to talk with Harlow and get some answers. “If anything else comes up, let me know.”
Vander tossed him a salute. “Will do.”
Easton opened his office door, eager to see Harlow.
Her desk was empty.
His muscles tensed.
He strode out, and saw her computer was asleep. Her desk was neat and tidy as always.
He cursed.
Then he spotted one of the other assistants nearby. “Gina, do you know where Harlow is?” Be in a meeting. Be in a meeting.
Gina froze like a deer in headlights.
Easton always worried the woman was going to have an aneurism when he talked to her.
“Um, she got a call, Mr. Norcross. She said she had to go out for a while.”
Easton fought for some control.
“I think she was meeting with her dad,” Gina said.
Easton met Vander’s gaze.
Fuck.
Harlow hurried across the street, a little out of breath.
After the quick, panicked call from her dad, she’d power walked from the Norcross building to meet him.
Her father had sounded scared.
Her mouth was dry and her pulse was jittery. She scanned Rincon Park. The waters of the Bay were choppy and gray today. They matched her mood. She barely spared the Bay Bridge a glance.
As she crossed the street, a cold wind tugged at her red coat and tried to tear her hair out of its tie.
She spotted her father at the railing, his shoulders slumped.
Swallowing, she hurried over. “Dad?”
He spun. “Harlow.” His face was drawn, gray. “Princess.” He grabbed her hand. His weren’t steady.
“Did you meet that man?” she asked. “Did you give him the money?”
Her dad nodded. “We met for lunch at Saison.”
Harlow kept her face blank. She’d forked over her life savings, and yet her father was having a fancy lunch with a criminal. “And?”
His eyes met hers. They were miserable. His fingers clenched on hers hard enough to hurt.
“He said it wasn’t enough. He said if I couldn’t pay it all, I’d pay with my life.”
“No,” she breathed.
“Then he got a call. I used the restroom and managed to escape.”
God. God. Her chest was so tight. This couldn’t be happening.
“And he said if I messed around, then my family wouldn’t be safe.”
The words were like a punch to Harlow’s gut. “Mom. Scarlett.”
Her father shoved his hand through his already messy hair. “I sent your mother away yesterday. A week-long yoga and spa retreat in Napa.”
Harlow blew out a breath. “And Scarlett?”
“Antoine’s reach shouldn’t extend to Los Angeles, but I’ll call her. Ask her to go away for a week.”
“Then what, Dad?” Panic felt like bony fingers closing around Harlow’s throat.
“I’m going to fix this,” her father said.
Harlow couldn’t see a solution. She couldn’t find a safe way out for all of them.
Yesterday, her life had been awesome. A job she loved, and plans to buy her own house.
Today, everything had splintered apart.
“Harlow, I need you to lay low for a few days. Let me sort this out—”