In the lobby, she pulled the hood up over her hair and swiped the Uber app on her phone.
The car arrived, and as far as she could tell, no one was paying her any attention.
It was a short ride to South Beach, where Vander had purchased an old warehouse several years back to house the Norcross office—then completely gutted and renovated it. Now, the bottom level of the warehouse housed the fleet of BMW SUVs that the Norcross team used, a high-tech gym, and cells. Okay, technically, holding rooms. The next level was mostly open plan, with glass-walled offices that the guys barely used. Every time she’d visited, the Norcross men were in the field doing badass security and investigations stuff. Sitting at a desk was not their favorite thing to do.
She’d helped Vander pick out the interior for the office. The inside had a concrete-and-steel, industrial vibe that suited Vander. The upper floor and roof terrace were Vander’s private domain and home.
Gia slipped out of the Uber with a thank you, and headed down the street, looking quickly toward the warehouse.
Suddenly, a small, wiry body raced out of an alley and slammed into her.
“Hey!” she cried.
The man, only inches taller than her, pulled a knife. “Give me the bag.”
“I don’t have a bag.”
“The gems,” he barked.
Oh, shit. He must be one of the guys who’d been following Willow.
“She gave them to you,” the man snapped. “I want them.”
Gia stiffened. Then in her haughtiest voice, she said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The knife slashed and Gia felt a sting of pain on her forearm.
Anger exploded inside her. She’d had a crappy, trying few days. Her mama liked to say that Gia had inherited her fiery, Italian temper from her.
Gia struck. She chopped her hand into her attacker’s arm. With a shout, his knife dropped to the pavement.
She kicked him in the crotch, but he deflected at the last second and she caught his thigh. She kept attacking. She’d been taught well, but she knew she would never be as strong as a male attacker. She had to attack fast and hard, before he realized that she meant business.
She rammed her elbow into his neck and he coughed. Then he reached out and grabbed her hoodie and hair, and yanked.
Ow. Ow. Ow. Tears threatened. Her scalp felt like it was on fire. She jerked her arms up violently, breaking his hold, and probably losing a few strands of hair in the process.
But now he attacked full force.
His body drove into hers, slamming her into a nearby brick wall. It knocked the wind out of her.
He snatched the knife off the concrete and pressed it to her throat.
Gia froze. Oh, shit. She felt the sting on her neck. Her first worry was about what germs and grime might be on the blade.
The man’s eyes glittered with rage. Screw this. She rammed her knee up between his legs. Really hard.
He made a horrible noise and she almost felt sorry for him. He dropped the knife again, and she shoved away from him.
The man raised his head, and she saw the frightening promise of retribution on his face.
“Hey!” a deep male voice roared.
Her attacker spun and awkwardly ran off, hunched over and hobbling.
Gia picked up the switchblade. “I’m keeping this, asshole.”
A tall man appeared beside her.
Ace Oliveira, Norcross’ guru of all things tech and electronic, looked nothing like any geek she’d ever seen. He was tall, dark, and Brazilian. His long, dark hair was pulled back in a sexy ponytail, showcasing the angles of his handsome face. His body was long, rangy, and muscled.
“Gia, you okay?”
“Yes.” But the shaking was setting in. “I’m okay.”
His dark eyes were concerned. “You’re bleeding.”
She swiped a hand across her neck. “Um, I think I’ll head home.”
Ace’s gaze narrowed.
“Can you…um, forget you ever saw this?”
“No.” He took her arm, his grip strong, and herded her toward the Norcross office.
Shit, she was afraid of that.
* * *
Saxon had just finished up with some searches on his laptop—tapping a few PI databases—when he heard the dangerous snap of Vander’s voice.
“What the fuck?”
Pushing back from his desk, Saxon strode into the central open area of the Norcross office.
Ace and Vander were scowling at a small woman with her back toward Saxon and a hood over her head.
But he’d recognize that curvy little ass anywhere. Hell, he’d dreamed about it constantly.
“Gia?”
She turned.
Saxon’s blood ran cold.
Blood was smeared across her neck and on one arm of her sweatshirt.
He advanced and she held her hand up. “I’m fine—”
Saxon crossed the space in a few strides. He cupped her cheek, tilting her head back.
“Guy with a knife attacked her out front,” Ace said.
Saxon’s blood ran from ice cold to boiling hot. “I told you to stay in your office, or at home.”
She dragged in a breath. “I know—”
“I told you that you were still in danger.”
“You said that I might be in danger.” That chin lifted. “I got an Uber, and I wore different clothes.”
Saxon studied the line marring her delicate throat, and something ugly churned in his gut. If the bastard had cut her any deeper—
Saxon gripped her arm. “How did that work out for you?”
The anger in his voice made her stiffen.
Vander frowned. “Saxon.”
“I’ll get her cleaned up.” He towed her across the office. She tried to pull her arm away. “Don’t test me right now.”
Vander was watching them, his gaze like a laser. “I think I need to send Dennett a stronger message.” Vander hit the stairs and was gone like smoke.
Gia’s eyes widened. “What does that mean?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Saxon pulled her into a small room they kept stocked with medical supplies. They didn’t often get injured, but it happened, and none of them liked a trip to the ER.
There was a double bed pressed against the wall, and he made her sit.
“You don’t need to worry about Vander.”
“But I do. He’s my brother.” Her brown gaze met his. “And I know you worry about him, too. He’s so…”
“Badass?”
“Closed off. Remote. He never smiles anymore.”
Yeah, well, Saxon was well aware of the things Vander had done as part of Ghost Ops. The decisions he’d been forced to make. The men he’d lost.
“He’s home.” Saxon pulled out the medical kit. “He has his family.”
When he looked up, he found her watching him.
“Does your family help you?” she asked quietly.
Saxon snorted. “I try to see them as little as I can.”
Something moved in her dark eyes. “I thought…well, you’re an only child and your family’s rich. I figured you were spoiled and indulged.”
“Why do you think I spent so much time at your house when I was younger? I can’t stand my parents.”
“Oh. They’re…difficult?”