Harlow sucked in sharp breath. “I don’t know where he is.”
“Would you tell me if you did?”
Harlow matched the woman’s raptor-like stare. “Probably not. Look, my friends will be really worried I’m missing.”
“I don’t care about your friends—”
Suddenly Mr. Scowly’s cell phone rang. He answered it quietly, then Harlow heard him curse.
“Kolar?” Rhoda asked.
“Someone took down the guards out front. We need—”
There was a thump outside the office door.
Harlow gripped the arms of her chair, watching as Rhoda frowned.
The door opened and Vander strode in.
Thank God. Harlow felt a rush of relief.
Vander’s face was its usual expressionless mask, but he was giving off the vibe that he was truly pissed. He’d changed out of his black suit into more black—black jeans, black T-shirt, and a black leather jacket.
His dark-blue gaze glanced at Harlow, scanned her, then looked back at Rhoda.
“You okay, Harlow?”
“Yes, Vander.”
Rhoda stood. “Vander, I had no idea she was yours.”
“She’s Easton’s.” Vander stopped in the center of the office, feet spread. “And I’m surprised you didn’t, since I called earlier to talk about Carlson.”
Rhoda swallowed then swiveled to look at Kolar. “You did?”
Kolar shifted nervously.
“Yeah,” Vander continued. “I was displeased to be blown off, and to have to talk with your lackey.”
“Kolar—”
“You were busy,” the guard bit out. “I dealt with it. I told you I wanted to take on more responsibility.”
“You dealt with it?”
The snap in Rhoda’s voice made Harlow flinch.
“You had your men snatch a Norcross woman?” Rhoda bit out. “That’s dealing with it?”
Harlow was really glad she wasn’t Kolar.
“Harlow.”
She heard the order in Vander’s voice. She shot to her feet and hurried over to him. He touched her cheek briefly, then looked at Rhoda. “She’s not a part of this.”
“Her father owes me money, and stole a dagger from me. An expensive one.”
“Not Harlow’s problem.”
Rhoda’s mouth flattened. “I want Charles Carlson.”
Harlow closed her eyes.
“Get in line.” Vander took Harlow’s arm and pulled her out of Rhoda’s slick office.
He led her down the hall and outside. Night had fallen, and as she glanced around, she realized they were at a warehouse in the Embarcadero.
“Thanks,” she murmured.
“They didn’t hurt you?” He led her over toward a black SUV.
“I’m fine.” Except she felt sick to her soul.
“Let’s get you home.”
Easton paced his home office. Usually, he found the dark-gray wood paneling soothing, but it wasn’t helping today. He’d shed his jacket, and had his sleeves rolled up.
Ace had tracked down Harlow to Rhoda Pierce’s warehouse. Easton had wanted to go, but Vander talked him down. Told him that the situation needed a cool head.
And Easton was anything but cool right now.
His phone buzzed and he saw a message from Vander.
Incoming.
Easton jogged down his circular stairs to the bottom floor, then down one side of the sweeping stairs to the front door.
He opened it to find Vander and Harlow on his doorstep. She looked exhausted.
“Easton—”
He yanked her into his arms. She buried her face against his chest and slid her arms around him.
“She’s okay,” Vander said.
“Thanks, Vander.”
His brother lifted his chin. “Her dad owes Pierce. Lost in the games, then stole some dagger. A collectible.”
Shit. Carlson had dug himself deeper.
Easton felt tension in Harlow’s body. He stroked a hand up her back.
“We’ll talk more tomorrow,” Vander said. “And my guys will keep looking for Carlson.”
“Thank you, Vander.” Harlow’s words were muffled against Easton’s shirt.
“Get some rest, Harlow.” Vander met Easton’s gaze, and a faint grin crossed his face. “Or try to.”
Then Vander turned and jogged down the steps to his black Norcross X6. The SUV’s engine gunned, and then it roared away.
“Come on.” Easton locked the door and led her inside. She was quiet, maybe slightly still in shock.
He guided her into the elevator, and then they exited on the top floor. He tugged her down the hall, her heels clicking on the wooden floor.
He led her into his bedroom and she blinked. She spared a quick glance at his modern, black iron four-poster bed, before she took two steps toward the open terrace doors.
It was a little cool to be out on the terrace, but Easton had needed it tonight.
“You can’t be serious with these views,” she breathed.
Easton went down on one knee in front of her, and heard her gasp. Then he helped her out of one high heel, then the other.
He looked up. She was staring at him like she couldn’t believe he was real.
He rose, took her hand, and led her onto the terrace.
He’d already liked the house for its size and investment potential, but this terrace had clinched the deal.
Small lanterns flickered, giving off a golden glow. A square hot tub was set off to the right, and a comfy seating area to the left.
She moved to the carved stone railing and leaned out, her eyes closed, and pulled in a deep breath of the night air.
Easton slipped his hands into his pockets and watched her.
Something in him finally settled for the first time in a very long time. He was most often driven to do, to move, but right now, he was happy to just watch a barefoot Harlow in his house.
Safe. Alive. In his domain.
She stared out to the shadowed Bay. Lights twinkled on the Golden Gate Bridge, and part of San Francisco lay before them, glimmering softly in the night.
“Must be nice to wake up to this,” she said.
“It is.”
Then she shivered.
He took her hand and led her to the outdoor couch. A blanket was folded over the back and he grabbed it, then draped it around her shoulders.
She sat and he reached for the bottle of cognac and glasses he’d left there earlier.
He poured two glasses and handed her one.
She eyed the amber fluid. “What is this?”
“Cognac.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Does it cost a gazillion dollars a bottle?”
“No.” He decided not to mention that it was closer to ten thousand.
She set her shoulders back, one hand gripping the blanket, then she tossed the drink down in one quick gulp. She swallowed and set the glass down on the table with a click. Then she sucked in a few breaths. “Yikes.”
Easton sipped his. “Feeling better?”
“Not really. Thank you for getting me out. Rhoda Pierce is…scary. Although she’s afraid of Vander.”
Easton set his own drink down and took her hand. “You shouldn’t have been taken at all.”
“Is Rome okay?”
“Beating himself up. He takes his job seriously.”