His chin dropped to his chest. “I can explain—”
“Explain?” Harlow’s voice rose. “I’m in danger, Dad. If mom or Scarlett come back, they’ll be in danger, too. I’ve had to have dinner with a criminal, been attacked, and been taken by a really scary lady. How could you explain?”
Carlson slumped. “I’m sorry, Princess.”
Easton didn’t think it was good enough. The guy needed to man up. Easton reached out and gripped the back of Harlow’s neck. She glanced at him and he hated seeing the pain on her face.
“You’re Easton Norcross,” Carlson breathed.
He glanced up to see her father staring at him.
“You’re dating Easton Norcross?” Carlson asked Harlow.
“He’s my boss,” she answered.
Carlson glanced between the two of them. “I thought your boss was Meredith Webster.”
“I’m temporarily Easton’s assistant. Dad, this doesn’t matter right now. The knife. Rhoda Pierce wants it back. She’s not a lady you cross.”
Carlson scraped a hand over his face.
“Dad, where’s the knife? You need to return it.”
“I can’t.”
“Dad!”
Easton watched as a bead of sweat rolled down Carlson’s temple.
“It’s gone.”
Easton frowned. Vander came in and leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.
Carlson looked at him, then Easton.
“Carlson, I’m keeping Harlow safe,” Easton said. “You’ve put her in the path of some bad people. You will return the knife.”
“I can’t.” A hoarse whisper. “It’s gone.”
Harlow stiffened and Easton stepped closer. He pressed his hand to her lower back.
“Explain,” he ordered.
Carlson swallowed. “I had it in my car.” He ran his hand across his mouth. “I regretted taking it right away. I stopped to get coffee near Fisherman’s Wharf, wondering how to return it without Rhoda knowing.”
Of course, the man couldn’t just own up to his mistake.
“When I got back to the car, the knife was gone.”
“What?” Harlow breathed.
“Nothing was broken. The car was locked. I had the knife wrapped in a handkerchief in the middle console. I have no idea who took it.”
“Fuck,” Vander said.
“We have to find it,” Harlow said.
“We do,” Vander agreed. “Otherwise, your dad is fucked.”
She gasped.
“Vander.” Easton scowled at his brother.
Vander shrugged. “Sorry, Harlow. Don’t worry, we’ll find it. I’ll get Ace working on it, and I’ll put out feelers to see if anyone is trying to sell it, or shift the jewels from the hilt.”
“Thank you, Vander.” Harlow pressed her fingers to her temple.
“Carlson, you need to lay low until we find the knife,” Easton said.
Vander nodded. “I have a safe house you can stay at.”
Harlow spun. “Easton, it’s too much.”
“It’s fine, Harlow.” He rested a hand on her shoulder.
Her father was watching them.
“You help out all your employees, Norcross? And touch them all the time?”
“Dad! Easton has—”
Easton stepped forward. “You mean something to Harlow, and Harlow means something to me. I’m helping you out for her, not you. Don’t test my patience.”
Carlson nodded rapidly, his mouth clicking shut.
“Let’s go,” Vander said. “SUV’s parked out front.”
Harlow walked ahead with her dad.
“I’ll take him to our Oakland place,” Vander said. “Ace’ll find the dagger.”
“I don’t want this to take too long.” Easton wanted Harlow safe. They stepped out the front doors.
Vander’s lips twitched. “The longer it takes, the longer your gorgeous assistant has to stay with you.”
Easton looked at her, and the way her blonde hair glinted in the sunlight. “When this is over, she’s staying with me anyway.”
Vander raised a brow. “She know that yet?”
“I’m working on it.”
His brother smiled. “Damn, I never thought I’d see the day when you finally found the right woman, and she isn’t tripping over herself to throw herself at the great Easton Norcross.”
“Fuck you.”
“No, save that for your blonde bombshell.”
A shot rang out.
Easton and Vander tensed.
Another gunshot, and the window of a parked car shattered.
Easton reacted. He took two steps and dived on Harlow.
He took her down to the sidewalk, covering her body with his.
Chapter Thirteen
Gunshots echoed in Harlow’s ears, and a scream stuck in her throat.
Easton lay on top of her—a heavy, solid weight. His cologne filled her senses, the beat of her heart 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.”