The Investigator: Norcross Series Read online

  The Investigator

  Norcross Series

  Anna Hackett

  The Investigator

  Published by Anna Hackett

  Copyright 2020 by Anna Hackett

  Cover by Lana Pecherczyk

  Cover image by Wander Aguiar

  Edits by Tanya Saari

  ISBN (ebook): 978-1-922414-10-6

  ISBN (paperback): 978-1-922414-11-3

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, events or places is coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form.

  Contents

  What readers are saying about Anna’s romances

  Anna Hackett Box Set

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Preview - Mission: Her Protection

  Preview: Undiscovered

  Also by Anna Hackett

  About the Author

  What readers are saying about Anna’s romances

  Claim of Eon - Romantic Book of the Year (Ruby) winner 2020

  Cyborg - PRISM Award Winner 2019

  Edge of Eon and Mission: Her Protection - Romantic Book of the Year (Ruby) finalists 2019

  Unfathomed and Unmapped - Romantic Book of the Year (Ruby) finalists 2018

  Unexplored – Romantic Book of the Year (Ruby) Novella Winner 2017

  Return to Dark Earth – One of Library Journal's Best E-Original Books for 2015 and two-time SFR Galaxy Awards winner

  At Star’s End – One of Library Journal's Best E-Original Romances for 2014

  The Phoenix Adventures – SFR Galaxy Award Winner for Most Fun New Series and “Why Isn’t This a Movie?” Series

  Hell Squad – SFR Galaxy Award for best Post-Apocalypse for Readers who don’t like Post-Apocalypse

  "Like Indiana Jones meets Star Wars. A treasure hunt with a steamy romance." – SFF Dragon, review of Among Galactic Ruins

  "Strap in, enjoy the heat of romance and the daring of this group of space travellers!" – Di, Top 500 Amazon Reviewer, review of At Star’s End

  “Action, danger, aliens, romance – yup, it’s another great book from Anna Hackett!” – Book Gannet Reviews, review of Hell Squad: Marcus

  Sign up for my VIP mailing list and get your free box set containing three action-packed romances.

  Click here to get started: www.annahackett.com

  Chapter One

  There was a glass of chardonnay with her name on it waiting for her at home.

  Haven McKinney smiled. The museum was closed, and she was done for the day.

  As she walked across the East gallery of the Hutton Museum, her heels clicked on the marble floor.

  God, she loved the place. The creamy marble that made up the flooring and wrapped around the grand pillars was gorgeous. It had that hushed air of grandeur that made her heart squeeze a little every time she stepped inside. But more than that, the amazing art the Hutton housed sang to the art lover in her blood.

  Snagging a job here as the curator six months ago had been a dream come true. She’d been at a low point in her life. Very low. Haven swallowed a snort and circled a stunning white-marble sculpture of a naked, reclining woman with the most perfect resting bitch face. She’d never guessed that her life would come crashing down at age twenty-nine.

  She lifted her chin. Miami was her past. The Hutton and San Francisco were her future. No more throwing caution to the wind. She had a plan, and she was sticking to it.

  She paused in front of a stunning exhibit of traditional Chinese painting and calligraphy. It was one of their newer exhibits, and had been Haven’s brainchild. Nearby, an interactive display was partially assembled. Over the next few days, her staff would finish the installation. Excitement zipped through Haven. She couldn’t wait to have the touchscreens operational. It was her passion to make art more accessible, especially to children. To help them be a part of it, not just look at it. To learn, to feel, to enjoy.

  Art had helped her through some of the toughest times in her life, and she wanted to share that with others.

  She looked at the gorgeous old paintings again. One portrayed a mountainous landscape with beautiful maple trees. It soothed her nerves.

  Wine would soothe her nerves, as well. Right. She needed to get upstairs to her office and grab her handbag, then get an Uber home.

  Her cell phone rang and she unclipped it from the lanyard she wore at the museum. “Hello?”

  “Change of plans, girlfriend,” a smoky female voice said. “Let’s go out and celebrate being gorgeous, successful, and single. I’m done at the office, and believe me, it has been a grueling day.”

  Haven smiled at her new best friend. She’d met Gia Norcross when she joined the Hutton. Gia’s wealthy brother, Easton Norcross, owned the museum, and was Haven’s boss. The museum was just a small asset in the businessman’s empire. Haven suspected Easton owned at least a third of San Francisco. Maybe half.

  She liked and respected her boss. Easton could be tough, but he valued her opinions. And she loved his bossy, take-charge, energetic sister. Gia ran a highly successful PR firm in the city, and did all the PR and advertising for the Hutton. They’d met not long after Haven had started work at the museum.

  After their first meeting, Gia had dragged Haven out to her favorite restaurant and bar, and the rest was history.

  “I guess making people’s Instagram look pretty and not staged is hard work,” Haven said with a grin.

  “Bitch.” Gia laughed. “God, I had a meeting with a businessman caught in…well, let’s just say he and his assistant were not taking notes on the boardroom table.”

  Haven felt an old, unwelcome memory rise up. She mentally stomped it down. “I don’t feel sorry for the cheating asshole, I feel sorry for whatever poor shmuck got more than they were paid for when they walked into the boardroom.”

  “Actually, it was the cheating businessman’s wife.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “And the assistant was male,” Gia added.

  “Double uh-oh.”

  “Then said cheater comes to my PR firm, telling me to clean up his mess, because he’s thinking he might run for governor one day. I mean, I’m good, but I can’t wrangle miracles.”

  Haven suspected that Gia had verbally eviscerated the man and sent him on his way. Gia Norcross had a sharp tongue, and wasn’t afraid to use it.

  “So, grueling day and I need alcohol. I’ll meet you at ONE65, and the first drink is on me.”

  “I’m pretty wiped, Gia—”

  “Uh-uh, no excuses. I’ll see you in an hour.” And with that, Gia was gone.

  Haven clipped her phone to her lanyard. Well, it looked like she was having that chardonnay at ONE65, the six-story, French dining experience Gia loved. Each level offered something different, from patisserie, to bistro and grill, to bar and lounge.

  Haven walked into the museum’s main gallery, and her blood pressure dropped to a more normal level. It was her favorite space in the museum. The smell of wood, the gorgeous lights gleaming overhead, and the amazing paintings combined to create a soothing
room. She smoothed her hands down her fitted, black skirt. Haven was tall, at five foot eight, and curvy, just like her mom had been. Her boobs, currently covered by a cute, white blouse with a tie around her neck, weren’t much to write home about, but she had to buy her skirts one size bigger. She sighed. No matter how much she walked or jogged—blergh, okay, she didn’t jog much—she still had an ass.

  Even in her last couple of months in Miami, when stress had caused her to lose a bunch of weight due to everything going on, her ass hadn’t budged.

  Memories of Miami—and her douchebag-of-epic-proportions-ex—threatened, churning like storm clouds on the horizon.

  Nope. She locked those thoughts down. She was not going there.

  She had a plan, and the number one thing for taking back and rebuilding her life was no men. She’d sworn off anyone with a Y chromosome.

  She didn’t need one, didn’t want one, she was D-O-N-E, done.

  She stopped in front of the museum’s star attraction. Claude Monet’s Water Lilies.

  Haven loved the impressionist’s work. She loved the colors, the delicate strokes. This one depicted water lilies and lily pads floating on a gentle pond. His paintings always made an impact, and had a haunting, yet soothing feel to them.

  It was also worth just over a hundred million dollars.

  The price tag still made her heart flutter. She’d put a business case to Easton, and they’d purchased the painting three weeks ago at auction. Haven had planned out the display down to the rivets used on the wood. She’d thrown herself into the project.

  Gia had put together a killer marketing campaign, and Haven had reluctantly been interviewed by the local paper. But it had paid off. Ticket sales to the museum were up, and everyone wanted to see Water Lilies.

  Footsteps echoed through the empty museum, and she turned to see a uniformed security guard appear in the doorway.

  “Ms. McKinney?”

  “Yes, David? I was just getting ready to leave.”

  “Sorry to delay you. There’s a delivery truck at the back entrance. They say they have a delivery of a Zadkine bronze.”

  Haven frowned, running through the next day’s schedule in her head. “That’s due tomorrow.”

  “It sounds like they had some other deliveries nearby and thought they’d squeeze it in.”

  She glanced at her slim, silver wristwatch, fighting back annoyance. She’d had a long day, and now she’d be late to meet Gia. “Fine. Have them bring it in.”

  With a nod, David disappeared. Haven pulled out her phone and quickly fired off a text to warn Gia that she’d be late. Then Haven headed up to her office, and checked her notes for tomorrow. She had several calls to make to chase down some pieces for a new exhibit she wanted to launch in the winter. There were some restoration quotes to go over, and a charity gala for her art charity to plan. She needed to get down into the storage rooms and see if there was anything they could cycle out and put on display.

  God, she loved her job. Not many people would get excited about digging around in dusty storage rooms, but Haven couldn’t wait.

  She made sure her laptop was off and grabbed her handbag. She slipped her lanyard off and stuffed her phone in her bag.

  When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard a strange noise from the gallery. A muffled pop, then a thump.

  Frowning, she took one step toward the gallery.

  Suddenly, David staggered through the doorway, a splotch of red on his shirt.

  Haven’s pulse spiked. Oh God, was that blood? “David—”

  “Run.” He collapsed to the floor.

  Fear choking her, she kicked off her heels and spun. She had to get help.

  But she’d only taken two steps when a hand sank into her hair, pulling her neat twist loose, and sending her brown hair cascading over her shoulders.

  “Let me go!”

  She was dragged into the main gallery, and when she lifted her head, her gut churned.

  Five men dressed in black, all wearing balaclavas, stood in a small group.

  No…oh, no.

  Their other guard, Gus, stood with his hands in the air. He was older, former military. She was shoved closer toward him.

  “Ms. McKinney, you okay?” Gus asked.

  She managed a nod. “They shot David.”

  “I kn—”

  “No talking,” one man growled.

  Haven lifted her chin. “What do you want?” There was a slight quaver in her voice.

  The man who’d grabbed her glared. His cold, blue eyes glittered through the slits in his balaclava. Then he ignored her, and with the others, they turned to face the Water Lilies.

  Haven’s stomach dropped. No. This couldn’t be happening.

  A thin man moved forward, studying the painting’s gilt frame with gloved hands. “It’s wired to an alarm.”

  Blue Eyes, clearly the group’s leader, turned and aimed the gun at Gus’ barrel chest. “Disconnect it.”

  “No,” the guard said belligerently.

  “I’m not asking.”

  Haven held up her hands. “Please—”

  The gun fired. Gus dropped to one knee, pressing a hand to his shoulder.

  “No!” she cried.

  The leader stepped forward and pressed the gun to the older man’s head.

  “No.” Haven fought back her fear and panic. “Don’t hurt him. I’ll disconnect it.”

  Slowly, she inched toward the painting, carefully avoiding the thin man still standing close to it. She touched the security panel built in beside the frame, pressing her palm to the small pad.

  A second later, there was a discreet beep.

  Two other men came forward and grabbed the frame.

  She glanced around at them. “You’re making a mistake. If you know who owns this museum, then you know you won’t get away with this.” Who would go up against the Norcross family? Easton, rich as sin, had a lot of connections, but his brother, Vander… Haven suppressed a shiver. Gia’s middle brother might be hot, but he scared the bejesus out of Haven.

  Vander Norcross, former military badass, owned Norcross Security and Investigations. His team had put in the high-tech security for the museum.

  No one in their right mind wanted to go up against Vander, or the third Norcross brother who also worked with Vander, or the rest of Vander’s team of badasses.

  “Look, if you just—”

  The blow to her head made her stagger. She blinked, pain radiating through her face. Blue Eyes had backhanded her.

  He moved in and hit her again, and Haven cried out, clutching her face. It wasn’t the first time she’d been hit. Her douchebag ex had hit her once. That was the day she’d left him for good.

  But this was worse. Way worse.

  “Shut up, you stupid bitch.”

  The next blow sent her to the floor. She thought she heard someone chuckle. He followed with a kick to her ribs, and Haven curled into a ball, a sob in her throat.

  Her vision wavered and she blinked. Blue Eyes crouched down, putting his hand to the tiles right in front of her. Dizziness hit her, and she vaguely took in the freckles on the man’s hand. They formed a spiral pattern.

  “No one talks back to me,” the man growled. “Especially a woman.” He moved away.

  She saw the men were busy maneuvering the painting off the wall. It was easy for two people to move. She knew its exact dimensions—eighty by one hundred centimeters.

  No one was paying any attention to her. Fighting through the nausea and dizziness, she dragged herself a few inches across the floor, closer to the nearby pillar. A pillar that had one of several hidden, high-tech panic buttons built into it.

  When the men were turned away, she reached up and pressed the button.

  Then blackness sucked her under.

  * * *

  Haven sat on one of the lovely wooden benches she’d had installed around the museum. She’d wanted somewhere for guests to sit and take in the art.

  She’d nev
er expected to be sitting on one, holding a melting ice pack to her throbbing face, and staring at the empty wall where a multi-million-dollar masterpiece should be hanging. And she definitely didn’t expect to be doing it with police dusting black powder all over the museum’s walls.

  Tears pricked her eyes. She was alive, her guards were hurt but alive, and that was what mattered. The police had questioned her and she’d told them everything she could remember. The paramedics had checked her over and given her the ice pack. Nothing was broken, but she’d been told to expect swelling and bruising.

  David and Gus had been taken to the hospital. She’d been assured the men would be okay. Last she’d heard, David was in surgery. Her throat tightened. Oh, God.

  What was she going to tell Easton?

  Haven bit her lip and a tear fell down her cheek. She hadn’t cried in months. She’d shed more than enough tears over Leo after he’d gone crazy and hit her. She’d left Miami the next day. She’d needed to get away from her ex and, unfortunately, despite loving her job at a classy Miami art gallery, Leo’s cousin had owned it. Alyssa had been the one who had introduced them.

  Haven had learned a painful lesson to not mix business and pleasure.

  She’d been done with Leo’s growing moodiness, outbursts, and cheating on her and hitting her had been the last straw. Asshole.