The Specialist (Norcross #3) - Anna Hackett Page 0,3
The engine started with a purr.
He looked over. She was snuggling into the seat, stroking the leather.
Releasing a sharp breath, he imagined her stroking other things. With a mental curse, he roared out of the underground parking
“Do you know where I live?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Of course, you do. Control Freak Norcross doesn’t leave anything to chance.”
His hands flexed on the wheel. “I like control. It’s better than chaos.”
She made a rude noise. “You can’t control everything, Mr. Norcross. Life doesn’t work like that.”
“Easton. I think you should start calling me Easton when you berate me.”
He felt her looking at him.
“Fine. Easton.”
“And I’ve been in lots of uncontrolled situations…people died.” Shit, why had he said that? He looked straight ahead through the windshield.
She was silent for a moment. “You’re talking about the Army?”
Easton gave her a tight nod, then dragged in a breath. “I know I’m not in a war zone anymore.”
“Do you?” she asked quietly.
He turned a corner, the sports car hugging the turn. He headed to Haight-Asbury where Harlow’s apartment was.
“Yes,” he replied. “But if you can control your environment, it’s better. Safer. More likely to give you the results you want.”
Shocking him, she reached out and touched his thigh. “You don’t have to be ‘on’ all the time, Easton.”
The touch was electric. His hands flexed on the wheel. But she was wrong—he did. He didn’t know how to switch off.
He pulled onto her street.
“You can drop me at the corner,” she said.
“I’m walking you to your door.”
“No, you’re not.” Her chin lifted. “I’m going to help you loosen up that control. Drop me at the corner.”
Easton scowled. Fuck that. He’d drop her off, then shadow her until she made it inside.
Chapter Two
Harlow relished the cool night air on her heated skin. She needed some distance from Easton and his sexy car.
Damn, it sucked having a hot boss.
She hurried toward her apartment building. It wasn’t fancy, but the place was an open plan, with wooden floors, and a pocket-sized balcony where she loved to drink her morning tea.
With her head down, she wondered if Easton’s hands were flexing on the wheel of his sleek Aston.
Dammit, she wasn’t supposed to be thinking about him, or his hands.
Ahead of her, a shadow moved and Harlow jerked to a stop.
The shape of a large man detached from the darkness, powering right toward her.
She’d barely drawn in a breath before the man grabbed her arms.
“Hey!” she cried.
His fingers dug in painfully. He wore black clothes, with a knit cap pulled down low over his head. She got the impression of rough features.
“You’re coming with me,” he growled.
What? Her heart thundered.
“No!” she yanked backward, her coat falling open.
“Daddy’s fucked, and so are you.”
The man lunged forward and grabbed the neckline of her dress.
As Harlow struggled, she heard fabric tear. The man’s elbow cracked into her cheekbone. Ow.
Then suddenly, a second dark shadow lunged past Harlow, and slammed a fist into her attacker’s face.
She smelled Easton a beat before she recognized him.
Her attacker grunted, then violently shoved her away. She flew back and hit Easton’s hard body. His arms closed around her.
“Harlow?” His voice was a deep growl in her ear. “You okay?”
She swallowed, trying to clear the panic from her head. “I think so.”
Her attacker ran and she felt Easton’s arms flex.
“You want to chase him,” she whispered.
“I’m not leaving you.”
Thank God. She swallowed. “I—” Her legs gave out, turning to Jell-O.
Easton swept her into his arms like she wasn’t five foot eight and curvy with it.
He strode to the front of her building. “I’ve got you.”
Trembling started. Dammit.
“Keys?” he said.
She had them in her hand and lifted them.
He took them and opened the door. As he strode inside, he headed straight for the elevator, and Harlow leaned into his warmth to try to get a grip on the residual fear thrumming through her.
“Fourth floor,” she murmured as they entered the elevator.
Moments later, they stopped and Easton maneuvered her down the hall. He stopped at her door and opened it.
Inside, he hit the light switch, then set her down on her gray couch.
The apartment was very white, except for the blonde wood floors. She’d spent time adding her stamp on the place. A colorful rug in a swirl of jewel tones covered the floor, and she’d added a ton of matching throw pillows on the couch. A funky, metal mirror rested on one wall, while a gorgeous, black-and-white print of the Eiffel Tower hung above the couch.
Easton strode to her kitchen and she heard water