“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.