One had been so grateful that he’d given Noah his first hotel.
And Noah had walked away from the bloodshed. From the battles. From the death.
For her, I’d walk back.
For Claire, he was coming to realize that he might do just about anything.
Even kill.
“There he is,” Gwen said as she pointed across the street.
Vincent Finch had just left his hotel.
“Let’s get him.” Lane let out a loud whistle.
Finch glanced up at the sound. They’d called him and told the guy they’d be coming back to pick him up.
Finch hurried toward the cross walk.
The light changed. Finch didn’t stop walking. He ran into the street.
An engine revved.
Gwen’s eyes widened. “Finch, stop!”
A black SUV shot forward. It slammed right into Finch. The guy’s body flew into the air, twisted, then hit the concrete.
The vehicle kept driving. It raced away with a squeal of its tires. She heard Lane calling for back-up. Gwen ran across the street.
Blood, oh, jeez, blood was everywhere.
Finch was face-up on the concrete. His neck was twisted. His eyes—closed.
“Finch?” Gwen put her hand to his throat.
No pulse.
Their only witness was dead in the street.
Chapter Five
“I have to leave town,” Noah said as he paced toward Claire.
Shocked, she could only shake her head. “We just got back in town an hour ago.” They’d made it to York Towers less than ten minutes before.
“This can’t wait,” Noah said.
Claire was shaken. Senator Harrison is dead. She wanted Noah to stay with her. She didn’t want to be alone and— “I can come with you,” she offered and hoped that she didn’t sound desperate. She sure felt that way.
He shook his head. “Not this time.”
“Where are you going?” What was happening?
“Vegas,” he said flatly. “I’ll be back by tomorrow.” He started packing. Claire just watched him, totally lost.
After everything that had just happened, he was going to fly away and leave her?
“Drake Archer is going to keep an eye on you while I’m gone.”
Claire stiffened. “I don’t need anyone to ‘keep an eye’ on me.” And she sure didn’t need Drake to be that guy.
She’d met Drake in Chicago, right around the time she’d met Noah. Drake had been involved in that nightmare situation, too. Like Noah, Drake was caught in the tangled web of Trace Weston’s past. Claire didn’t exactly know what those three men had done when they were in the military, but they’d made plenty of deadly enemies.
They’re all dangerous. She understood that. Danger clung to Noah as surely as it clung to Drake and Trace.
But she wasn’t afraid when she was with Noah. Drake, on the other hand, made her nervous.
“Someone trashed your hotel room here, did you forget about that?” Noah had his bag filled. Talk about a record-breaking packing job. If he kept running off so much, she wondered why he didn’t always have a bag at the ready.
“I didn’t forget about that,” Claire snapped back. “But I hardly think that will be an issue here at York Towers. I hope you have better security than what they’ve got at the Hamlet.”
His lips twisted and a gleam appeared in his eyes. “We do, baby. But when word of Harrison’s death hits the media, you could get dragged into the mud. I want to make sure no reporters get close to you while I’m gone.”
“You think it’s all going to get stirred up again, don’t you?” That was what she feared.
“I think reporters like juicy stories. The gorier, the better.” His voice was grim. The gleam had vanished from his eyes.
Claire looked away from him. “So I just sit here and twiddle my thumbs while you rush off and tend to your business?” Since she didn’t have a job anymore, what else was she—
“No, Claire, you stay here and you get to work learning more about my company and the staff at York Towers.”
Her gaze flew back to him. “But, you said—”
“The rules are different with you.” He strode toward her. Dropped the bag. Wrapped his hands around her shoulders. “Everything is different with you.”
And everything felt different with him.
Noah kissed her. It was a rough, hard kiss, and she liked it. Claire was discovering that she liked quite a bit…with him.
“I’ll be back soon.”
“Don’t leave.” No, had she just said that? It’s Harrison’s death. Everything is stirred up. The memories are so strong right now.
“I have to do this.” He let her go. “I’ll be back for you, baby.”
Then he just…walked away.
Left her.
Claire stayed in their bedroom. No, his bedroom. His suite. She looked down at her hands. At the scars on her wrists.
She thought about life.
About death.
And about what it would feel like to kill.
When the limo door shut behind him, Noah pulled out his phone. He’d already called Drake Archer earlier, before he’d even left D.C., so this phone call was for Trace Weston. Noah knew that he could count on both Trace and Drake to have his back.
“I heard,” Trace said when he answered the phone. “The senator’s dead.” A pause. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating?”
Noah didn’t answer that particular question. “I know you’ve got pull down in Alabama.” The same pull that Trace had used a while back when he’d made sure Ethan Harrison didn’t get paroled. “Use that pull for me now. I want in to see the SOB.”
“You’re not serious.” Trace’s voice hardened as he demanded, “Tell me that you’re not serious.”
“Claire’s mine now, so yes, I’m fucking serious.” He had to see Ethan Harrison with his own eyes.
“Right now? Jesus, his old man isn’t even cold yet and—”
“Something is happening. I know it. Claire’s room gets trashed, the senator dies—just the way her parents died—that’s no damn coincidence.” His breath heaved out. “I don’t want Claire in danger, and this whole tangled mess leads back to Ethan Harrison. He needs to know that Claire is off-limits. Now and forever.”
“He’s in jail, man. He can’t get to her. You just need to settle down—”
The hell he did. “Like you settled down when Skye was in trouble? Did you settle down then, Trace? Or did you do what damn well had to be done?”
Trace had killed to protect Skye. If anyone could understand what Noah was doing, it should be Trace. Maybe he won’t have my back after all.
Silence hummed over the line. “You can’t kill him while he’s in prison. That’s too much, even for you.”
Noah felt his lips curl. “I’m not planning to kill him in prison. I’m just going to deliver a message to him.” One that had to be personally delivered.
Trace sighed. “I’ll get you in.”
“I knew you would.”
“But I’m going on record as saying that this is a mistake, Noah. A huge mistake.” Trace’s voice hardened. “This isn’t like you. Drake’s the crazy-ass one. You’re more controlled, you’re—”
He thought about the faint scars on Claire’s wrists. “I’m not controlled when it comes to her.”
Then he ended the call. His hands fisted, and he planned.
It was nearing sunset when Noah passed through the gates of the Holman Correctional Facility in Atmore, Alabama.
The guards were waiting for him, and they took him straight to the warden’s office.
Warden Jeremiah Quill was sweating when he shook Noah’s hand. “This is…highly unusual.”
Noah didn’t care how unusual it seemed. “I’m sure inmates get visitors every day.” He made sure to meet the Warden’s stare directly as he said, “I’m just another visitor.”
The warden’s eyes darted away from him. How much pressure had Trace put on the guy? “Ethan Harrison is waiting for you in one of our holding rooms.” He led Noah down the hallway.
Prison bars were to the right.
To the left.
“Is Ethan Harrison kept in general population?” Noah asked, curious.
“No.” The warden glanced back at him. “His father wouldn’t allow that.”
“His father’s dead now.”
The warden lowered his voice, “But Harrison’s great-uncle is the governor. You don’t quite seem to understand how things work down here.”
He was getting a crystal clear view.
The warden stopped in front of a heavy, metal door. “He’s inside. A guard’s there, too.”
Noah lifted a brow. “Is the guard supposed to be for his protection or my own?”
The warden swallowed. “It’s protocol.”
It sounded to Noah as if protocol got screwed a lot down here.
The warden opened the door.
Noah stalked inside. Ethan Harrison was cuffed to an old table. He wore a bright, orange jump suit.
Nine years ago, the guy had been a fit, blond teen. Noah had seen Ethan’s pictures when he’d explored Claire’s past. He’d wondered how Ethan had fared in prison.
It looked like the guy had been on a vacation.
Ethan’s face was tan. His hair even blonder. His shoulders were wide. He appeared fit—and, worst of all, the bastard was smiling.
“I know who you are,” Ethan said as he inclined his head toward Noah.
“Good for you.”
Ethan leaned forward. He never even glanced at the warden. “Did Claire send you to see me?”
Noah hated to hear her name come from that jerk’s mouth.
“I miss Claire.” Ethan’s smile stretched. “But I have her pictures to keep me company.”
Noah tensed.
“They help me to get through the days. And the nights.”
Noah pulled out the chair across from Ethan. “You’ve had someone watching Claire.”
“My father liked to keep track of her.” Ethan’s eyes gleamed with what looked like amusement. “Did you hear? He died last night. Someone shot him.” Ethan raised his cuffed hands and tapped his forehead. “Right in the head.”
“Your father had a private investigator tracking her?” Noah kept his focus. This was important. He wouldn’t let the other man bait him. Noah’s rage built, but he held it back. “And he sent you the information that the PI gathered.”
Ethan tilted his head. He smiled at Noah. That smile was getting on Noah’s nerves. “Claire will tease and she will flirt,” Ethan said, “but she won’t sleep with you.” He shrugged. “She can’t. Claire knows she belongs to me.”
“Your father had someone watching her in New York.” Noah was trying to put all the pieces together. “He told you that Claire was with me.”
“I get to make one phone call a day.” Now Ethan glanced at the warden. “Even get to use his office. Thanks, Warden. I’ll be sure to let my great-uncle know just how well you treat me. Bet there will be some kind of bonus coming your way soon.”
Noah wanted to drive his fist into the guy’s face.
“I used that phone call last night. Talked to my father. He seemed to think you and Claire were together.” Ethan shook his head. “But he was wrong.”
“Your father was wrong about a lot of things.”
Ethan’s smile dimmed.
“He thought you were the poor, misled boy, didn’t he?”
“He thought I was obsessed. Claire’s the type of woman that can obsess a man.” Ethan’s gaze turned calculating. “But that’s why you’re here, right? Claire’s obsessed you.”
It was Noah’s turn to smile. “I can see you for what you are. I’m not some drunken old man.”
Ethan’s mouth tightened. “A man obsessed will do anything for the woman he loves, and I do love my Claire.”
No, he didn’t. He was a twisted jerk who needed to forget Claire. But that wasn’t happening. Noah knew that with absolute certainty now. “You’re never getting out of this place.”
“Because my parole was revoked?” Ethan’s brows climbed. “I only got fifteen years for the murders. I’ve served nine already. Six more years…Hello, Claire.”
The hell that would happen.
“And you know…with my father dying…I wonder if I’ll even get a special circumstances waiver…” Ethan’s stare darted to the warden once more. “With guards, of course, I might get to attend my beloved father’s funeral.”
Sonofabitch.
“So I will get out. One way or another.”
Noah had wanted to see Ethan Harrison for himself. To talk to him. Sometimes, monsters weren’t as bad as you thought.
Sometimes, they were.
He can’t ever get near Claire again.
“Claire has stayed true to me all these years,” Ethan murmured. “And I’ll always be true to her. I did exactly what she wanted, and she’ll never forget that.”
“Still trying to spin that line of bull?” Noah asked Ethan, and he shook his head in disgust. “I told you, I’m not your drunken old man. Claire didn’t get you to kill her parents.”
“Are you so sure about that?” Ethan laughed. “Even Claire’s closest friends weren’t sure. Claire…she has secrets. A darkness inside. With her, what you see isn’t what you get.”