Mine To Hold (15 page)

“And when you do decide, you come find
me.”

Then, before he gave into the primal urge to
touch her, to take her, to
make
her see what they had…Noah
turned away from Claire. He went upstairs to his bedroom. The rage
he felt had his hands shaking.

Claire shouldn’t have learned about his trip
to Alabama. He’d screwed up. He’d be more careful next time.

He yanked out the wallet he’d taken from the
PI. Scanned the information inside. And, two minutes later, Noah
had Trace on the phone. “Are your agents still working the break-in
at the Hamlet?” Noah demanded when Trace came on the line. Claire’s
stay at the Hamlet…it seemed so far away, but it had just been days
ago when he’d discovered her trashed room.

“
Another middle of the night call…
”
Trace growled. “Shit, man, keep normal hours and—”

“Ethan Harrison is dead.”

That shut Trace up.

“The car he was in exploded today.”

“You
sure
he was in it?”

“Drake was there. He’s the one who confirmed
the kill.”

The faint sound of rustling and then the
click of a door eased over the line. “What the hell is going on?”
Trace demanded. “First the senator, and now the bastard Ethan?”

“I don’t know what’s happening. I want you to
find out.” Trace had a slew of agents at his beck and call. “Start
your hunt with a private investigator, a man named Sloan Hall.”

“And why should I start with him?”

“Because the Harrisons were paying him to
watch Claire, and the SOB was just here at my place in the
Hamptons. If I see him again…”

“Got it,” Trace said. Silence stretched over
the line, then Trace cleared his throat. “Noah, you don’t sound
quite like yourself.”

Noah glanced down. There was a faint tremor
in his fingers. “Did Skye ever look at you as if you were the
monster she should fear?”

“Uh, look, Claire’s been through a lot
and…”

“And that’s a no, right? Because the woman
you want
isn’t
supposed to look at you that way. She isn’t
supposed to be afraid of you.” His left hand fisted.

“Skye
isn’t
Claire. After what she’s
been through, Claire has to be afraid—”

“I don’t want her afraid of me.” But he knew
that people didn’t always get what they wanted. Especially…

When she has a reason to be afraid.

“I’m taking over this case,” Trace told him.
“I’m coming in personally to handle it. Not just my agents.
Me.
I’ll be on the next flight to New York.”

“No. You stay with Skye, I—”

“I’m coming in,” Trace said again. “I don’t
like this scene. First Senator Harrison, then his son? It reeks of
a set-up. Kill the senator…”

“In order to get a shot at the son.” Noah had
thought the same thing.

“It’s personal.” Trace sighed. “And an attack
against Ethan Harrison isn’t personal without it being connected to
Claire Kramer.”

That was what Noah feared.

“You need to keep her close.” Trace’s voice
had hardened. “Dammit, man, I
owe
her, too, and I don’t want
anything happening to Claire—”

The door opened behind Noah. He turned.

Claire was there, standing on the threshold
of the room.

“Nothing will,” he swore.

Nothing…but what she wanted to happen.

***

Sloan Hall swiped at the blood that kept
gushing from his nose. He’d never expected Noah York to come after
him like that. Suits weren’t supposed to attack.

They were supposed to run.

He yanked out his phone. His bloody fingers
smeared across the screen as he dialed his client.

Ethan Harrison is dead?

Shit, this couldn’t be happening.

But…Ethan wasn’t the one who paid his
bills.

The phone was answered on the second ring.
“This isn’t a good time.”

Sloan recognized the boss’s voice
immediately.

“Yeah, well, I hear that’s because your
brother’s dead,” Sloan said, words coming fast because he was
afraid the guy was about to hang up.

Austin Harrison had never seemed to care much
for him. Austin had paid him, but only because he’d been ordered to
do so.
The senator had run that family with a drunken
fist.

“Word travels fast…” Austin murmured. “I
figured the news shows would run with the story. They always
enjoyed my family’s pain.”

“Wasn’t the news.” The blood wouldn’t stop
coming. “It was Noah York.”

Silence. Then… “You’re still on the job?”

If the job was Claire Kramer… “Not anymore.
As of twenty minutes ago, I’m done, got it? The bastard attacked
me!” He put his left hand to his nose. That shit hurt. He might
have to go see a doc.

“Where are you?”

“The freaking Hamptons, and guess what? I
hate the place. Claire’s screwing her rich psycho, he’s muttering
about his parents dying on a boat, and I’m just wondering how much
you’re gonna be paying me for my pain and suffering.”
Make this
work. Salvage something, Sloan.
“Because if I have to do it,
I’ll go to the media. I’ll let them know just how messed up the
Harrison family became. Stalking that woman, getting all those
pictures…day and night.”

There was a murmur of voices in the
background. What was happening? It sounded as if Austin had a dozen
people around him.

Sloan’s hold on the phone tightened. Had
Austin just said, “detective” just then? Hell, had he
already
been replaced?

“I have to go,” Austin told him. The guy
sounded way too curt.

“What you have to do is deal with me!” Sloan
was getting desperate. And his nose kept throbbing and
bleeding.

“I will. I’ll see you, very soon.”

The bastard hung up on him.

Sloan glared down at the phone. “You’d
better,” he snarled. “Because I haven’t been paid enough for this
shit.”

***

“Mr. Harrison?” Gwen Lazlo said as she cocked
her head and waited for the guy to end his phone call. “I’d really
appreciate a few minutes of your time.”

Austin Harrison slowly turned toward her.
There was no grief on his face. If anything, she’d say the guy
showed signs of…relief.

His gaze—a glittering green—drifted over her.
“I’m sorry, Detective Lazlo. For a man like me, business doesn’t
seem to stop, not even for death.”

She barely controlled an eye roll. “Look, I
don’t have jurisdiction down here but—”

“No, you don’t.” His stare drifted behind
her. They were in his house. Some fancy southern mansion with too
many white columns, and people were milling all over the place. “I
believe Sheriff Brady will be in charge of the investigation.”

“In charge of the investigation into your
brother’s death, yes,” Gwen said, her voice sharp.
And that
investigation is going to take forever. Nothing was left of that
car, those two poor cops, or of Ethan Harrison.
“But I’m still
lead on your father’s case, and I have a few questions that I must
ask you.”

He blinked at her. “My father…” His laugh was
rough. “Strange, isn’t it? I almost forgot about him. I just—I keep
seeing the flames. Ethan was trying to talk to me, I wanted to get
away from him, and then…he was just gone.”

She’d always sucked at dealing with grieving
families. This guy wasn’t exactly grieving, though. She wasn’t one
hundred percent sure what he was. “Did your father have any
enemies?”

“Plenty of them.” He rubbed the back of his
neck. “He was an asshole.”

So she’d heard, but Gwen pressed on with her
questions. “Any enemies that might want him dead? That might want
him
and
Ethan dead?”

“Ethan was in jail. He couldn’t hurt anyone
in jail.” His hand dropped. “I wasn’t a good brother.”

This was not helping her investigation. “I
need names. I need to know who would want your father to die like
that—a shot to the head and—”

“Claire Kramer.” Her name was a sigh from
Austin. “She’s the one who’d want him dead. Who’d want them both
dead, but Claire doesn’t have the power to pull off something like
this.”

Gwen wasn’t so certain of that.
Claire’s
new lover has plenty of power.
“When was the last time you
spoke with Claire?”

He laughed. “I haven’t spoken with her, not
in years, but I know what they did.” His jaw tightened. “I know
what they both did to Claire, and if anyone would’ve wanted to see
my father and my brother rotting, it would be her.”

***

Her knees were shaking. Her stomach seemed to
be tied in knots, and Claire was absolutely determined not to let
Noah see her fear.

He tossed aside the phone that he’d held. His
golden gaze locked on her.

“I am afraid of you,” Claire told him because
she thought the words needed to be said.

His lips thinned. “Tell me something I didn’t
know.”

A spark of anger ignited within her. “How can
I not be afraid? You attacked that PI. You—you told me that you’d
kill Ethan—”

“Like you hadn’t thought about killing him
yourself? Come on, Claire. It’s just us. I won’t judge you for the
darkness inside you.”

The darkness inside you.
So he did see
it. She’d wondered about that. Keeping her eyes on his, Claire
admitted, “Only every day.”

His head cocked as he studied her.

“But if I killed Ethan, then wouldn’t I
become just like him?” And that was the root of Claire’s terror.
Ethan had been so drawn to her because he’d said they were the
same. Mirror images, deep inside. She didn’t want to be the same as
Ethan.

She didn’t want to kill. To destroy.

Claire never wanted to become so obsessed
with one person that she let everything else slip away.

She couldn’t quite read Noah’s expression.
Claire took a tentative step forward. “What’s the difference
between love and obsession?” That one question had haunted her for
so long.

Noah didn’t answer her.

“Have you ever been in love, Noah?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but Claire
laughed, realizing what she’d just foolishly asked. “Of course, you
haven’t. You’re the man with a new lover every night. You don’t
want to love.”

“Love leads to pain,” Noah said.

Claire nodded. “I was told once that you were
in love when you needed someone so much that you couldn’t bear to
think of the world without that person, that you couldn’t
live
without that person being near.” She wet her too-dry
lips. “I think that’s obsession. A need that dominates you.
Consumes you. A need for one other person. A need that makes you
do…
anything…
to possess that person.”

He was as still as a statue before her.

“Ethan thought he loved me, but I don’t
believe Ethan could love.” Time to confess all. “I don’t think I
can love, either.” She’d just been getting by, in a void, for so
long. Watching the world. Hiding from herself.

From everyone.

“Do you think you can love?” Claire asked
him.

His eyes glittered. “Do you want me to say
that I love you?”

“No.” Because she wouldn’t believe him if he
did. “You don’t. You want to fuck me. I think you want to protect
me, because you and Trace—” The slightly bitter laughter slipped
from her again. “You both hold yourselves responsible for Sara’s
death. You’re trying to make amends somehow to me.”

“I do want to protect you.”

But you don’t love me.

“I’m asking if you
can
love, Noah.”
And it was so important to her. “Love or obsession…what is life
about to you?”

His gaze slid from hers. “I think there’s a
thin line between love and obsession.”

Her breath whispered out.

“I already feel obsessed with you,” he said,
his voice gravel-rough, “but you know that, don’t you?”

Yes.

“I won’t ever hurt you,” Noah told her. The
words were stark. “I need you to believe that.”

Not her. She didn’t think he would physically
hurt her, but what about someone else? She’d been so wrong about a
lover before. Trusting Noah completely seemed an impossible
task.

“I’m
not
like Ethan Harrison. Anything
that happens between you and me…it happens because it is what you
want
to happen. It’s about what you need.”

She needed him. She needed to feel like any
other woman. “I didn’t date again after Ethan. Didn’t go to prom or
any parties in college. I stayed as far away from men as I could
get.” She was trying to explain, and Claire was afraid he just
wouldn’t understand her. “
I don’t know how to do this.
I
don’t know if what I’m feeling for you is normal and—”
Right.
She swallowed and finished, “Or if it’s wrong.”
Claire had whispered like the shameful secret it was.

Her eyes lowered. She was staring at the lush
carpet, and she saw his legs moving toward her.

“Ethan told me that I was just like him. That
I
consumed him. And at first, I felt like he consumed me,
too.” There was so much pain in those memories. “I feel the same
way with you.”

His fingers slid under her chin. He forced
her head to lift, but her gaze darted over his shoulder.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

Slowly, afraid to see his gaze, afraid of
what would be
in
his gaze, she did.

“How do you feel when you’re with me? Tell
me…
exactly.
”

“I want to let go.”

A furrow appeared between his brows.

“I want to stop playing it safe. I want to
not care what happens beyond the pleasure that you can give me and
the pleasure I can give you.”

That furrow smoothed away. His eyes
heated.

“I want to let go,” she said again as their
eyes held. “I want to burn instead of always being cold. I want to
claw your back. I want to buck against your hips. I want to
scream.”

“
All you have to do is ask.
”