Mine To Hold (24 page)

Claire Kramer.

Gwen easily recognized the other woman, even
though the photos were grainy and dark. She thumbed through the
images. About eight pictures.

At Senator Harrison’s hotel in D.C.
Gwen’s eyes narrowed.

Claire was standing right outside of the
hotel. The pictures were even date and time stamped for her.

The times could be faked, of course, but…

What if the images were legit?

Then Gwen got to the last photograph.
According to the time stamp on it, the image had been captured ten
minutes after the last shot of Claire.

There was a man in this picture. A man
rushing into the senator’s hotel. The image only showed the side of
the man’s face, but she recognized him, too.

Noah York.

“I’ll be damned,” she whispered. She’d
thought Claire had acted alone, but it looked like the lady had
gotten some help from her lover. “And now I’ve got you,” Gwen said.
She reached for her phone. It was time for her to use some of her
own power in this town. Favors were owed to her, and it was time
they were called in.

Chapter Twelve

“I’m not crazy,” Claire said as she stalked
toward Noah’s desk around noon.

He glanced up at her. Damn, but she looked
good in black. “I don’t remember saying you were.”

She was still wearing the bracelets he’d
given her. As far as Noah knew, Claire hadn’t taken those bracelets
off. Now, as soon as he found the perfect ring to match her eyes,
they’d be—

“You don’t think Ethan Harrison called me
last night.”

He had to be very careful here. “A cemetery
full of people saw him die.”

“I don’t care what they saw. I
heard
him.” Her hands slapped down on his desk. “I need you to believe
me. That whole engagement scene last night, it was designed to draw
out the killer, right? Guess what? It worked even better than you’d
hoped. Ethan is the killer. He’s—”

“He can’t be.” Noah rose. Walked around the
desk so that he could stand close to her. “He was in jail when his
father was killed. Alibis don’t get much better than that.”

“Then maybe he hired someone to kill his
father! I don’t know how he did it.” She gulped. “I just know he
called me. He called using Sloan’s phone, so maybe he killed Sloan,
too. He killed Sloan and he set the bomb and—”

Noah caught her hands. “Breathe, baby.”

She sucked in a shuddering breath. “I don’t
want to do this again.”

She was breaking his heart. He pulled her
closer. Put her right against that aching heart. “He’s gone.
Whoever called last night—hell, it’s someone who was trying to mess
with you.” That someone would pay. “The guy who called you must’ve
got some of Ethan Harrison’s recordings. Ethan did a ton of
interviews over the years. With a little splicing, it would be easy
enough to run his words together and make it
seem
like he
was calling you.”

Her hands pushed against his shoulders as she
looked up at him. “Why would someone do that?”

“To screw with your head.”

She flinched.

“Think about the call. Did he respond to any
questions that you asked him? Or was it just his voice? Rambling?”
Because Noah had even used a tactic like this one before, on an
enemy when he needed to get a guard to back away. A little voice
manipulation, some splicing of a recording, and bam, he’d gotten
exactly what he needed.

“I said he was dead.” Claire’s voice was
leaden. “And he asked if I thought death could keep him from
me.”

Rage surged within Noah, but he held tight to
his control.

Claire’s long lashes swept down. “He said
there wouldn’t be anyone else, not for him and not for me.”

“It
wasn’t
him.”

A knock sounded at his door. A visitor was
the last thing he wanted. “Not now!”

But the door opened anyway. “Payback,” Trace
muttered as he came inside. “You did the same thing to me
once.”

Noah’s eyes narrowed on him. “This isn’t the
time, Trace. I need to talk with Claire.” He had to chase the fear
from her eyes.

“I’m here about Claire.” Trace’s gaze slid to
her. “My men tracked down Sloan Hall’s phone.”

Finally. Some damn progress.

“Did you find Ethan?” Claire asked, voice
sharp.

Trace glanced at Noah.

Noah shook his head.

Trace cleared his throat. “We just found the
phone. It had been left at the Hamlet Hotel.”

Fuck. The phone had been left at the same
hotel Claire had stayed in when she first came to New York? The
caller was definitely enjoying his head games.

“I did some talking to the staff there,”
Trace continued with a slow nod. “Turned out they remembered seeing
a man who fit Sloan’s description, right around the time Claire
checked in to the place.”

“He trashed her room,” Noah said. But that
was exactly what Austin had told them.

“I think so.” Trace rubbed the back of his
neck. “There were no prints on the recovered phone. It had been
wiped clean and dumped at the Hamlet’s front desk.” His lips
twisted. “You know the security at that place is crap, so, of
course, no one saw anyone actually leave the phone.”

That would have been too much to ask for.

Claire stepped away from Noah. “Do you have
agents down in Alabama?”

Trace nodded. “I sent them down after I heard
about the explosion at the cemetery.”

“Are they sure Ethan is dead?”

Noah rubbed his chest. The ache there just
got worse.

“I mean, maybe he got out before the car
exploded. Maybe he—”

“He was in the back of the cop car,” Trace
said softly, “so he wouldn’t have been able to open those doors. He
was trapped in there.”

Her hands twisted together. “I know his
voice. That wasn’t a recording last night. It was
him.
He
called me!”

Noah had to touch her again. He reached for
Claire.

She flinched away.

That one move hurt. She hadn’t pulled away
from him, not since the beginning. “Claire?”

She whirled to stare into his eyes. “I need
you to believe me. I’ve believed you, everything you said, right
from the beginning.” Tears glinted in her eyes. “He’s alive, and
he’s going to come after me.”

Then she started backing toward the door. “I
need to get away. He knows that I’m at the Towers. I can’t stay
here.”

She was trying to run again.

“Claire.”

She stilled. He
hated
the fear in her
eyes.

“You said you believed in me, right?” Noah
asked her. Did she even realize how important those words were to
him?

Her head moved in a faint nod.

Trace silently watched them.

“Then believe that I won’t let anything
happen to you. Whoever called you, I’m going to get him. I will
stop him. You don’t need to fear anything when I’m with you.”

Her breath slowly eased out. Some of the wild
panic seemed to fade from her eyes.

But then there was another knock at his door.
Dammit. Why was everyone trying to rush inside his office?

Before he could call out, the door opened.
Jonathan, one of his administrative assistants, rushed inside.
“Sir, I’m so sorry. You said Mr. Weston was always clear and the
others—”

Others?

A man and a woman came in behind
Jonathan.

A tall, blond male. A petite and fierce
woman—he would recognize her dark glare anywhere. “Detective
Lazlo.”

She smiled. It was a shark’s smile.

Jonathan glanced around with wide eyes.

“That’s all, Jonathan,” Noah said because he
didn’t want the guy hearing what was to come.

Jonathan scurried away and shut the door
behind him as quickly as possible.

Noah’s glance slid over Gwen Lazlo. She had
an envelope in her hand.
This isn’t good.
He caught Claire’s
hand. Pulled her closer to him. Trace had taken up a position to
Noah’s right. “Detectives, what brings you both to New York, and so
far away from your jurisdiction?”

Gwen’s smile widened. “I hear congratulations
are in order.”

“You came this far to congratulate me? I’m
touched.”

Gwen’s attention focused on Claire. “You
don’t exactly look like a thrilled bride-to-be, though. What’s
wrong? Did you discover some not so great news about the
soon-to-be-hubby?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Claire hadn’t tried to slip away from Noah again. Good.

Noah looked up and found the blond’s gaze
locked on him. Lane Scott. He’d run a check on the guy. Both Lane
and Gwen were supposed to be very good at their jobs. Honest cops
who worked hard.

So why are they here?

Gwen lifted the envelope in her hand. “I got
a package last night. Seems someone in D.C. managed to take a few
photos during your last stay in
my
city.”

He knew this wasn’t going to be good.

Gwen crossed the room and spilled the
contents of the envelope on his desk. “This is you, Claire. Right
in front of the senator’s hotel.”

“I never went
inside
his hotel.”
Claire’s voice was flat. “I didn’t see him.”

“No, I don’t think you did.” Gwen’s fingers
brushed through the photographs.

Noah caught sight of the next image.
Shit.

Gwen’s index finger tapped on the picture of
Noah’s face. “But York here, he went inside.”

Because Noah was staring at Claire when the
detective made her announcement, he saw the ripple of shock that
went over Claire’s face.

“I don’t remember you mentioning to us that
you’d been to see the senator right before he died,” Lane murmured.
“Want to tell us why you didn’t mention that fact before?”

Not particularly, but it seemed like there
wasn’t a choice then. “I
didn’t
see him before he died.”

Claire was staring down at the picture. He
wondered what she was thinking.
Keep believing in me,
baby.

Her eyes rose. Met his.

“I got to the hotel after he was dead. His
door was open. I went inside, just a foot or two, and I saw him.”
He’d intended to warn the senator off. To tell the man to stay the
hell away from Claire.

But his warning hadn’t been necessary.

“We’re supposed to buy that story?” Lane
demanded. “I don’t think so.”

“Buy whatever you want.” Noah kept his voice
mild, and he managed to drag his gaze off Claire. “I didn’t kill
him.”

Gwen was watching him with narrowed eyes.
“You’re used to getting exactly what you want, aren’t you,
York?”

“Most days,” he allowed.

Trace had stepped closer to stare down at the
photos.

“You walk in,” Lane’s voice had roughened.
“You find a dead body, and you
don’t
call the cops?
Bullshit.”

“I walked in,” Noah said, “I found the dead
body, and I got worried.”

Claire jerked.

“Worried about Ms. Kramer?” Gwen scooped up
the photos. “Because you thought
she’d
killed Harrison?”

He had to give them the truth here.
“Yes.”

Claire rocked back on her heels.

“I thought she’d killed him, and my first
instinct was to get to her.”

“Because…” Now Gwen’s sharp-eyed stare raked
him, then Claire. “Because Ms. Kramer has a history of instability,
and you worried that the confrontation in the lobby had—what?
Driven her over the edge?”

Claire’s hands fisted at her sides.

“I just wanted to make sure she was safe,”
Noah said. Damn, this sucked. He wanted to grab Claire and pull her
close. He wanted—

You’re used to getting exactly what you
want, aren’t you?
The detective’s question had been
spot-on.

Hell, yes, he was used to getting what he
wanted. Noah shifted his body, and his hands curled around Claire’s
shoulders. “It wouldn’t have mattered to me,” he said as he stared
into Claire’s eyes. “I want you to know that.”

“Uh, it wouldn’t have mattered if she’d just
killed a man?” Lane asked in disbelief.

Noah didn’t take his gaze off Claire. “I
needed to find you and see that you were safe.” His breath heaved
out. “You were, and I realized damn fast that you hadn’t killed the
senator.” His eyes searched hers. For once, Claire seemed closed
off from him. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking or feeling and
that drove him crazy. “My priority is protecting you, it has been
from the beginning.”

Not because of some debt he owed.

Because she was…Claire.

“Another little interesting coincidence we
found,” Gwen announced, drawing Noah’s attention. “When I was down
in Alabama, I met a man named Drake Archer.”

Hell. Noah kept his hold on Claire as he
waited for Gwen to drop another bombshell.

“It turned out the guy has a military record,
one linked to you and…” She inclined her head toward a silent
Trace. “You, too, Mr. Weston. You are Trace Weston, correct?
Because you look just like the pictures I saw online.”

“I’m Weston,” Trace agreed. His expression
could have been carved from stone.

Lane whistled. “Seems you three were quite
the deadly team back in the day.”

Back then, and now.

Suspicion shone in Gwen’s eyes. “Archer had
demolitions training. I’m thinking it would be pretty easy for him
to rig a car to explode.”

Yes, it would be. Noah let his brows climb.
“So now you think I’ve got my friends killing, too?”

“I think you get what you want…just like I
said before.” She flashed another hard grin. “This time, though,
I’m about to get what
I
want.”

“Trace…” He growled his friend’s name because
he knew what was coming. “Stay with Claire.”

“You’re a person of interest in the murder of
Senator Harrison.” Gwen pulled a small, white envelope out of her
jacket pocket. “And I have the authority to take you in for
additional questioning.”

“You’re going to drag me back to D.C.?”