Vincent nodded. “I…I came in to my room late.” Because he’d been trying to pick up the waitress who worked at the bar across the street. “H-his door was open. I thought something was wrong and—” He broke off, gagging a bit, because he’d seen the spray left behind when the bullet sank into Colby’s head.
His brain.
“And you said the victim was Colby Harrison?” The female detective pushed. “Why do I know that name?” she murmured, as if to herself.
“He used to be a senator.” Vincent swallowed. He could smell the blood. “From Alabama.”
The detective—she’d introduced herself as Gwen Lazlo—scribbled down that bit of information.
“I’m guessing a senator could have a lot of enemies in D.C.” This came from the detective’s blond partner. Vincent couldn’t remember the man’s name.
After he swiped a hand over his mouth, Vincent eased out a slow breath. “There was an…incident earlier tonight.” And Vincent knew that he had to tell them the rest.
“What kind of incident?” the male demanded.
The screaming match would be in the news. Vincent had caught sight of the reporter at York Towers. “A woman from his past,” he muttered. “Her name’s Claire Kramer. She’s in town. She and the senator…they had words tonight.” Though now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure that Claire had actually spoken to the senator at all during that tense exchange.
“She an ex-lover?” Detective Lazlo asked as her eyebrows rose.
Vincent shook his head. “She was involved with his son, Ethan.” He turned away from the hotel room. He didn’t want to look in there anymore. So Vincent stared down at his hands. “Ethan went to jail for killing Claire’s parents.”
The blond whistled.
“Sonofabitch,” Gwen Lazlo muttered. “That’s why I remember the guy’s name.”
There was more. Say it. “On my…on my way into the hotel…before I found the body…” His hands clenched. I’d always felt a bit sorry for her. “I thought I saw Claire outside.” He looked up and found the blond watching him.
The blond detective asked, “You think she might have killed the guy?”
Vincent held his gaze. “Claire’s parents were both shot in the head. Just like the senator was tonight. And Claire…Claire hated Colby Harrison.” With good reason. I hated the old bastard, too. “I don’t know if she killed him, I just know…Claire is a very distinctive woman. You don’t forget her once you see her.” Maybe he’d been wrong to feel any sympathy for her. “She was outside of the hotel. She was here.” Don’t look back at that room. “And now Harrison is dead.”
***
Claire sat on the stone steps, her arms curled around her up-drawn knees. The Lincoln Memorial was behind her, glowing in all its glory. In the distance, she could see the Washington Monument, reaching straight up into the dark sky.
Despite the fact that it was close to 4 a.m., Claire wasn’t the only one hanging out near the Lincoln Memorial. So many people were there. Walking. Talking. Taking their pictures.
Plenty of people.
So why did she feel so alone?
“I figured I’d find you here.”
At that deep, familiar voice, Claire’s head turned and she saw Noah, walking up the steps toward her. She scrambled to her feet.
He kept coming. Slowly. Stalking up those stairs.
Her heart was racing in her chest now. He wasn’t supposed to come after her.
Noah didn’t stop his advance, not until he was right in front of her. “Why did you run from me?”
She shook her head.
“You liked being with me. I know a woman’s body. I could feel your pleasure.”
A lump rose in her throat, and it took Claire two attempts to actually speak. “I screamed for you,” she whispered, not wanting anyone but him to hear her words. “I-I…never expected that.”
“Then why leave me?” His words were harder. Sharper.
Claire squared her shoulders. Her bag was at her feet. “Because you don’t f**k your employees.”
He kept staring at her.
“You f**ked me, so I’m not your employee any longer. I thought it would be…easier…if you came back and I wasn’t there.”
“It wasn’t easy.” He bent and grabbed her bag. “Where the hell were you going?”
“Some place new,” she told him, her voice still soft. “Some place—”
“Where you hoped Harrison wouldn’t find you? Forget him. He’s done. He’ll never bother you again.”
If only she could believe that.
One of his hands easily held her bag while his other hand brushed over her cheek. “Do you seriously not realize just how much power I have? I can bury the man. I will bury him. You don’t have to fear him again.”
Hope was fragile as it tried to rise in her heart. She wanted to believe him but…
We still f**ked. Noah had told her that they couldn’t work together if things got personal. She had to move on.
“Do you want to leave me?” Noah asked her as his body seemed to surround hers. “If you do, Claire, if you really want to go, I’ll let you get on my jet, and I’ll have it take you any place you want.” His hand fell from her skin.
I want his touch back.
“But I don’t want you to go.” His voice was a deep rumble. “I want you with me. In my bed. Screaming my name again. One night wasn’t enough for me.”
It hadn’t been enough for her, either.
He stepped back. “Your choice, baby. Always yours. Stay or go, but you won’t get to cut out on me in the middle of the night again. If you stay, then you’re mine.”
“My job—”
“I’ll work it out. I’m the boss, and that means I can do anything.” His eyes glinted. “Even break my own rules. For you…I’d break any rule.”
He lifted his hand. Offered it to her, palm up.
She wanted to take his hand. So badly. So very badly.
“What’s it going to be? Do you want to be with me? Or…”
Are you gone?
The question hung between them.
Claire had no one. Nothing. The clothes in the bag were really Noah’s. If she left, where would she go?
Do I even want to leave him?
Her hand reached for his. His fingers were a little rough, callused on the tips.