“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 f**king 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.”