The warden followed him out, and the guy was sweating even more. Jeremiah ran a shaking hand over his face.
“I want to see his cell,” Noah told the warden.
Jeremiah hesitated.
Noah just kept staring back at him.
A quick nod, then Jeremiah was leading the way for him. Noah wondered what sort of pressure Trace had applied in order to get the warden so compliant. Had it been cash? Or another, darker motivation?
Trace has a way of finding out everyone’s secrets…and using those secrets against his enemies.
Noah walked past dozens of cells. After about five minutes, Jeremiah stopped near a cell that was separate from the others. A nearby guard opened the door.
Noah slipped inside. The place was about five feet by nine feet. The cell contained a toilet. A bed.
A dozen pictures of Claire were on a back, stone wall. Fucking recent pictures judging by Claire’s hair. One…he leaned forward. Sonofabitch…One was of Claire at her sister’s funeral. He recognized the dress that she wore in that shot.
Noah spun to confront the warden. “She was his victim,” he snarled. “He put a gun to her head. He was going to kill her.”
Jeremiah backed up a step. “His father—”
“Is going to be rotting in the ground soon.”
“The governor—”
Noah whirled back around. He ripped those pictures from the wall. “No more.” Rage had a haze covering his gaze. “He doesn’t see her. If any more pictures find their way to him, you’ll have more than the governor to worry about.” He tore the pictures into pieces. Marched toward the warden. “You’ll have me. And when it comes to the biggest threat you need to fear, Warden, it’s not the governor because I can buy and sell him ten times over.”
The warden glanced nervously around the room. “He…he’s probably going to get out.” His voice was low, carrying just to Noah’s ears. “For the funeral. He was right. There won’t be anything I can do to stop it if the order comes down…”
Noah’s fury burned even hotter. “If that happens, you call me. Understand?”
The warden’s gaze dropped to the torn pictures scattered on the floor. “I know what he is,” Jeremiah said. “And if I had my way, he’d stay locked up forever.” His eyes lifted. Held Noah’s. “If he ever gets free, he will kill that woman.”
“No,” Noah swore, “he won’t.”
***
“All right, Claire…” The rumbling masculine voice was followed by a light rap on the office door. “It’s quitting time for the night.”
Claire glanced up and found herself staring into Drake Archer’s green gaze. She’d been aware of him covertly checking on her during the day. He hadn’t actually spoken to her until now.
Since the guy had a tendency to unnerve her, she’d appreciated his silence.
Claire shut down her computer. Well, Noah’s computer. She was in his office, in his suite, and she’d spent the day pouring over marketing plans for the hotel in D.C. She wanted to prove to Noah that she could be useful to him.
And not just as a bed partner.
Drake stepped into the room. The light glinted off his dark, blond hair.
Claire tensed.
“Why do you do that?” Drake asked her, frowning. “I’m not going to bite.”
She wasn’t sure she believed that.
She’d met Drake and Noah back in Chicago. Actually, her first image of Drake was rather twisted. Stained in blood. One thing remained clear to her, though.
Drake Archer is dangerous.
“It’s not the first time an old friend has asked me to keep an eye on his girl,” Drake added with a roll of his broad shoulders. “And Skye doesn’t jump when I get within ten feet of her.”
She rose to her feet. “I’m not Skye.”
His gaze slid over her. “True, but this is the same city she used to love. This is the place where I watched her.” His head tilted a little to the left as he seemed to savor a memory. “Skye was one hell of a dancer.”
Claire had actually seen Skye once on stage. He was right—Skye was phenomenal.
“You remind me of her,” Drake added as he kept studying her. “Something about the eyes. No, the fear in your eyes.”
Warily, she eased around the desk.
“What are you afraid of, Claire Kramer?” Drake murmured. His voice was low, rumbling. His face was all hard lines and angles. Danger. When she looked at Drake, she thought of darkness and of the threats that waited in the night.
Some women might like that wild edge that clung to him. It just made her nervous.
What are you afraid of? His question had made her tense. “Don’t you know?” Claire asked him. Noah did. Trace did. Surely Drake had been told about her past, too.
But Drake shook his head. “Some. Not all. Your past is your own.” His lips twisted. “I sure as hell don’t want anyone looking at my past. It’s bloody and full of death.”
“So is mine.”
The silence stretched between them.
“Then why don’t we just screw the talk about the past and just focus on the present?” Drake suggested. “And in the present, you sure have my boy Noah twisted up.”
She did?
Was that good or bad?
“Noah’s not like me and Trace. He holds himself back. He’s damn smart. He knows that a woman can destroy a man faster than anything else on earth.”
Drake sounded as if he were speaking from personal experience. “I’m not looking to destroy Noah.”
“Good.” His smile flashed. “Because then I’d have to destroy you, and I think I rather like you.”
He’d just threatened her. Claire’s fingers curled tightly around the edge of the desk.
“I don’t have a lot of friends in this world,” Drake continued. “Noah is one of the few people who has always stood by me, no matter what screwed up shit I did.”
Just as Noah was standing by her?
“But don’t let his appearance fool you, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. Helplessly, Claire shivered. Only one other man had called her by that endearment.
“Noah is a hell of a lot more dangerous than most people believe. I’ve always thought that, if someone were to wreck that perfect control of his, Noah York might just be the deadliest man I’ve ever met.”
“Why…” She pulled in a deep breath. “Why are you trying to warn me away from him?”