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.”