Oh, God. “I have to get out of here.” She tried to climb from the bed.
Noah pushed her back. “No, stop it!” He held her easily in the bed. “I can’t let you hurt yourself.”
“What is happening?” The machines were still beeping too loudly and fear had her whole body tensing. “The shot to the head…just like the senator, just like—”
“Your parents,” he finished grimly. His hands were around her shoulders now. He eased her back into the hospital bed. “And the bomb…well, we both know a bomb just took out Ethan Harrison.”
“Someone wanted us to go out that way, too.” Bombs didn’t just kill. They obliterated. “Why? Why is someone after me?” But then horror filled her. “You.”
Noah frowned down at her.
“I-I wasn’t the one called to that hotel. You were. You were the one who was—” Claire broke off, unable to say more.
You were the one who was going to die.
She tried to get out of the bed again.
He pushed her back against the pillow. “Claire, stop it!”
She couldn’t stop. “I need to get away.” She twisted beneath his hands. “No, you have to get away from me. It’s happening again.” But he wasn’t letting her go. “Leave, Noah, just leave!”
Instead of leaving, he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her into his arms. “You’re okay.”
This time, she was. He was. What about next time? “It’s because of me,” Claire managed to say.
Noah eased back just enough to peer down at her.
“You almost died…because of me.” Because he’d gotten involved with her. He’d helped her.
I won’t let him suffer because of me.
“It’s not because of you.” Intensity hardened each word. “Some bastard out there is playing some sort of sick game.” He shook his head. “And he’s playing with the wrong man.”
This wasn’t a game. “You need to stay away from me.” He had to see that.
Everyone close to me dies.
“That’s not happening,” he said.
Then I have to stay away from you.
The door opened behind Noah then, swinging in with a soft swoosh of sound. Noah glanced toward the door, but he didn’t release Claire. Claire followed his gaze.
She instantly recognized the man who stood in the doorway. Tall, with broad shoulders, the guy had a handsome, but hard face and glittering blue eyes.
Trace Weston.He’d been her sister’s boss, and Sara had looked up to him so much.
Sara had also feared him.
“Claire?” The soft, feminine voice came from the woman beside Trace—his new wife, Skye. Skye hurried toward the bed. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders, and her pretty face reflected her concern. “Are you all right?”
No, Claire was pretty sure she might shatter into a million pieces at any moment. “Someone tried to kill us.”
Noah slid from the bed.
Skye came closer. She started to touch Claire, then hesitated.
She knows I don’t like to be touched. Skye understood Claire far better than any other woman had. Maybe it was because Skye had been through her own nightmare. Stalked, kidnapped, starved…Skye had managed to survive, but the horrific nightmare had marked her.
We’re both marked. On the skin, and deep within.
Skye’s hand hesitantly curved over Claire’s shoulder. “You’re safe now. Trace has two men guarding your hospital room door, and he’s going to keep a guard on you until we can figure out what’s happening.”
Claire glanced toward the doorway. Noah was leading Trace back out of the room. “Noah?” Claire called.
He glanced back at her. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right outside.”
There was something…different…in his eyes. A wildness. A fury.
It scared her.
The door shut softly behind him.
***
“She nearly died,” Noah snarled as soon as he was out of that hospital room.
The two guards near her door glanced at him with wide eyes.
He glared at them.
Trace caught his shoulder and steered him toward the corner. “She didn’t die. You got her out of there.”
Noah yanked a hand through his hair. He couldn’t cool the rage that burned him from the inside out. “Only because you called. If that phone had rung two minutes later, hell, even one minute later, we’d both be dead.”
Trace crossed his arms over his chest. “Then I guess it’s a good thing you answered your old friend’s call.”
Noah surged toward him. “I won’t lose her.”
Trace’s eyebrows flew up. “Shit, who are you?”
“What?” Noah’s hands fisted. He wasn’t in the mood for any bull. Not even from Trace. “Man, don’t push me, I don’t—”
“You’re losing your control right in front of me. This doesn’t happen to the Noah York I know.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, it’s happening. Claire was in my arms, and she wasn’t moving.” He swung away from the guy. He wanted to drive his fist into the nearest wall. He did. When a nurse shrieked, he snarled, “I’ll buy a new wing!”
Because he might be destroying this one.
Trace’s hand settled on his shoulder once more. “Talk to me.”
Noah whirled back toward him. “When that bastard had Skye, when you thought you’d lose her…how did you stay sane?”
Trace exhaled on a rough sigh. “Is it that bad?”
It was worse. Noah felt like he was ripping apart. “She was bleeding. I couldn’t get her to open her eyes.” That image would never get out of his head. “Fire was lighting the sky, glass was raining down, and Claire was too still.”
Trace took a step back.
“I won’t let her go,” Noah said. He couldn’t. “No one is going to hurt her again. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll find the SOB. I’ll—”
“Watch what you say,” Trace interjected, voice flat. A wave of his hand indicated the folks lurking close by.
Hell, half of the hospital seemed to be staring at them.
“And you aren’t doing anything alone.” Trace gave a grim nod. “Because you know I’ve got your back.”
***
“I haven’t seen you since the funeral,” Skye said carefully. She gave Claire a faint smile. “And I was sure hoping when we met again, it would be under better circumstances.”