His hands fisted.
When he’d rushed into the suite, he’d found Gwen on the floor. There’d been so much blood around her, but her eyes had been opening. She’d been whispering for Claire.
Noah had been shouting for her.
He’d burst onto that balcony. Seen Austin with his gun—
Then Claire fired. Her bullet had found its mark, and Austin’s shot had gone wild.
She’d fired and then run right into Noah’s arms.
“I think Claire is finally going to be free,” Lane said, his eyes still on the black body bag. “There aren’t any Harrisons left to try and wreck her life anymore.”
So it would seem.
“The New York detectives are going to be taking over.” Lane finally pulled his gaze off the body bag and inclined his head toward the two suits in the corner. “The press will go wild, but I figure a guy like you is used to handling the press.”
“I am, but Claire isn’t.” His eyes locked on the New York detectives. “After we answer their questions, I’m going to take Claire away from the city. I don’t want her steps dogged by every reporter within a fifty mile radius.”
“I’d do the same damn thing in your position.” Lane offered his hand. “I know we didn’t exactly get off on the right foot, York.”
“You mean because you thought I was a killer?” Noah took his hand. Shook it once.
“Hell, I know you’re a killer. I’ve got friends at the Pentagon, so I got my hands on your military records.” Lane gave him a hard grin. “I mean because I thought you were a pompous rich jerk who was playing games in my city.”
Noah smiled. “I like you, Detective.”
“No, but you respect me, and that’s just as good.” Lane hesitated. “I really hope my bullet was the one that ended that bastard’s life.” His jaw hardened. “No one hurts my Gwen.”
And no one hurts Claire.
Noah realized that he and the detective had quite a few things in common.
When the detective walked away, Noah glanced around the suite. He’d seen Drake leading Claire away minutes before, and he was glad that she had escaped from the death that clung to that place. Claire had seen enough death.
It was time for her to live.
I love you.
Those words had been so soft that Noah hadn’t been sure he’d heard them, not at first. Then he’d looked into Claire’s eyes and seen her love.
“Mr. York?”
He glanced to the right. One of the New York detectives was coming toward him. More questions. He and Claire would both have their turn being grilled. But as soon as they got the all-clear…
I’ll get you out of here, Claire. They’d go back to the Hamptons. They’d walk on the beach. Fuck on the balcony.
Live.
And there wouldn’t be any more fear for Claire. Because Noah wasn’t going to let her out of his sight anytime soon.
Seeing her on that balcony had scared a good fifteen—twenty?—years of his life away. In that one instant, when Austin had swung with his gun up, Noah had realized one very, very important fact.
I can’t live without Claire.
Love or obsession? Claire had asked the question once. She’d wondered if there was a difference between the two things.
For a while now, Noah had thought that he would kill for her.
Yet in that one, desperate moment, he’d been ready to die for her.
Love, Claire. It’s love, not just obsession.
Chapter Fourteen
The last twenty-four hours had been hell. Claire climbed the steps to Noah’s beach house, feeling exhaustion pressing over every inch of her body.
There had been questions. Then more questions. Detectives who grilled her. Detectives who seemed to comfort her.
There had been reporters. Dozens of them. Camped out around the hotel. Waiting outside of the police station.
They’d shouted at her. Snapped images.
She’d already seen a few newspaper headlines. Another Harrison Driven to Kill?
She hadn’t driven Austin to do anything.
But the press loved a story about sex and murder. Claire knew she’d be in the headlines for a long time to come.
“Claire?” Noah’s fingers brushed over her arm. She realized that she’d just stopped in front of the door. “Baby, what is it?” He turned her in his arms so that she stared up at him.
Night had fallen again, but the house was lit. Gleaming from within. Noah had called his caretaker earlier and told him to prepare the house.
She knew he’d wanted her to have a place to hide. Escape. “I’m sorry that my nightmare spilled over onto you. Sometimes, I know you have to wish that I’d never walked into your hotel.”
He shook his head. “I never wish that. The day you walked into my hotel was one of the best days of my life.”
What?
His head lowered toward her, and Noah’s lips took hers. The kiss was long, slow, and so thorough. So…Noah.
When he ended the kiss, he stared down at her with eyes that seemed to blaze with emotion. The problem was that Claire couldn’t read that emotion. Need? Lust? Or something more?
She wanted it be to something more so badly.
“Let’s go inside, or I’ll take you right here.”
Her own eyes widened at that, and Claire hurried to get inside the beach house. Noah locked the door behind her, and she stopped by the couch, wondering—
“You scared me.”
He’d said the words like an accusation. Claire turned and blinked at him. “I, um, didn’t mean to.” She’d been trying to save him.
“You shot Austin. A damn ballsy move, but then you ran toward me.” His eyes glinted. “The guy still had his weapon. I could see him trying to get it up and aimed, and you were between him and me. He could’ve shot you.”
“That wasn’t his plan.” Noah hadn’t been there when the cops questioned her so he didn’t realize… “He wanted me to jump from the balcony. A bullet to my head wouldn’t have worked with the suicide story he was trying to create.”
“Suicide?”
“I broke once, so he thought everyone would easily buy the story that I broke again.”
Only about five feet separated her and Noah. He started walking toward her, stalking forward, and he eliminated that space quickly. His fingers closed around her shoulders. “I never would’ve bought that story.”
Still trying to understand the emotion in his eyes, Claire searched his gaze.