Mine to Hold, Page 3

  her southern drawl slip out. She’d worked hard to lose her past.

  But the past wouldn’t let go.

  “At first, people blamed me,” Claire confessed quietly. At first? That was a lie. Claire knew that too many still blamed her for what happened down in Alabama. “The house was trashed a few times back then.” Goosebumps were on her arms. “This—this was just a break-in.” It couldn’t be related to her past. “The thieves must have realized I’d taken my purse, that nothing valuable was left behind, so they trashed the place.”

  His eyes glittered.

  “It was just a break-in,” Claire repeated, willing herself to believe those words. “Like you said, the police have this address memorized. Crimes happen here all the time.”

  “I don’t want you ever coming back here,” he gritted out the words.

  She looked around the room. “There’s no reason to come back. Not anymore.” But it looked as if she’d be starting her new job with just the clothes on her back.

  And with the memory of her past rushing through her mind.

  ***

  He watched as the police came. They would find no clues in that dank, little hotel room. Nothing that could be tied back to him.

  He never left clues behind.

  Claire was there. Broken Claire Kramer. She stood in front of the Hamlet, clutching tight to her photo.

  Nothing was left of Claire’s family. They were all bones in the ground. She was alone.

  Except…who is that guy with her?

  Because there was a man near Claire. A man who let his body brush against hers. A man who wrapped his arms around Claire’s shoulders even as the man seemed to bark orders to the cops.

  No, no, no! Claire didn’t get to turn to another. That wasn’t how this worked.

  And Claire…Claire didn’t like to be touched.

  Only that man was touching her.

  That man was also loading Claire into the back of a big, dark limo.

  What in the hell?

  Rage pulsed within him. He’d made sure that Claire was at the end of her rope. He’d pushed and pushed her. She should have been falling apart then.

  Just like she did before.

  No white knight was supposed to ride to Claire’s rescue. That damn well wouldn’t happen. Claire Kramer deserved to be punished for her crimes.

  And no matter what, he would see to it that she was punished. She’d suffer, just as Claire had made others suffer.

  Punishing Claire was his job, and he was very, very good at that job.

  Chapter Two

  The knock at her door woke Claire the next morning. She rolled over, pushing away the memory of blood and death and gunshots, and a quick glance at the bedside clock showed her that it was six a.m.

  Claire had slept in a hotel robe last night. There hadn’t exactly been tons of options for her. So as she rose from the bed, Claire secured the robe once more and hurried toward that demanding knock.

  She glanced through the peep-hole and saw Noah standing on the other side of the door.

  He wasn’t alone.

  Her hand automatically flew up to try and smooth down her hair. She had to look like hell. She had to—

  “Open the door, Claire.”

  How had he known that she was standing there?

  Claire opened the door. Noah immediately pushed his way inside. “Bring in all the clothes. Put them in her closet.”

  Two men hurried in after him. They were both wearing York Towers jackets, with the distinctive YT emblem, and both men were also carrying armfuls of bags.

  The names displayed on those bags told her that the items inside had come with a very hefty price tag.

  “Noah, what did you do?”

  He stood close to her. Not touching, but still making her too aware of the warmth that always clung to him. His gaze was on the frame near her bed. She…liked to keep it close.

  After a moment, while the other men got busy unpacking those bags, Noah turned back to glance at her. “You look good in the morning.”

  What?

  “No makeup. Just soft lips. Wide eyes.” His voice was low, carrying only to her ears. “And you even have a little sprinkle of freckles across your nose. Your makeup hid that from me before.”

  Claire shook her head. “Who are those men?”

  “Franco and Paul both work in the concierge department here at the hotel. They’ve got plenty of connections in this town, and they used those connections to help me out.”

  Only they weren’t helping Noah. They were helping her. “How did they know my size?”

  The clothes they were unpacking—unreal.

  “I knew your size. Don’t forget…” And his voice dropped even more. “I did have the chance to get up close and personal with you in Chicago.”

  Up close and personal? She’d been punching him! But he’d been holding her tight. “I thought you were—you were some mugger. I was scared—”

  “So you attacked.” He nodded. “But when you did, I was able to get a pretty good feel for your body.”

  She suspected the guy was an expert when it came to getting a “feel” for a woman’s body.

  “The shoes will be here soon,” Noah murmured. “Don’t worry. I didn’t forget them.”

  Franco and Paul nodded toward her, then they slipped out the door.

  “The only thing I didn’t get picked up…” Noah’s voice was stronger now that they were alone. “I didn’t want them getting your underwear.”

  Her cheeks had to be flaming.

  “I’ll take care of that today,” he added.

  “No!” That response was a horrified squeak from her. “I can take care of that myself!” There was no way she wanted him buying her bras. Her panties. Anything sexual.

  She paced away from him and stared at the now full closet. “I can’t pay for this.” She also couldn’t pay for the underwear that she needed. Shame burned through her. She’d tried to stay at those other jobs. Tried to save money, but each time she’d been forced to move and start again, her bank account had depleted more and more.

  Until nothing was left.

  “Consider it an advance on your salary.” He didn’t even sound a little concerned.

  Probably because he had money to burn. She didn’t. She also had pride. Her hands tightened around the robe’s belt as she glanced at him. “You have to deduct every penny from my paycheck.”

  He rolled one shoulder in a careless shrug. “It’s really a business expenditure, you know.”

  Bull.

  Another knock sounded at the door.

  Noah advance toward the door as he told her, “Where I go, you will go. You needed clothing that would—”

  “Let me fit in your circle?” Claire finished and her pride sure felt like it took a hit then.

  He paused at the door. “You already fit me, Claire.” He opened the door. Franco and Paul were already back—and loaded down with shoe boxes this time.

  While they unloaded the shoes, Noah returned to Claire’s side. “The police have nothing,” he said, voice softer once again. “They think it was just a random break-in at the Hamlet.”

  “I-I’m sure it was.” She needed to believe that.

  “Claire…How can I help you, when you’re so determined to keep your past locked away?”

  She forced herself to meet his gaze. “You already know what happened to me. I saw that manila file on your desk. That file told you what college I went to, so I’m sure whatever investigator you hired also told you all about what happened when I was sixteen.”

  He didn’t speak again until Franco and Paul were headed toward the door.

  “Thank you,” Claire told them as she stepped forward. “Thank you so much—”

  Paul, a red-haired man with dark green eyes, waved away her thanks. “Ma’am, when the boss tells us to jump, we do. And considering some of the crazy things we’ve had to do for him…” Paul laughed. “Taking care of his new assistant was a pleasure.”

/>   “Yes,” Franco agreed, smiling. Franco appeared to be in his early twenties, and his skin was a deep coffee cream. “Nothing like the time he had us get rid of that dead body.”

  “What?”

  Franco laughed. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.” He gave her a little wave. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing you very soon.”

  Then he and Paul were gone.

  Claire faced Noah. “I should go use those new clothes and get dressed.” She gave a firm nod of her head and turned away to—

  “Running, Claire?”

  “Walking,” she said without looking back at him. “Walking very slowly.”

  She’d taken about four steps when he said, “Trace Weston.”

  The name had her pausing.

  Trace Weston was a billionaire, a man with a dangerous reputation—and the man who’d saved her sanity once upon a time.

  Claire’s sister had worked for Trace. Sara had been his assistant for several years before she’d been brutally murdered in Chicago.

  Claire cleared her throat. “If you had Trace Weston investigate me, then I’m sure you discovered all of my dirty little secrets. Weston Securities is the best firm in the U.S.”

  “You don’t have dirty secrets.”

  Yes, she did. Everyone did. Hers were bloody and dirty and dark.

  “You know, so I don’t have to tell you.” She needed to get dressed. The clothing almost seemed to be armor that she had to don in order to deal with him.

  “There’s plenty for you to tell me. One day, you will.”

  He sounded so certain. So confident.

  Claire found herself whirling toward him. For years, she’d been the good one. The quiet one. The one who never tried to step a foot out of line.

  But I still lose everyone who gets close to me. “Only if you tell me your secrets, Noah. Because I know you have them. You and Trace…your military past. You both pretend to be such good, upstanding members of society, but there’s more to you both, right? Secrets that some people would kill to know.”

  His lips twisted. “Touché.”

  Her breath heaved out. “I’m going to get dressed. Wait outside the suite.”

  He blinked.

  What? Had no one ever given the guy an order before? Money can’t buy everything, Noah York.

  “I’ll go,” he said with a nod, “because we need to get ready for our flight.”

  “Flight?” she echoed.

  “York Towers is a world-wide operation, you know that. I rarely stay in one city too long.”

  She pulled at the sleeves of her robe, making sure her wrists were covered. “Where are we going?”

  “This time, it’s just a short trip to D.C.”

  Claire could feel all of the blood leaving her face. D.C.

  “Claire?”

  “I’ll be ready in twenty minutes,” she promised him.

  He’s not in D.C. any more. He’s long gone. I’ll be safe there.

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Outside,” she said again. Then she headed for her closet and the clothes that he’d bought for her. She heard him walk away.

  Heard the soft click of the door shut behind him.

  And then she heard a whisper from her past. The voice of Ethan Harrison’s father, Senator Colby Harrison.

  You little bitch. I know you made my boy kill. You did this. I’ll make you pay. No matter how long it takes, you’ll pay.

  And all of his rage had come at her before he’d lost his senate seat due to the scandal. After that, he’d blamed her, hated her, even more.

  But Colby Harrison isn’t in Washington, D.C. I’ll be safe with Noah.

  Her hands were shaking when she reached for the clothes.

  ***

  Noah yanked out his phone as he paced in front of Claire’s suite. He didn’t give a damn what time it was. His buddy owed him.

  The phone rang once. Twice. Then—

  “Dammit, Noah,” Trace Weston growled, “you know I’m on my honeymoon, right?”

  Yeah, he did. Lucky bastard. Two weeks ago, Trace’s fiancée, Skye, had confessed that she didn’t want to have a big wedding that would just be fodder for the gossip pages. Instead, she’d asked Trace to run away with her. To elope.

  And since Trace would do anything for Skye…

  They’d gotten married in Paris.

  “I need your agents in New York to look into a break-in for me.” He kept his eyes on Claire’s suite door.

  “Uh, then call the office there, man. Don’t just—”

  “It’s about Claire Kramer, and I only want your best men on the case.”

  Silence. Then… “Is she all right?”

  “She’s with me.”

  “That doesn’t answer the question.”

  Noah yanked a hand through his hair. “The SOB who killed her parents is still locked up in an Alabama prison.”

  “I made sure of that.” Grim satisfaction coated Trace’s words.

  Noah knew that Claire’s sister Sara had used her connection to Trace in order to get his help. He’d used his power to convince the parole board that Ethan Harrison shouldn’t be walking outside of those prison gates anytime soon.

  “Someone broke into Claire’s hotel room at the Hamlet yesterday. Slashed her clothes. Destroyed every damn thing there.”

  “The Hamlet? What the hell was she doing there? Noah, I thought you said you were watching—”

  “I’ve got her now,” Noah growled into the phone. “I want your men to see if they can find out who broke into her room. The cops aren’t looking hard. The Hamlet gets robbed every other day. It’s just business as usual at that place.” But the knot in his gut told him that the destruction in Claire’s room hadn’t just been the result of a robbery gone wrong.

  Noah never ignored his instincts. They’d kept him alive too many times in the past, and they’d put his enemies in the ground.

  “I’ll get my men on it,” Trace said, voice flat. “And if I find out anything—”

  “You call me right away.” He knew he could count on Trace.

  “Will do.”

  “And, hey, one more thing, buddy…”

  “What is it?” Worry deepened Trace’s voice.

  “Give that pretty bride of yours a big kiss for me.”

  “Screw off,” Trace muttered and hung up the phone.

  Noah’s lips tilted as he kept staring at Claire’s door.

  Trace had loved his Skye for over ten years. Loved her, but nearly lost her to a crazed stalker.

  Once upon a time, Noah had thought that Trace’s single-minded love for Skye made the other man weak.

  Now he knew…

  It makes him lucky.

  ***

  She’d never been to D.C. Claire had actually made a point of staying out of the area.

  She hadn’t wanted to attract any unwanted attention.

  But as Noah’s private jet touched down in D.C., tension settled heavily over Claire’s shoulders.

  First trip to D.C. and my first time to fly in a private jet.

  Noah had talked to her all during the flight. Business only. He’d gone over a listing of his most profitable hotels, hinted at his plans for expansion, told her the PR work that needed to be done…

  And he’d kept her mind off the fear that wanted to snake through her.

  “What’s that look for?” Noah asked as he unbuckled his seatbelt. Time for them to go.

  She fumbled and managed to unhook her belt, too. “I, uh, I’m just curious about the city.” Such a lie.

  “You haven’t been here before?” He seemed surprised. Since globe-hopping was no doubt a habit for him, it probably was surprising.

  “Most people don’t get to jet off whenever they want,” she said as she fought to keep her voice light. “Besides, I…I was busy.”

  “You mean you didn’t want to come here.” He stood, blocking the exit. Trapping her, but not touching her. “You don’t need to lie to me.”

  Right.<
br />
  “I didn’t want to come here.” Her hair slipped forward and fell over her left eye.

  Before she could brush the blonde locks back, Noah’s hand moved. His fingers pushed the hair back and lingered on her cheek. “But you came for me.”

  Her heart was beating faster. “I came for me.” Because she wouldn’t let fear lead her life. “Colby Harrison isn’t here.” She wasn’t going to dance around this issue. Noah had his neat file, after all, so why hide the truth? “He lost his position two terms back.”

  And she hadn’t seen the man in eight years.

  “When you worry…” His fingers slipped from her cheek and his index finger moved to lightly tap her lower lip. “You have a tendency to bite this lip.”

  Her breath caught in her lungs.

  His finger caressed her lip. “Don’t do that. Don’t hurt yourself.”

  “I-I wasn’t…” She barely breathed the words against his touch.

  But…when she spoke, she…she licked his finger.

  It was an accident. She hadn’t meant to do that. Not at all.