by Cynthia Eden
Ethan Harrison might be gone, but things weren’t over. Not yet.
The senator’s dead. Harrison’s dead. Would that be the end of the killings? Or were things just getting started?
He pulled her closer. Noah didn’t know what was happening. Someone had just saved him one hell of a lot of trouble though. Because Noah had already put a plan in motion to eliminate Ethan.
Claire looked up at him. “I don’t have to be afraid any longer.”
He nodded. He didn’t tell Claire what he was thinking. What would be the point?
Maybe he was wrong.
The senator…Ethan…their deaths might not touch Claire at all.
His fingers slid down her back.
He was the only one touching her, and anyone who wanted to hurt Claire would have to go through him.
***
“Will you take me out on your boat?” Claire asked. Her stomach was in knots. It had been that way, pretty much all day long. The knots had gotten even worse when she found out the news about Ethan’s death.
He’s dead. Dead. He can’t hurt me. He can’t find me. I’m finally safe.
Noah was cooking dinner for her. Such a normal, domestic task, and one that she never would’ve pictured Noah York performing. The guy always seemed to have an army of chefs at his beck and call.
But out there, it was just him. Just her.
Exactly as he’d promised.
He glanced up at her. “My boat?”
She blinked. He’d just sounded so wooden. “Yes, I, um, I saw the boat down by the dock. I thought—I thought you might want to go out.” When she’d been younger, she’d loved heading out on the water with her grandfather. She’d always felt so free then.
His stare turned toward the window. Darkness had fallen, so he wouldn’t be able to see the boat. “I don’t usually take anyone out with me.”
Her cheeks burned. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” She stopped because Claire didn’t know what to say. They were lovers, but according to Drake, it was just some sort of temporary situation. She was bumbling around, and trying to make plans and do things because—
I feel free.
Noah put down the knife he’d been holding. He headed for her. His face was so hard. So tight.
Nervousness pushed through Claire. She’d done something wrong. “Forget I said anything.” The moment was thick with tension, and she just wanted to go back to the way they’d been before.
“You really don’t know about my past, do you?”
She shook her head.
His gaze held hers. “Some women…they make plans for me.”
“Plans?”
“They learn everything they can about my life. Then they use what they know to try and win me over.”
“I’m not trying to win you.” It hurt that he thought she was just trying to manipulate him.
“No.” His lips tightened. “You tried to run from me.”
Because she’d thought it was best.
“Dinner can wait,” he said. He reached for her fingers. Threaded his with hers. “I know about your hell. Maybe it’s time you knew about mine.” And he led her out onto the balcony. Then down the wooden steps.
Her bare feet curled in the sand. The wind blew off the water, sending her t-shirt fluttering around her body. There was a chill on the wind that sent goosebumps rising along her arms.
The moon was out. Heavy and full in the sky. The big boat was docked nearby.
“I was thirteen when they died,” he said. “They were the only parents I ever knew.” He released her hand. “My real folks gave me up when I was a kid. But Mac and Kylie…they loved me so much.” A pause. “Probably the same way your parents loved you.”
She’d never thought about Noah’s family before. Why not? The guy had to be connected to others. He wasn’t just—
“My dad loved to get out on the water. He started teaching me how to steer when I was barely tall enough to reach his waist. We’d go out on that water. Stay for hours.”
“I-I loved the water, too,” Claire whispered, needing to say something. There was an echo of pain in Noah’s voice, and she wanted to soothe him. “I always felt free out on the water.” But she sure hadn’t been out on a boat like this one. She’d gone out on a little fishing boat—one with a small motor or she’d just used paddles.
“The water’s beautiful,” Noah said and his gaze turned toward the waves. “And it’s dangerous.”
The waves crashed into the beach.
“Sometimes it reminds me of you.”
He thought she was dangerous? Claire shook her head, then realized he couldn’t see the movement. “I’m not dangerous to you.” She’d never hurt him. He’d been one of the few people to actually help her. To care.
“You’re more dangerous than you know.” The wind took that soft reply, twisted it, and Claire wasn’t sure he’d even said those words.
Then he turned his back on the water and faced her. “A storm came up. One of those freak storms that shouldn’t have happened. It sent our boat rolling. We lost the sail—hell, we lost everything.”
Goosebumps rose on her arms. “Noah…” Claire didn’t want to hear the end of this story. She wanted to picture him happy. She wanted him to introduce her to Mac and Kylie.
“I wasn’t strong enough. I couldn’t keep my dad afloat. He’d gotten hit in the head with the mast, and he was bleeding. I couldn’t keep him afloat.”
She wrapped her arms around him. “I don’t want to go out on the water,” Claire whispered. You don’t have to tell me anymore. Stop, Noah, just stop. Because it hurt him to share this story. She could feel the pain vibrating through him.
“I couldn’t save my mother, either. I tried. So damn hard. I treaded water with her for hours, but when the Coast Guard finally found us…” He wasn’t holding her back. Just standing stiffly in her embrace. “She was dead.”
In his arms.
Claire squeezed her eyes shut, but the image was there, burning brightly in her mind.
Sometimes, she forgot—I’m not the only one who has lost. Her own pain was so thick. It had blinded her. I should’ve seen his pain sooner. Noah had been so busy helping her, but she’d done nothing for him.
“I don’t take anyone else out on the water with me because I never want to be in that situation again.”
Holding someone he loved and watching that person slip away?
“I get sea sick,” she lied, talking quickly and still holding him tightly. “I hate being out on the water.”
He pushed her back. Stared down at her.
“Let’s go back inside,” she said. Her voice was husky with tears that she wanted to shed, for him.
“The water reminds me of them,” he told her. “I hate it, and I love it.” He shook his head. “I’ll never let it take anyone else from me again.”
Was that why he had this place here? A place that was both haven and hell? A place he’d brought her to? “How many…” She cleared her throat. “How many other women have been here?”
“Just you, Claire. Just you.”
Drake’s words whispered through her mind. He doesn’t keep them, you know…He sleeps with them, gets the lust out of his system, then he lets them go. He doesn’t like to have the same lover twice in a row.
“Why me?” Claire asked him.
“Fuck if I know.”
She blinked. Well, that wasn’t exactly some romantic confession. She started to ease back from him.
But then he was holding tight to her. “I just know that I need you close. Sometimes, I think if I can’t see you, if I can’t touch you—” He broke off, and his head jerked to the left.
His body tensed as he stared into the darkness.
Jeez, but she didn’t want the guy to stop talking. “Noah? What were you saying?” Keep saying it.
“We’re not alone.” Then he pushed her back and ran toward the sand dunes.
Shocked, Claire stared after him for a few seconds before und
erstanding kicked in—it sure kicked in hard when she saw the dark shadow rise from the sand dunes and start running away.
Only Noah wasn’t letting that shadow get far.
Claire raced after Noah. The sand flew beneath her feet.
Noah tackled the shadow. A man. They hit the sand with a thudding impact that she heard even over the waves. Then Noah spun the guy over. “Who the hell are you?”
Breath heaving, Claire rushed to his side.
“Get off me!” The guy shouted. He tried to swing at Noah.
A terrible mistake. The swing missed.
Noah’s fist drove down. He didn’t miss. He hit the man in the face. Once. Twice. Powerful blows that were brutal with their intensity.
“Try again…” Noah snarled. His fist was poised over the man’s face. “Who. Are. You?”
“P-private investigator!” Then, he snarled, “Shit, you broke my nose!”
“I’m about to break a whole lot more than that,” Noah told him. She’d never heard Noah’s voice sound that way. Lethal.
Deadly.
Chilling.
Claire tried to peer at the private investigator’s face. She could see the round curve of his cheek. The high forehead. The thinning hair. The moonlight was strong as it shone down on them.
“Who are you working for?” Noah asked him. His hand was still poised to punch.
“Screw off!”
Noah’s fist plunged down again.
“Noah!” Claire lunged forward. She grabbed his arm. “Stop!”
“Shit!” The PI cried. There was a dark shadow streaking down his face. Blood. Definitely blood. “I’m going to sue your ass! This is assault!”
Claire tried to drag Noah off the guy. He didn’t move.
“This is private property, dumbass,” Noah bit out. “And you took the first swing.” Then Noah shoved his hand into the guy’s pockets.
“Wait, stop, what—”
Noah rose, and he had what looked like a wallet in his hand. “Guessing your ID is in here.”
The man stumbled to his feet. He put his hand to his nose, obviously trying to stop that blood flow.
Claire stood there, her frantic breaths still shaking her chest, shocked by the violence that had erupted so suddenly.
“Harrison sent you,” Noah said flatly.
The guy’s shoulders jerked.
“The senator’s dead,” Claire said. It didn’t make sense that this guy would be here if he’d been hired by Colby Harrison to—
“Not the senator.” Noah’s voice was sharp. “Ethan. You were the one sending him the pictures of Claire, weren’t you?”
Pictures? Her goosebumps got worse.
“In case you haven’t heard, Ethan Harrison is dead, too,” Noah announced and it sounded like there was…satisfaction in those words.
The man backed up. “What?”
“Why don’t you try and call your employer? You’re going find out that your services aren’t needed. No one’s left to pay you.” The waves crashed behind them. “And after you do that, you need to get out of this area as fast as you can.” He advanced on the guy.
The PI darted back.
Claire couldn’t move.
“Because I’ll give you one warning. Only one. If you ever come near Claire again, it will be the last mistake you make.”
Noah’s sudden eruption of violence…the deadly intensity that clung to him…
It made Claire think too much of her past.
Ethan had erupted into violence so quickly. So often.
Noah isn’t Ethan.
“Get the hell out of here,” Noah ordered.
“Give me back my ID and I—”
“You don’t get anything back. I’ll be turning this over to Weston Securities. They’ll learn every detail I need to know about you.”
“Th-there’s no need—”
“Yes, there is, because if you don’t stay away from me and Claire, I’ll be the one lurking in the shadows near your door. And you’ll see what it’s like to be hunted.”
The man turned then and he ran, disappearing into the darkness.
Noah stared after him. One hand was clenched around the wallet he’d taken. The other hand was fisted at his side.
The waves kept pounding against the shore.
“How do you know…about the pictures?” Claire asked.
Noah glanced over his shoulder at her.
It felt as if someone had punched her. “You said Ethan had pictures of me. That he’d been the one to hire that guy…how do you know all that, Noah?”
“It doesn’t matter.” He stalked toward her. Shoved the wallet into his back pocket.
She stood her ground when she wanted to flee.
Noah isn’t Ethan.
She’d never been afraid of Noah before.
She’d also…never seen him attack a man before. One instant, he’d been sharing his past with her.
The next…he’d been punching a man with lethal fury.
Now he seemed so contained. So controlled.
“It matters to me,” Claire said as she lifted her chin and forced her shoulders to stay straight. “How did you know that?” Maybe he’d just been guessing. Just been—
“Because Ethan looked me in the eyes, and the bastard told me that he had someone watching you.”
Her heart was racing in her chest, pounding louder than those waves.
“And I went to his cell. I saw the pictures that he had of you.”
Claire shook her head. This wasn’t happening. “When?”
“I saw him yesterday.” Flat.
The day before Ethan died?
“Noah…” Fear was there now. Fear and enough dread to choke her. “What did you do?”
Chapter Seven
Claire was afraid of him.
Sonofabitch. She wasn’t supposed to fear him. He was the one who wanted to protect her. To help her.
But when Noah took a step toward Claire, she backed away from him.
“Did you kill him?”
He could hear her fear.
“Did you kill him?” Claire asked again.Her voice was shaking.
His eyes narrowed on her. “Why does it even matter? You know you’re glad that he’s gone.”
Claire spun from him then. She ran from him.
He hadn’t meant to send her fleeing. “Claire!”
She didn’t slow down at his call. She just ran faster. Why? Because she thought that she was running from a killer?
That’s exactly what I am.
No matter how many fancy suits he put on. No matter how many hotels he opened. No matter how many charity balls he hosted…Noah couldn’t hide the truth.
At his core, he was a killer.
That’s what I’ll always be.
And he wasn’t letting Claire run away. Noah rushed after Claire. “Stop!”
She was fast. He was faster. He grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him.
Claire hit him.
Noah hadn’t expected Claire to drive her fist at him—she had one hell of a hook—and he let her go.
She didn’t run then. She stood, staring up at him, her chest heaving, and the moonlight showed the horror on her face. “Noah, I’m sorry, I—” She shook her head. Her hand fell to her side. “What’s happening? What are we doing?”
“We should go inside.” He fought to keep his voice level, his control in place. If the PI came back, Noah didn’t want the guy overhearing anything else that he and Claire said.
Claire glanced toward his beach house. The lights were on and glowing brightly. He stepped toward her.
Claire flinched.
He held up his hands. “Let’s go inside and talk.” Claire was at the edge of her control. He could see it.
I did this to her.
He wanted to wrap her in his arms, but he couldn’t. Not yet.
Her head nodded jerkily, and she hurried to his house. He noticed she made sure to keep a careful distance between them. When they w
ere inside, he secured the door.
“It all seemed so perfect before,” she murmured, her eyes on the table in the kitchen. On the plates that were still there. Their half-made dinner waited steps away. “I don’t…I don’t get perfect, though. I should’ve known that.”
Hell, no, he wasn’t perfect. He never would be.
Claire squared her shoulders. “There was no trip to Vegas.”
“No, there wasn’t.”
“You lied to me.” Pain whispered through her words. “I thought I could trust you.”
“You can.”
Her eyes lifted to meet his. “You went down to Alabama.”
He nodded. “Trace got me in to see Harrison.”
“Ethan.” Her whisper was stark.