Mine to Hold

by Cynthia Eden

  was to come.

  Jonathan scurried away and shut the door behind him as quickly as possible.

  Noah’s glance slid over Gwen Lazlo. She had an envelope in her hand. This isn’t good. He caught Claire’s hand. Pulled her closer to him. Trace had taken up a position to Noah’s right. “Detectives, what brings you both to New York, and so far away from your jurisdiction?”

  Gwen’s smile widened. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

  “You came this far to congratulate me? I’m touched.”

  Gwen’s attention focused on Claire. “You don’t exactly look like a thrilled bride-to-be, though. What’s wrong? Did you discover some not so great news about the soon-to-be-hubby?”

  “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Claire hadn’t tried to slip away from Noah again. Good.

  Noah looked up and found the blond’s gaze locked on him. Lane Scott. He’d run a check on the guy. Both Lane and Gwen were supposed to be very good at their jobs. Honest cops who worked hard.

  So why are they here?

  Gwen lifted the envelope in her hand. “I got a package last night. Seems someone in D.C. managed to take a few photos during your last stay in my city.”

  He knew this wasn’t going to be good.

  Gwen crossed the room and spilled the contents of the envelope on his desk. “This is you, Claire. Right in front of the senator’s hotel.”

  “I never went inside his hotel.” Claire’s voice was flat. “I didn’t see him.”

  “No, I don’t think you did.” Gwen’s fingers brushed through the photographs.

  Noah caught sight of the next image. Shit.

  Gwen’s index finger tapped on the picture of Noah’s face. “But York here, he went inside.”

  Because Noah was staring at Claire when the detective made her announcement, he saw the ripple of shock that went over Claire’s face.

  “I don’t remember you mentioning to us that you’d been to see the senator right before he died,” Lane murmured. “Want to tell us why you didn’t mention that fact before?”

  Not particularly, but it seemed like there wasn’t a choice then. “I didn’t see him before he died.”

  Claire was staring down at the picture. He wondered what she was thinking. Keep believing in me, baby.

  Her eyes rose. Met his.

  “I got to the hotel after he was dead. His door was open. I went inside, just a foot or two, and I saw him.” He’d intended to warn the senator off. To tell the man to stay the hell away from Claire.

  But his warning hadn’t been necessary.

  “We’re supposed to buy that story?” Lane demanded. “I don’t think so.”

  “Buy whatever you want.” Noah kept his voice mild, and he managed to drag his gaze off Claire. “I didn’t kill him.”

  Gwen was watching him with narrowed eyes. “You’re used to getting exactly what you want, aren’t you, York?”

  “Most days,” he allowed.

  Trace had stepped closer to stare down at the photos.

  “You walk in,” Lane’s voice had roughened. “You find a dead body, and you don’t call the cops? Bullshit.”

  “I walked in,” Noah said, “I found the dead body, and I got worried.”

  Claire jerked.

  “Worried about Ms. Kramer?” Gwen scooped up the photos. “Because you thought she’d killed Harrison?”

  He had to give them the truth here. “Yes.”

  Claire rocked back on her heels.

  “I thought she’d killed him, and my first instinct was to get to her.”

  “Because…” Now Gwen’s sharp-eyed stare raked him, then Claire. “Because Ms. Kramer has a history of instability, and you worried that the confrontation in the lobby had—what? Driven her over the edge?”

  Claire’s hands fisted at her sides.

  “I just wanted to make sure she was safe,” Noah said. Damn, this sucked. He wanted to grab Claire and pull her close. He wanted—

  You’re used to getting exactly what you want, aren’t you? The detective’s question had been spot-on.

  Hell, yes, he was used to getting what he wanted. Noah shifted his body, and his hands curled around Claire’s shoulders. “It wouldn’t have mattered to me,” he said as he stared into Claire’s eyes. “I want you to know that.”

  “Uh, it wouldn’t have mattered if she’d just killed a man?” Lane asked in disbelief.

  Noah didn’t take his gaze off Claire. “I needed to find you and see that you were safe.” His breath heaved out. “You were, and I realized damn fast that you hadn’t killed the senator.” His eyes searched hers. For once, Claire seemed closed off from him. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking or feeling and that drove him crazy. “My priority is protecting you, it has been from the beginning.”

  Not because of some debt he owed.

  Because she was…Claire.

  “Another little interesting coincidence we found,” Gwen announced, drawing Noah’s attention. “When I was down in Alabama, I met a man named Drake Archer.”

  Hell. Noah kept his hold on Claire as he waited for Gwen to drop another bombshell.

  “It turned out the guy has a military record, one linked to you and…” She inclined her head toward a silent Trace. “You, too, Mr. Weston. You are Trace Weston, correct? Because you look just like the pictures I saw online.”

  “I’m Weston,” Trace agreed. His expression could have been carved from stone.

  Lane whistled. “Seems you three were quite the deadly team back in the day.”

  Back then, and now.

  Suspicion shone in Gwen’s eyes. “Archer had demolitions training. I’m thinking it would be pretty easy for him to rig a car to explode.”

  Yes, it would be. Noah let his brows climb. “So now you think I’ve got my friends killing, too?”

  “I think you get what you want…just like I said before.” She flashed another hard grin. “This time, though, I’m about to get what I want.”

  “Trace…” He growled his friend’s name because he knew what was coming. “Stay with Claire.”

  “You’re a person of interest in the murder of Senator Harrison.” Gwen pulled a small, white envelope out of her jacket pocket. “And I have the authority to take you in for additional questioning.”

  “You’re going to drag me back to D.C.?”

  “No, I’ll be dragging you down to the NYPD. We’re cooperating with them, you see. Because we think the murders of a PI named Sloan Hall and Senator Harrison are connected. Same MO. And the ballistics match proved the killer used the same gun for both crimes.”

  Claire gave a frantic shake of her head. “You’re wrong. Noah didn’t kill Sloan. He was with me! He didn’t—”

  “Every minute? Was he really with you every, single minute?” Lane pressed, his doubt obvious. “Because I’m betting he could have slipped away, and I think you know that, too.”

  Claire swallowed. “Noah didn’t do it.”

  “Then he can just explain to us who did kill the senator and Sloan Hall…he can explain all that down at the NYPD.” Lane slapped his hand on Noah’s shoulder. “Let’s go, York.”

  “Call my lawyer,” Noah said to Trace. Because he knew the cops were about to go after him with every bit of power they had.

  Lane pushed him past Claire.

  “Stay with Trace,” he told her. “Stay with him.”

  “Noah?” Worry darkened her eyes.

  “I’ll be back before you know it.” But he would be damned if he’d leave her unprotected until he got this shit sorted out.

  A few minutes later, Noah found himself being pushed into the back of Lane and Gwen’s unmarked car. At least it wasn’t a patrol car, but he knew word about this incident would spread through the city like wildfire. Engaged one night, arrested the next. A scandal like that would make headlines.

  The cops climbed in the front of the vehicle. Before Lane could turn the key, Noah drawled, “Are you both really sure you want to

go up against me?”

  Gwen glanced back at him. “Am I supposed to be afraid of you?”

  Yes.

  “We do our jobs, and we don’t care how much power you have.”

  Under other circumstances, Noah would like Gwen Lazlo. But since she was trying to toss his ass in jail… “Fair enough. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Because they were about to find out just how much influence he had in the Big Apple.

  ***

  For a moment, Claire stood frozen in Noah’s office. No, that hadn’t just happened. As the shock faded, she turned and rushed for the door.

  “Wait.” Trace grabbed her arm. “You don’t want to go after them.”

  “They’re arresting him. For murder!”

  And he’d thought I killed Senator Harrison? Noah had thought she was a killer, and he’d still protected her.

  Trace shook his head. “They’re not arresting him. They’re questioning Noah. The cops think they can push him into making some kind of mistake.” He laughed. “They don’t know Noah well.”

  He pulled out his phone. Called a lawyer. She tried to stop her knees from shaking. When he ended the call, Claire blurted, “They don’t know Noah well, but you do.” I thought I did, too.

  Trace put the phone back into his pocket. “I’ve seen the man survive hours of torture, and he never broke.”

  “Wh-what?”

  His eyes slid over her face. “But I guess Noah doesn’t want you knowing about that time, does he? I never wanted it touching Skye, either.”

  Her head was about to explode. “When was Noah tortured?” The idea of him being hurt that way made her sick.

  “In one way or another, I think the guy’s been tortured most of his life.”

  “That’s a really shitty answer,” Claire snapped, fed up and pushed too far.

  Trace blinked at her.

  “Who hurt Noah?” Because she had the fierce desire to hurt them right back.

  “One of our missions went to hell. Noah paid the price.”

  Her icy breath chilled her lungs.

  “Noah has seen more death than most people can imagine, and because of that, the guy doesn’t get real close to other people.”

  Neither did she, or at least she hadn’t, until Noah. “And he holds tight to his control.”

  Trace nodded. “Noticed that, huh?”

  It was hard not to notice it.

  “Consider his control a good thing,” Trace told her. “Because I’ve seen him lose it before, and when Noah breaks…” He gave a long sigh. “Men die.”

  She backed away from him. “That was war. That was—”

  “Noah values his control more than he values anything else, because he knows how dangerous he is without it.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” Was he trying to scare her? Test her?

  “Because I think you need to know exactly who you’re dealing with.” He crossed his arms over his chest. Noah had just been hauled away by cops. They should both be rushing out after him, but Trace was locking his steely gaze on her. “If you can’t handle him, all of him, then you need to pull back.”

  She shook her head. Pulling back wasn’t an option. Noah needed her then.

  “I see what’s happening between you. It may already be too late for him, and if you can’t take him—all of him—then you’ll wreck him.”

  “I-I’d never hurt Noah.”

  “Are you sure about that? Because I saw your face when you looked at that photo of him at the senator’s hotel. For an instant, you were terrified.” He took a step toward her. “You thought he might have killed, and terror consumed you. He thought that you might have done the same thing, and he protected you.”

  “Stop it! It’s not the same—you don’t understand!”

  “I understand that Noah is my friend. And the biggest threat that the man has ever faced…she’s standing right in front of me.”

  Claire straightened her spine. Focused on trying to calm her racing heart. “You don’t know me. And you don’t know how Noah is with me.” She wouldn’t let this man intimidate her. “And now you need to get out of my way because I’m not just going to stay in this place while he gets questioned. He was with me when Sloan was killed. Every minute.” Trace wisely backed away. She marched for the door. “And I’ll make those cops believe me.”

  Trace called her name, but Claire didn’t stop. She hurried through the hotel. Ran by the doormen. The street outside was so busy. Packed with cars. She raised her hand, ready to hail her own taxi, and her gaze flew around the area as—

  Ethan Harrison.

  He was standing across the street from the hotel. His hands were shoved into the pockets of the long, black coat that he wore. His eyes—his eyes were on her. He was watching her.

  Then he smiled.

  “Claire!” Trace yelled from behind her.

  Ethan turned away.

  Trace’s hand closed over her shoulder. “Claire, come on, look, I’ll get us down to the station—”

  She yanked away from him and ran into the street. “Ethan!” Cars honked. Brakes squealed. Trace roared her name.

  Ethan didn’t slow.

  She ran faster, and Claire could see him—

  She was shoved through the air. Claire slammed onto the cement with an impact that rattled her bones.

  Trace rolled her over, swearing. “Dammit, Claire, that car almost hit you!” His hands patted over her body. “Are you hurt? I didn’t think I was going to get to you in time.”

  She shoved his hands off her, shoved him off her, and leapt to her feet. “Ethan!”

  “Ethan?” Trace echoed.

  Not bothering to respond, Claire ran down the sidewalk. There were so many people. So many—but where was Ethan? Where had he gone?

  “He was here,” Claire whispered. “He is here. I just have to find him.” She whirled around. Looked to the left. The right. Bodies passed her in a blur as she kept searching for the man with the bright blond hair.

  The man who should be dead.

  ***

  Two New York detectives had joined the little party. One of the guys was named Sean Fuller, and the other guy, well, he hadn’t volunteered his name.

  “So…” Gwen pulled out the chair across from him. She was obviously the leader of the party. “Why don’t we cut through the bull?”

  He was seated at a wobbly little table in an interrogation room. They’d put a cup of coffee in front of him. The air blew overhead in a too-cold stream.

  He smiled at her. “What do you want to know?”

  His smile seemed to make her hesitate. She probably expected him to be nervous. Bring the tycoon downtown, throw him in interrogation, make him crack. Yes, he was sure that had been the general plan.

  That plan was screwed.

  “I want to know…would you kill for Claire Kramer?”

  “Yes.”

  Gwen blinked.

  “But have I killed for her?” He shrugged. “Not yet.”

  Gwen and Lane shared a long look. “So you’re planning to kill?” Gwen asked carefully.

  “I’m planning to keep Claire safe. Someone planted a bomb at one of my hotels recently. I’m sure you’re aware of that.” The news had been flashed in a constant stream on TV. “I won’t just stand by while someone tries to hurt my fiancée.”

  Noah figured he had about ten more minutes before his lawyer burst in, so he’d keep playing this game a bit longer.

  “Tell us about your visit to Senator Harrison’s hotel room in D.C.,” Gwen directed.

  Sighing, Noah leaned forward. “The guy was being a total dick. Seemed to me like he was borderline insane. That insanity must run in the Harrison family.”

  Lane grunted.

  The two New York detectives just frowned. Ah, are you two holding back because you just want me to be pissed at your D.C. counterparts? Worried I’ll come after you? Because the New York cops did look nervous as they glanced his way. One of the guys had even started to sweat.