***
Claire Kramer tip-toed down the stairs, her bag clutched tightly in her right hand. She didn’t head into the main studio. She already felt like more than enough of an intruder in that place.
Her fingers slid over the knob at the back door. She opened it and eased outside as the alarm gave a reassuring beep. She took two steps—
“Going somewhere, Ms. Kramer?”
Claire screamed—and then she threw her bag at the tall, dangerous looking man who had been waiting for her.
The bag bounced off his shoulder, and Claire tried to yank open the door and rush back inside. But his palm flattened against the door, and his body slid behind hers. “Easy.” He wasn’t touching her, but he surrounded her. Too big and muscled. Fear and fury battled within her.
He’d been waiting for me.
Claire sucked in a deep breath. Then she attacked. Her elbow slammed into his solar plexus even as her fist flew up in a backhanded snap move. Her knuckles should’ve collided with his nose, giving a nice, satisfying crunch as the cartilage broke on impact.
But he caught her hand.
Claire stomped down with her left foot. He grunted.
That’s right. I’m not easy prey. Not anymore. She’d spent years learning how to protect herself.
Claire spun around now, yanking her wrist free of his grip. She had keys in her left hand, and she brought them up, ready to shove those keys right into his eye—
He caught that hand, too. He didn’t hurt her. He just held her, his strength undeniable. “You’re good,” he said, flashing a golden eyed stare at her. She planned to seriously damage those golden eyes. “But I think I’m a little bit better.”
Those words infuriated her. He dared to taunt her? Hell, no.
Not again. Not again. The words rang in her head. They were Claire’s vow to herself. She’d never be a victim again. She wouldn’t be hurt.
He would.
Claire jerked up her knee, intending to hit him in the groin as hard as she could.
He pushed her back, flattening her against the door. A strong, muscular thigh pushed between her legs. “I think you need to settle down before someone gets hurt—”
She head-butted him.
“Dammit!”
His lip was bleeding.
Claire gave him a grim smile. “Looks like someone just got hurt. And guess what? More pain is coming.”
He stepped back, freeing her and swiping at his bleeding lip. “You?” He tossed that out as if he were shocked. She’d shock him again with a punch to the face if he so much as inched toward her again.
“You’re the grief-stricken sister that I’m supposed to be watching? I thought you needed a guard. No one told me you were so…” He waved his hand and drops of his blood fell on the pavement. “Violent,” he finished.
You needed a guard.
“Who are you?” Claire asked him.
“Noah. Noah York.” One dark brow rose as his eyes swept over her. His eyes unnerved her. She’d never met a man with golden eyes before.
“I’m not the enemy, sweetheart.”
Her spine snapped straight at that.
“Delicate flower, my ass,” Noah muttered. “Trace has you pegged all wrong. You’d think by now he’d be smart enough not to get fooled by a pretty face.”
She swallowed and realized that she was choking back her fear. “Trace sent you?”
“Yeah. He had to leave town. Took Skye with him. Because you know, he can’t breathe without her or some shit.” Then he muttered, “Lovesick idiot that he is.”
Her heart was starting to slow down, but she didn’t trust the stranger. Not yet. “Give me proof.”
“Proof?”
“How do I know you aren’t lying?”
“Because I’m Noah York!”
“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
His jaw dropped. That bottom lip of his—a sexy lip, despite the blood dripping from it—caught her attention.
Her gaze swept slowly over his face. The guy was handsome, and that put her on edge. She’d learned how dangerous handsome, lying men could be. His cheek bones were high, his nose a sharp blade, and his jaw was perfectly square and hard.
Too perfect.
Not for me.
He stared at her a moment, gazing deeply into her eyes, then he smiled. A dimple flashed in his cheek.
Not. For. Me.
“No,” he said softly, “I don’t think the name should mean a thing to you.” He rolled his shoulders. “Tell you what, I saw Reese parked in front of the building. I’m guessing you met him already right? Trace’s driver-slash-guard?”
Yes, she remembered Reese.
“He can tell you that I’m safe. Then maybe you’ll stop trying to attack me.”
She glanced down the length of the building. They were in the narrow back alley. It would only take a few moments to race to the front of the building and check out the guy’s story.
Claire didn’t move. “Why would Trace tell you both to guard me?” Suspicion had her eyes returning to Noah.
“I know, sounds like overkill, right? That’s Trace.” His smile invited her to smile back with him.
She didn’t.
His smile slowly faded. “I see it,” he said and his voice was grim now.
“What do you see?” Claire instantly demanded.