Mine to Hold (Mine 3)

Noah didn’t speak.

“He was shot in the head! Just like my parents.” She covered her mouth with her hand. Her gaze was stunned as it held his.

“He made your life hell. You wanting some revenge only seems natural.”

Her hand fell away from her mouth. “Killing isn’t natural for me. My parents were murdered. My sister was murdered. Violence has taken everyone from me.” She gave a hard, negative shake of her head. “Trust me. Believe in me. I didn’t do this.”

Then what the hell kind of game was Sloan trying to play? “I want you to stay here. Don’t leave the hotel until I get back.” He turned for the door.

But Claire grabbed his arm. “Where are you going?”

“The PI wants to meet me. Says if I don’t come, he’ll turn over the proof of your guilt to that D.C. cop, Gwen Lazlo.”

“There is no proof,” she whispered as her fingers tightened around him. “He’s lying to you.”

“He’s about to realize I’m not the kind of man you can jerk around.” Bad mistake, Sloan. He tried to brush by her.

Claire didn’t ease her hold. “If you’re going, then so am I.”

“No.” He was definite. “You’re not.”

“This is my life we’re talking about here! He’s saying I’m a killer. I get to face the guy!” Her breath heaved out. Red stained her cheeks. “You aren’t leaving me behind for this.”

That was exactly what he planned to do.

“The last time you saw Sloan, you attacked the guy,” Claire reminded him. Not that Noah needed the reminder. “Maybe this is some kind of payback plan he has. Get you alone, and then attack.”

Bring it, asshole.

Claire’s stubborn chin notched up. “I won’t let you be hurt because you’re trying to protect me.”

Wait—what?

“That won’t happen.” Claire straightened her shoulders. “So either we both go, or you’re going to have to tie me to a chair…because I will follow you.”

This was the woman Drake had compared to a broken bird? Hell, no. There was so much more to Claire than just what met the eye.

“My life,” Claire said again. “Don’t shut me out. Noah, pl—”

He kissed her. Deep and hard. I told her not to ever beg me.

His tongue thrust into her mouth. He tasted her. He took.

Claire’s fierce response stunned him. Her tongue met his. Her kiss was as frantic and feverish as his own.

A perfect match.

Noah lifted his head. Their breath panted out.

“Take me with you,” Claire whispered.

If I have to hurt the guy, I didn’t want you seeing that. I don’t want you seeing…me.

But maybe it was time that he stopped hiding the man that he really was from Claire. Maybe it was time for her to see him for what he truly was.

Would she run then?

Or would Claire prove to be stronger than the others?

***

Noah stared up at the old hotel. The building was boarded up, and his crew had put a large, chain-link fence around the property’s perimeter.

He didn’t see anyone, but that didn’t mean Sloan Hall wasn’t already inside, waiting for him.

Claire’s shoulder brushed against his. “So what’s the plan here?”

He’d thought about getting back-up for the trip, but until he found out exactly what Sloan had to say, Noah hadn’t wanted to involve anyone else.

Claire didn’t kill the senator.

He believed that, but he also knew just how easy it was to frame someone for a crime. He wouldn’t let Claire be pulled into a legal nightmare.

“The plan is that I go in—”

“We,” Claire corrected crisply.

Right. “We go in,” he allowed, “and we find out what game this jerk is playing.”

Cautiously, they approached the building. He saw that the wood near the entrance had been pried open. Are you inside, Sloan?

He climbed up the steps. Claire hurried with him.

Then his phone rang.

Noah hesitated. Sloan?

He yanked out the phone, but this time, he recognized the number of the screen. It was Trace Weston’s personal line. “Not a good time,” he growled to his friend when he answered the call.

“I’m staring at a dead body,” Trace told him. “I just thought you might want to know about that.”

“What?”

Claire was trying to peer into the darkness of the hotel.

“I made it to New York about three hours ago.” Trace’s voice held a hard edge. “My agents and I came out to have a little talk with Sloan Hall.”

“I’m about to have my own talk with him,” Noah snapped. Dead body? What the hell?

“That’ll be hard,” Trace murmured. “Seeing as how the guy is missing half his head.”

All of the distant noise seemed to quiet right then. The car horns muted. The rush of traffic eased. Noah focused completely on Trace’s voice. “The dead body? It’s Sloan?”

“He’s in some flea-hole of a hotel. My agents tracked him. Seems the guy had to visit the hospital last night for a broken nose.”

“How long has he been dead?”

“Judging by the smell, at least a few damn hours.”

Noah hadn’t heard Sloan’s voice clearly on the phone. The guy had been whispering. Trying to disguise his identity?

Claire was about to slip inside the small opening near the old door. “No!” He grabbed for her arm.

“Uh, what?” Trace asked. “What are you yelling about?”

Noah didn’t answer him. Every instinct he had was screaming at him.

This meeting wasn’t about blackmail. It wasn’t about Claire’s innocence or guilt.

It was about them being lured to this hotel. To this empty, abandoned spot.

“Claire, come on!” But he didn’t wait for her to come. Noah wrapped his arm around her stomach, and he lifted her up against him. He ran, nearly falling down those stairs.

Get away. Get away. Get—