Mine to Hold (Mine 3)

“He can’t be.” Noah rose. Walked around the desk so that he could stand close to her. “He was in jail when his father was killed. Alibis don’t get much better than that.”

“Then maybe he hired someone to kill his father! I don’t know how he did it.” She gulped. “I just know he called me. He called using Sloan’s phone, so maybe he killed Sloan, too. He killed Sloan and he set the bomb and—”

Noah caught her hands. “Breathe, baby.”

She sucked in a shuddering breath. “I don’t want to do this again.”

She was breaking his heart. He pulled her closer. Put her right against that aching heart. “He’s gone. Whoever called last night—hell, it’s someone who was trying to mess with you.” That someone would pay. “The guy who called you must’ve got some of Ethan Harrison’s recordings. Ethan did a ton of interviews over the years. With a little splicing, it would be easy enough to run his words together and make it seem like he was calling you.”

Her hands pushed against his shoulders as she looked up at him. “Why would someone do that?”

“To screw with your head.”

She flinched.

“Think about the call. Did he respond to any questions that you asked him? Or was it just his voice? Rambling?” Because Noah had even used a tactic like this one before, on an enemy when he needed to get a guard to back away. A little voice manipulation, some splicing of a recording, and bam, he’d gotten exactly what he needed.

“I said he was dead.” Claire’s voice was leaden. “And he asked if I thought death could keep him from me.”

Rage surged within Noah, but he held tight to his control.

Claire’s long lashes swept down. “He said there wouldn’t be anyone else, not for him and not for me.”

“It wasn’t him.”

A knock sounded at his door. A visitor was the last thing he wanted. “Not now!”

But the door opened anyway. “Payback,” Trace muttered as he came inside. “You did the same thing to me once.”

Noah’s eyes narrowed on him. “This isn’t the time, Trace. I need to talk with Claire.” He had to chase the fear from her eyes.

“I’m here about Claire.” Trace’s gaze slid to her. “My men tracked down Sloan Hall’s phone.”

Finally. Some damn progress.

“Did you find Ethan?” Claire asked, voice sharp.

Trace glanced at Noah.

Noah shook his head.

Trace cleared his throat. “We just found the phone. It had been left at the Hamlet Hotel.”

Fuck. The phone had been left at the same hotel Claire had stayed in when she first came to New York? The caller was definitely enjoying his head games.

“I did some talking to the staff there,” Trace continued with a slow nod. “Turned out they remembered seeing a man who fit Sloan’s description, right around the time Claire checked in to the place.”

“He trashed her room,” Noah said. But that was exactly what Austin had told them.

“I think so.” Trace rubbed the back of his neck. “There were no prints on the recovered phone. It had been wiped clean and dumped at the Hamlet’s front desk.” His lips twisted. “You know the security at that place is crap, so, of course, no one saw anyone actually leave the phone.”

That would have been too much to ask for.

Claire stepped away from Noah. “Do you have agents down in Alabama?”

Trace nodded. “I sent them down after I heard about the explosion at the cemetery.”

“Are they sure Ethan is dead?”

Noah rubbed his chest. The ache there just got worse.

“I mean, maybe he got out before the car exploded. Maybe he—”

“He was in the back of the cop car,” Trace said softly, “so he wouldn’t have been able to open those doors. He was trapped in there.”

Her hands twisted together. “I know his voice. That wasn’t a recording last night. It was him. He called me!”

Noah had to touch her again. He reached for Claire.

She flinched away.

That one move hurt. She hadn’t pulled away from him, not since the beginning. “Claire?”

She whirled to stare into his eyes. “I need you to believe me. I’ve believed you, everything you said, right from the beginning.” Tears glinted in her eyes. “He’s alive, and he’s going to come after me.”

Then she started backing toward the door. “I need to get away. He knows that I’m at the Towers. I can’t stay here.”

She was trying to run again.

“Claire.”

She stilled. He hated the fear in her eyes.

“You said you believed in me, right?” Noah asked her. Did she even realize how important those words were to him?

Her head moved in a faint nod.

Trace silently watched them.

“Then believe that I won’t let anything happen to you. Whoever called you, I’m going to get him. I will stop him. You don’t need to fear anything when I’m with you.”

Her breath slowly eased out. Some of the wild panic seemed to fade from her eyes.

But then there was another knock at his door. Dammit. Why was everyone trying to rush inside his office?

Before he could call out, the door opened. Jonathan, one of his administrative assistants, rushed inside. “Sir, I’m so sorry. You said Mr. Weston was always clear and the others—”

Others?

A man and a woman came in behind Jonathan.

A tall, blond male. A petite and fierce woman—he would recognize her dark glare anywhere. “Detective Lazlo.”

She smiled. It was a shark’s smile.

Jonathan glanced around with wide eyes.

“That’s all, Jonathan,” Noah said because he didn’t want the guy hearing what was to come.