Mine to Hold (Mine 3)

Noah flattened his hands on the table. “There will be no more investigators who follow Claire. No one will watch her. No one will report to you.”

Ethan laughed again.

“If I see anyone even trying to watch her, they’ll have to deal with me.”

“The big, bad, hotel owner.” Ethan shuddered. “How terrifying…oh, wait, I’ve been locked up with murderers and rapists for nine years. You don’t scare me. Nothing scares me anymore.” And his façade dropped right then.

The humor, the mockery—vanished.

Evil remained.

“Claire owes me,” Ethan snarled. Spittle flew from his mouth. “And the bitch will pay me back everything.”

“I’m giving you fair warning,” Noah gritted out as his back teeth clenched. “A warning that needed to be delivered in person.” And he didn’t care if the guard was listening or if the warden overheard his words. Noah leaned forward. “You don’t know the man I used to be.”

Ethan’s brows furrowed.

“That man would have killed you the instant he walked into this room,” Noah said flatly.

“The guard—”

“I would’ve been across the table. I would have snapped your neck before you even had the breath to scream.”

Ethan swallowed.

“You forget Claire Kramer. You forget her now. Or the next time we meet…” Noah smiled at him. A smile that held a grim promise. “You’ll be a dead man.”

Then he rose and walked toward the door.

The warden followed him out, and the guy was sweating even more. Jeremiah ran a shaking hand over his face.

“I want to see his cell,” Noah told the warden.

Jeremiah hesitated.

Noah just kept staring back at him.

A quick nod, then Jeremiah was leading the way for him. Noah wondered what sort of pressure Trace had applied in order to get the warden so compliant. Had it been cash? Or another, darker motivation?

Trace has a way of finding out everyone’s secrets…and using those secrets against his enemies.

Noah walked past dozens of cells. After about five minutes, Jeremiah stopped near a cell that was separate from the others. A nearby guard opened the door.

Noah slipped inside. The place was about five feet by nine feet. The cell contained a toilet. A bed.

A dozen pictures of Claire were on a back, stone wall. Fucking recent pictures judging by Claire’s hair. One…he leaned forward. Sonofabitch…One was of Claire at her sister’s funeral. He recognized the dress that she wore in that shot.

Noah spun to confront the warden. “She was his victim,” he snarled. “He put a gun to her head. He was going to kill her.”

Jeremiah backed up a step. “His father—”

“Is going to be rotting in the ground soon.”

“The governor—”

Noah whirled back around. He ripped those pictures from the wall. “No more.” Rage had a haze covering his gaze. “He doesn’t see her. If any more pictures find their way to him, you’ll have more than the governor to worry about.” He tore the pictures into pieces. Marched toward the warden. “You’ll have me. And when it comes to the biggest threat you need to fear, Warden, it’s not the governor because I can buy and sell him ten times over.”

The warden glanced nervously around the room. “He…he’s probably going to get out.” His voice was low, carrying just to Noah’s ears. “For the funeral. He was right. There won’t be anything I can do to stop it if the order comes down…”

Noah’s fury burned even hotter. “If that happens, you call me. Understand?”

The warden’s gaze dropped to the torn pictures scattered on the floor. “I know what he is,” Jeremiah said. “And if I had my way, he’d stay locked up forever.” His eyes lifted. Held Noah’s. “If he ever gets free, he will kill that woman.”

“No,” Noah swore, “he won’t.”

***

“All right, Claire…” The rumbling masculine voice was followed by a light rap on the office door. “It’s quitting time for the night.”

Claire glanced up and found herself staring into Drake Archer’s green gaze. She’d been aware of him covertly checking on her during the day. He hadn’t actually spoken to her until now.

Since the guy had a tendency to unnerve her, she’d appreciated his silence.

Claire shut down her computer. Well, Noah’s computer. She was in his office, in his suite, and she’d spent the day pouring over marketing plans for the hotel in D.C. She wanted to prove to Noah that she could be useful to him.

And not just as a bed partner.

Drake stepped into the room. The light glinted off his dark, blond hair.

Claire tensed.

“Why do you do that?” Drake asked her, frowning. “I’m not going to bite.”

She wasn’t sure she believed that.

She’d met Drake and Noah back in Chicago. Actually, her first image of Drake was rather twisted. Stained in blood. One thing remained clear to her, though.

Drake Archer is dangerous.

“It’s not the first time an old friend has asked me to keep an eye on his girl,” Drake added with a roll of his broad shoulders. “And Skye doesn’t jump when I get within ten feet of her.”

She rose to her feet. “I’m not Skye.”

His gaze slid over her. “True, but this is the same city she used to love. This is the place where I watched her.” His head tilted a little to the left as he seemed to savor a memory. “Skye was one hell of a dancer.”

Claire had actually seen Skye once on stage. He was right—Skye was phenomenal.

“You remind me of her,” Drake added as he kept studying her. “Something about the eyes. No, the fear in your eyes.”

Warily, she eased around the desk.

“What are you afraid of, Claire Kramer?” Drake murmured. His voice was low, rumbling. His face was all hard lines and angles. Danger. When she looked at Drake, she thought of darkness and of the threats that waited in the night.

Some women might like that wild edge that clung to him. It just made her nervous.

What are you afraid of? His question had made her tense. “Don’t you know?” Claire asked him. Noah did. Trace did. Surely Drake had been told about her past, too.

But Drake shook his head. “Some. Not all. Your past is your own.” His lips twisted. “I sure as hell don’t want anyone looking at my past. It’s bloody and full of death.”

“So is mine.”