Mine to Hold (Mine 3)

Gwen searched her eyes. “I’m worried about you.”

“Because I’m seeing dead men?”

“Because you have a very dangerous taste in men.”

Claire flinched. “No, I don’t.” She turned and started pacing toward the window. She eased out of her coat, tossed it onto the couch. She started to remove her gloves. “I don’t have…”

Claire’s words trailed away. Her picture was on the floor. The picture of Claire, Sara, and her parents—the only thing that had been salvaged from her time at the Hamlet Hotel. The frame was gone, and the photo…there were large X’s on all the faces. An X on Sara’s face. An X on Claire’s mother. An X on her father.

An X on me.

“Claire?” Gwen continued. “I’m worried because you could be in trouble, and you don’t even realize—”

She grabbed the photo from the floor. “He was here.” She whirled toward Gwen. “He was here—”

Claire saw the gun. The one aimed right at the back of Gwen’s head. Gwen was looking at Claire. The detective didn’t see the threat behind her.

Claire screamed and lunged forward. Her body collided with Gwen’s and they slammed into the floor. There was no explosion of sound, no blast as the gun fired but…

“Gwen?” Claire whispered. She’d tried to move so fast. Her trembling hand touched Gwen’s head, and she felt the sticky wetness of blood.

There was no blast because a silencer was on the gun.

“You weren’t fast enough, Claire.” The dark, rumbling voice mocked her.

She looked up and saw that, this time, the gun was pointed straight at her.

***

Noah paused in front of the elevator. “You coming up, detective?”

Lane gave him a grim smile. “I think I’ll wait down here. There are a few of your staff members that I wanted to chat with.”

The guy was so obvious. “I know you came to grill them, just like I know your partner is up there questioning Claire right now.” The cop was probably trying to make Claire feel more comfortable by questioning her in a place that would put Claire at ease.

No interrogation room for her, huh? Trying a different approach?

Lane seemed to brace his body as he studied Noah. “Your lawyer got you out of there, but that doesn’t mean you’re free.”

“You need to get your ass back on a plane to D.C.,” Noah told him bluntly. He stepped onto the elevator. “I think you’ve worn out your welcome in New York.”

The doors began to close.

Lane’s hand flew out and stopped that closure as he curled his fingers around the door on the left. “Do you think Claire saw Ethan Harrison today?”

Noah stared back at him.

“I mean, if my lover told me that the man who tried to kill her, the man who murdered her parents…if she told me that asshole had been in town, standing less than thirty feet from her, I’d freak the hell out,” Lane said.

“Move your hand.” Or I’ll move it for you.

“But your buddy Weston didn’t see the guy, did he? Just Claire, and I don’t exactly see you freaking the hell out.”

“Because I’m not the type to do that.” I need to get upstairs to Claire.

“Or else you don’t believe her. Do you think she’s having another breakdown? Is all the stress too much for her?”

“Claire isn’t going to break.” Anger hummed in his words.

“She did before. And they barely got her to the hospital in time.”

“Move. Your. Hand.”

Lane shook his head. “You didn’t answer me.”

The sonofabitch was pushing too far—

“Mr. York!” Janelle’s frantic voice caught Noah’s attention. He looked over Lane’s shoulder and saw Janelle, running toward him. All of the color was gone from her face.

Noah shoved Lane out of his way. “What’s happening?”

“G-Greg…one of our bellmen…I just found him…” Janelle’s fingers were shaking as she pointed toward the staff door on the far right. “Someone shot him. In the head. H-he’s dead.”

Lane immediately lunged toward the staff door.

But Noah spun around and leapt back into the elevator.

He only had one thought.

Claire.

***

The light glinted off the gunman’s blond hair. His green eyes gleamed at her. “You’re on your knees again, Claire, and there’s a gun pointed at your head. Brings back memories, doesn’t it?”

Her left hand was still pressed to Gwen’s head, but her right was beside the cop’s body. Just inches from Gwen’s holster. “Why are you doing this?” Claire whispered as she looked up at the killer—

Not Ethan Harrison.

Austin. Austin Harrison.

The good brother smiled down at her. “You ruined my life, Claire.”

She shook her head.

Rage flashed across his face. “Yes! You did! You destroyed everything.”

“I-I never wanted Ethan to—”

“Say his name again, and I’ll put a bullet in your brain.”

She stared at the gun. A long silencer covered the tip of the weapon. “Aren’t you planning to do that, anyway?”

“Actually…no.” He motioned with the weapon. “Get up. I’m not my brother. I don’t need you to beg me.”

She rose. Claire kept her right hand behind the leg of her pants.

“You just killed a cop.” He shook his head. “You should never have gotten out of that mental health facility all those years ago. You just aren’t well.”

“I-I didn’t kill anyone.”

“You fucking killed me!” His rage exploded again. “You ruined my life! My family lost everything because of you!”

“I lost my family,” Claire said, keeping her voice low. He didn’t realize that Gwen was still alive. Claire did. The blood matted Gwen’s hair, but the wound wasn’t deep. Claire had knocked the cop aside in time. The bullet had grazed over her, but it hadn’t driven into Gwen’s skull. She just needed to keep Austin from realizing that Gwen was still alive. Because if he discovered the truth, Claire knew he’d shoot the cop again in an instant.