It didn’t make Noah feel bad. During his life, he’d seen plenty of death. Before he’d started York Towers, he’d been a soldier, one too good at killing. He’d gotten a spot on an elite military team.
He and Trace Weston had run that team. Their job had been to rescue high-level prisoners who’d been captured by U.S. enemies. Collateral damage had been a way of life.
His fingers stroked down her neck.
Collateral damage.
After he’d ended his last tour, Noah had kept working with Trace. They’d gone independent. There were still individuals who’d needed their help. Powerful men and women who’d gotten caught in the wrong place, at the wrong time.
Some of their clients had been extremely grateful.
One had been so grateful that he’d given Noah his first hotel.
And Noah had walked away from the bloodshed. From the battles. From the death.
For her, I’d walk back.
For Claire, he was coming to realize that he might do just about anything.
Even kill.
***
“There he is,” Gwen said as she pointed across the street.
Vincent Finch had just left his hotel.
“Let’s get him.” Lane let out a loud whistle.
Finch glanced up at the sound. They’d called him and told the guy they’d be coming back to pick him up.
Finch hurried toward the cross walk.
The light changed. Finch didn’t stop walking. He ran into the street.
An engine revved.
Gwen’s eyes widened. “Finch, stop!”
A black SUV shot forward. It slammed right into Finch. The guy’s body flew into the air, twisted, then hit the concrete.
The vehicle kept driving. It raced away with a squeal of its tires. She heard Lane calling for back-up. Gwen ran across the street.
Blood, oh, jeez, blood was everywhere.
Finch was face-up on the concrete. His neck was twisted. His eyes—closed.
“Finch?” Gwen put her hand to his throat.
No pulse.
Their only witness was dead in the street.
Chapter Five
“I have to leave town,” Noah said as he paced toward Claire.
Shocked, she could only shake her head. “We just got back in town an hour ago.” They’d made it to York Towers less than ten minutes before.
“This can’t wait,” Noah said.
Claire was shaken. Senator Harrison is dead. She wanted Noah to stay with her. She didn’t want to be alone and— “I can come with you,” she offered and hoped that she didn’t sound desperate. She sure felt that way.
He shook his head. “Not this time.”
“Where are you going?” What was happening?
“Vegas,” he said flatly. “I’ll be back by tomorrow.” He started packing. Claire just watched him, totally lost.
After everything that had just happened, he was going to fly away and leave her?
“Drake Archer is going to keep an eye on you while I’m gone.”
Claire stiffened. “I don’t need anyone to ‘keep an eye’ on me.” And she sure didn’t need Drake to be that guy.
She’d met Drake in Chicago, right around the time she’d met Noah. Drake had been involved in that nightmare situation, too. Like Noah, Drake was caught in the tangled web of Trace Weston’s past. Claire didn’t exactly know what those three men had done when they were in the military, but they’d made plenty of deadly enemies.
They’re all dangerous. She understood that. Danger clung to Noah as surely as it clung to Drake and Trace.
But she wasn’t afraid when she was with Noah. Drake, on the other hand, made her nervous.
“Someone trashed your hotel room here, did you forget about that?” Noah had his bag filled. Talk about a record-breaking packing job. If he kept running off so much, she wondered why he didn’t always have a bag at the ready.
“I didn’t forget about that,” Claire snapped back. “But I hardly think that will be an issue here at York Towers. I hope you have better security than what they’ve got at the Hamlet.”
His lips twisted and a gleam appeared in his eyes. “We do, baby. But when word of Harrison’s death hits the media, you could get dragged into the mud. I want to make sure no reporters get close to you while I’m gone.”
“You think it’s all going to get stirred up again, don’t you?” That was what she feared.
“I think reporters like juicy stories. The gorier, the better.” His voice was grim. The gleam had vanished from his eyes.
Claire looked away from him. “So I just sit here and twiddle my thumbs while you rush off and tend to your business?” Since she didn’t have a job anymore, what else was she—
“No, Claire, you stay here and you get to work learning more about my company and the staff at York Towers.”
Her gaze flew back to him. “But, you said—”
“The rules are different with you.” He strode toward her. Dropped the bag. Wrapped his hands around her shoulders. “Everything is different with you.”
And everything felt different with him.
Noah kissed her. It was a rough, hard kiss, and she liked it. Claire was discovering that she liked quite a bit…with him.
“I’ll be back soon.”
“Don’t leave.” No, had she just said that? It’s Harrison’s death. Everything is stirred up. The memories are so strong right now.
“I have to do this.” He let her go. “I’ll be back for you, baby.”
Then he just…walked away.
Left her.
Claire stayed in their bedroom. No, his bedroom. His suite. She looked down at her hands. At the scars on her wrists.
She thought about life.
About death.
And about what it would feel like to kill.
***
When the limo door shut behind him, Noah pulled out his phone. He’d already called Drake Archer earlier, before he’d even left D.C., so this phone call was for Trace Weston. Noah knew that he could count on both Trace and Drake to have his back.
“I heard,” Trace said when he answered the phone. “The senator’s dead.” A pause. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating?”
Noah didn’t answer that particular question. “I know you’ve got pull down in Alabama.” The same pull that Trace had used a while back when he’d made sure Ethan Harrison didn’t get paroled. “Use that pull for me now. I want in to see the SOB.”