Mine To Hold (13 page)

You’re not.

“Everything that happened is on you,” Austin
snarled at him. “If you’d just left that girl alone—”

“Claire.”

Austin’s eyelids jerked. “You should have
left her alone.”

Austin had always been the perfect one. The
quarterback. The valedictorian. The every-fucking-thing. “You saw
her first,” Ethan recalled.

“What?”

“In the diner,
you
saw her first.” He
could remember this so well. “I wouldn’t have noticed Claire at
all, if you hadn’t been staring at her so hard. Hell, you even
said…‘I’m gonna ask her out.’ I just beat you to the punch.”

Austin’s jaw dropped in surprise, and he
surged toward Ethan. “
That’s
why you hooked up with Claire
Kramer? Because you thought I wanted her?”

Ethan just smiled at him.
You did want
her, brother. I saw it in your eyes.

Austin sucked in a deep breath. Then he
smiled, too. And laughed. “You’re such an idiot, Ethan. I hope you
enjoyed your afternoon of freedom, because it’s over. They’re
waiting to take you back to jail.” His voice dropped to a low
whisper. “And guess what happens when you get back? Your
preferential treatment ends. No more being separated from the
others. Welcome to general pop.”

Was that supposed to scare him?

“Dad’s gone. And I’m not as blind as he was.
Everything
will change for you now. You did the crime, and
you’ll suffer for it.”

Ethan glanced away from Austin’s glittering
eyes. “One thing I always wondered…” His stare lingered a moment on
the casket.
Rot, old man. Rot.
“Did he hit you, too? Or did
he just save that shit for me?”

Silence. Maybe that was his answer.

“Your big brother is supposed to protect you.
How come you never helped me?” Ethan asked him. Then, because maybe
he didn’t want to hear the miserable lie that Austin would spout,
Ethan walked away from him.

The whispers were louder as he headed back to
the patrol car. The black and white car was parked near the edge of
the lot, close to a thick patch of trees. Those trees backed up to
a little bayou. He’d taken Claire to that bayou once.

He’d taken her virginity there. They’d been
in the back of his car then.

“Time to go,” one of the guards said as he
stepped to Ethan’s side. Bo. Bo Dunnelly.

The other guy was Marcel Reed.

They’d been good enough, for cops.

Marcel opened one of the car’s back doors.
Ethan knew the reporters close by had been waiting for this shot.
The picture of him being loaded back up for jail.

The cops didn’t cuff him.

He’d counted on that.

So he waved to the crowd. He sucked in a deep
breath of that free air. And he remembered Claire.

He slid into the car.

Marcel and Bo headed toward the front of the
vehicle. They climbed inside.

“Damn, son,” Marcel said as he settled into
the front seat of the car. “That was sure a lot of folks to see
your dad off.”

Yes, it had been. “He always liked a good
show.” The old bastard had cared so much about what everyone
thought.

Too bad no one had realized what an abusive
prick he was.

***

The show was over. Drake strode past the
grave. He glanced toward the patrol car. Ethan Harrison had just
been loaded up in there and—

The force of the explosion threw Drake back
about five feet. He nearly landed right
in
that damn
grave.

Drake jumped up as fast as he could, then
stared with narrowed eyes at the sight before him.

The patrol car was a ball of flames. People
were screaming, running, and Ethan Harrison…

He was burning.

The little cop ran toward the car. Damn
foolish mistake. Amateur hour. He grabbed her, jerked her back
and—

Another explosion sent the flames surging
even higher.

“There are men in there!” The cop screamed.
“Two officers, I saw them load Ethan in—”

And all he could see was fire now. “They’re
dead.” Someone had wanted to take out Ethan Harrison and the cops
had just become collateral damage.

The heat from the flames lanced over his
skin.

***

When his phone rang, Noah thought about
ignoring the call. He would have, if the ring hadn’t been the
distinct tone that told him Drake Archer was on the other end of
the line.

“Shouldn’t you be gambling some place?” Noah
asked when he took the call. Drake owned a series of casinos along
the Mississippi Coast, and Noah had thought that his friend would
be getting right back to business.

Noah and Claire had just arrived at his house
in the Hamptons. Claire was walking along the beach. He intended to
join her there in the next sixty seconds.

“Can’t talk long,” Drake said, the words low.
“I’ll tell you more later, but…
Ethan Harrison is dead.
”

Noah wasn’t sure he’d just heard correctly.
“What?”

“I was at the senator’s funeral…”

Why the hell had Drake been there?

“Everything was fine until Ethan Harrison got
loaded back into a patrol car. Someone put a bomb in the car.
Everything
and
everyone
in that car are gone.”

Noah stared down at the beach. “You’re sure
he’s dead?”

“Unless the man can walk through fire, hell
yes, he’s gone.”

Good.

“Be careful,” Drake warned him, “there’s a
cop here. A woman from D.C. She’s asking a lot of questions about
you.”

“I’m always careful.”
Claire was
free
.

“I’ll see what I can find out from the
authorities down here. But, shit, Weston’s the one who is good at
investigating things, not me.” There was the murmur of voices in
the background. “Got to go.” The line went dead.

Noah kept staring down at the beach. Claire
had turned and was walking toward him. She wasn’t smiling, but she
didn’t look as frightened as she’d appeared back in the city.

He moved to the edge of his deck. The wind
tousled Claire’s hair as she climbed up the steps. Her gaze darted
to his phone. “Is everything okay?”

Just tell her.
“Ethan Harrison is
dead.”

She stopped.

“Drake was at the senator’s funeral.”
Why?
“A bomb was put in the car, and he’s…Ethan is gone,
Claire.”

Her breath heaved out, and Claire hunched
over, clutching her stomach.

“Claire!” He ran to her. Put his hands on her
arms.

She looked up at him. Tears streamed down her
cheeks. “He’s dead?”

“Yes.” If Drake had said the man was
gone…
he was gone.

Noah didn’t mention that when it came to
demolitions, Drake was an expert. He’d always been the one to set
the detonations for their team.

And Drake just happened to be at the
funeral?
Shit, but this could get bad, fast.

“Ethan won’t ever come after me,” Claire
whispered. She was crying and smiling, and breaking the heart that
Noah didn’t think he still had. “He’s gone!”

Then she threw her arms around Noah and held
him tight. He held her just as tightly.

Ethan Harrison might be gone, but things
weren’t over. Not yet.

The senator’s dead. Harrison’s dead.
Would that be the end of the killings? Or were things just getting
started?

He pulled her closer. Noah didn’t know what
was happening. Someone had just saved him one hell of a lot of
trouble though. Because Noah had already put a plan in motion to
eliminate Ethan.

Claire looked up at him. “I don’t have to be
afraid any longer.”

He nodded. He didn’t tell Claire what he was
thinking. What would be the point?

Maybe he was wrong.

The senator…Ethan…their deaths might not
touch Claire at all.

His fingers slid down her back.

He
was the only one touching her, and
anyone who wanted to hurt Claire would have to go through him.

***

“Will you take me out on your boat?” Claire
asked. Her stomach was in knots. It had been that way, pretty much
all day long. The knots had gotten even worse when she found out
the news about Ethan’s death.

He’s dead. Dead. He can’t hurt me. He can’t
find me. I’m finally safe.

Noah was cooking dinner for her. Such a
normal, domestic task, and one that she
never
would’ve
pictured Noah York performing. The guy always seemed to have an
army of chefs at his beck and call.

But out there, it was just him. Just her.

Exactly as he’d promised.

He glanced up at her. “My boat?”

She blinked. He’d just sounded so wooden.
“Yes, I, um, I saw the boat down by the dock. I thought—I thought
you might want to go out.” When she’d been younger, she’d loved
heading out on the water with her grandfather. She’d always felt so
free then.

His stare turned toward the window. Darkness
had fallen, so he wouldn’t be able to see the boat. “I don’t
usually take anyone out with me.”

Her cheeks burned. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t
mean to—” She stopped because Claire didn’t know what to say. They
were lovers, but according to Drake, it was just some sort of
temporary situation. She was bumbling around, and trying to make
plans and do things because—

I feel free.

Noah put down the knife he’d been holding. He
headed for her. His face was so hard. So tight.

Nervousness pushed through Claire. She’d done
something wrong. “Forget I said anything.” The moment was thick
with tension, and she just wanted to go back to the way they’d been
before.

“You really don’t know about my past, do
you?”

She shook her head.

His gaze held hers. “Some women…they make
plans for me.”

“Plans?”

“They learn everything they can about my
life. Then they use what they know to try and win me over.”

“I’m not trying to win you.” It hurt that he
thought she was just trying to manipulate him.

“No.” His lips tightened. “You tried to run
from me.”

Because she’d thought it was best.

“Dinner can wait,” he said. He reached for
her fingers. Threaded his with hers. “I know about your hell. Maybe
it’s time you knew about mine.” And he led her out onto the
balcony. Then down the wooden steps.

Her bare feet curled in the sand. The wind
blew off the water, sending her t-shirt fluttering around her body.
There was a chill on the wind that sent goosebumps rising along her
arms.

The moon was out. Heavy and full in the sky.
The big boat was docked nearby.

“I was thirteen when they died,” he said.
“They were the only parents I ever knew.” He released her hand. “My
real folks gave me up when I was a kid. But Mac and Kylie…they
loved me so much.” A pause. “Probably the same way your parents
loved you.”

She’d never thought about Noah’s family
before. Why not? The guy
had
to be connected to others. He
wasn’t just—

“My dad loved to get out on the water. He
started teaching me how to steer when I was barely tall enough to
reach his waist. We’d go out on that water. Stay for hours.”

“I-I loved the water, too,” Claire whispered,
needing to say something. There was an echo of pain in Noah’s
voice, and she wanted to soothe him. “I always felt free out on the
water.” But she sure hadn’t been out on a boat like this one. She’d
gone out on a little fishing boat—one with a small motor or she’d
just used paddles.

“The water’s beautiful,” Noah said and his
gaze turned toward the waves. “And it’s dangerous.”

The waves crashed into the beach.

“Sometimes it reminds me of you.”

He thought she was dangerous? Claire shook
her head, then realized he couldn’t see the movement. “I’m not
dangerous to you.” She’d never hurt him. He’d been one of the few
people to actually help her. To care.

“You’re more dangerous than you know.” The
wind took that soft reply, twisted it, and Claire wasn’t sure he’d
even said those words.

Then he turned his back on the water and
faced her. “A storm came up. One of those freak storms that
shouldn’t
have happened. It sent our boat rolling. We lost
the sail—hell, we lost everything.”

Goosebumps rose on her arms. “Noah…” Claire
didn’t want to hear the end of this story. She wanted to picture
him happy. She wanted him to introduce her to Mac and Kylie.

“I wasn’t strong enough. I couldn’t keep my
dad afloat. He’d gotten hit in the head with the mast, and he was
bleeding. I
couldn’t keep him afloat.
”

She wrapped her arms around him. “I don’t
want to go out on the water,” Claire whispered.
You don’t have
to tell me anymore. Stop, Noah, just stop.
Because it hurt him
to share this story. She could feel the pain vibrating through
him.

“I couldn’t save my mother, either. I tried.
So damn hard. I treaded water with her for hours, but when the
Coast Guard finally found us…” He wasn’t holding her back. Just
standing stiffly in her embrace. “She was dead.”

In his arms.

Claire squeezed her eyes shut, but the image
was there, burning brightly in her mind.

Sometimes, she forgot—
I’m not the only one
who has lost.
Her own pain was so thick. It had blinded her.
I should’ve seen his pain sooner.
Noah had been so busy
helping her, but she’d done nothing for him.

“I don’t take anyone else out on the water
with me because I never want to be in that situation again.”

Holding someone he loved and watching that
person slip away?

“I get sea sick,” she lied, talking quickly
and still holding him tightly. “I hate being out on the water.”

He pushed her back. Stared down at her.

“Let’s go back inside,” she said. Her voice
was husky with tears that she wanted to shed, for him.

“The water reminds me of them,” he told her.
“I hate it, and I love it.” He shook his head. “I’ll never let it
take anyone else from me again.”