Mine to Hold (Mine #3)(43)
Author: Cynthia Eden

And Noah would have men watching Claire. Making sure she didn’t slip away.

He thinks Claire is his.

Noah was dead wrong.

An attack would come again. He just had to be careful. Had to wait and plan. Had to draw out his enemy.

And I know just how to do it.

Noah had left loose ends in D.C. Those ends would come back…and bite the guy in the ass.

Chapter Ten

“We’re going out tonight,” Noah said as he strode into Claire’s office.

Claire smoothed her hand over the faint ridge near her hair-line. The stitches had come out yesterday. The doctors had given her the all-clear.

It had been eight days since the bombing.

Eight days during which Noah had treated her as if she were going to shatter if he touched her too hard.

He made love to her each night. Slow, tender sex. His control was always in place. He made sure she came, and then, he found his pleasure.

He held her during the night.

And he had a giant wall between them during the day.

Something had changed. Something was off between them. His stare was too guarded when he looked at her. His voice was too careful.

His touch was too careful.

Is he already finished with me? And he just doesn’t know how to tell me? Maybe her time with him was up.

“There’s a big party tonight in the hotel’s main ballroom—”

“I know,” Claire told him, slightly annoyed. “I’ve been working on details for it most of the week.” Only he hadn’t exactly been around to see that. The guys from Weston Securities weren’t camped out by Noah’s suite any longer, but Claire still had a guard. Drake was the one who tailed her like a shadow during the day. While Noah—she wasn’t sure where he went.

Or what he had been doing.

The party that night was to celebrate the one year anniversary of the opening of the New York branch of York Towers. It was supposed to be an epic event, with all the local power brokers in attendance. Claire had figured she’d be working behind the scenes, and she already had a to-do list that stretched a mile long for—

“You’ll be my date,” Noah said.

Her brows climbed. “Thanks for the invitation.” Yes, her voice had bite. Something is so wrong. He was barely looking at her.

But at her snapped words, his gaze did shoot to her. “I’ll have a dress sent up for you.”

“You already did that, remember?” Claire pushed to her feet. “The first day. You bought me a whole wardrobe. I don’t need anything else.”

“You’ll need this.” He turned away. “Head upstairs. It will be there within the hour.”

What? “Noah, stop.”

Surprisingly, he did. Noah glanced back at her, and, of course, his gaze was guarded. No expression was on his face. She felt like screaming. Instead, Claire managed to semi-calmly ask, “What’s happening?”

“We’re getting ready for a party.”

Her teeth snapped together. “You know what I mean. Things are different between us.” Was it because she’d pushed him to reveal more of his past? Was he trying to shut her out now?

“Nothing has changed.” He turned back for the door.

Liar, liar.

“Are we finished?” The question slipped from her. She’d more than passed his one night limit, so maybe it was time for her to go and he just didn’t know how to tell her because of the train wreck that was her life. But there’d been no more attacks. No more—

“No, Claire,” the words were growled and Noah didn’t look back at her, “we’re far from finished.”

***

When Noah entered his suite, he found Drake lounging on the couch. Drake glanced over at him, brows raised. “Don’t you look fancy?”

“Fuck off, Drake.” He was already wearing his tux. He’d changed earlier, before Claire had made it up to the suite. He’d slipped in long enough to see the dress that he’d ordered for her. Then he’d headed back downstairs to make sure the staff was set on security guidelines for the night. When he’d left the suite, Drake hadn’t been there.

“In the last thirty minutes, you’re the second person to tell me that I should f**k off.” Drake gestured toward the closed bedroom door. “Claire told me the same thing when I asked why she had tears in her eyes.”

Noah’s fingers tightened around the small, discrete box in his hands. “Claire was crying?”

“No.” Drake rose, slowly unfurling from the couch. “Claire doesn’t cry. She had tears in her eyes, but they never fell.” He approached Noah and the guy’s face held a hard flash of…anger? “But I think you probably know why they were there.”

Are we finished? He’d hated that question. “Thanks for watching her this week. Trace went to D.C. to chase down some leads, and—”

“Why were you trying so hard to stay away from her?” Drake asked him.

He looked down at the box. “She was hurt.”

“And you were busy hunting.”

Noah’s gaze rose once more.

Drake laughed softly. “That’s it, right? When you ran off each day, you were looking for the jerk-off who set that bomb. And you wanted me here because you knew I’d take a bullet for your lady.”

“I haven’t found him.” He was turning up jackshit everywhere he turned. “Sloan Hall’s crime scene was swept clean. There wasn’t anything there. And at the Claymire Hotel bomb scene—”

“Nothing was left but rubble,” Drake finished.

Unfortunately. “This guy isn’t just going to vanish. Another attack is coming, and I have to be ready.”

The bedroom door opened.

“Are you ready for her?” Drake whispered as he backed away.

Noah’s gaze locked on Claire. So beautiful.

Her dress was the same blue shade as her eyes. It hugged her br**sts, revealing the sexy curves of her body so perfectly. There was a long slit in the dress, one that flashed her gorgeous legs as she walked.

She looked sophisticated. Sexy.

Mine.

She’d tied ribbon around her wrists again, and, as he stared at her, Claire tucked her hands behind her back. “The dress wasn’t necessary,” she said quietly. “I had plenty of things to wear—”

“It was necessary for me.” Because tonight, he had plans. Big plans.

I’m not going to wait for an attack. I want the ass**le to bring it on. Noah had never been the type to hide from a fight.