The gun’s barrel was too long. A silencer. Colby licked his bone-dry lips. Tried to think. “I didn’t mean—”

The bullet blasted through his head before he could finish.

“I know exactly what you meant.”

Colby’s knees hit the floor.

“At least I didn’t make you beg.”

Colby slammed face first into the carpet.

Chapter Four

“Claire?” Noah opened the suite’s door, frowning as he called her name. He’d been gone longer than he’d planned, but there hadn’t been any help for that delay.

He’d had to be careful and not rush his return to her.

“Claire?”

She didn’t answer him. Noah figured Claire was probably asleep. He strode into the bedroom, but the bed was empty. The covers had been carefully arranged, re-made, and Claire was gone.

No.

He spun on his heel and nearly ran from that suite. When they’d checked in, Claire had been given a separate room, and he was in front of that room moments later. He had a key, and he opened the door, not bothering with a knock. He was too pissed for a knock. The woman didn’t get to just run out of his bed in the middle of the night.

Her room was smaller than his, and in an instant, he knew she wasn’t there. The bed hadn’t been touched. Her bag was gone.

Hell, no.

The woman wasn’t about to pull one of her disappearing acts on him. Not when he could still taste her on his tongue.

Not when I want more.

Then he saw the note. Folded, right in the middle of her pillow.

He scooped it up and instantly recognized the hotel stationary. He should, he’d picked that shit out.

A flowing, feminine handwriting told him…

Thank you, Noah. You taught me more about pleasure than I ever expected.

And she’d made him hungry for more.

Noah balled up the note and shoved it into his pocket. We’re not finished yet, Claire.

Three minutes later, he was storming outside of the hotel. He turned to the bellman. He knew the guy—Blayne—had started at the hotel just a few months back. “Claire Kramer.”

Blayne swallowed nervously and straightened his suit.

“Blonde hair, five foot ten. Slender. She would have left here alone, probably within the last two hours.”

The bellman nodded. “I saw her. She was in a big hurry. Only stopped to talk with me for a few moments.”

“Which taxi company did she use?” Because he could call them. Track her down.

“She didn’t use a taxi, sir. I offered to get her one but…” Blayne pointed down the street. “She just started walking that way.”

Noah glared down that street.

It’s not that easy, Claire.

He started walking.

***

Vincent Finch stared down at the senator’s body. He’d called the cops less than fifteen minutes ago, and they were already on the scene and trying to push him out of the room.

“You found him just like this?” The detective asked. The detective was a woman, barely five feet tall, with coffee cream skin. Her partner was a blond male, and the guy towered behind her.

Vincent nodded. “I…I came in to my room late.” Because he’d been trying to pick up the waitress who worked at the bar across the street. “H-his door was open. I thought something was wrong and—” He broke off, gagging a bit, because he’d seen the spray left behind when the bullet sank into Colby’s head.

His brain.

“And you said the victim was Colby Harrison?” The female detective pushed. “Why do I know that name?” she murmured, as if to herself.

“He used to be a senator.” Vincent swallowed. He could smell the blood. “From Alabama.”

The detective—she’d introduced herself as Gwen Lazlo—scribbled down that bit of information.

“I’m guessing a senator could have a lot of enemies in D.C.” This came from the detective’s blond partner. Vincent couldn’t remember the man’s name.

After he swiped a hand over his mouth, Vincent eased out a slow breath. “There was an…incident earlier tonight.” And Vincent knew that he had to tell them the rest.

“What kind of incident?” the male demanded.

The screaming match would be in the news. Vincent had caught sight of the reporter at York Towers. “A woman from his past,” he muttered. “Her name’s Claire Kramer. She’s in town. She and the senator…they had words tonight.” Though now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure that Claire had actually spoken to the senator at all during that tense exchange.

“She an ex-lover?” Detective Lazlo asked as her eyebrows rose.

Vincent shook his head. “She was involved with his son, Ethan.” He turned away from the hotel room. He didn’t want to look in there anymore. So Vincent stared down at his hands. “Ethan went to jail for killing Claire’s parents.”

The blond whistled.

“Sonofabitch,” Gwen Lazlo muttered. “That’s why I remember the guy’s name.”

There was more. Say it. “On my…on my way into the hotel…before I found the body…” His hands clenched. I’d always felt a bit sorry for her. “I thought I saw Claire outside.” He looked up and found the blond watching him.

The blond detective asked, “You think she might have killed the guy?”

Vincent held his gaze. “Claire’s parents were both shot in the head. Just like the senator was tonight. And Claire…Claire hated Colby Harrison.” With good reason. I hated the old bastard, too. “I don’t know if she killed him, I just know…Claire is a very distinctive woman. You don’t forget her once you see her.” Maybe he’d been wrong to feel any sympathy for her. “She was outside of the hotel. She was here.” Don’t look back at that room. “And now Harrison is dead.”

***

Claire sat on the stone steps, her arms curled around her up-drawn knees. The Lincoln Memorial was behind her, glowing in all its glory. In the distance, she could see the Washington Monument, reaching straight up into the dark sky.

Despite the fact that it was close to 4 a.m., Claire wasn’t the only one hanging out near the Lincoln Memorial. So many people were there. Walking. Talking. Taking their pictures.

Plenty of people.

So why did she feel so alone?

“I figured I’d find you here.”

At that deep, familiar voice, Claire’s head turned and she saw Noah, walking up the steps toward her. She scrambled to her feet.

He kept coming. Slowly. Stalking up those stairs.

Her heart was racing in her chest now. He wasn’t supposed to come after her.

Noah didn’t stop his advance, not until he was right in front of her. “Why did you run from me?”

She shook her head.

“You liked being with me. I know a woman’s body. I could feel your pleasure.”

A lump rose in her throat, and it took Claire two attempts to actually speak. “I screamed for you,” she whispered, not wanting anyone but him to hear her words. “I-I…never expected that.”

“Then why leave me?” His words were harder. Sharper.

Claire squared her shoulders. Her bag was at her feet. “Because you don’t fuck your employees.”

He kept staring at her.

“You fucked me, so I’m not your employee any longer. I thought it would be…easier…if you came back and I wasn’t there.”

“It wasn’t easy.” He bent and grabbed her bag. “Where the hell were you going?”

“Some place new,” she told him, her voice still soft. “Some place—”

“Where you hoped Harrison wouldn’t find you? Forget him. He’s done. He’ll never bother you again.”

If only she could believe that.

One of his hands easily held her bag while his other hand brushed over her cheek. “Do you seriously not realize just how much power I have? I can bury the man. I will bury him. You don’t have to fear him again.”

Hope was fragile as it tried to rise in her heart. She wanted to believe him but…

We still fucked. Noah had told her that they couldn’t work together if things got personal. She had to move on.

“Do you want to leave me?” Noah asked her as his body seemed to surround hers. “If you do, Claire, if you really want to go, I’ll let you get on my jet, and I’ll have it take you any place you want.” His hand fell from her skin.

I want his touch back.

“But I don’t want you to go.” His voice was a deep rumble. “I want you with me. In my bed. Screaming my name again. One night wasn’t enough for me.”

It hadn’t been enough for her, either.

He stepped back. “Your choice, baby. Always yours. Stay or go, but you won’t get to cut out on me in the middle of the night again. If you stay, then you’re mine.”

“My job—”

“I’ll work it out. I’m the boss, and that means I can do anything.” His eyes glinted. “Even break my own rules. For you…I’d break any rule.”

He lifted his hand. Offered it to her, palm up.

She wanted to take his hand. So badly. So very badly.

“What’s it going to be? Do you want to be with me? Or…”

Are you gone?

The question hung between them.

Claire had no one. Nothing. The clothes in the bag were really Noah’s. If she left, where would she go?

Do I even want to leave him?

Her hand reached for his. His fingers were a little rough, callused on the tips.

She liked the roughness of his hands. She liked to touch him.

“I want to stay with you.”

His fingers curled around hers. “Remember that.” Then he bent and kissed her. She leaned into him, because right then, Claire thought that maybe, just maybe, she could have a chance.

Everyone else could live and love.

Why not her?

***

Noah shut the door of the suite.

I’ve got her. She won’t leave again.

Claire glanced back at him. She tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. Her gaze was nervous. Hesitant.

Did she know just what he wanted to do with her? To her?

Fucking Claire Kramer had been incredible. And he planned to do it again and again.

“I won’t be easy this time.” He felt it was only fair to warn her.

Her eyelids flickered.

She didn’t realize just how furious he’d been when he returned to find her gone. Women didn’t slip away from his bed in the middle of the night, acting as if screwing him was somehow shameful. They stayed. They begged for more. But…

I never want Claire to beg.

He didn’t want her to beg for anything.

“I don’t remember ever asking you to be easy,” Claire said, surprising him. She turned to face him fully. She was wearing a snug pair of jeans and a loose top.

She looked even sexier than she’d been in that black dress.

“It’s going to be hard. It’s going to be fast.” Fair warning, Claire. They were lucky they’d made it up the elevator. He’d thought about taking her there, but then he’d remembered the security cameras installed there. He didn’t want anyone else seeing Claire’s passion. “And it’s going to be right here.”

He yanked his shirt off and tossed it to the floor. His hands went to his belt. To the snap of his jeans.

Claire’s gaze was on his chest. Her blue stare…heated.

His cock jerked, swelling even more as it pushed against the zipper of his jeans.

Claire walked toward him. Her eyes were on his chest. “I wondered…” She licked her lips.

Sweet hell. Lick me.

“I wanted to touch you before,” she confessed.

Wait, hold the hell up. Claire had wanted to touch him? His heart was jack-hammering in his chest.

Her hand rose, hovering above his shoulder. Then, while he barely breathed, her fingers lowered and skimmed over his flesh. Lightly, carefully.

“You’re always so warm.” Her voice was husky. Pure sin. “I like that.” Her fingers slipped down.

His body wasn’t perfect. Far from it. Scars snaked across his chest. Some from wounds he’d gotten while he was enlisted, and the newest came from the attack he’d survived in Chicago.

The world might think he led the easy life.

They thought wrong.

“I knew there was more to you,” Claire said as her head bent. “You’re not just the businessman.”

Hell, no, he wasn’t.

Her lips brushed over the scar on his shoulder. Then the one that was too near his heart. The bullet that had nearly ended him.

His muscles stiffened.

Claire slid down his body. Her mouth skimmed over the scar that wrapped around his side. Then she went even lower.

Her knees dropped to the carpet.

Fuck me.

“Baby, as much as I like where you’re going, I can’t wait.” Her mouth on him…there’d be no control then.

He didn’t want to hurt Claire. He was far too close to the edge.

He pulled her back to her feet. Stripped her in seconds.

“But—”

“Here, Claire. Now.”

Then he put her against the door. “Are you on the pill?”

Claire shook her head.

“Don’t move,” he growled out the order.

She didn’t.

In seconds, he was back. He wanted to go bare with her. To drive deep and feel her hot grip all around him. And he would…

Soon.

But this time, he’d use care.