Mine to Keep (Mine #2)(66)

“Because I’m Noah York!”

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

His jaw dropped. That bottom lip of his—a sexy lip, despite the blood dripping from it—caught her attention.

Her gaze swept slowly over his face. The guy was handsome, and that put her on edge. She’d learned how dangerous handsome, lying men could be. His cheek bones were high, his nose a sharp blade, and his jaw was perfectly square and hard.

Too perfect.

Not for me.

He stared at her a moment, gazing deeply into her eyes, then he smiled. A dimple flashed in his cheek.

Not. For. Me.

“No,” he said softly, “I don’t think the name should mean a thing to you.” He rolled his shoulders. “Tell you what, I saw Reese parked in front of the building. I’m guessing you met him already right? Trace’s driver-slash-guard?”

Yes, she remembered Reese.

“He can tell you that I’m safe. Then maybe you’ll stop trying to attack me.”

She glanced down the length of the building. They were in the narrow back alley. It would only take a few moments to race to the front of the building and check out the guy’s story.

Claire didn’t move. “Why would Trace tell you both to guard me?” Suspicion had her eyes returning to Noah.

“I know, sounds like overkill, right? That’s Trace.” His smile invited her to smile back with him.

She didn’t.

His smile slowly faded. “I see it,” he said and his voice was grim now.

“What do you see?” Claire instantly demanded.

“Your pain, sweetheart. I see it in your eyes.” He took a step toward her. “I’m sorry, I—”

“I don’t need your pity.” She’d seen pity more than enough times in the eyes of people she met. Pity. Anger. Hate.

Been there, done all of that.

She usually got those stares from most people, sooner or later. Except Skye hadn’t looked at her that way. Skye hadn’t judged her.

“Too bad,” he snapped right back at her. “Because you’re getting it. I didn’t know Sara, not personally, but I’ve heard she was one hell of a woman. I’m sorry the world lost someone like her.”

Her eyes stung. “R-Reese is around front?” She needed to verify who this guy was and get away from him, no matter what. Her stomach was in knots. Her heart twisted, and each time she looked into those golden eyes, Claire just felt…off.

“I’ll go first,” he said, his voice soft but deep. A rumble that got beneath her skin. “You’ll feel better that way, won’t you?”

She nodded. “I’m not about to turn my back on you.”

“Then I guess I’m the one who has to show trust.”

He marched ahead, moving easily through the narrow space.

She didn’t follow, not at first. She let him get a few feet in front of her, then Claire scooped up her bag.

He rounded the corner and Claire quickly darted after him. Her gaze scanned the area. Sure enough, Reese was waiting by the studio’s front door. He was leaning against his parked car.

When Reese saw them, he quickly straightened. “What are you doing here?” Reese demanded as he hurried toward Noah.

“Guard duty,” was the instant reply, “same as you.”

Reese’s eyes widened. “Are you bleeding, man?” He advanced on Claire. “Are you okay, Ms. Kramer? Were you attacked?”

“No, she was the one doing the attacking,” Noah said.

Reese’s eyes widened, but he seemed to recover from his surprise quickly. “Good, that’s—”

“I’m looking for Skye Sullivan.” The voice—a woman’s smooth, cultured voice—cut through Reese’s words.

They glanced to the right and saw a redhead standing there. Her eyes were hidden by dark sunglasses, but her head was tilted toward them, and Claire could feel the weight of the woman’s stare.

“You’re not Skye,” the woman said, as if dismissing Claire instantly. “I was told this was her studio.”

“Skye Sullivan’s not here now,” Reese said. “Something I can help you with?”

The redhead laughed. “No, you can’t help me at all. I’ll come back for Skye.” Then she turned. She had on shoes with three-inch heels. Claire wasn’t even sure how the woman managed to walk in them.

Frowning, Claire looked away from the redhead. Her gaze focused on her real problem—Noah.

Noah’s gaze was still on the other woman. His eyes were narrowed.

Right. Cue the lady in the tight skirt and low-cut shirt, and, of course, that guy would be all over her.

“She’s familiar,” he whispered.

The woman lifted her hand. A taxi jerked to a stop just two feet away from her.

“The nose is different…the lips are fuller. Hair’s red, not blonde…” It sounded like Noah was just muttering to himself.

Claire rubbed her temples. They were throbbing again.

“Ms. Kramer?” Reese asked. “Were you going somewhere?” His eyes were on the bag that she still held.

“A hotel,” she heard herself say. “I just can’t impose on Skye. I need to—”

“It’s all different,” Noah snapped. Still talking to himself? “But the walk is the f*cking same.”