Deadly Fall (8 page)

Augusta lifted a small fist and pressed it beneath her left breast, feeling the warm weight. She sucked in another deep breath and pressed harder, as if she could stop the rapid pounding of her heart. Or at least muffle the sound, for it was so loud in her ears.

“Augusta?”

His voice came from right behind her, making her heart feel as if it would leap right from her chest.

She was frazzled. A blind man could see that. She wasn’t thinking clearly, couldn’t think clearly. And being in the same room as Nick Markov wasn’t helping. In fact, it was the cause of everything. She moved for the door. Though humiliation burned, nearly searing away the last vestiges of lust, her words were steady. “I have to leave.”

“Home?”

“No.” There was no hesitation. She knew it a cowardly act, but after everything else, she didn’t want to fight to get back into her own house.

“Then where?” he asked, his voice closer than before. She didn’t turn around to see how close. Instead, she grasped the doorknob.

“Augusta?”

“I…I…” She let go of the doorknob. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. “A…hotel, I suppose. I have my credit cards with me.”

“Any resourceful reporter will know which hotel you’re staying at just in time for the evening news,” he said.

She closed her eyes and exhaled loudly, then finally faced him. “Where do you suggest that I go, then? My place? They’re already there, waiting like vultures. Adam’s? They’d find me there in a heartbeat, and Adam doesn’t need that kind of attention right now.”

His lips thinned, then he straightened his long frame, as if readying himself for battle. “You can stay with me.”

Her slowing pulse skipped, then sped up again. “I beg your pardon?”

“You can stay with me,” he repeated in a too neutral voice. “It’s the least I can do. You can stay at my place for tonight, and I’ll get rid of the reporters in front of your house by tomorrow morning.”

She tucked a non-existent errant strand of hair behind her ear before asking, “And how do you plan on doing that?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“You mean you don’t know.”

“I have an idea.”

The temptation was strong, especially with the taste of him still on her lips. She swallowed. “Thank you, but no. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Augusta made a move to leave again, but suddenly a large, tanned hand was splayed on the door in front of her eyes. She froze, afraid to move for fear she would feel the press of his length along hers and lose control again. She had lost control twice today, and that exceeded her quota for the week.

“Why not?” he demanded from close behind her.

How had such a large man moved so quickly? And without her hearing it?

“I don’t think you need me to spell it out for you, Nick.”

She felt his breath on the sensitive rim of her ear. “No one will think to find you at my place, Augusta. Think of it as hiding in plain sight. You’ll be safer there than anywhere else in this city.”

But not from you
, she thought.
And not from myself.

“You can have my bed,” he added. “I’ll take the sofa.”

She closed her eyes, trying to strengthen the thread that was her will.

“Be reasonable, Augusta.”

She blew out a breath. “You can keep your bed. I’ll take the sofa.”

“Do you have anywhere else to go today?” he asked, taking a step back and giving her breathing space.

“No,” she told him after a long hesitation. “Why?”

“I’ll take you to my loft now. It’s a little hard to find.”

“I drove here,” she said, following him as he opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

“You drive?”

“Yes. You don’t have to sound so shocked. I was born on the West Coast. Everyone drives there. And not only can I drive, I drive a standard.”

“Make and model?”

“An Audi S4.”

He whistled. “Nice. So that
was
your S4 parked in front of your house.” His hand found the small of her back and guided her. “Then you can follow me in your car.”

Bemusement drew her brows together. “You trust me to be alone in your home?”

He spared her a brief glance. “Of course. Besides, as you pointed out, you make more than enough money. Probably a hell of a lot more than a cop’s salary, anyway. So there’s nothing at my place you would deem worth taking.”

She quelled the urge to roll her eyes and kept her mouth firmly shut. She kept her gaze straight ahead, refusing to glance left or right, refusing to acknowledge the speculative gazes thrown their way as they cut through the squad room.

The traffic was thankfully light as Augusta followed Nick’s car in her S4. The high-performance European car was made for driving, and she found herself enjoying the drive as she stepped down on the clutch and smoothly shifted into the next gear. She settled more comfortably into the leather seats and tuned into a classic rock radio station. It was almost like one of the Sunday drives she and Drew used to enjoy in the beginning.

Augusta blinked a few times, sat up straighter and focused on the car in front of her. Her vision would be seriously impaired if she started crying. Rubbing the palm of her hand on the knob of the gear shift, Augusta promised herself that as soon as this was all over she was going to find a long stretch of open road and see what three hundred-forty horses can really do.

A short while later, Nick was pulling into the parkade of a newer high-rise apartment building in Murray Hill. Augusta followed him and parked her sedan in the empty space next to his as he had indicated.

“It’s my neighbor’s, but she doesn’t have a car,” he explained, as he ushered her into the elevator.

They got off on the eighth floor, where he lead her to the far unit.

“Oh, my,” she breathed, immediately met by a stunning view of the spacious living room—and the five windows that offered an even more amazing view of Manhattan and endless blue sky. It was a corner apartment, with north and west exposure.

“Like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” she said, taking only a brief moment to take in the ten-foot beamed ceiling, the hardwood floors and the comfortable furniture. Then her gaze was drawn back to the almost panoramic city view, hardly noticing as Nick gently pushed her further inside the apartment until she was leaning against the neutral-toned sofa.

“How does a cop afford a place like this?” she asked, as she continued to gaze out at the inspiring view from his large windows, memorizing it. “Should I be worried?”

“My father used to be a financial adviser who taught all his kids the importance of making your money work for you. And he always said property was the best kind of investment.”

“Used to be?”

“He retired a couple of years ago and bought a yacht. Now he and Mom are fulfilling their dream and going anywhere the water can take them. Last I heard, they’re somewhere in the Bahamas, basking in the sun.”

A smile lifted her lips. “Sounds like fun.”

“They’re having the time of their lives, and they deserve it.

“I’ll give you the ten-cent tour and then I have to get back to the office,” he told her. He regarded her, brow furrowed. “You will be okay alone, right? I can stay with you if you need me.”

“I thought you trusted me,” Augusta said teasingly, not wanting to darken the easy, almost playful mood between them. “I’ll be fine. I can amuse myself.”

His grin was wicked. “That would be a pity since I can probably do a better job.” He laughed as he caught the small fist aimed for his sternum. “Just remember that if you fall asleep in my bed, I won’t mind.”

Augusta didn’t think she could blush. She never had in the past. But the heat sliding into her cheeks proved that there was a first time for everything. To cover up her embarrassment, she withdrew her fist from his grip. He released her only to steer her across the room with his hand between her shoulder blades.

“The bedroom’s through there,” he told her, pointing with his finger. “The bathroom’s the next door, and we passed the kitchen on the way in. You can’t get lost in a one-bedroom loft. You’ll find extra blankets and pillows in the wooden trunk in my bedroom.” He grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her along after him. “Here, I’ll show you.”

“There’s no—”

But he had already dragged her through the bedroom doorway.

Augusta was speechless for a long moment. “Oh, my,” she finally sighed once more. “Detective Markov, you are single-handedly changing my opinion about bachelors and their lifestyles.”

All the pieces in this room were part of a set, as attested by the gleaming dark oak of the dresser that matched that of the bed frame and headboard. The sheets and pillowcases were all complimenting shades of white and navy blue and green. Like the living room, it felt open and light.

Standing behind her, he looked down at her questioningly. “In what way?”

“In a good way. This is beautiful. If you ever decide to quit the force, you have a career in interior decorating waiting for you.”

“Confession time. My sister’s the interior decorator.”

She tilted her head back and peered up at him, one brow arched. “Should’ve known.”

The hands she hadn’t even noticed about her waist squeezed. Augusta yelped and jumped away from him.

“Ticklish, are you?”

She pinned him with a warning glare. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“Sweetheart, ideas have been running through my head since you opened your front door yesterday morning.”

For the second time in her life, Augusta blushed, speechless in the face of such bald-faced honesty. She turned her back on him and latched onto the first thing she saw to change the subject.

The first thing she saw was the toy box. A snicker escaped her.

“What?” Nick asked.

“You have a toy box in your bedroom.”

“Huh?”

She glanced at him over her shoulder and gleefully repeated herself, earning a scowl.

“The hell it is.”

“The wooden box at the foot of your bed is a toy box,” she insisted, enjoying herself. “I used to have one like it when I was younger. When we played hide-and-seek, I hid in it. The big, bad homicide detective has a toy box in his bedroom.”

The growl coming from behind her only made her snicker louder. Then suddenly her world was upside down.

“Nick!” He had slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “What are you doing? Put me down this instant!”

He lightly smacked her bottom, but that only made her squirm harder to get free. “We’re going to see if you still fit in the toy box.”

* * * * *

It took about two seconds for Augusta to decide that she didn’t see the yellow police tape stretched from one side of the door frame to the other. Quickly, with a nonchalance she was far from feeling, she unlocked the front door, ducked under the yellow tape and closed and locked the door behind her with barely a sound.

Nick hadn’t actually tried to stuff her inside the wooden toy box. Instead, after she’d laughingly began pleading, he’d deemed that she’d suffered enough, set her on her feet and announced that he had to go back to the precinct.

Shortly after he’d left, Augusta had curled up on the sofa. Without distractions, however, she’d wandered into his kitchen, having decided to raid his refrigerator. Only there had been very little to raid. That was the excuse she’d needed. Augusta had grabbed her keys, the spare condo key and the extra proximity card to access the parkade, got into her car and started driving. Somehow, instead of stopping at the bakery she’d discovered just up a couple of blocks, she’d found herself driving right past it. And now she was trespassing on a police crime scene.

She wasn’t, however, worried about getting caught. Burt, the concierge on duty, believed she wanted to grab a few things from the penthouse. She would tell the NYPD the same thing on the off chance they came calling.

Her gaze swept through the rooms she could see from the foyer. If she disregarded the faint tracks on the floors, the white powder that dusted everything, from the counter tops to the remaining glass terrace doors, and—she paled—the dark rust-colored stains on walls, the condo she had shared with Drew for four years was pretty much the same as when she’d left all those months ago.

There were memories in every room, from the kitchen they’d nearly set fire to one summer afternoon to the living room floor where they’d had many all-out tickle fights. Most of the recollections were good. They were memories of times with her best friend. Try as hard as she could, she couldn’t think of Drew as more than that. He’d been her lover and her husband, but it had been friendship that she wanted from him. At one point, she’d thought differently, but she’d been young. And needy and vulnerable. She could admit it now. She had needed someone, anyone, and wanted that someone to need her in return.