Deadly Fall (12 page)

“
Why
did he offer?”

“Because after I found the press in front of my house, I stormed over to the police station and gave him a piece of my mind. I thought he planned the entire thing to make his job easier. Convict me in the court of public opinion.”

“And when he convinced you that he had nothing to do with it, you believed him. So, when he offered to let you spend the night at his place—out of the goodness of his heart, of course—you accepted.”

She chose to ignore the blatant sarcasm. “Something like that.”

“Aug—”

“Nothing happened,” she said, interrupting him and feeling only a twinge of guilt at the fib. “Besides, weren’t you the one who told me to cooperate with the police department?”

“Cooperate, not…” His voice faded and a flush crept up his neck.

“Not what?” she demanded, a little piqued at his unflattering assumptions about her morals. Even if they were correct. “Finish your sentence, Adam Langan.”

Wisely, he decided to let the matter drop. “Nothing. I just worry about you. Why didn’t you come to me last night?”

Her features softened. “I figured if I went to you, those damned reporters would find out in a heartbeat. That’s all it was.”

“You still should’ve come to me,” he said, the twin vertical lines of displeasure forming between his brows.

“It’s over and done with. I’m back in my house, and the surrounding area is reporter-free, courtesy of Detective Markov.”

“How did he make that happen?”

“He called Peter Donovan and asked him to take care it.”

“I’ll call him and thank him later.”

“Peter? I already did that this morning.” Her conversation with the lawyer had been a case of good news, bad news. Peter’d said he managed to clear the reporters from her front lawn by promising them a press conference next week. She’d asked him to put off the press conference for as late as possible, but Peter’d replied that he was only allowed one miracle a month. Augusta picked up her fork, again. Under normal circumstances, she’d be having a cool crème caramel by this time. “Now, can we drop this? If we don’t finish our entrées, the chef will be insulted, throw a fit and never let us darken the doorway of this restaurant again.”

“Right,” Adam said. He picked up his fork, studied it for a moment, then his worried gaze caught hers again. “It’s just with Drew’s death and everything… I’m concerned about you.”

Augusta covered his hand with hers. “I know you are, but you shouldn’t be. I’ll be okay. I am okay. I’ll be even better once the police catch the killer.”

“Yes,” Adam said, squeezing her fingers in return.

* * * * *

Augusta dug her fists deeper inside the pockets of her black leather pea coat and stretched her neck, lifting her face up for the cool night air to caress. She had Adam drop her off a few blocks before they reached her townhouse. He had protested vehemently, not liking that she wanted to walk the rest of the way home to stretch her legs and clear her head. She could stretch her legs and clear her head walking around her house. This was New York City and it was dark outside, he had pointed out. It would be stupid and irresponsible of him to let her walk several blocks to get home. However, she had picked up a few things about stubbornness from Drew.

She would have to call Adam tomorrow and apologize. He only had her safety in mind. With Drew’s violent death, it was natural that he be even more protective than usual. It was a Langan family trait. They may bicker endlessly and even hate each other at times, but Langans looked after their own. Or, Augusta amended wryly, those who they thought were their own. With the exception of Adam and Drew, the Langan family would happily see her on her way to hell, or any place where she wouldn’t be able to get her hands on their money.

Christ, but their opinion of her was low.

Stop it. You’re supposed to be clearing your head, not burdening it with things you have no control over.

“Right,” she murmured, breathing deeply, hoping the relaxation technique would come through again for her.

It didn’t. If anything, it stretched her already taut nerves. The back of her neck prickled and Augusta had a suspicion Adam had been right after all. It wasn’t the most intelligent thing to walk alone after sundown, even if the distance was only four city blocks. A braver person would’ve stopped and glanced around. But that would be admitting fear was playing havoc with her pulse and sweat glands. Augusta quickened her pace, the sound of her heels ringing loudly in her ears as they fell on the pavement.

Relief poured through her as she passed the bakery where she often stopped for a cinnamon and raisin bagel each morning. Another block and she would be able to lock herself inside her home and laugh at the stupid fear that was making her paranoia come to the fore.

Augusta almost missed it, the move was so quick. From the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow break away from the darkness of the narrow alley beside the bakery. Her head instinctively turned, but the dark figure had already clamped a gloved hand over her nose and mouth, another strong arm snaked about her waist, imprisoning her arms and slamming her back into a hard, burly body. Her feet cleared the ground and she was hauled backwards into the alley.
Always hand over your purse or wallet. Don’t struggle. Once they get what they want, they’ll take off and you’ll be okay.
Sound advice. But only if you’re not panicked, actually facing the situation and hadn’t been bullied by an overprotective boyfriend-turned-husband into taking self-defense training. Besides, how the hell was she supposed to hand over her wallet if she couldn’t move her arms?

Do something, Augusta!

She struggled, twisting her body this way and that. Her attacker, obviously experienced, wasn’t taken off guard. He tightened his hold on her. Her vision beginning to dot from lack of oxygen, she kicked desperately backwards, the adrenaline pumping through her veins giving her added strength. Her sharp heel
did
catch her attacker off guard. He dropped her and howled when it dug satisfyingly into his leg. But she didn’t have time to savor his pain as she gulped in air and scrambled to her feet. She didn’t make one running step before a hand fisted in her hair and viciously yanked her head back. She turned with the momentum, her arm outstretched with a subtle bend in her elbow, arcing with the turn. The side of her hand connected with skin, felt the Adam’s apple and tendons underneath. Choked, gasping sounds interspersed with curses filled the air. The hand fisted in her hair let go and her attacker fell to his knees, both hands curved protectively about his abused throat. Augusta sent a well-aimed knee into the man’s face for good measure, knocking him solidly on his back. Distantly, she registered something hot and wet exploding onto her pants. Then, ignoring the mangled howl of pain renting the air, she whirled around to run as if the hounds of hell were baying at her heels.

Her mouth was open and she drew in great gulps of air to appease her burning lungs as she bounded up the steps of her stoop to her door. Key already in hand, she swiftly inserted it—and found that she didn’t need it when the door gave way under her weight. It silently swung inward and, gripping the doorknob as if it was a lifeline, she staggered inside.

* * * * *

Nick crumpled the note in his hand. She was grateful to him. He didn’t want her damned gratitude.

He needed a beer. He wanted a lot more, but for now, he’d settle for a beer. Expression grim, jaw clenched, he stalked over to the fridge and pulled one out. A vicious twist and the cap came off. He took a long swallow, but the cold liquid did very little to cool his temper. Why was she fighting him? She had to know that he believed she had nothing to do with the murder. He had that much faith in her. Why couldn’t she have that much in him?

Nick strode into the living room and settled himself on the sofa, his long legs stretched out across the coffee table. He lifted the frosty long-neck bottle to his mouth and took another swig. Then he reached for the remote control and flicked on the television. Sounds of a laugh track chased away the silence, but his scowl darkened. Never before had the silence that came from living alone bothered him. In fact, after hearing the constant noise in his work world, the peace and quiet of his apartment was more than welcome.

He raised his beer bottle in a silent toast to Augusta Langan. For the first time since he’d moved out on his own, loneliness was making itself known.

Maybe that was why he’d decided not to follow Ethan’s suit hours earlier at the station house and go home. They had returned early from Charlie Medina’s registered place of residence in Brooklyn because no one had answered their pounding on the door. The superintendent and neighbors had been less than helpful, so Nick and Ethan had returned to Manhattan straightaway. Nick had given the next-door neighbor his card, but he doubted if the woman would contact him. She had looked as if she would rather have a tooth removed without the benefit of anesthetic.

Ethan had gone home to his wife and Nick had stayed behind at the precinct, continuing to plow through the mountain of reports gathered on Andrew Langan’s family, friends and known associates. He’d learned nothing new and was rewarded with an eyestrain that was threatening to morph into a full blown headache. Either no one knew anything or people were lying. Nick would put money on the latter.

After locking the last report in his desk, he’d grabbed his jacket and headed out. He’d returned home to an empty, hollowed out apartment. And the note on his dining table didn’t help matters.

The only way he would accept gratitude from Augusta was if she let him trade it in for something else.

Like her.

Even if only for one night.

No, he corrected. He didn’t want her for only one night. He wanted her for one day so he could see the sun illuminating her face as she called out his name as he brought her to orgasm with his hands, his mouth, his cock. God, he could almost picture himself rocking her to completion on his thigh, her soft flesh leaving a damp stain on his jeans. The heat of her would sear him.

Nick tugged at his jeans and swore softly as they became uncomfortably tight. One phone call and he could have someone over here who would be more than happy to give him the release he wanted. But he didn’t want someone else. His body probably wouldn’t care, but his mind did. And he suspected that with Augusta Langan, it would be more than just physical release.

Nick’s laugh was short, rough and decidedly lacking in humor. What he needed now was relief, of the very physical, very basic kind. If he closed his eyes, he could almost see the dark hair spilled over his taut belly, the cool strands in stark contrast to the hot need coursing through him. Her fingers reaching inside his jeans to touch him, mold themselves to the length and width of him.

Nick let the nearly empty beer bottle slip from his fingers. His hands moved to the fly of his jeans and, with great care, he unzipped it. Anticipation of letting the fantasy play out completely stiffened his body even more until he didn’t think he could get any harder, until it couldn’t get any more painful. God, what would happen if he ever actually got his hands on her?

The ringing of the phone jerked him straight up, and the image of a sultry, sexy Augusta instantly dissolved.

Cursing once more, but for a different reason, Nick reached for his cell phone.

“Yes?” It was more frustration than impatience that made him curt.

The person on the other line cleared his throat apologetically. “Detective Markov?”

“Speaking.”

“You said you wanted to know if anything turned up on the Langan family. I heard on dispatch that the house of one Augusta Langan was broken into earlier tonight. The house is at… Markov? Detective?”

Nick was already out the door.

* * * * *

A police cruiser was parked just behind Augusta’s S4. Lights were blazing from the windows of her townhouse, making it seem like a beacon. She’d probably switched all the lights on to chase away the shadows that every victim feared. Nick’s fingers twitched on the steering wheel. God, he didn’t like thinking of her as a victim.

But she was one, and she would be needing a comforting shoulder. And he was determined that it would be his and no one else’s, least of all her brother-in-law’s.

The front door was closed but not locked, so Nick let himself inside. He found them on the second floor in the living room. He flashed his gold badge at the officer who glanced up at the unexpected intrusion. But Nick hardly saw him. His gaze had locked on the small figure seated on the edge of the sofa. With her head bent, the vulnerable curve of her neck was exposed. It struck something within him, as did the arms resting limply on her knees, in sharp contrast to her hands, which were clasped together so tightly that he could see the white of her knuckles.

Christ
. The fear and adrenaline that had made him leave behind layers of his tires on the streets from his building to Augusta’s townhouse didn’t subside. They continued to pound heavily in his veins, threatening his control. Nick made a desperate grab for it. Augusta didn’t need him flipping out on her.