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  “She became a recluse and I became angry at the world.

  “During one of her maternal moments, my mother suggested therapy, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t talk about it to a stranger.” Augusta gave a short laugh. “And I couldn’t talk about it to people I knew.” She closed her eyes. Two tears made silvery tracks down her cheeks. “I know it was wrong, but I felt embarrassed. Ashamed. Like I’d done something wrong.” Then, tone mocking, she added, “And I’d already found my own therapy.”

  Through his years on the force, Nick learned enough about young rape victims to know the common future paths they would take. He wanted to stop her flow of words, but he couldn’t do it. He was the one who had forced her to relive her nightmare.

  “I had an aversion to physical contact, especially from the opposite sex. It enraged me because there were all these girls around me who were healthy and normal and well-adjusted. And I couldn’t even stand to be within touching distance of a boy.

  “I finally forced myself to go out with one of them. Whenever he touched me I froze, but I didn’t stop him. I let him do whatever he wanted to my body. I let all of them do anything they wanted to my body. Each and every time, the past would fade a bit more. The nightmare became fainter, as if every new memory, however good or bad, replaced the old.

  “It wasn’t paying some shrink three hundred dollars an hour to discuss my childhood issues in a civilized manner and a calm environment, but it was my therapy.”

  The last words were defiant, as if she was daring him to disapprove of her and her actions. It tore him up to picture her with all those faceless bodies. He wouldn’t have been human otherwise. But how could he judge her harshly after the nightmare she’d suffered? If it had helped her cope, then he should be grateful. He could wish all he wanted that he could’ve met her all those years ago, but that would be a useless exercise. He was here now. He could only help her in the present—and future, because there was definitely going to be a future for them. But for now…for now he would help her create new memories.

  Nick slid both hands up and around her neck, cradling her head. He brought her face around to his, pressed his lips to her forehead, down the tear tracks, tasting the salt, then lastly to her lips. He pulled back a fraction of an inch and, his lips moving over hers, his voice hoarse from reining in his fury, said, “I’m sorry I made you go through it all over again, but it only makes me love you more because you are the woman that you are despite of your past. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you back then, but I’m here for you now.”

  She made a low sound, half sob, half moan just before she kissed him back, deepened it. More tears slipped down her cheeks.

  Nick groaned and wrapped his arms like a vice around her, pulling her deeply into him. Like last night, he knew she was using him to forget, but he was more than willing to help her forget this time and any other time in the future.

  Chapter Fourteen

  He was getting used to this, Nick thought as he stroked Augusta from the dip of her waist to the flare of her hip. She was sprawled on her back, her body pliant. He was on his front, lying half on her, his face buried in the curve of her neck. Her slender arms were loosely curled around his shoulders. He could still feel the tremors from the last orgasm wrenched from his body. Jesus, if they kept up this pace, he was going to be dead long before his retirement.

  Somehow, Nick found the energy to grin like an idiot. At least he’d die happy.

  Augusta’s tired voice drifted down to him. “Aren’t you supposed to be meeting your partner?”

  He made a noncommittal sound that turned into a grunt of displeasure when the cell phone on her nightstand beeped, reminding him of the world beyond this bed. He’d retrieved it earlier with the rest of his clothes. Now he wished he hadn’t been so efficient.

  “Answer it,” Augusta said when he made no move to pick it up. “It might be important.”

  “You’re more important,” he said against the side of her neck and opened his lips on her skin.

  Her breath hitched, and she tightened her arms about him.

  The cell phone persisted. With a heavy sigh, Nick reached across, plucked it off the nightstand and answered it.

  “Markov.”

  “You sleeping in?” Ethan asked without preamble.

  Nick reluctantly rolled onto his back. “Something like that.”

  “We still questioning Lamb and visiting the ME today?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be by in twenty minutes.” Nick swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. “You hear about Jana Westenberg?”

  “Not yet. What happened?”

  “She was assaulted last night.”

  “How bad?”

  “Bad enough that she’s still at Bellevue and is probably looking at rehab and physio for the next twelve months.”

  “Shit,” Ethan muttered.

  “It gets better. I’ll fill you in on the details later.”

  “Peter Donovan’s home was broken into last night by two men. They picked the lock on the kitchen door.”

  “Damn.” Nick raked his fingers through his hair.

  “But that lawyer is not a man you want to mess with. He has a .45 and isn’t afraid to use it,” Ethan said.

  “Did he see their faces?”

  “Ski masks.”

  “Did they take anything?”

  “Donovan doesn’t think so, but he still hasn’t finished going through his things.”

  “So they didn’t find what they were looking for.”

  “Or Donovan just has it very well hidden. Or he could’ve scared them away before they had a chance to look more thoroughly.”

  “What does Donovan say?”

  “He heard a noise, grabbed his gun, went downstairs, found them in his library and scared them off with two shots. They jumped out the window.”

  “Did he hit them?”

  “No. He said he only wanted to get rid of them, not kill them.”

  “Damn,” Nick muttered, a little more vehemently this time. “He could’ve at least wounded them.”

  Ethan grunted.

  “I want to see the report when I get in.”

  “Twenty-five minutes,” Ethan said. “Give the lieutenant an extra five minutes to get over wanting to nail your ass to the wall for sleeping with a murder suspect.”

  “She’s not a suspect,” Nick said evenly. “While you’re waiting for me, see if you can get started on getting a list of all the companies LSI does business with and all the companies LSI’s turned away recently.”

  “Why?”

  “Later,” Nick said, and hung up. He didn’t want to mention the possibility of corporate espionage or, even worse, blackmail in front of Augusta. Why else would someone be ransacking the homes of the late Andrew Langan’s estranged wife and lawyer after his death? Whose was the next logical home? Adam Langan?

  Nick squeezed the cell phone in his hand. The disturbing feeling that Adam Langan knew more than he was sharing was stronger than ever.

  Dropping the cell phone on the bed, he stood and turned to Augusta. With a touch of regret, he noted that she had pulled the sheet up to cover her pretty breasts. He bent down and planted a kiss on her forehead. If he touched her lips, he would be needing more than twenty-five minutes.

  “Remember, you need to buy a cell.”

  “Um hmm.”

  “And you have to stay in sight of the patrol car at all times.”

  Her brow puckered, but she nodded. “Anything else?”

  “Call me if you need me.”

  “Do you think Drew was killed because of a business deal that fell through?”

  “Money is a great motive.”

  Her look told him she knew he wasn’t totally open with her. “Was it something Jana said to you last night?”

  “It’s a hunch,” he said, and left the room.

  * * * * *

  Two hours later, Augusta found herself standing in front of Adam Langan’s home.
r />   By Langan standards, Adam lived modestly in his penthouse on the fourth floor of a renovated townhouse in the Upper West Side. The neighborhood and the unit were beautiful, but it wasn’t Upper East Side.

  Augusta used the key Adam had given her to get past the front entrance. However, by the time she made it up the three flights of stairs to stand before the solid maple door with 4A on it, she couldn’t help but recall their last meeting. She would never forget the look of betrayal on his face when she’d confessed to giving Nick Jana’s name.

  She rapped on the door three times and listened closely for sounds of movement from the other side. When she was about knock again, there was the sound of the deadbolt being unlocked.

  When she came face to face with Adam, she knew she had been hoping her recollections of the hospital the night before had been exaggerated, even a little bit.

  The blurry-eyed man with the lines of fatigue marring his features was more of a stranger than the man she’d seen last night. He was a far cry from the quiet, well-groomed man she knew as her long-time friend and confidant.

  “May I come in?” she asked when Adam continued to peer at her from bloodshot eyes underscored by dark half circles.

  Without saying a word, he moved back to let her in. She stepped inside, closed the door and, out of habit, turned the deadbolt. When she turned around, there was Adam standing a few feet from her in his pajama pants and a loose-fitting T-shirt, just looking at her. Their very first meeting in Central Park had not been this awkward.

  “I dropped by the hospital this morning. They say Jana’s stable. She made it through the night without any more complications, so there’s a good chance she’ll make a full recovery.”

  Emotion flashed across Adam’s face, equal parts pain and relief. Augusta’s eyes dropped to the Adam’s apple that bobbed as he swallowed.

  “Thank God,” he whispered roughly. “They wouldn’t let me stay with her through the night.” His mouth twisted. “I’m not family.”

  Augusta’s heart cracked for him, but she swallowed the words of sympathy. “Does her family know what happened?”

  He shook his head. “Her mother’s in Tuscany and her father’s still on his honeymoon somewhere in Europe with trophy wife number four. I told the police I’d track them down and let them know what happened.”

  There was that awkward silence again. Augusta curled her fingers into the scratchy wool of the thigh-length, belted sweater she had wrapped over the jeans and tank top. There was no easy way to ask her next question.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about Jana?”

  “You were already at the hospital.”

  “I’m not talking about the assault,” she corrected gently. “I’m talking about the fact that you love her.”

  At her words, he stiffened and Augusta could almost see the walls he was erecting around himself.

  “I had no idea you feel the way you do about Jana.” Her gaze bored into his, willing him to tell her everything like he used to. “Why didn’t you tell me? Does Jana know?”

  His lips thinned. Augusta had never seen green eyes become so cold and so hard. She could almost hear him telling her to mind her own damn business.

  Then, “Jana and I wanted to keep it quiet for a while.”

  “But why?” she asked, a wealth of confusion in her tone. “Both your families would be thrilled at the news.”

  “We didn’t want to get their hopes up. You know what the pressure would be like for us to get married if our families knew Jana and I are involved. I didn’t want to subject Jana to that.”

  “But you didn’t even tell me,” she said, unable to keep the hurt from her voice.

  He looked away from her.

  “I’m your best friend. We’ve always told each other everything since the day we met in the park.”

  “Were, Augusta, were. You were my best friend,” he pointed out, his tone heating up. “When you married Drew, things changed. You couldn’t be Drew’s wife and my best friend at the same time. It doesn’t work that way.”

  “But Drew is—” She broke off at the stab of pain in her chest. “Drew was your brother. He loved you. I love you.”

  “I know and I love you too.” Adam scrubbed his face with his hands. “But…but—” He broke off and walked away from her, his body one long, tense line.

  Augusta hurried after him into the living room. He was standing by the big windows, looking outside. He looked so alone, she wanted to come up behind him and wrap her arms around him, offer him what comfort she could. Once, she would’ve done just that and not thought anything of it. This new Adam, however, had her second-guessing herself.

  “You sound like you were jealous of Drew.”

  “I had reason to be.”

  “You’ve always be in love with Jana, haven’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “But Drew was always there.”

  Still looking at the outside world with his back presented to her, he nodded. “Then you came along, and he took the one person who I thought understood me better than anyone else away from me too.”

  The lump in her throat was burning. “Adam—”

  “But that was okay, because I thought then I would have a chance with Jana, that she would see me as someone other than Drew’s younger brother.” He shook his head. “But I was only a stand-in for him.”

  She couldn’t address his last statement and didn’t even want to try.

  His shoulder and biceps muscles rippled and clenched. “I wanted you to be there for me.”

  “You didn’t give me a chance. After I married Drew, you became distant and so damned polite there were times when I wanted to smack you.”

  “I don’t think my brother would’ve appreciated you spending too much alone time with another man.”

  “You’re not just any other man.” She took a few steps toward him until she was within touching distance. She laid her fingers on his shoulder, afraid he would shrug her off. However, he only tensed for an instant. Something tight eased inside her chest. “You don’t know it, but you were there for me when I was at one of the lowest points in my life. You kept me sane and in control so many times when I just wanted to give up and let it all go. You should’ve given me the chance to return the favor.”

  He didn’t say anything for a long time, and Augusta feared he would ignore her until she left. Then a warm hand with long, elegant fingers covered hers, and relief rushed through her system. Before she could rethink her actions, Augusta slipped an arm about his waist and hugged him, her cheek pressed into his warm back. She felt a hot wetness land on her hand even as her own tears wet her lashes.

  * * * * *

  The east side of the Chief Medical Examiner’s building on First Avenue was windowless and sterile. The dead, after all, didn’t need fresh air or a view.

  Nick and Ethan had signed in at the desk and been directed to an autopsy room, where Dr. Laura Woo was using the holiday to try to clear up a backlog of work. A tall, slender Asian woman came out of one of the autopsy rooms. Her hair was smoothed back into a gleaming black braid that reached the middle of her back, and a white lab coat covered her from shoulders to mid-thigh. Nick could see she wore her signature blue jeans and tennis shoes.

  A genuine smile spread across her pale face. “Detectives, I didn’t think to see the two of you again so soon.”

  Ethan flashed her a grin. “You know we can’t stay away from you for too long, Doc. It’s in the job description.”

  “Well, in this job, I welcome walking, talking, living, breathing company, even if they are NYPD.” She peeled off one latex glove and, with her naked hand, pushed back the short strands of hair that escaped her braid. “Here for an update on Andrew Langan?”

  “If you have anything new.”

  She turned around, pushed open the heavy steel door behind her and walked back into the autopsy room. She tossed the latex glove into the trash bin beside the door, then peeled off the remaining glove and disposed of it too. “I
can tell you he had sex recently before his death.”

  Nick stopped in his tracks. “What?”

  “You heard me,” Laura said.

  “So?” Nick said when they were standing around a corpse lying on a stainless steel table and covered with a white sheet.