Bound to Fall, page 21
His condo was in a secure high rise on the east side of Washington Park, which Sasha had never seen.
“That’s a big park. So many trees—and a lake.”
“It’s more than a hundred fifty acres with two lakes.” He chuckled. “You don’t know Denver very well, do you?”
“I don’t know Denver at all.”
He parked in the underground garage, grabbed their bags out of the back, and they rode the elevator to the sixth floor. “Second door on the left.”
He unlocked the door and stood back to let her enter.
“Home, sweet home.” Sasha couldn’t help but smile. “I like it.”
Darius’ home reflected his personality—ordered, classy, and a little Spartan. There was no art on the walls, no photographs on the shelves, no houseplants. But everything about it spoke of good taste.
A blocky sofa of black leather sat in the living room across from a gas fireplace, a matching loveseat beside it. There were wood floors throughout, with granite countertops and stainless steel appliances in the kitchen. The primary bedroom had its own bathroom, with a large tub, a walk-in shower, and twin sinks. There was a second bedroom and a second bathroom, as well as a small office. A balcony stretched from his living room to his bedroom, facing west.
Sasha stepped outside, took in the amazing view—the park with its lakes, the downtown Denver skyline, and, far to the west, the mountains. “Standing here, it doesn’t feel like you live in a big city.”
He slipped his arm around her shoulders. “I bought the place for this view.”
“Smart man.”
Darius made Sasha a cup of tea, and they settled in the living room in front of the fire. It took them a moment to get situated so that Sasha could lean against his chest, but in the end, they made it work. “Are you comfortable?”
“Yes. You?”
“I’m fine.” He kissed the top of her head. “How are you feeling, really?”
Sasha tried to put the confusion inside her into words. “I feel like an idiot.”
“You are not an idiot.”
“Then I must be the most naïve person alive.” She found herself fighting tears. “I knew Maritza had a jealous streak. I heard her say unkind things about other pro climbers. I overlooked all of that. I guess I wanted to believe the best about her. I thought she was my friend.”
Darius held her closer. “Don’t blame yourself. She deceived you—and then she betrayed you. That is on her, not you.”
Sasha wiped her cheeks. “It’s time for me to grow up, to get tougher and smarter and stop being a stupid little girl who thinks everyone is good. I need—”
“Sasha, stop. You’re taking this out on yourself. Braun is the one to blame, not you. Please don’t let that hateful, jealous criminal change who you are. People love you. They love your big, open heart, your kindness, your willingness to put others first, your humility, and your beautiful smile.” He chuckled. “The first time I spoke with Mitch, he told me that your smile lights up the room. He’s right. If someone managed to bottle sunshine and pour it into a person—that would be you.”
She sat up, looked into his eyes. “That’s so sweet.”
He wiped her cheek with his thumb. “You see people as innately good because you’re good. The world needs you—hell, I need you—to stay just the way you are.”
“Do you really mean that?”
He seemed as serious as she’d ever seen him. “I do.”
“Thank you.” She snuggled against his chest, closed her eyes, and willed herself to let the rest of the world go.
Chapter 22
Sasha leaned forward against a towel draped over the side of the tub, careful to keep her cast out of the water, while Darius kneaded the tension from her neck and shoulders, turning her muscles to putty.
“You’re really tight here.” He focused for a moment on her left upper trapezius, his hands gently working the muscle.
It was in her mind to say that she’d been using her left arm more and that she was probably compensating for her broken ribs, but all that came out was, “Mmm.”
These past few days were exactly what she’d needed. Time alone with Darius. No buzzing phone. No media. No decisions to make beyond what to order for dinner. No contact with the outside world apart from the ten minutes she spent checking email and messages each morning.
Today, they’d slept in, had a late breakfast, then talked most of the afternoon. After that, they’d gone for a long walk in the park, where they’d watched flocks of geese settling on the lakes, the setting sun turning the water to gold. On the way back, they’d grabbed some Thai takeout, which they’d eaten in the living room in front of the fire, Darius showing her photos of his family.
Somehow, that had led to sex. Then again, when Sasha was with Darius, everything led to sex.
“Better?”
“Yes. Thanks.” She leaned back against his chest, the hot water soothing. “If you get sick of being a detective, you could always become a massage therapist.”
He chuckled, a soft sound deep in his chest. “And if the only person I want to massage is you?”
She closed her eyes, smiled. “That’s not a very successful business model, but it works for me.”
For a time, they sat in an intimate silence, just savoring the moment, Darius lazily fondling one of her breasts.
Sasha’s thoughts drifted to the photos of Darius’ family. “You, Gus, and Max look so much alike. Even if I didn’t know you, I’d know you were brothers.”
“Do you and your brother look alike?”
“We’re both blond-haired, but Sean has brown eyes and is six feet tall. I’m the short one in the family.”
“Is he athletic, too?”
“He’s spent his life gaming and sitting at a desk, so he’s pretty out of shape. But when we were kids, he was athletic. He liked climbing, too, but he wasn’t obsessed with it like I am.”
But talking about Sean made her think of her parents and the angry message her mother had left this morning, accusing Sasha of deliberately keeping her in the dark.
We had no idea you’d almost been killed. We thought you’d crashed your bike.
Darius seemed to read her mind. “Don’t let your mother’s message bother you. Your parents are in the wrong. They should have been here, and they chose not to come.”
Sasha was tired of defending her parents, so she didn’t bother. “They’re pestering me to move back to California again. They think my living in Scarlet is the problem. They don’t know that it was the people in Scarlet—and a certain hot detective from Denver—who got me through this.”
“Want to hear a confession?”
“A confession? This sounds juicy. Do tell.”
“Two weeks ago, I might have agreed with your parents. I saw Scarlet as a small town full of… eccentric people. One square mile surrounded by reality. I couldn’t fathom why a woman with your good looks and talent would choose to live there. I was wrong about the town and most of the people.”
“Really?”
“Sorry.” He kissed her hair. “It’s true.”
Sasha wasn’t surprised. Lots of people felt that way. “I’m glad your opinion of the town and most of its people has changed.”
“I saw how they showed up for you every day in big ways and small. Most of us don’t have that kind of community. If I were surrounded with that kind of friendship, I wouldn’t want to leave, either.”
“Thanks. That means a lot to me.” Sasha wondered if he realized how much the people of Scarlet had come to care about him, but she let it go. She didn’t want to make him think she was pressuring him to stay with her or move to Scarlet. She knew that wasn’t practical, given where he worked.
Besides, his slow, persistent teasing of her breast was turning her thoughts in other directions. “Want to hear my confession?”
“Hit me.”
“I can’t wait until my ribs are healed so we can have sex without holding back.”
“I get turned on just thinking about that.” He was telling the truth, his cock growing hard behind her.
Sasha’s blood grew hotter. “I want to have sex without spending fifteen minutes trying to figure out the logistics every time.”
He nuzzled her ear, his voice deep and sexy. “How about you lean on the edge of the tub like you did before but get up on your knees? I promise I’ll take care of everything else.”
On Wednesday morning, Darius took Sasha to his favorite breakfast place. A little family-owned Creole joint decorated with Mardi Gras posters, it served the best damned eggs Benedict in Denver.
They got a seat next to a sunny window, where a friendly Black server named Angelica quickly took their orders. Darius suggested beignets, eggs Benedict, and mimosas, and Sasha was happy to try it all.
“I’ve never had eggs Benedict—or mimosas for that matter.”
Angelica gaped at her. “Girl, it’s about time.”
Darius seconded that. “You won’t be sorry.”
Angelica brought their drinks first—coffee, orange juice, champagne, and two flutes. “Your beignets should be right out.”
Darius opened the champagne, poured a little into their flutes, then topped it off with orange juice. He handed Sasha her mimosa, and raised his glass. “To you.”
Sasha took a sip, her eyes going wide. “That’s really good.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“Do you come here often?”
“Mostly on special occasions—if I have family in town or a reason to celebrate.”
“So, not very often, then.”
“Not as often as I’d like.”
Their beignets arrived, Darius suppressing a smile at the powdered sugar on Sasha’s upper lip. Then the eggs Benedict came.
“How am I supposed to eat all of this?”
Angelica smiled. “One delicious bite at a time.”
They were in the middle of breakfast and talking about the horrors of reconstituted scrambled eggs when Darius’ phone buzzed.
Deputy Marcs.
Hoping Sasha hadn’t seen the name, Darius excused himself and walked outside. “Marcs, what’s up?”
“I can’t reach Sasha, but I thought she’d want to know that karma just took a big bite out of Braun’s ass.”
Darius needed to hear this. “I’m listening.”
“The International Association of Sports Climbing just held a press conference in Bratislava. They reviewed the case and have stripped Braun of her title.”
Darius felt a savage stab of satisfaction at this news. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“The guy in charge said the record would state that no championship trophy was awarded for women this year, so Sasha’s winning streak is intact.”
Darius wasn’t sure Sasha cared about that, but he did. “Glad to hear it.”
“There’s more. They also banned Braun from competing for the rest of her life. She’s out of competitive sports climbing forever.”
That was as it should be. “Braun wanted fame, and she got it.”
“She sure as hell did. She wanted to be the world champion, but now she’ll be remembered only for trying to kill a competitor.”
“Thanks, Marcs. Anything else?”
“We compared Reiter’s prints to the ones lifted from the stolen SUV, and they were a match. So, there’s your hard evidence connecting him to the scene. The DA is working on a plea deal for Riggs, hoping to get him into drug treatment and keep him out of prison. He believes, as we do, that Riggs only called Watts to bail him out.”
“That’s all good news.”
“Tell Sasha we’re all thinking of her.”
“I will.”
When Darius returned to the table, he saw Sasha signing a menu for Angelica. He sat, spread his napkin on his lap. “Are you a fan of competitive sports climbing?”
“I am now.” Angelica beamed at Sasha. “I hope you feel better soon. And thank you, sir, for doing your job.”
“Thanks.” Mystified, Darius watched her walk away.
Sasha leaned closer, lowered her voice so she wouldn’t be overheard. “When you left the table, Angelica hurried over and told me she could see the faded bruises on my face. She asked if I felt safe with you, if I wanted someone to call the police. I had to tell her what happened. I didn’t want her thinking that you abused me. She told me she remembered seeing something about that on the news, and then she asked for my autograph.”
“Good for her.” Darius glanced across the room, saw Angelica carrying a tray of drinks to another table. “I wish more people had that kind of courage and attention to detail. It would save women’s lives.”
“What was the call about—work?”
Darius understood Sasha well enough to know she wouldn’t derive the same vengeful pleasure he and Marcs had about Braun’s comeuppance. At the same time, he couldn’t lie to her. “That was Marcs.”
“Julia?” Sasha’s expression changed to one of worry. “Is everything okay?”
Darius took a sip of his mimosa. “Reiter’s fingerprints matched a set taken from the SUV.”
“That leaves no doubt then.”
“Also, the IASC just held a press conference. They reviewed the evidence and have stripped Braun of her title.”
Sasha’s eyes went wide. “Oh! Well. What else could they do? Her sponsors dropped her. They couldn’t keep her on their payroll, and the IASC can’t have her as the public face of women’s sports climbing.”
Angelica must have overheard. She picked up their empty beignet plates. “No one wants a wannabe murderer on their box of Wheaties, know what I mean?”
That made Sasha smile.
“They announced that there was no world champion in the women’s events this year, so you’re still the reigning world champ.”
As Darius had predicted, this didn’t seem to carry much weight with Sasha.
“They didn’t have to do that. They could have given it to Daryna. She climbed well and came in second.”
“There’s more. They also banned Braun from competition for life.”
Sasha set her fork aside, her gaze falling to the table. “Imagine wanting something so bad that you destroy any chance you have of getting it. Her life as a professional climber is over. I can’t help but feel pity for her. I can’t imagine how she must feel now. The climbing community will ostracize her.”
Darius didn’t feel sorry for Braun at all. She’d done this to herself. But he didn’t say that. Instead, he reached across the table, took Sasha’s hand. “Are you okay?”
Sasha drew a breath, nodded, her smile returning. “It’s a beautiful morning. I’m alive and enjoying a champagne breakfast with the man I love and…”
Her words trailed off, her eyes going wide when she realized what she’d said. Her face flushed pink, and she stammered. “I… I’m… ”
Darius’ heart gave a hard thud, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. When he could, he found himself wanting to tell her that he hadn’t expected to find her, that he wasn’t sure he was ready for this, that he might not be good at relationships. It had been so long since he’d had anyone in his life. But what he really wanted to tell her was that he loved her, too. He just couldn’t find the courage.
He set his fork aside, took her hand, and raised it to his lips, the vulnerability on her face making his heart ache. “That sounds like the perfect morning.”
On Sunday, her last day in Denver, Darius took Sasha to the art museum, where they enjoyed an exhibit featuring American post-Impressionist artists. But Sasha’s mind was on the man beside her and not so much on art. Afterward, they strolled down the Sixteenth Street Mall, stopped for some Italian food, then drove back to his place, where they made long, slow love to one other.
Afterward, they lay together on his bed, Darius stroking her hair and holding her as best he could with their injuries.
Sasha didn’t want to bring this up, but she was running out of time. She’d told him she loved him during breakfast on Wednesday, and she knew he’d heard her. His reaction hadn’t been negative. She’d seen the surprise on his face, but he hadn’t shared how he felt about her. And now their stolen week together was almost over, and she was about to return to Scarlet. She wanted Darius in her life. Did he feel the same way?
There was only one way to find out.
She traced the line of dark curls that ran from his navel to his groin. “Where do we go from here, Dare? I said it the other day at the restaurant. I love you. I mean that, but I don’t want to rush this or push you away. What do we do?”
He kissed her head. “That’s why you’ve been so quiet all afternoon.”
“I keep imagining life as your girlfriend, and I guess I should stop because I’m not sure that’s what you want. So much has happened in such a short time.”
For a moment, he was silent, his fingers tracing a path along her spine. Then he sat up, helped her to sit, his gaze turning to the window, his expression so troubled that Sasha was sure he was about to let her go.
He looked into her eyes. “Some part of me broke after Becca’s murder. It’s been hard to get close to people. Women I’ve dated since have all said I was cold or closed off or emotionally unavailable. I’m not sure I’m capable of being the man you need and deserve. I guess it makes me selfish, but I don’t want this to end, either.”
Sasha had expected rejection, so it took her a moment. “You … you don’t?”
“God, no.” He chuckled, ran his thumb over her cheek. “It’s been so long since I’ve felt this way about any woman, so long since I’ve been able to talk with anyone like this. You changed everything, Sasha. But this won’t be easy.”
“Nothing worthwhile ever is.” She twined her fingers with his. “I already know you work lots of late nights and weekends. While we’re doing disclaimers, I should mention that I travel a lot. To maintain my sponsorships, I have to take on a certain number of high-profile climbing projects every year, and I’m not always the one who chooses them. I can be gone for six to eight weeks at a time. I face risks that most people don’t. I could get seriously injured or even killed. Elite climbers die every year.”
