Carla Neggers - Cold Ridge

"Not that long," he said. "Take it easy."

"Why should I?"

Good point. He held her arms down, but she kicked him. He had on khakis and his brown leather jacket, too warm for the city temperatures. He'd be working up a sweat with too much more of this. He grabbed her camera bag in self-defense. "Want me to throw this under a car? Come on. Get a grip. I have tender shins."

"You don't have tender anything. When did you get here?"

"Last night."

"You've been following me since last night? "

He dodged her next kick. People passed by, eyeing them nervously, and one guy pulled out his cell phone. North smiled, trying to look nonthreatening, and Carine, apparently realizing the scene she was making, backed off. Strands of hair had pulled out of her loose ponytail. She grabbed her camera bag back and adjusted it on her shoulder, breathing hard, a little wild-eyed.

"Manny sicced you on me, didn't he?" she demanded.

"I had a feeling you wouldn't thank me. Does it feel better to go on the offensive?"

She sighed, shaking her head. "I wish it did. At least I didn't push you out into traffic." She seemed calmer, but Ty could see the effects of the past twenty-four hours in the puffy, dark circles under her eyes, the paleness of her skin, the rigid hold she had on her camera bag. Her eyes, so damn blue, narrowed on him. "Are you on leave? I don't want you wasting any more of it on me. You can turn around and drive back to New Hampshire. There's a deli on Arlington. I'll buy you a sandwich for the road."

"Carine…hell, babe, you look like you're in tough shape. Let me-"

"Good. I'd hate to look great the day after I discovered a dead body." She looked up at the traffic light, apparently waiting for a walk sign. "And don't call me babe."

"Why'd you attack me?"

"I thought about throwing a rock through your windshield, but I couldn't find your truck. Or a rock."

North shrugged. "Makes sense, I guess."

"It was Manny who sent you, right? Gus wouldn't. He'd stonewall me if he knew you were on your way, but he would never ask you to keep an eye on me." She still didn't look around at North. "Does Manny think I'm in danger from the real murderer, or does he just not trust me to mind my own business?"

"Nobody trusts a Winter to mind their own business." He resisted touching her. "Damn it, I'm not going to stand out here talking murder with you. Let's go."

"The deli's just up Arlington -"

"You're not buying me a sandwich and sending me on my way."

A bit of color rose in her cheeks, and she refused to look at him, her shoulders hunched as she continued to wait for the walk signal. It came, but she didn't move. Ty remembered why he'd fallen in love with her-why, ultimately, he'd walked away from her. She was sensitive, loyal, artistic, a fighter and a dreamer. He was loyal and a fighter, but sensitive? Artistic? A dreamer? No way. Although she was the youngest of the Winter siblings and remembered their parents the least, she was also the one who seemed most affected by their deaths. She deserved a man who led a safer life than he did.

"This was a bad idea," Ty said, half under his breath. "All right, suit yourself. You're on your own."

She stood up straight and whipped around at him. "I am?"

"You bet. Go on. Scoot. I won't strong-arm you."

"You'll follow me," she said. "You're an expert in evading pursuit."

"I'd be doing the pursuing. That's a different skill."

"You'd manage."

"Not around here. I like the desert. Caves. Bugs to eat. A jungle's good, too. I could manage in a jungle."

She almost smiled. "You're totally impossible, Tyler. I don't know why I ever wanted to marry you." She thought a moment, then sighed. "But, seeing how you're listening to reason, I suppose I could let you drive me back to my apartment. I don't have the oomph to walk, and I don't think I could handle the subway again right now."

"Better me than the subway?" He grinned at her. "It's a start."

"You won't try to take me to New Hampshire against my will?"

"No, ma'am."

She looked faintly skeptical, but she was, at her core, the most trusting person he'd ever known. She wasn't naïve-she knew more than most about what life could throw at people, without rhyme nor reason. But she was an optimist, a glass-is-half-full type, a believer in truth and justice, all of which, in Ty's view, guaranteed she'd be a pain in the ass with Manny and this murder investigation. No wonder Manny had enlisted him to get rid of her.

Carine spotted his truck on Boylston and shot ahead of him, leaning against the passenger door until he got there to unlock it. She had her arms crossed, and more hairs had pulled out of her ponytail. "I know you're trained to resist the enemy," she said. "I probably could shove burning bamboo sticks under your fingernails, and you wouldn't talk."

"You're not the enemy." He unlocked her door and pulled it open. "And you wouldn't have the heart to torture me."

"I'd have the heart. There's just no point if it's not going to work."

She climbed into the truck, and when North got behind the wheel, he saw the tears in her eyes. But she turned away quickly and gazed out the passenger window. He started the engine. "Carine…ah, hell…"

"Feel like a heel, do you? Good." She sniffled, not looking at him. "Just don't get the idea that I'm not over you, because I am. I just need protein, that's all. I'm having a sugar low."

"You might be over me, but you're not neutral-"

"I've never been neutral about you. I wasn't neutral when I was six years old and you cut the tire-swing rope on me. It doesn't mean anything."

He let the engine idle a moment. "I'm sorry I hurty ou."

"You didn't hurt me, Ty. You did me a favor." She glanced at him sideways, her tears gone. "Isn't that what all the men who get cold feet say?"

"It wasn't cold feet."

"No, not you. You're way too tough for cold feet."

She wasn't going to give him an inch. He didn't blame her-she'd given him her heart, and he'd broken it.

He shifted his truck into gear. "Just for the record," he said, "I've never been neutral about you, either."

When they reached her apartment, Carine climbed out of the truck, thanked Ty for the ride and told him to have a safe trip home. She gave him a parting smile, shut the door and mounted her porch steps at a half run, not so much, he thought, because she wanted to get there fast but because she wanted to prove to him she could do it. Maybe to herself, too. She'd had a shock, and she was back on her feet, up and running.

He wondered how long before she figured out he wasn't going anywhere.

Hauling her back to Cold Ridge against her will was out, but Manny had his reasons-however closemouthed he was being about them-for asking Ty to keep an eye on her. She'd found Louis Sanborn dead. She'd worked with him. A murderer was on the loose. Something was up.

And Ty couldn't abandon her again. Gus would pitch him off the ridge for sure. When he wasn't looking, just when he let his guard down-off a ledge he'd go.

But it was more than Gus, more than Manny, more than murder that was keeping him in Boston-it was Carine, seeing her again after all these months. He had todorightbyher,somehowmakeupforwhathe'ddone.

She seemed to be having trouble with the front door.

That wasn't it. Her keys were in her hand. She hadn't touched the door. She glanced back at him, her eyes wide, her mouth partly open, and Ty was out of his truck in an instant. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know. Nothing, probably." She took a breath, pushed back more hair that had escaped from her ponytail. "The door sticks. I'm sure that's all it is. People leave it open all the time."

"Let's take a look."

Ty took the sagging steps onto the porch. The door to her building had dirty glass and peeling white paint that had grayed with neglect and the onslaught of city soot and grime. It was open slightly, about six inches.