Risking it All (19 page)

surface last night. Her mouth, her taste,

her voice. All things he couldn’t be

without anymore. Necessities. Even

standing across the street from her felt

like miles, instead of yards. If he had his

way, if the world were perfect, she

would have her arms twined around his

neck every second of the day. Her mouth

within kissing distance, curves fitted

against his. It wouldn’t feel so right, so

essential
, to touch her if she didn’t feel

anything on her end. Right?

Deciding enough time had passed

since she walked into the building,

Bowen crossed the street, but was

brought up short when his cell phone

vibrated in his pocket. He drew it out

and stared at the screen. Manhattan

number, but not one he recognized.

He answered anyway. “Yeah.”

“What the fuck did you say to her?”

“Troy.” Bowen took a final pull of his

cigarette and ground it out under his

boot. “I’m surprised it took you this long

to call me.”

Silence met him on the other end.

“Look, I told you to keep Ruby out of

my neighborhood. If you can’t keep tabs

on your girl that’s not my problem. She

give you the slip again?”

“I knew she went,” Troy responded

tightly. “I know
every
time she goes.”

He encountered a kick of surprise.

“You don’t care that it’s dangerous for

her here? The girl who managed to put

my father behind bars?”

“She’s never in danger. Don’t

question my ability to protect her.” The

pause that followed was full of

frustration. “I do what I need to in order

keep her. If that means letting her retain

a piece of her old life, so be it.”

“I’m not that piece.”

“No, you’re not. And don’t worry. I

think you finally managed to convince

her. She’s walking around like a ghost.

I’d like to kick your ass for that.”

“Been there, done that, got the

bloodstained T-shirt.” Bowen’s own

anger rose to match Troy’s. Brought on

by guilt, having his hands tied where

Sera was concerned. It poured over his

head like hot water. “Is this what cops

do all day? Sit around and whine about

your girlfriends and their mood swings?

As a taxpayer, I, for one, am appalled.”

“Fuck you, Driscol.”

“No, fuck
you
. The longer Sera is out

here, the more she’s in danger. Try

focusing on that.” Bowen ran a rough

hand

through

his

hair.

“They’re

suspicious. She’s good at what she does,

but it’s not enough. Not here.”

“You can’t keep her safe?”

“No one. Is going. To touch her,”

Bowen whispered furiously. “As long as

I’m breathing,
nothing
happens to her.”

“So it’s true. She’s staying with you.”

Bowen dropped his head forward on a

disgusted laugh. He’d been played. The

realization tasted bitter in his mouth.

“You could have just asked. You didn’t

need to piss me off in order to find out

what you needed to know.”

“Even

us

whiny

cops

need

entertainment.” Troy sighed wearily.

“You weren’t going to tell us. Why is

that?”

“You’re the detective. Figure it out.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, a

wave of self-loathing battered him, but it

was too late to take them back. “Your

only rule was she doesn’t find out I’m

working with you. I haven’t broken it.

You didn’t say I couldn’t enjoy myself

while I sell out.”

He could practically see Troy shaking

his head. “Jesus, Bowen. I don’t know

why, but I expected better from you.”

“Your mistake.” He felt a fierce

sudden need to have eyes on Sera. To

hold her and apologize for what he’d

just implied. For blackening her good

name by connecting it to his own.

“Listen, we agreed I would do this my

way. The safest place she can be is with

me. Are we done here?”

“For now.”

“Fucking swell.”

Bowen

hung

up

on

Troy’s

disappointment, refusing to examine why

it actually bothered him. Since when did

he give a shit what that asshole thought

about him?

He started to reach for another

cigarette,

but

changed

his

mind.

Compelled by the craving to see Sera

and reassure himself she was okay, he

jogged toward the building. Before he

jerked the door open, something caught

his eye—or some
one
, rather. A block

away, a man sat watching him from a

parked car.

Dread settled in his gut. He started

toward the car, but it pulled away from

the curb. Very slowly, he reached behind

his back and molded a hand around the

butt of his gun. A moment later, the car

passed and he got a glimpse of the driver

inside. A driver who was looking right

at him, expression inscrutable.

Connor.

CHAPTER TWELVE

When Bowen walked through the front

door of the apartment, instead of exiting

his bedroom as expected, Sera’s

heartbeat skidded to a halt. She sat in the

windowsill, a bowl of Cheerios in one

hand, spoon in the other. Oh, God, what

if he’d seen her? She braced herself for

questions, brain scrambling for a

believable cover story that would

explain why she’d broken into his car.

He tugged on the collar of his leather

bomber jacket, restless energy radiating

from every inch of him. “You want to get

out of here, Ladybug?”

“What?”

“Come on.” His fingers harassed his

hair. “We’ve been stuck in here since

last night.”

She let him take the bowl of Cheerios

from her hand. “Where were you?”

“Picking up smokes.”

“Okay.” The stores were still closed,

though. She’d only been back ten

minutes. They couldn’t have opened that

quickly. How could she have missed him

leaving the apartment? “Let me get

dressed.” Something was wrong. She

couldn’t put a name to the look in his

eyes. Anxiousness. Forced casualness.

“Where are you going?” she asked as

he followed on her heels.

“With you.” He smiled, but it was

strained. “Let me pick something out?”

Sera watched dumbfounded as he

rummaged through the neat stack of

clothes on her side table, casting a look

at her over his shoulder as if to make

sure she was still there. Within seconds,

he returned with a green short-sleeved

sweaterdress. He shoved the garment

into her hands and reached for the hem

of her sleep shirt, tugging it up her bare

thighs.

“Bowen.” She grabbed his hands.

“
Stop
.” Their gazes connected, but she

didn’t think he saw her. “What’s wrong

with you? Did something happen?”

On a long exhale, he pressed their

foreheads together. “Sometimes I feel a

little trapped here, baby. In this place.

Does that ever happen to you? Have you

ever felt trapped?”

She thought of her years at boarding

school, being kept at a safe distance

while working in Boston, even living

above Rush for two weeks in that tiny

room. “Yes, I have.”

His jaw tightened, gray eyes snapping.

“Now I wish I hadn’t asked.”

“I don’t feel trapped now,” she said,

realizing she meant it. Not here, not with

him. She stepped back and pulled the T-

shirt over her head, leaving her standing

before him in a bra and panties. His

nostrils

flared,

muscular

chest

shuddering once. When his hands flexed

at his sides, she thought he would touch

her. She mentally begged him to, begged

him to seek comfort in her. Instead, he

dragged the dress over her head and

fixed it over her curves in a series of

jerky moves.

“Shoes?” He snatched up the ankle

boots at the foot of the bed. She was

forced to grab his shoulders for support

as he placed them on her feet, one at a

time. Task complete, he straightened and

jerked his chin at her. “Before you insist

on doing some girlie nonsense to your

hair, it looks great. Let’s go.”

Bowen took her hand and pulled her

from the room, barely giving her enough

time to collect her purse off the counter.

Here she went again. “Not until you tell

me where we’re going.”

He paused at the door, facing her

slowly. “Do you trust me, Sera?”

His entire world seemed ready to

crash and burn if she gave the wrong

answer. That responsibility scared her.

If he placed this much importance on

trust,
her
trust, what would happen when

he inevitably found out her full identity

as a police officer? What would happen

when they had to go their separate ways?

Her throat started to close up, but she

managed a nod. “Yes.”

Tension left his shoulders gradually.

“Try not to think about it so hard next

time.”

“Try not to ask questions that require

thought before I’ve had any coffee.”

He draped an arm around her

shoulders, holding her close as he

locked the apartment. “Fair enough. You

like the beach?”

“
Yes
. I love it.” They walked side by

side down the hall. “Is the beach kind of

an escape for you, from being trapped?”

“Sometimes.” Bowen shrugged, the

edginess returning. “Today it’s just a

backdrop, though. You’re the escape,

sweetheart.”

His words knocked the wind right out

of her. The way he’d murmured it,

almost as an afterthought, made it more

meaningful. It proved it hadn’t been a

line or a joke. Just pure, honest Bowen.

Not just the Bowen she wanted to save.

The Bowen she…wanted. Period. Oh,

God, she’d fallen for him. The word

“fallen” didn’t suit how she felt, though.

“Fallen” implied that she’d already

landed, when her entire being still

soared, gravitating toward him. Solid

ground wasn’t even in her sight line. The

practical part of her screamed bad news,

but her heart only sped faster. After her

investigation ended, could she walk

away from him? Even thinking the words

made her entire body rebel, hurting head

to toe.

Bowen sent her a tentative smile as

they reached the bottom of the staircase.

He squeezed her to his side so tightly,

she could barely breathe. His eyes

scanned the street as he hustled her to his

car parked at the curb and opened the

passenger-side door. The second she

settled into the seat, he slammed the

door closed behind her.

Obviously something had happened

between last night and this morning that

had him worried. He said he’d left the

apartment to buy cigarettes. Had he run

into trouble instead?

They drove along the parkway with

the windows down, crisp morning air

tunneling through the car in a wash of

white noise. It wasn’t exactly beach

weather, but she knew they weren’t

going for the usual reasons. Would he

tell her if she asked?

Who is the man I’m free-falling for?

The man who’d been so genuine with the

offer to kill someone for her? Or the man

who painted a halo over her head?

Bowen parked the car and they

walked to a diner, ordering food to go.

They took their wrapped breakfast

sandwiches and ate them on the

boardwalk, looking out over the

Atlantic. Seagulls called to one another;

people passed behind them speaking

mostly in Russian as the ocean crashed

in soothing intervals. It occurred to Sera

she’d seen and experienced more with

Bowen in the last four days than she had

in years. She didn’t know whether to be

grateful or depressed by the thought.

“You’re thinking too hard again.”

Sera held up her paper cup of coffee

in response.

He chuckled from his position on the