by Kasey Lane
Prison didn’t equal stability and getting his life back together.
Bowen wrapped his hand around her thin, athletic arm, wondering if maybe she hadn’t been joking about being practicing Krav Maga. She was tiny and slim, but she was toned. “I’m not trying to get all up in your business, I’m—”
“You’re not?” she sneered, her voice low and almost feral. “Because that’s exactly what it sounds like.”
He sighed and stood, running his fingers through his hair before he paced across the room and back. “I have a record. When I was arrested the time before last I was given one more chance. Rehab was the end of the line for me, Gabby. Next stop is jail or possibly prison.”
She didn’t say anything, but she stood with her arms crossed against her chest, waiting for him to continue.
“I can’t get into any legal trouble. I can’t be found associating with known alcoholics or addicts. And I can’t be around anyone with a felony conviction on their record.”
Her arms dropped and her shoulders slumped, reminding him of a four-day balloon losing its air. She looked down at her bare feet, blue toenails shiny and chipped, before glancing back up at him.
“The McNeils were the last foster family I lived with. It didn’t end well,” she said with a pinched expression. That short confession hadn’t come easily for Gabby.
But that could mean anything. “How bad was it?”
Her eyes turned watery before she blinked rapidly and her expression steeled and her eyes cleared. “Bad,” she whispered. She glanced around the room as if suddenly coming to. “I need to get out of here. You’ve been really kind, Bowen. I mean it. Thank you for everything, but I can’t be responsible for screwing up your life.” She started for the bedroom again.
Dammit. Enough of this bullshit with this woman. “Gabby,” he shouted. “Stop! Stop running from me.” She froze and he walked up behind her, setting his hands on her shoulders. Despite the platonic nature of the action it sent sparks up his arms. This woman did something to him. Something foreign and unique. He wasn’t ready for her to leave yet. “Tell me about McNeil.”
She turned, but he kept his hands on her shoulders, and she looked up at him with those deep green eyes. She bewitched him. That’s what it was, this magnetic power she held over him. She’d cast some kind of spell on him. And he was going to go with it for now. Ride this weird wave even if it led to an epic wipeout.
“Tell me,” he insisted again.
Her laser gaze drilled into him, like she was trying to decide whether or not to let him in any more than he already was, probably further than she let anyone else into her secretive world. Her lips formed a grim line and she nodded.
“Owen McNeil is a predator. He used to stand outside my room and watch me while I pretended to sleep. Most of the time he’d just stand in the doorway drinking his beer before he’d stumble off or his wife, Tammy, would call him for something.”
Bowen longed to direct her over to the couch and hold her. Tightly. But he was afraid she would stop talking and close back down. Instead, he pulled her into his arms, softly against his chest with one hand around her upper back and the other on the back of her head. Thankfully, she didn’t resist.
“Most of the time?” he prompted softly.
She nodded against his chest. “One night I fell asleep before he showed up. I woke up to him on top of me. I started screaming, but he slapped his hand over my mouth. I was prepared though. Knew he’d try something one night. I bashed him over the head with my grandma’s angel that I kept on the side table.”
Her grandma’s angel. Had the shards she’d been holding when he’d found her in her bedroom the night before been her grandma’s? Oh, Gabby. His heart hurt for her at the same time that hot rage burned through his veins at the man who had been entrusted to care for a damaged and lonely girl only to betray her in the most crucial way.
“So, needless to say, I didn’t stay there long. After that I went to a group home until I aged out of the system. The end.” She attempted to pull away from him, but he kept his arms tight around her.
“Did he…why is he…”
“No, he didn’t. And I don’t know. But, like I said, it didn’t end well. The family turned it around, blamed me…filed charges. The charges were dropped eventually, but the arrest is still on my record. I don’t want to get you in trouble so I’m going to find someplace else to stay.”
No fucking way. Her story solidified his resolve to protect her. He was probably acting the fool—wouldn’t be the first time—but he felt a personal responsibility for her. The thought of someone else watching out for her or her being on her own made a sick, queasy feeling roll in his gut.
“No. You’ll stay with me.”
She sighed. “I won’t be responsible for sending you to prison, Bowen. You may be okay with that, but I’m not.”
“You weren’t prosecuted and you’re an adult now. It doesn’t have anything to do with me.”
“He might be after me. He fucked up my apartment. Bowen…”
She was so damn stubborn, this woman. He was done discussing it, done with this conversation. For now. So he did the one thing he shouldn’t, the one thing he knew would stop her from protesting.
He kissed her. He kissed her like the world was on fucking fire and this would be their last kiss ever.
Chapter Seven
Nothing in Gabby’s brain worked correctly with Bowen’s surprisingly soft lips on hers and his tongue languidly lulling her into submission. Everything was upside down and inside out, much like her insides. And when his huge hand threaded through her hair and gripped the back of her head she knew without a doubt she was wet, slick with desire for this big, bossy, broken man. As one hand crept up underneath her T-shirt and spread wide across her flat stomach, she sucked in air on a gasp. Shock flooded her system and instead of numbing everything, it brought it all into sharp—too sharp—focus. She was a live wire, snapping and crackling from his tongue and his hands.
She wanted him. The realization was like a sucker punch to the side. Brutal and without warning.
She wanted him and she’d never wanted another man. Not like this.
Overwhelmed by need and just a little afraid at the control he yanked from her, she pulled back, trying to hide her panting breaths and frantic heartbeat.
“You can’t just kiss me every time you don’t get your way, pretty boy.” She hated how breathless she sounded.
When he dropped his hands from her body, she shivered involuntarily, cold where his warm body had pressed against her.
“No?” He cocked his dark brows over his steely gray eyes and that sexy, but infuriating half smirk was back. “Seems pretty effective to me.”
Heat infused her cheeks. “I’m not some skanky groupie you can manipulate at will, you know. I need to pack and get the fuck out of here. I have shit to do.”
“As do I. So, we’ll do our shit together. Before you get all pissy, just hear me out.”
“I don’t get pissy.” She held up her hand in protest and he engulfed it in his big, calloused mitt, sending more electrical tingles up her arms and straight to her nipples.
“Sure whatever, chica. Look, I have two appointments later this afternoon and then practice. I can help you handle all your stuff and then you can hang out with me. I know you’re not going to work today.”
“Just because I’m not going into the office to work, doesn’t mean I don’t have work to do. I actually do need to pick up a new laptop and talk to my boss. Then I need to go to the police station, buy some stupid clothes, find a place to live…” Her voice got higher and louder as her list got longer. She couldn’t help it. The situation was overwhelming. Just like always, strange how easily she clicked back into survival mode. Luckily, she was used to functioning this way. She had minimal requirements. Shelter. Clothing. Computer. Food. Not necessarily in that order.
“I have transportation, money, a home, and food. Not to mention the time to help. Face it, bab
e, you’re stuck with me.”
She ground her teeth so hard her jaw hurt. She should call Ella or Jami. They’d let her stay with them. Except Ella had twin girls and an asshole for an ex so her plate was already full without Gabby adding to it. And Jami was madly in love with Jax, and was busy with him and her new job as the co-director of Quirk.
Besides did she really want to share this whole story again with someone else? Already she felt exposed and vulnerable with Bowen knowing some of her past. But she really didn’t want to get him into trouble. Her being here in his apartment could mean some very dire consequences, especially if her mom showed up—and she always did at some point—or McNeil, if that was who was messing with her, decided to ramp up his attention. And it would be all her fault.
“We’ll take it day by day and deal with whatever trouble comes our way,” Bowen said sounding so annoyingly calm.
Until she found another way, she might be stuck here. Maybe she’d talk to her boss and see if she could get a loan from work to get another apartment. Maybe she could stay with Bowen for a day or two, keep him out of trouble and then move on her merry way without fucking up his life for good. If her mess of a mother showed up—and she eventually would—and Bowen’s parole officer found out, then everything could really go south. Faster than Alma Alvarez could down a shot of cheap whiskey.
“Day by day?”
He nodded, an expectant, almost childlike look on his face. “Promise.”
“Fine.”
He laughed and those fucking dimples turned his handsome face into that of a rock god with the dark scruff on his chin and his shaggy black hair falling into his eyes. He clapped his hands together, his tattoos flashing colors in a blur.
“Fine.” A smug grin appeared on his face before it quickly disappeared. “Now that we’ve had a bite to eat, I’m thinking clothes and girly bathroom junk might be on the agenda.”
Suppressing a laugh with a fake cough and then taking a sip of coffee, she was once again pleased that he splurged on the good stuff—like she did. Good coffee was the nectar of the gods, the silver lining in a thunderstorm, and Santa Claus all rolled up into one steamy cup of awesome. “Girly bathroom stuff? What are you twelve?” she quipped.
“Basically. You’ve hung out with the group for a while now. Haven’t you noticed the general maturity level is basically tween boy especially around pretty girls like you?”
This time she let herself laugh. Even if he was already well aware of how mind-numbingly good-looking he was, there was no denying it. And when he smiled, he was so cute it was almost painful. And he was kind of funny. So she laughed, but she did it while glancing out onto the patio. She could really use his help. Of course she wouldn’t admit that, but right now she didn’t have any other resources. She wouldn’t stay long.
“Yes. I’ve noticed. Even your sister.”
“Yep. She used to be the worst.” He took her plate and empty cup and set them in the sink. “You can use the shower and my shampoo and stuff if you want. There’s a clean towel on the counter,” he said as she closed the door to the bathroom.
Taking a deep breath, she sank down against the Formica counter and closed her eyes for a minute. Why the hell did he keep kissing her, especially when he kept pulling back with a horrified look every time? Well, almost every time. This time he’d flashed that heart-palpitation-inducing bad boy smirk and then called her pretty. What was that all about?
Normally Gabby could keep all these ugly, messy feelings pushed down, way down, below the surface. Over her lifetime, she’d become an expert at masking her emotions from everyone, sometimes even from herself. Bowen was screwing everything up with his sexy little half smiles and wicked dimples. She didn’t know which was worse: Tornado Bowen or the shitstorm that was raining down on her life.
Her phone dinged on the counter as she was stepping into the shower. Picking it up she saw a message from her co-worker, Roland. Good, he had a new laptop for her at the office and her files and settings imported so she could get back to her project—a software app for a local hospital network to mash schedules with geolocation and medical provider specialties. Finally, something she could control. She texted him that she’d be by that afternoon to pick it up and then jumped in the shower with a little more hope and less confusion than she’d felt moments before.
Gabby would get her life back in order today, find a new place to live where Owen McNeil couldn’t find her, and get back to blending in and moving on. And not with a recovering former party guy. It was definitely best to get out of his apartment and on with their very separate lives as quickly as possible.
*
Gabby Alvarez was funny. Bowen had never given much thought to whether or not a chick was funny or had a good personality. Not to say he didn’t have female friends because he did. Mandi, Jax’s little sister and the guitar player for Manix Curse, was a girl and a friend. He was sort of friends with Tony’s daughter, Isabel. Tony owned Tatuaggio, the shop he’d worked at since his teens. Bowen had even managed to become friends with Quinley, the shop’s new manager, and she was pretty hot with her multicolored braids and sexy tattoos.
In the past, though, it had been different. Bowen liked to fuck and he liked women. He hadn’t had to put much effort into finding women interested in the same kind of hard banging that he craved. They screwed and that was pretty much it. Both parties walked away satisfied and happy. Besides, everyone knew Bowen wasn’t relationship material. The longest relationship he’d had was right after high school. After a few months, she’d gotten tired of his bullshit and moved on, ending his one experiment in coupledom.
He wasn’t the kind of guy with a bunch of rules about not hooking up with the same chick more than once or not having women over or not dating. He just hadn’t ever been interested in much more than a one-time ride. He had his friends and his music. And until his drinking and briefly dabbling with speed had taken hold, he’d been pretty casual about his sex life. Once booze had dug its talons deep into his soul he’d been off to the races. He couldn’t drink enough or screw enough. He’d been so obsessed with chasing the high, trying to get some relief from his demons, his guilt, he ignored his friends, his band, and Kevan.
Now, though, he was beginning to feel a little more relaxed in his own skin. He wasn’t trying to outrun his past or even pretend it didn’t happen. Nope, he’d gone too far and done too much to try and manage that. Now he was just trying to get right with his family, the real one of just him and Kevan, and the one they’d created at Tatuaggio and with his band Toast and his friends’ band, Manix Curse.
He wasn’t sure what this thing with Gabby would do to his focus, his path for recovery and redemption, but he did know he couldn’t just toss her out to fend for herself. Sure she was a badass and would never ask for his help even if she was drowning in the Columbia River and he was the only person in the world with a dinghy.
But once Bowen got past all her barriers, padlocks, reserves, moats, karate chops, and steel-toed boots, her wicked intelligence and cutting wit were a big fucking turn-on. While he pretended to flip through a magazine in her office lobby, he watched her through a glass wall talking in a conference room with her boss—some trendoid hotshot with skinny jeans and a goofy silver goatee—and another programmer, he tallied all the surprising details he’d overlooked in his fist encounters with Gabby.
She was hot. Like burning surface of the sun hot.
She was smart, evil genius smart. Bowen was pretty sure he’d just barely scratched the surface of her giant brain.
She was tough as broken glass on bare feet, but she was also running from something. He wasn’t sure he wanted to mess with her past, or her chaotic present, but couldn’t quite stop himself.
And she kissed like a porn star. Not that he’d ever kissed a porn star, but he’d made out with his share of strippers, if that counted. And Gabby blew them all away.
She stood with her legs hip-width apart, far enough away to protect her personal sp
ace, but close enough to communicate without raising her voice, with her hands shoved into the pockets of her sweatshirt. The no-nonsense jeans and hoodie they’d picked up from a discount department store were nondescript and casual, but blended in easily with the apparently lax work attire of Labyrinth Software. Even the vice president Gabby was talking to wore sparkling white high top Nikes and jeans with a neat long-sleeved cotton shirt.
Other than nodding her head occasionally she didn’t move until the other dude shoved a shiny new silver MacBook into her hands. When he stepped forward and placed his hand on her elbow to steady her, Bowen couldn’t miss her flinch before she pulled back.
Bowen took that cue to jump up and poke his head through the door. He knew it wasn’t his place to interrupt. He knew she wouldn’t want his protection, but something about her tough exterior and watching her deal with her destroyed apartment with such stoicism made him want to protect her, keep more bad mojo from screwing with her life. Even if that included a handsy co-worker.
“Hey, Gab, you ready to go?” he asked with forced enthusiasm. “We need to make that appointment.”
Her head snapped toward his voice and a small twist of her lips appeared before it quickly disappeared. Just that little whisper of a smile—no, more the possibility of a whisper of a smile—and heat flared in his belly. Something about this girl really did it for him, made him want to stalk up to her and scoop her into his arms, claim her in front of her co-workers.
Completely fucking ridiculous. But he wanted to do it just the same.
“Yes, of course. Derrick,” she said and gestured from her boss to Bowen, “this is the friend I told you about. Bowen, this is my boss—Derrick Cole.” Bowen took a few steps into the conference room, noting the sparkling glass and glossy wood of the ultra-modern furniture and walls, and shook the silver-goatee dude’s hand.
“So, you’re Bowen,” he said, not really asking, with an unreadable expression. Not quite affable and not exactly unfriendly either.