by Tessa Bailey
Last night, she’d gone down to Hogan’s office seeking answers, but today she only had more questions. Bowen’s easy acceptance of her cover story still made no sense. Unless, of course, her first theory still proved true. Knowing they would dispose of her once Hogan returned meant it didn’t matter what she knew. It would follow her to the bottom of the East River or wherever they planned to dump her. But she couldn’t reconcile that outcome with the Bowen she’d spent even a short amount of time with. He wasn’t a callous man, at least when it came to her. On the contrary. She thought back to the tender kiss he’d given her after their encounter on the steps. The penetrating way he’d looked at her. Could he spend a week with her, then hand her over to Hogan? Just the idea of it hurt.
Not good, Sera.
Even more baffling than Bowen’s behavior? Connor had assisted them last night. Yes, they’d formed a fledgling friendship while she’d been attending his injury, but he was related to Hogan. Why would he help them?
She pushed her hair out of her face and sat up in bed. When she swung her legs over the side, something caught her eye. Just above her pillow, a white oval had been painted. No, not an oval. A halo. She couldn’t remember if it had been there yesterday and she just hadn’t noticed. How could she have missed it? After a final curious glance, she left the room and went to shower.
Twenty minutes later, she’d showered and changed into leggings, an oversize button-down shirt, and ballet flats. She sat on the windowsill staring out toward Manhattan, piling her hair into a bun, when Bowen walked out of his bedroom, wearing nothing but a pair of partially unbuttoned jeans. Immediately, she noticed his body had been marked in several places. Fresh bruises, faded scars, all layered over rough-cut muscle. Powerful. After she managed to drag her gaze away from his distracting physique, she registered immediately how exhausted he looked. Stubble darker than his hair covered his jaw; dark circles formed half moons under his eyes, telling her he hadn’t slept well. Even after the pep talk she’d just given herself about holding herself back from him, lest she forget why she came, Sera wanted to go to him. Run her fingers through his hair…and see if her touch could get him to sleep.
Whoa, don’t get too racy with the fantasies, Saint Sera.
She ignored the sarcastic voice in her head and waved. “Morning.”
He walked toward her as if compelled, not stopping until he stood so close, she couldn’t inhale without taking in the masculine scent emanating from his skin. The way he looked at her would have been unnerving if she hadn’t already witnessed his intense nature. He scanned her from head to toe, as if to reassure himself she was in one piece. It made her want to laugh and cry at the same time, but she had no idea why.
“Hey,” he said softly. “How’d you sleep?”
She answered honestly. “I dreamed I was scuba diving.”
His quick laugh seemed to surprise him. “Oh yeah? How’d that go?”
“Not good. They dropped me into the water and tossed instructions at me. Only, the instructions dissolved the minute they touched the water. I tried to tell them I didn’t know how to scuba dive, but my words came out sounding like Charlie Brown’s teacher.”
He shook his head at her. “What did you eat before bed?”
“Cheerios.”
“That explains it.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Cheerios made you think of life preservers. Life preservers made you think of the ocean.”
“You’re good at this.” She tilted her head. “How do you explain the Charlie Brown voice?”
“Oh, that just means you’re weird.” They shared a laugh, the sound intimate in the stillness of the morning. “What were you thinking about when I walked out here?”
The gruff quality of his voice made her shiver. Knowing she couldn’t tell him the whole truth, she went with an adjusted version. “I was thinking I haven’t been anywhere in the last two weeks. Apart from here and the club.” She glanced back out the window. “I’m officially an indoor kid.”
He ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. “Well then, we need to get you out of here, baby.”
Oh, God, until he’d agreed, she hadn’t realized how badly she needed to get some air. Bowen’s apartment was a million miles from her tiny room above Rush, but the possibility of getting outside and stretching her legs sounded like heaven. She stood, smiling so big it hurt. “Really?”
For a moment, he just stared at her, before visibly shaking himself. Stepping away from her, he reached into his back pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one. “Let me grab a shower. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, Ladybug.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Anywhere?”
Cigarette clamped between his teeth, he nodded, but his eyes grew suspicious. “Why? Where are you thinking?”
Sera breezed past him and took a jug of milk out of the fridge. “Church.”
Later. She’d get back on track with how to proceed later.
This isn’t happening.
As Bowen walked down the sidewalk of his familiar neighborhood, Sera’s hand warm inside his, he tried to remember the last time he’d been to church. Had he ever been to church? Once in middle school, he might have sneaked into the rectory and stolen wine. Did that count? He tried to picture what the inside of Saint Anthony’s looked like, but could only remember the abandoned lot behind it, where he’d once watched his father end another man’s life for shorting him by fifty bucks on payback of a loan.
Learning from his father had been his sick version of church. Sure, he’d listened to sermons, but they’d been about instilling fear and brooking no disrespect. Running numbers, inflicting pain, evading the police. His bible had been a notebook filled with debts, passed down when his father got pinched.
How could he walk into a church, holding this girl’s hand? He’d be an imposter, a hypocrite. And hell, that was if he didn’t burst into flames first. Why had he agreed to take her?
He knew the answer to that. She’d looked like a bright, beautiful mirage sitting on his windowsill when he’d woken up this morning after a mere hour of sleep. An antidote to the grisly images tattooed on the back of his eyelids. Images he added to every day, with situations like last night. Situations that left blood on his knuckles and another piece of him lying discarded in the gutter. One look at her, though, and he forgot everything, at least momentarily. She’d opened her mouth and said church. Yes had been his only possible answer, because she wanted it.
Make her happy. Keep her safe. The mantra had played on a loop in his head last night, keeping him awake as he painted every free inch of space in his room, until he’d run out of wall space. Before he knew it, he’d been standing at the foot of her bed. He’d fed himself the excuse that he just wanted to make sure she hadn’t tried to sneak out, maybe head back to Rush for another shot at stealing the ledger. But minutes had passed and he’d still stood there, heart thudding in his chest as he stared down at her peaceful form. What would goodness and purity feel like wrapped around him nightly? He’d had to put a stranglehold on the need to crawl into the bed with her and try to absorb it. The fear it might have the reverse effect had stopped him.
What if he dirtied her instead?
God, he’d come close on that stairwell. So damn close. Tackling her on the stairs, his head had been fucked up. She’d just looked at him and seen her death. He’d known it. That certainty had been the equivalent of a shotgun blast to his chest. Minutes later, the reassurance in her eyes had been like a balm over the blast wound. He’d gotten lost in her, his need for her… He didn’t know how long he could go without touching her again.
Church was certainly a good start.
Thankfully, when they reached the steps leading to Saint Anthony’s, everyone had already gone inside. Everyone in Bensonhurst knew him, or at least knew of him, and would wonder what the hell he was doing there. He didn’t care about the scrutiny on himself. He’d grown used to it. But he didn’t want anyone making Sera uncomfortable. Not today, whe
n it felt so goddamn perfect walking down the street, holding her hand. Since he didn’t know if he’d ever get the chance again, he needed to savor it.
When they walked into the church, Bowen swore he could hear a record scratching. The priest actually paused in his opening welcome. One by one, every head in the church turned to face him, a few mouths even dropping open at the sight of him. Obviously sensing his discomfort, Sera pulled him into the very last row, a resolute smile on her face. After a beat, the priest resumed his welcome, before opening the Bible on the altar and beginning a reading.
“I guess you don’t get to church much,” she whispered. “They seem surprised to see you.”
So, that’s how she was going to play it. As if she wasn’t aware of the real reason they looked horrified to have him in their sacred midst. “It’s not my fault. They keep turning down my application to be an altar boy.”
Her lips pressed together, laughter in her eyes. “You’re not missing anything. The robes are itchy and all that kneeling is murder on your knees.”
His dropped his head forward. “Don’t tell me you were an altar—”
“Person. We prefer altar person.”
“Unbelievable.” He couldn’t stop himself from pulling her more securely against his side. For the first time since he could remember, he felt comfortable. At ease. Even knowing she was only staying with him long enough to get the goods on Hogan didn’t matter. He let himself trust the gut feeling that she felt something, too. He chuckled when he noticed a woman in the second row craning her neck to get a look at him. “You see that lady in the green jacket…the one with white hair?”
Sera nodded. “The gawker?”
“Like recognizes like.” He just barely blocked her elbow from connecting with his stomach. “That’s Mrs. Cormac, my fifth-grade teacher.”
“No way.”
“Oh, way.” He began massaging her palm with his thumb. “There’s a reason she doesn’t look happy to see me. I once put a live chicken in her desk.”
She slapped a hand over her mouth, but not quickly enough. Her clear, tinkling laugh sailed past her lips, drawing everyone’s attention. None of them looked remotely happy about the interruption. While Sera hid behind the yellow program they’d picked up on the way in, all Bowen could do was shrug and give them all his most apologetic smile, teeth and everything. Apparently his apologetic smile was a little rusty, though, because it only seemed to piss them off more.
“She’s just so happy to be here,” he called, making Sera bend at the waist to hide her face between her knees. “Please, continue.”
They managed to make it through the rest of the Mass without any more outbursts. Bowen found himself enjoying the hour-long service. Not that he listened to a word the priest said, but sitting there in the daylight, his arm draped across a smiling Sera’s shoulders, he let himself imagine doing it every Sunday. Having that certainty, that routine. Knowing she would be there to sit with him, letting him hold her. Going home with him afterward without question, because it was her home, too. Not just a guest anymore. In his apartment or his life. Permanent.
Could he bring her into his world—to stay? If a miracle happened and she stuck around after the dust settled, could he rest a single second? Sera would be his vulnerability. A way to get to him. Not safe. Never safe. No, he’d have to change for her. Change into what, though? He didn’t know how to be anyone else. Sera rested her head on his shoulder and his throat went tight. He could learn. He could learn to be someone else, do something else, if it meant keeping her. He’d do anything.
After it ended, they walked back to his apartment, only stopping to pick up bagels and coffee. He had business to deal with, but it could wait until tomorrow. Sera didn’t have to work tonight and although spending the remainder of the day with her alone in his apartment would be an incredible test of his will, not spending time with her sounded much worse.
As they climbed the stairs leading to his apartment, she squeezed his hand, drawing his attention. “Bowen?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you paint a halo over my head last night?”
He sighed. “Yeah.”
When he tried to keep walking, she pulled him to a stop just before they reached his door. She started to say something, but surprised him by going up on her tiptoes and kissing him instead. It started as a peck. But when he curled a hand around her wrist and felt her pulse racing out of control, his good intentions deserted him. Fisting her shirt, he tugged her close and let his tongue explore her perfect texture, slow and deep. A little whimper jumped from her mouth into his, making him hungry to hear it again. Louder. God, her tempting body was rubbing against his, lighting him up like a pinball machine.
He needed to let her breathe, but wasn’t willing to let her go, so he released her mouth in favor of sucking at her neck. Her skin smelled like his soap and fuck, he loved that. It made his cock swell in his pants, the realization the same object had touched both of their bodies. He wanted her walking around smelling like him all the time. Not just his soap. Him. All of him.
Sera’s fingers tugged at his hair, the hard points of her nipples visible against the material of her shirt. “Why did you take me to church just to turn me right back into a sinner?” He bent her back over his arm so he could rake his teeth over her covered nipple. “You could take me to Mass every day for the rest of my life and I’d still be the kind of guy who would finger you in the back row.”
“Bowen, take me inside. I want…”
He drew her upright and pressed their foreheads together, unable to resist the urge to bite and drag her plump bottom lip forward. “What do you want, Sera? I told you, no fucking.”
“What we did last night.” She closed her eyes and he immediately missed them. “Can we do that again?”
Just like earlier when she asked him to take her to church, he only had the ability to say yes. He suspected that would be the case no matter what she asked. Bowen, scale the Empire State Building. Bowen, take me to Mars. Bowen, make me come. Yes, yes, yes.
“Come here, sweetheart.” He trailed his hands down her back to grasp the taut cheeks of her ass. With no more encouragement than that, she twined her legs around his waist, trailing kisses on his face as he walked them to the apartment door. Before he could open it, however, the door swung wide.
Terror unlike he’d ever known whipped through him. Fast as he could, he whirled, putting himself between Sera and the unknown intruder. He expected to feel the sting of a bullet any moment, but he didn’t care about the pain. Once he was incapacitated, he couldn’t help Sera. She’d be alone. In one swift motion, he set Sera on her feet, drew the gun from his jeans waistband, and pointed it…at Ruby?
His sister.
Chapter Nine
Like any smart girl who’d grown up in this section of Brooklyn, Ruby’s knees hit the floor and she raised her arms over her head. “Jesus, Bowen. Put the gun down.”
It took him a moment to process that there wasn’t a threat to Sera. The gun shook slightly as he lowered it to his side. When a sense of calm and relief pervaded him, he realized it was because Sera stood behind him, rubbing circles into his back. Her fingers slipped into his hair, bringing his heart rate back down to normal, forcing breath into his lungs.
“How did you get in?” Ruby raised an eyebrow at him and he shook his head. “Never mind.” A stupid question, when he’d been the one to teach her how to pick a lock. His half sister had been raised from a young age to make money illegally, just like him. But her weapon of choice had been a pool stick. For years, they’d been sent by his father to bilk unsuspecting marks out of money. When they inevitably wanted their pound of flesh, not to mention their money back, Bowen had stepped in and made them regret it.
“Here’s a better question.” She gained her feet, gaze still focused on his weapon. “When did you start carrying a gun?”
“You think we could have this discussion inside?” he snapped. “Or has dating a cop taken away your c
ommon sense?”
“Don’t be like that.” She jerked her chin toward Sera. “Are you going to introduce me?”
Apparently his possessiveness of Sera included his sister, because he didn’t want to share her with anyone. “This is Sera. We met at church.”
“Bullshit.”
“Look, I’ll be right in,” he said impatiently. After casting a final curious glance in his direction, Ruby sauntered back into the apartment. He took a deep breath and turned to face Sera. The touch of hurt in her brown eyes brought him up short, until he remembered what he’d just said. Or has dating a cop taken away your common sense. Beautiful. And he couldn’t even apologize for the comment because he wasn’t supposed to know she was a cop. God, in that moment, he wished he could scoop her up into his arms and get the hell away from this place. Take her somewhere where it didn’t matter who they were and no threats to her safety existed. Instead, he smoothed a thumb over her lips still swollen from kissing him. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” She stooped down and picked the white paper bag full of bagels off the floor. “Who is she?”
Was that jealousy he heard in her voice? She’d hid it well, but hadn’t been able to completely cover it up. One thing he knew for certain. He craved that jealousy. It didn’t come close to matching his own where she was concerned, but it meant something to him. It gave him hope that her goal with him stemmed from more than bringing down Hogan. “She’s my half sister, Ruby. Different fathers.”
“Oh.”