by Tessa Bailey
An extended silence passed. “Busy doing what?”
“Practicing my origami.” He closed his eyes when Sera shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat, the perfect ease between them ruined. “What’s it to you?”
Wayne’s humorous chuckle reached down the phone, sounding like a warning. “I’m down at Marco’s with some of the boys. You’ve got to show your face once in a while, kid. They need a leader. When they don’t have one, they get restless and start acting on their own. You know what I’m saying?”
Bowen knew all too well what Wayne meant. The local guys who’d first been employed by his father, and now him, needed babysitting around the clock. They didn’t have jobs to keep them occupied, and spending time with their families didn’t exactly appear to be a priority. No, they weren’t the type to sit tight and wait for a call about a job. They felt the constant need to prove themselves. Bowen was ashamed to admit he might have felt that at one time in his life, when he’d been too young to know better. Not now.
He had two options. Leave Sera here and hope Connor wasn’t watching, waiting for Bowen to leave her alone so he could potentially carry out Hogan’s orders. Or he could bring her along with him to Marco’s.
Fuck, he hated either option.
Painfully aware of Wayne waiting on the line, he looked over at Sera. She gave him a steady half smile that warmed him immediately. Dammit, he couldn’t leave her alone. The entire time he was gone, he’d be going out of his mind worrying about her. Worried he might come home and find her hurt. Or worse.
No, that wouldn’t work.
“Be there in a while,” he snapped into the phone, hanging it up before Wayne could reply. Sera laid her hand on top of his and it suddenly occurred to him she would want this. If given the choice, she would want to come tonight and absorb as much as she could. About him, his associates.
“Bowen?” Her soft voice soothed him even in the midst of his chaotic thoughts. “What’s wrong?”
He stared out the windshield. “Will you go somewhere with me?”
“Is it going to be as fun as the beach?”
“No, Ladybug.”
She nodded, as if she’d already known the answer. “Yeah, I’ll go.”
They drove in silence the ten blocks to Marco’s and he parked in his usual spot. Without asking her, she waited until he came around to the passenger door to help her out. Sera was smart. She had to know the kind of danger she was in. Not for the first time, he wished he hadn’t agreed to keep his involvement from her. He hated having anything between them. With a few words, he could ensure she trusted him without question. The relief that would bring was tempting as hell, especially when they were walking into the dragon’s den.
But the commissioner’s words echoed in his head. She’s got nothing to lose. No care for her own well-being. Bowen didn’t necessarily believe she’d be reckless, but the horror of Sera being in danger kept the truth sealed tight. Anything to keep her from being hurt.
He took her hand and led her into dark, boisterous Marco’s. The place had been a restaurant at one time, with a connected lounge and bar area. Residents of the neighborhood who had been patronizing the eatery since they were children had stopped coming in for dinner eventually, turned off by the rough crowd that now frequented the bar and lounge. If a night went by where a fight didn’t break out, the owners chalked it up to a full moon. At one time, before he’d even reached the legal drinking age, he’d been the instigator of most of those fights.
Several men puffed on lit cigarettes and cigars at the bar, clearly not giving a fuck about the law. Why would they when they broke more serious ones on a weekly basis? The smoke hanging in the air, the vile words being shouted, they never usually fazed him. With Sera walking beside him, holding his hand, they made him sick. These disgusting people would infect her. Hell, he would, too. Wasn’t he the reason she was here tonight in the first place?
Heads turned at their entrance; conversations quieted. The reaction he typically received, but tonight it was more out of curiosity than respect. They were looking at Sera. Not blatantly checking her out—they knew better than that. He knew what they were thinking, though. Since when does Bowen Driscol walk into Marco’s holding some girl’s hand? Since when does he begin the night with a chick, instead of his usual process of picking one to leave with?
“Bowen.” A hand slapped down on his shoulder. The gold ring winking up at him would have told him it was Wayne if the voice hadn’t tipped him off. Automatically, he jerked Sera into his side, mentally cursing when Wayne raised an eyebrow at the action. “You going to introduce me?”
Sera reached out to shake his hand. “I’m Sera.”
Bowen’s skin crawled as Wayne wrapped his hand around hers. “Not your usual type, is she, kid?”
“Is there a reason you’re talking about her like she’s not standing there?”
“I was getting to it,” Wayne returned smoothly. “Where do you come from, Sera?”
“Lancaster, Pennsylvania,” she answered casually. “Moved here a few months back.”
He appeared to weigh her answer. “Can’t say I don’t find it odd that you chose this section of Brooklyn to relocate.” His eye twitched. “But who am I to judge?”
Bowen’s jaw felt ready to shatter. “I was wondering the same thing.”
Wayne ignored him. “It’s a pleasure, young lady. Sort of feels like we already know each other. After all, I’ve held your panties in my hand.”
A blast of pure rage catapulted through Bowen’s body. Knowing every eye in the room was trained on him, he repositioned his body so only Wayne could see his face. “This is your last warning, old man. If you disrespect her again, I’ll forget all about your relationship with my father. To be honest, my memory is already pretty goddamn foggy. Watch. Yourself.”
Irritation flared in Wayne’s expression. “Feels like I’m having déjà vu. I remember when your whore mother showed up and Lenny went soft. Took years to pull his head out of his ass. By then, we had to start from fucking scratch. All over some pussy,” he spat.
It didn’t matter Bowen had a non-relationship with his mother—the insult made him livid. Worse, it had been an implied insult toward Sera. His hands curled into fists and his vision dulled with red haze. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew Wayne was provoking him on purpose, though. Why? The wild card was the only thing holding him back. No chances. He couldn’t take any chances when he had Sera with him. Instead, he concentrated on the feeling of her fingers twining with his, the way she squeezed him as if she knew what an effort it cost him not to go for Wayne’s throat.
“Did you call me down here to relive your glory days? I’m not feeling all that nostalgic.”
Wayne looked surprised over Bowen’s restraint. “No, actually. We got something to discuss. Privately.”
“Not happening tonight.”
“S’gotta be tonight.” His lips curled into a smile as he glanced at Sera. “You don’t mind. Do you, sweet thing?”
Calm down. He wants you to snap. Wants to remind you who you are, that you’ll never be normal. That you’ll never be anything but a violent temper on legs. With Sera beside him, though, he felt like more than that. He was her protector. Still, if he blew Wayne off now, it would come back to bite him in the ass. With everyone watching their every move, he couldn’t blow off business for a girl. Word would spread he’d gone soft and it would only be a matter of time before someone tried to create a new job opportunity for himself by eliminating the competition. Him.
Bowen leaned down to talk in Sera’s ear. “Can you sit at the bar for a few minutes? I won’t be long.”
She nodded, reassurance in her brown eyes. “I’ll be fine. Go ahead.”
“Great.” Wayne snorted. “Now we’ve got permission.”
Ignoring the comment, Bowen led Sera to the bar and boosted her onto a seat. The bartender came over immediately. A dirty martini. It had to be the last drink he would expect her to order, but th
at contradiction somehow made complete sense. An angel sitting at a bar full of scum, trying to blend in. God, he wanted to take her home.
“Don’t go anywhere, okay? No one will bother you if you stay put.”
She traced a circle on the bar. “Why won’t they bother me?”
Why was she asking when she already knew? Did she need to be reassured or was she asking because she wasn’t supposed to know? “They’ve seen you with me. They know what will happen if I come back and someone has made the mistake of talking to you.”
“Just someone talking to me would bother you?”
“Sera, I’m wishing they were all fucking blind right now.” Underneath the bar, he laid a hand on her bare knee. “If I didn’t think seeing the sexy way you kiss would interest them more, I would take your mouth right now. I’d fuck it with mine, to remind them who you’re with.” He grazed her ear with his stubbled cheek. “But once they see the way that mouth moves, I’ll have to fight them off, won’t I, baby?”
He watched the pulse flutter at her neck. “No fighting, please. Not for me.”
Bowen pulled back to study her adamant expression. She didn’t like the idea of him fighting, looked distinctly upset about the possibility. “If I did fight for you, it would be the first time I’d ever used my fists for something worthwhile.”
Guilt shone briefly in her eyes.
“I’ll be right back.” He gave a warning look to every male within spitting distance. “Be good.”
Chapter Fifteen
Sera took a sip of her martini and tried not to gag. It tasted exactly as the name implied. Dirty, like it had gone past its expiration date or been left in the sun too long. Aware of the attention being paid to her, she didn’t so much as flinch as the liquid burned down her throat. God, she’d kill for a Snapple to rid herself of the taste.
She noticed a group of men sending her covert glances. They looked drunk and bored, a dangerous combination. In fact, she had a suspicion they were nominating someone to come talk to her. She didn’t want to see how that would go over when Bowen came back.
It would be foolish of her not to believe he’d meant every word. His jealousy, his possessive attitude concerning her, only grew by the hour. And in turn, so did her desire for it to keep growing, which didn’t make any sense when the thought of him fighting bothered her immensely. When Bowen kissed her, when he talked to her as if it were them versus the world, she wanted it to be true. The more time she spent with him only made her confidence grow that he was the man she’d never known enough to hope for. He didn’t belong in this world. He was a victim of his circumstances.
Could she save him as she’d resolved to do, or was she a victim of her circumstances, same as him? Were they doomed to part ways as enemies once this ended?
Today had been incredible. Possibly even the best day of her life. When they’d just been two people without deadlines or agendas coloring the air around them, she’d been Sera with him, not a nurse, or a cop, or a grieving sister. Just herself. After the strictness of boarding school and not knowing how to connect with her uncle on the odd occasion she saw him, being herself had been impossible. She didn’t know who she was. How ironic that while pretending to be someone else, she finally felt comfortable in her own skin.
“Buy you your next drink?”
The words were slurred to her right, issued from the apparent nominee of Drunk and Bored Central. She smiled politely and shook her head, already having learned while waitressing that reasoning with a drunk man usually meant a convoluted or inappropriate response.
“Bowen and I are friends. He won’t mind.”
“If that were true, I think you know he would.”
“You talk pretty.”
Berating herself for opening her mouth, she scanned the bar for Bowen, but hadn’t seen him since he disappeared into the back room a few minutes ago. A group of young women standing outside the ladies’ room caught her eye, though. The last thing she wanted was Bowen to come back and find this guy talking to her, and the nearby ladies’ room looked safe and close enough.
She slid off her stool. “Excuse me.”
Trying to blend into the wall, she got in line behind the group of women, her eyes immediately tearing up as their abundance of flowery perfume hit her. They sent her a few furtive looks, then lowered their voices and huddled closer. Fortunately, they appeared to have knocked back a few drinks, much like everyone else in Marco’s. Their voices weren’t half as quiet as they seemed to think.
Walks in here like she’s the first lady of the United States or something.
Maybe, but he won’t be the president for long.
Thinks he’s better than everyone…we’ll see who’s better real soon.
He’s gone soft. Now there’s something I never thought I’d say that about Bowen Driscol.
My Nicky says after that score on the ninth, everything is going to change.
Denial thundered through Sera as she absorbed their snidely whispered words, the implications of them. The ninth…the ninth. She’d overheard that same date mentioned in the hallway above Rush when Hogan was still in town. Combined with the women’s conversation, it could only mean one thing. Bowen and his crew were involved in whatever Hogan had planned for May ninth. It connected the dots, finally answering the question as to why Bowen and Hogan were associating. But now a bigger, horrifying picture came into sharp focus.
They planned to take Bowen out.
The shaking started in her knees and moved up, higher until she trembled against the wall. Paralyzed, her heart seized in her chest at the image of a vibrant Bowen lying lifeless on the sidewalk. The trained fighting hands that painted murals and brought her body to life, never to be used again. Until hearing his life was in jeopardy, she hadn’t known exactly how deep she’d let herself sink.
No, she couldn’t let it happen. She hadn’t been able to save her brother, but she could do something about this.
A sparkly pink cell phone twinkled at her from inside one of women’s purses. She murmured a quick prayer and asked forgiveness for stealing. Possibly coveting, too. Then she snatched the phone out of the purse. While they were engrossed in a conversation that had turned to which bar they would head to next, Sera slipped away. Even as she made sure to maintain a casual air while walking through the packed bar, she knew Bowen would be back any minute and she needed to be quick. She didn’t even want to envision what he would do if he came back and found her gone, although since every eye in the place was watching her leave, he’d have no trouble locating her. Hopefully they would assume she was popping out for a cigarette, instead of making the phone call that would save Bowen’s life. A phone call that could very well put the kibosh on her investigation.
Thankfully she found the sidewalk outside Marco’s empty. It wouldn’t stay that way for long, though, so she needed to get her nerves under control. The jig would be up once she placed the call. Her uncle would know what, exactly, she’d done without his permission. Would attempt to convince her it was an overzealous crusade, possibly even try to bring her out against her will.
Didn’t matter. Bowen’s life was at stake. Her choice was clear. Sera centered herself with a deep inhale and dialed her uncle’s desk line at the precinct. On a weeknight, he would be working late, probably getting ready to order Chinese takeout for anyone working overtime.
True to form, he answered on the first ring. “Newsom.”
The phone felt heavy in her hand. “Uncle. It’s me.”
Silence. “Seraphina. What the hell is going on?”
Something in his tone felt off, but she didn’t have time to mull it over. “I don’t have a lot of time, so try to keep the lecturing to a minimum.” When she tossed a look at the entrance to Marco’s, a car idling at the curb caught her eye. She squinted to make out the driver, surprised to find Connor watching her. Her hand went up automatically in greeting, but he didn’t return it. An uncomfortable feeling spread in her midsection when he pulled away and turned
the corner at the end of the block without so much as acknowledging her.
“Sera.” Her uncle’s impatient voice brought her back to the present. “You take last-minute personal vacation time the week before Colin’s birthday and don’t even check in? Where are you? I demand a goddamn answer.”
“I didn’t plan this around Colin’s birthday, but…” She closed her eyes. “It’s fitting because I’m undercover with Hogan.” The line crackled with static, but her uncle said nothing. No shouting, like she’d expected. “The ledger. I’ve seen him with it. We know he’s good for my brother’s—your nephew’s—murder.” A touch of hysteria changed her pitch. “So I’m here to get what we need. Everyone else seems to have forgotten what he did. Not me. Not—”
“Seraphina.” His voice was cold. “Do you have any idea how reckless you’re being?”
She waited for the order to come home, but it never came. Think about it later. Protect Bowen. “May ninth,” she rushed to say. “I don’t know what the date means, but something substantial is happening. Enough to warrant an increase in bodies around Hogan…put him on edge. I would increase surveillance of the usual locations in North Brooklyn.” A lump stuck in her throat. “South Brooklyn, too. I’d suggest putting out some feelers or tapping any low-level informants you have. I’m working on nailing down specifics.”
His anger crackled down the line. “I’m just supposed to respond with ‘how high’ when you say ‘jump’? This department didn’t even approve this vigilante investigation.”
“Bowen Driscol is involved,” she added, before she could talk herself out of it.
“Really,” he answered slowly.
Again, not the reaction she’d been expecting. “Yes.”
A laughing couple spilled out onto the sidewalk, holding each other up. Sera walked a little farther away, ducking just inside the alleyway running alongside Marco’s. “Listen, I know it’s asking a lot under the circumstances, but I need a favor. Just agree to it without any questions. Can you do that?”
“That’s asking quite a lot from someone like me. I could have your badge for this stunt, young lady.”