by Tessa Bailey
It was hard to say when reality started creeping back in. Perhaps with the tightening of Bowen’s shoulders, his prolonged silence. The way he went still, stiller than she’d ever seen him. Panic invaded her, horror that she’d seen this for something it wasn’t. Minutes ticked by as she tried to summon the courage to move, to face whatever change had come over him. Dreading what she would find on his face, she slowly lifted her head and found his icy stare back in place, the one he’d worn after the scene outside Marco’s.
“Bowen?”
He nodded once, but didn’t meet her eyes. “Remember what I said. You stay in this room with the door locked. Anyone tries to come in, you shoot them. Tell me you understand, Sera.”
She flinched over the detachment in his voice. “You’re leaving now? After…”
Finally, he looked at her. What she saw caused the blood to drain from her face. Pure, lethal determination. “Did you think if we slept together, it would make me less eager to kill for you?” He leaned in and captured her mouth for a thorough, possessive kiss. One that brought back the throbbing between her legs. “If that was your goal, it backfired. I’ve had you now. Made you mine. The one who tried to take you away from me is going to pay.”
Chapter Seventeen
Sera.
Bowen woke up with a head filled with sand.
His body ached for reasons he couldn’t remember and the hardwood floor he lay sprawled on wasn’t helping matters. Sunshine blinded him, sending splitting pain through his skull. As soon as the light vanished, his memory returned with the force of a tsunami, rushing in like moving cement. He shot up into a sitting position and immediately regretted the action as his stomach pitched. His hands rose to clutch his head and he saw the blood. So much blood.
No. Not blood. Paint.
He’d come home and found Sera asleep in the guest bed, looking so beautiful he could have stood there staring at her for the rest of his life. Watching her chest rise and fall underneath her halo, where she belonged. He had no idea how long he stood there before returning to his room to paint. And drink. God yes, he’d drank. Enough so he wouldn’t have to think about what he’d done. Her face when she realized he was leaving her, abandoning her after what she’d given him.
Now that he was thinking semi-clearly, his head free of blinding vengeance, he recognized his massive mistake. He’d proven himself unworthy of her. Something he’d already known with absolute certainty, but she’d seemed willing to ignore. There would be no ignoring it now. She’d given him the best night of his life and he’d squandered it by letting his inner demons get the better of him.
How he’d managed to pull himself away from her, he still didn’t quite understand. Hell, he couldn’t remember. After she’d wrecked him for any other experience life had to offer, his protective nature had swelled inside him, cutting everything else off. In his arms, he’d been holding the most precious thing in the universe and instead of enjoying it, instead of holding her through the night as he should have done, he’d only been capable of picturing that man’s hands around her throat. He’d thought about what they would have done to her, how they would have hurt her, and his mind had gone berserk.
God, he’d give anything to go back in time and sleep beside her. To tuck her against him and keep her warm, make her feel safe. What if he never got that chance again? He shouldn’t get that chance. If she gave it to him, he’d probably attempt to talk her out of it, then beg for the opportunity anyway. Jesus Christ. What a pathetic fuck he was turning out to be. After drinking himself into oblivion, he’d stumbled out of his room and parked himself in front of her bedroom door like a guard dog, which is where he still lay. He needed to clean himself up before she came out, maybe put on some coffee. She liked coffee. Maybe that would at least get her talking to him.
But…what then? Hadn’t he decided last night he would call Troy and demand they come get her, whether she’d secured the ledger or not? There were too many threats around her, including himself, as was proven last night. As long as she stuck around, his enemies were her enemies. He’d made it obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes she was important to him, and someone would eventually get the balls to use her against him again.
A new pounding took up residence in his temples at the idea. Right now, she was safely tucked in bed, right where he wanted her, needed her, to be. She was scheduled to work tonight at Rush, but there had to be a way to keep her away from the place. Just one more day. Please God, he just wanted one more day with her.
His hand went to the guest room doorknob without any conscious thought. The sudden need to see her sleeping peacefully, unharmed, wouldn’t leave him. As quietly as possible, he turned the knob and pushed open the door.
Gone.
Bowen’s knees buckled under him. He grabbed the doorframe for balance as denial went off like firecrackers in his already-pounding head. The bed was unmade; her clothes were still there. She hadn’t planned on leaving for good. Had someone come in and taken her while he lay passed out on the floor, unable to intervene? No, please. No.
Calm down. She could still be here. He stomped toward the bathroom and nearly ripped the door off the hinges to get a look inside. Lights off. Empty. He spun in a circle, searching through the apartment, seeing no sign of her.
Commanding himself to focus, he dialed Troy’s Manhattan cell phone number. He answered on the first ring, the sounds of the precinct behind him. “What is it?”
“Did you take her?” he shouted. “Did you take her from me?”
A long pause on the other end had Bowen pulling his hair out. Finally, Troy spoke. “Calm down and explain yourself. Sera’s gone?”
Red danced in front of his eyes. “Don’t play dumb with me, you asshole. Where the hell is she? No cops. I told you no cops…that it had to be on my terms.” He couldn’t swallow, couldn’t get a decent breath. “She wouldn’t just leave. I told her. I told her there was no going back.”
“You’re not making any sense, man.” Troy blew out a breath. “Look, I have no reason to lie. We’ve heard nothing from her.”
Bowen barely registered Troy’s assurances over the buzzing in his brain. She hadn’t called in. She wasn’t here. He hadn’t kept her safe. Failed. Oh, God, he’d failed her.
“Mr. Driscol.”
Not Troy’s voice. Someone else’s. Newsom? Based on the impatience in his tone, he’d been trying to get his attention for a while. Bowen almost felt too numb to respond. “What.”
“I have an idea where she might have gone.”
Sera stared blankly across the empty field, watching a plastic Ziploc bag float around in the wind. She pulled up the hood of her sweatshirt and drew her knees up to her chest, ignoring the creaking of the ancient bench beneath her. She’d come here before, but there had always been families, teenagers playing soccer, senior citizens walking in groups.
That hum of activity had made the park where Colin had been shot seem less desolate, more redeemable. Possibly because of the slight chill in the air, the only thing inhabiting the field today was garbage. A forgotten sweatshirt. A cracked Frisbee. It made the park, the last place where her brother had drawn breath, unbearable.
Black spots winked inside her vision, a product of her lack of sleep. Bowen had left. Just…left. She had no recollection of how long she’d sat on his bed feeling raw and exposed, convinced he would come back and hold her, before dragging herself to the guest room. No. He’d chosen retaliation. The pipe dream that she could save him had cracked and flooded her insides. Eventually, the flood turned to a block of ice so thick she wasn’t sure it would ever thaw.
Around three in the morning, Bowen had crashed into the apartment. She’d heard him come into her room but pretended to be asleep, terrified to see the evidence of what he’d done in her name. Hours later, she’d heard him through the door, mumbling her name, saying it like a curse, a prayer, accompanied by the disctinct sound of a glass bottle clinking on the floor. The healer inside her had still wanted to go
to him. Hold him. By morning, though, she’d managed to steel herself against the urge, stepping over him and his empty liquor bottle in the darkness, and leaving before she broke down and indulged the impulse.
No longer.
Her brother would have been twenty-nine today, and what gift had she given him? She’d allowed herself to get swept up in a man and forgotten about his justice. The future he’d been denied. Selfish. She’d been selfish. Worse, she’d been wrong about the man who caused the lapse. After last night, even thinking his name hurt. She’d let him distract her from the needs of her family, she’d trusted him, given him a part of herself, and he’d disappointed her. Honestly, she deserved it. She deserved to feel as though her chest had been chiseled into and ripped wide open. Her uncle hadn’t trusted her to do this job, to avenge Colin, and she’d proven him right.
Not anymore. She would do whatever it took to make up for her lapse in judgment. With so many eyes on her, it would be risky, but no other options existed. She would not be the failure her uncle expected her to be. Her brother’s death would not be in vain, no matter what mistakes he’d made or payouts he’d taken. She had to believe if he were still alive, he would have corrected his mistakes. Now she had to do it for him.
Tonight’s waitressing shift at Rush would be her final chance, and she wouldn’t waste it.
Right now, she needed to go back to…Bowen’s, much as it would kill her to be around him when her feelings still existed. They more than existed, they crowded her insides, making it hard to breath. She thought she’d known him, swore a different man lived beneath the violent facade, but he’d proved her wrong. No longer could she trust him or let herself be sucked in by the magnetic pull in his direction.
Sera dropped her feet to the ground and stood, but something kept her from leaving. Before she knew her own intention, she began walking through the park, picking up trash. She tossed an empty juice box, a candy bar wrapper, and two paper plates into the garbage can, then went back for more. A little bit of pressure that had been building in her head since last night eased, the routine giving her purpose, comforting her. Her brother’s grave had been too far, considering she only had public transport at her disposal, so instead of leaving flowers, she could do this instead. She could make this place a little less miserable.
Every few minutes, Sera scanned the surrounding area. She was a good distance away from Bensonhurst and she still carried the gun Bowen had given her, but that didn’t mean someone hadn’t spotted her. After the way Connor had ignored her as he drove past last night, she knew he didn’t trust her. Another person she’d had a positive gut feeling about that turned out to be wrong. It called her decision-making ability into question. A tiny voice in her head whispered your uncle is right. She quickly buried the recurring thought when a car roared into the parking lot behind her, sending her heart into her throat.
Very slightly, she turned, careful to keep her face hidden underneath the hood. The aluminum can she held in her hand dropped to the ground when she saw Bowen coming toward her. Warning bells went off. Not only because of the wild look in his eye, but the fact that he was there in the first place. She hadn’t told him anything about Colin. At least, nothing that would lead him here. Unless…
Unless he’d already known her brother had been killed here.
Sera’s stomach bottomed out, possibilities whipping through her head. Flashing images of their exchanges came back to her with disorienting speed, refusing to make sense. How had he known to come here? To this exact park on this exact day? Her brother had died here and he’d known to come. Which meant…he knew about Colin. Her. He knew her identity.
Sera held back a sob. How long had he known and kept it from her? Furthermore, did his knowledge of this place mean he’d been here before?
Oh, God, had he been involved in her brother’s death?
With that final sickening possibility coating her brain like molasses, Sera started to run. Think, think. She couldn’t pull out her gun in broad daylight, not this close to the street, but she wanted to. Wanted to point it at him and demand the truth of what had happened. She let out a frustrated noise when she realized that even with all the doubt, all the questions circling him, the idea of pointing a gun at him felt abhorrently wrong.
“Sera.” Bowen gave chase behind her. “Don’t you run from me.”
Ignoring him, she sprinted from the park to the sidewalk across the street. This neighborhood had been thriving at one time, but construction developments had halted only halfway finished thanks to the weak economy. She ducked inside one of those empty concrete structures, jumping over stray cinder blocks, abandoned tools, and overgrown weeds. Not far behind, she could hear his feet hitting the pavement, his constant calling of her name. As soon as she was out of view of the street, she drew her gun and waited for him to enter the building.
Seconds behind her, he entered the near-darkness and came to an abrupt halt. His gaze landed on the gun and then rose to meet hers. She refused to acknowledge the pain she saw there. “Ladybug, put the gun down.”
“No. You put yours on the ground.”
Without hesitating, he put one hand up, slowly reaching behind him with the other to remove the gun at the small of his back. He laid it down on the ground and kicked it away, never removing his steady attention from her. “Now put yours down so we can talk.”
“How did you know where to find me?” she asked, horrified to hear her teeth chattering.
His hesitation hit her like a physical blow. For the first time since meeting him, she felt as though she didn’t know him at all. He was everything his police file proclaimed him to be.
“Answer me,” she shouted, the gun blurring in front of her. “How did you know? Were you here that night…did you—”
“Jesus.” His voice packed a raw punch. “Do it. Pull the trigger right now. It’ll be better than hearing the rest of what you were going to say.”
Sera shook her head. “Stop. Just stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Saying things like that to me. Pretending I mean something to you, when you’ve been lying to me since the beginning.” Her extended arm started to shake. “Haven’t you?”
“No more than you’ve been lying to me, Seraphina,” he returned, gravely.
Everything inside her seized at the use of her full name. Confirmation of what she’d already suspected, that he’d known her identity since the beginning. Had he just been humoring her, so secure in his own criminal immortality that he hadn’t found her a threat? The idea hurt worse than she could have imagined. She thought back to last night, how he’d waited to exact revenge, instead of doing it in front of her, so she’d have no way to prove his guilt. He’d known.
“You still haven’t answered me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She needed this final nail in his coffin, so she could maybe one day put him behind her. “How did you find me?”
His jaw flexed. “Commissioner Newsom told me where you were.”
Her arm went limp, the gun dropping to her side. Every available breath in her body fled, driven away by confusion. “What?” she wheezed.
He took a step toward her, cursing when she backed up. “It’s complicated, Sera, and I can’t think straight enough to explain when you’re looking at me like I’m a monster.”
“Aren’t you?”
Pain blanketed his features. “Only half of me. The half I never wanted you to see.”
“Stop talking in code and explain yourself,” she demanded. The implications of his words were refusing to register. Bowen and her uncle. Her uncle and Bowen.
Bowen dragged agitated hands through his hair, drawing her attention to the kaleidoscope of colors coating his fingers and knuckles. Had he been painting inside his bedroom last night? Such an absurd thing to be curious over when her world was crumbling around her, but for some reason it seemed important.
“Ruby’s boyfriend, Troy,” he said. “He’s a detective. When you went solo and dropped out
of sight, they pulled him in. The police don’t like his connection to me, but they live with it. Especially this time, when they needed to use it. Use me.”
He paused for a moment, no idea he’d just broken something inside her. Her uncle had known her plans this whole time? Why had he pretended otherwise? Humoring her. He’d been humoring her, all the while keeping tabs on his incapable niece.
“They asked me to keep you safe. To help get you out.”
Undiluted exhaustion swamped her. No confidence. Not one person in this world believed in her. “And you just agreed? What did they offer you?”
He laughed without humor. “They offered to make my life hell if I didn’t play along. My sister’s life.” With renewed determination, he prowled toward her. “I didn’t want to do it until I saw your picture. But I would have walked through fire after I did.” His eyes searched her face as if committing it to memory. “Before I even met you, I’d started falling for you, Sera. Believe me or don’t believe me. I’m not sure if it matters anymore. Not if you think I’m a monster.” He took a deep breath. “But I need you to know that I’m fucked for life over you.”
No, she wouldn’t let those words penetrate the hard shell she’d begun to form. “So you didn’t do it to get the cops off your back. You did it to get me onto mine.”
Her words broke his stride, made him flinch. “Don’t you talk about us like that.”
“What us?” Her temper sizzled. She’d been played, not just by Bowen, but her uncle, the police department. She must be a laughingstock if they’d sent in a known felon to rescue her. This entire time, she’d been playing a part and Bowen had known the truth. What kind of fantasy world had she been living in? The kind of world where the police commissioner’s niece goes on dates with the leader of a racketeering operation. So stupid. “There was never an us. I was undercover and they made sure you were convenient.” She applied the gun’s safety and let it drop to her side. “Does the commissioner know he sent in a murderer to save me?”