Risking it All

by Tessa Bailey

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sera stared out the passenger side window of Bowen’s car as they drove back to Bensonhurst, marveling at how completely she’d been flipped on her head since yesterday. She’d sat in this exact spot, still warm from the beach. Sleepily satisfied from Bowen’s touch and wondering what they’d have for dinner.

  Beside her, Bowen steered the car through narrow Brooklyn streets, his face inscrutable. Thankfully, he hadn’t spoken a word since they’d revealed themselves at the construction site. She didn’t want him to open his mouth and drop more words on her head. Words that perpetuated even more doubt where too much already existed. She didn’t want to know how he felt about her. She didn’t want to hope he’d meant what he’d said. That kind of thinking had already been proved useless by their mutual lies. Perhaps he didn’t have an inkling of her insecurities where her uncle was concerned, but he’d still been a part of the deceit. He’d let her carry on like a wayward child with a babysitter. In her mind, that in itself was unforgivable. Nothing he could say would negate those deceptions or change who they were, so his silence, both of their silences, was for the best. She just needed to make her shift at Rush count tonight and this would be over. Any longer and her uncle would swoop in and shut her down.

  In the console between their seats, Bowen’s cell phone vibrated and danced in the cupholder. As if on autopilot, he picked the phone up and held it to his ear.

  “Yeah, Wayne.” He listened for a moment. “Fine, I’ll get it done.” Another lengthy pause. “Well, it shouldn’t surprise you that I’m handling business. The guy knew what would happen if he didn’t pay.” They pulled to a stop at a red light. “No, I’ll do it on my own. Yeah, I’m sure.”

  Trying not to let her alarm show at the deadness in his voice or what he’d said, Sera waited for him to explain, but he stayed silent. “Where are we going?”

  “Quick stop.” His lips barely moved. “Won’t take long.”

  The uncomfortable feeling in her chest increased as they pulled up in front of a run-down white house. A dirty For Sale sign hung at an angle in the yard and one of the steps leading to the porch had completely caved in. She didn’t know what kind of business Bowen planned on handling, but he didn’t seem in good shape for much of anything at the moment. It shouldn’t concern her, not after what she’d just found out, but it did. A lot. She hated the idea of him walking into a potentially dangerous situation, especially alone, in a frame of mind she couldn’t read.

  Up until this point, he’d at least made a token effort to hide his illegal activities from her. The fact that he seemed to have given up on that score…frankly, it scared her.

  “Don’t go in there.”

  He gave no sign that he’d heard her. “Stay in the car. Don’t get out for any reason.”

  “Please.”

  Without so much as a glance in her direction, he climbed out of the car and slammed the door. He moved with graceful purpose toward the house, rapping quickly on the door twice. Sera held her breath, her heartbeat echoing in her ears. Everything inside her screamed at her to stop him, but she also felt glued to the seat, as if watching a horrible accident in progress. A minute passed before the door opened a crack. She barely glimpsed the man’s pale, panicked face before Bowen wedged his foot inside the crack and muscled his way into the house, locking a hand around the man’s throat as he went.

  No. The house’s front door thumped shut with a hollow noise and the only audible sound was her shaky inhales. Was this some kind of challenge? Go ahead and try to stop me, cop. Sera didn’t think so. His move seemed desperate, born of the frustration she’d caused.

  She flashed back to the previous night, when he’d held her in his arms like a treasured possession. I’m fucked for life, he’d said back at the construction site. A hard lump formed in her throat at the memory of his face, the torture written all over it. No, this reckless behavior was something else. Something that both of them could later regret. Bowen, because he wasn’t thinking clearly, and her, for once again sitting back and watching the action take place around her. She needed to do something.

  Decision made, she double-checked the weapon tucked into the deep pocket of her coat and left the car, careful to close the door gently behind her. Midmorning on a weekday, the street stood empty, the blue-collar residents long since having left for work. She moved swiftly on the cracked cement surrounding the house, locating a window that would allow her a glimpse inside. Using an overturned bucket for extra height, she boosted herself up and peered through the filthy window. What she saw nearly made her body shut down.

  Bowen stood in front of the man who’d answered the door, face covered in blood. He swayed a little on his feet, eyes glassy and unfocused. The man stood with hands fisted at his sides, still looking terrified. It made no sense when he was clearly the one inflicting injury. He shook his head and tried to step back from Bowen, but Bowen only followed. Then his mouth moved and Sera read the four words on his lips with dawning horror.

  Hit me again. More.

  He wanted to be hit. Wanted the pain. Tears blurred her vision as she scrambled off the bucket. Responsibility for his pain bogged her down as she sprinted for the door. If she wasn’t responsible, at the very least, her uncle owned the burden. But no, this was her. She’d done this.

  When she reached the door and heard a sickening thud on the other side, she wasted no time throwing open the unlocked door, letting it slam against the inside wall. Her hand itched to draw her weapon, but the white-faced man wasn’t armed. To her shock, she still wanted to retaliate against the man who continued to pummel Bowen with his fists, even knowing Bowen was asking him for it.

  “Get away from him.” The man appeared slightly dazed as his attention flew to her, but he didn’t move to follow her order. “I said, get the fuck away from him!”

  Bowen weaved on his feet as the man jumped back. “Get back in the car, Ladybug.”

  The use of her nickname, slurred and flat, sliced like a knife through her heart. Swallowing the fear of seeing his bloodied face up close, she closed the distance between them and slipped her hand around his elbow. “Come on. I’m not getting back in the car without you.”

  “Not done here.”

  “Yes, you are.” She pulled him around to face her, wincing at the cut under his eye pouring blood. His lips were lacerated in two spots. The eye that had already been blackened when she met him was now swollen shut. Tears clogged her throat. “Dammit, Bowen. Dammit.”

  “I hate it when you curse…you’re too good. My girl is too good.” He cupped her cheek and swayed toward her. “But you’re not my girl, are you? I dreamed it?”

  She felt on the verge of collapse, under his weight, his words, but she needed to focus on getting him out of there. “No, you didn’t dream it. Let’s go home.”

  “Home. I like you saying that.” He pierced her with his one good eye. “I didn’t do it. Last night…that guy who tried to take you away from me. I couldn’t do it.”

  Sera should have felt surprise. Or relief. Remembering the state he’d been in leaving the apartment last night, it didn’t seem possible he’d left the man alive. Yet she believed him wholeheartedly.

  “Why didn’t you do it?” she whispered, aware of the other man still standing close by.

  “I don’t know.” His throat muscles worked. “I wanted you to be proud of me or something.”

  She scrubbed a hand over her hollow-feeling chest. “I am. I’m proud of you.”

  Finally, he let her lead him toward the door. Before they walked out, he turned to the man who’d been pounding him with fists only minutes ago. “The debt is squashed.”

  The man deflated. “Thanks, man.”

  Bowen shook his head. “No more. Lose your money somewhere else. I don’t want it.”

  I’m proud of you.

  Bowen focused on those words, let them mingle with the pain in his jaw, his head. No one had ever said that to him. He never realized it until he hear
d them. He’d done something right. It wouldn’t make a difference now, but at least she didn’t think he was a total monster. Part of him wished he were still standing in that house, fists connecting with his face. He’d craved that pain, found it beautiful as long as it distracted him from the image of her running away from him. Pointing a gun at him and calling him a murderer. Hating him.

  He’d only meant to let the guy get one good shot at him, but it felt so damn good to feel something other than loss. There is no us.

  She would leave as soon as this investigation wrapped, leaving him with the knowledge of her and no way to achieve the contentment she provided ever again. In his mind, she might as well have already walked out the door. It made him feel sick and raw and frantic. Made him want to beg her to turn the car around so he could seek out more of the reality-blurring pain.

  Sera took a left, steering the car toward his block. “Why didn’t you tell me you were working with the police?”

  Her question dragged him back from his helpless rage, but didn’t detract from it. Too much of it existed. He could feel it gathering, expanding, multiplying inside him. She’s leaving. She’s as good as gone. “Why would I do that, huh? So you’d know you’re safe with one of the good guys?” He pulled at his hair, bitterness lacing his tone. “I’m not a good guy. I might not be the guy who killed your brother, but I’m closer to their kind than I am to yours.”

  When she flinched beside him, he wanted to throw himself out of the moving vehicle, but managed to remain in his seat. After a heavy silence, she spoke quietly. “Is that the only reason? This could have been much easier if I’d known you were on my side.”

  No way would Bowen tell her what his other orders had been. Remove the ledger from her possession, take it to the commissioner. He couldn’t do it, anyway. Couldn’t take away her chance to prove herself. More importantly, the ledger was her ticket out. The ticket he’d never been given, but always wanted. She’d be gone from him, but at least she’d be safe.

  He breathed through the agony of knowing he’d be without her soon. When she saw his name among the other criminals in Hogan’s ledger book, she’d be thankful. “Keeping it to myself wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order. They threatened me if I did otherwise. Didn’t think you would appreciate the help and would do something rash.” He stared at her until she gave him her attention. “You won’t be, by the way. Doing something rash.”

  “You don’t get to tell me what to do. If you’d been honest in the beginning, things might have been different.” She drifted to a stop outside his building and put the car in park. “It’s up to me to fail or succeed. Not you.”

  Frustration burned in his gut. At Sera, for not realizing the kind of danger that surrounded her. At himself, for hearing the truth in her words and wishing he’d come clean on day one. She’d deserved that much from him. “Fail or succeed,” he scoffed. “You realize what failure means? They’re not going to let you waltz out of Brooklyn. Not after how close you were. Not after what—” He cut himself off, remembering she knew none of this. Knowing it would drive an even bigger wedge between them.

  “After what?”

  His jaw flexed. “You overheard something important. A date.” He watched the wheels turning behind her eyes, waited to see if she would pretend ignorance and prove she still didn’t trust him.

  She tugged the keys out of the ignition and handed them over. “I don’t remember hearing anything about a date. Who told you I did?”

  Based on her expression, she already knew, but wanted to hear him say it. “Connor. You’re marked, Sera. Hogan doesn’t like loose ends.”

  “Connor.” A touch of hurt flashed over her features. “I wonder why he didn’t just take care of me last night and be done with it.”

  Bowen went still. “Last night?”

  She glanced at him warily. “He was outside Marco’s, right before…it happened.”

  Two threats against her. Not one. He’d been inside with Wayne, discussing the offer of protection for a new neighborhood business, while she’d been outside exposed to two chances of death. His fists shook in his lap with the need to break something. Not trusting himself to speak, he climbed out of the car. As he walked to her side, he scanned the street for anything unusual before helping her stiff form from the driver’s side. He thought he saw regret in her brown eyes as they looked over his battered face, then decided he’d imagined it.

  A minute later, they were locked safely inside his apartment. He watched her from the kitchen as she paced, looking as though she were at a loss how to behave with him now that her identity was out in the open. Finally, she removed her sweatshirt and went into the guest bedroom.

  He followed her, terrified he would round the corner to find her packing. Instead, he found her lying on the bed, staring up at the scales of justice. His body ached with the urge to crawl on top of her, kiss her body all over until she had no choice but to respond. “So what’s the call, Sera? Let me help you or shut me out? I’m not going anywhere, so I’d suggest option two.”

  Just when he gave up on getting an answer, her voice broke the deafening silence. “When I was seven years old, about a year before my father died, my brother got to do a ride-along with him. He was ten at the time.” She cleared the rust from her throat. “That morning, I begged to come along. I cried and pleaded until he finally gave in. I can still remember being so excited, so stunned he actually agreed.” Slowly, she sat up, clasped her hands between her knees. “Then he left me with the dispatchers. All day. While my brother did the ride-along. They braided my hair.”

  His heart clenched thinking of her at seven. Left behind. While his childhood had been the exact opposite, he still understood the feeling of not belonging. “I’m sorry, Ladybug.”

  “Are you? I feel the same way right now as I did back then.” She laughed under her breath. “When he came back, I told him I wanted to be a cop. That I would be the best cop. He told me he liked my braid.”

  How can I not touch her when she looks so sad? This is killing me. Everything hurts. “I wish I wasn’t a part of making you feel this way. You have no idea how bad I wish for that. But I can’t pretend I don’t understand that need to protect you.”

  “Help me understand.” Her gaze pleaded with him. “Do I come across so helpless?”

  “Not helpless, baby.” The right words eluded him, so he just told the truth. “I don’t know how to explain it. I want to walk beside you everywhere and absorb anything bad, so it won’t touch you. Won’t change you, make you like me.”

  He saw moisture in her eyes and wondered if he would ever stop putting it there. When she stood and came toward him, he held his breath, praying she would touch him. Just before their bodies met, she stopped, taking in the injuries to his face. “This isn’t the first time you’ve done this to yourself, is it?” She reached up to test his eye, but he leaned into her palm instead. “You told me you never lose a fight, so I wondered why you were always banged up. Tell me why you do this.”

  Bowen swallowed heavily, afraid if he moved, her touch would go away. “I don’t know. I do it so I don’t feel numb like the rest of them. I do it to feel. I do it not to feel. Take your pick.”

  She couldn’t hide her distress. “There are other ways to feel, Bowen.”

  “Yeah?” He knew she hadn’t meant it to sound sexual, but he’d never been able to resist going down that road in his mind with her. Especially when she stood so close, worrying about him. Touching him. Acting on its own, his hand settled on her hip, massaging circles into the sensitive area with his thumb. “You want to help me feel, Sera?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sera’s pulse danced, every muscle below her waist pulling taut. Logic shouted in her ear to step back, away from this man. This damaged complication of a man whose world she could never live in. Nor could he ever live in hers. She needed to listen this time. Her body had been making too many decisions lately, and while the need to soothe his pain was a living, breathing dem
and inside her, she couldn’t give in. Oh, but she desperately wanted to. He could be her lifeboat as the storm of emotions raged around her, through her. Grief for her brother on his birthday, anger at her uncle for not believing in her, tempered with embarrassment she hated feeling. Fear of what the night would bring. Bowen would demand all her concentration and for a while, it would be perfect. Amazing. Until it ended and things were twice as knotted as when they began.

  With a near-paralyzing case of reluctance, Sera stepped out of his reach, dislodging the hand on her hip. “You should go wash off that blood.”

  “You should come help me.”

  His thickened voice was so full of intention it made her stomach flutter. “No, Bowen.”

  She noticed an immediate change in his demeanor. He went from seductive bad boy to self-assured ladies’ man before she could blink. He’d seen the evidence on her face that she still desired him. The confidence that knowledge provided combined with the sting of her rejection was responsible for his attitude change, she knew that for certain. She felt a frisson of alarm, wondering how he would use the attraction. Right now, he just looked downright irritable, but there was also intention in the hard set of his jaw.

  “We don’t have to fuck, Sera. But you’re coming to shower with me.” When she stared at him in openmouthed shock, he gave her a tight smile. “I told you. Nothing rash. Since you haven’t agreed to let me help you, you’re not leaving my sight. I’m not coming out of the bathroom and finding you gone.”

  “I’m not showering with you,” she scoffed.

  He shrugged. “Then the blood stays.” Without another word, he walked out of her bedroom. A second later, she heard the unmistakable sound of him lighting a match, the smell of cigarette smoke permeating the air. After the morning she’d had, the blatant challenge he presented proved too much to resist. Doing her best to look casual, she followed him out into the kitchen and picked up his pack of cigarettes where it sat on the counter. As he watched her suspiciously, she flicked on one of the stove burners and lit the end, lifted the cigarette to her lips, and took a deep pull before it could go out. The smoke felt like fire pouring down her throat, but somehow she managed not to cough. Instead, she blew a steady exhale of smoke in his direction.