by Tessa Bailey
Pull it together. Play your part. Allowing her lips to curve up at the ends, she turned to give him a playful retort, but the words died on her lips. She’d just looked up into the most strikingly handsome male face she’d ever seen. His gray eyes were noticeably tired, but intensely focused on her, mouth tilted in a smirk. From a distance, he’d been attractive, even with the painful-looking black eye. Up close…he affected her. A lot. Something she definitely couldn’t afford while needing to keep her game face intact.
Sera took a step away from him. “I have a hard time smiling when I’m being stared at.”
“Then you must not smile much, because you’re a fucking stunner.”
Whoa. Huh? The long pull of sexual attraction in her stomach came as a shock. That line had actually worked on her? She’d never had a thing for Brooklyn accents before, but the way he pronounced stunner like stunna did funny things to her insides. Or maybe the sincerity in his voice had done it. He’d said it like he meant it. Coupled with the steady manner in which he watched her now, the effect was potent. It figured that the first man she’d felt a physical pull toward would show up while she was undercover.
Can’t do anything about it here. Put him off.
She wanted to kiss the bartender when he set her beers down on the bar. “Excuse me. I’m trying to work here. I have customers who need drinks.”
“Yeah?” He took a slug of whiskey, throat muscles working. “Now I need one, too.”
“You’re not in my section.”
Too late, Sera realized she’d said the wrong thing. Setting his empty glass on the bar, he swaggered past her toward the back of the club where tables were arranged. He dropped into the first available chair, close enough to the table of men that she couldn’t deny it was her section, before looking back at her expectantly. She turned to ask the bartender for a refill on the rude man’s whiskey, but he’d already set it down on the hatch. Apparently he could move quickly when he wanted to.
Teeth gritted with the effort to appear casual, Sera placed all four drinks on her tray, ignoring her smile coach’s snort when she served the three men first.
“Took long enough,” one of them commented. “Someone should talk to Hogan. Get him to light a fire under your perky ass.”
Behind her, a chair scraped back with such force, she jumped several inches in the air. All three men at the table froze, eyes going wide when her admirer leaned over their table, supported by his clenched fists. “Apologize to her now.”
One of them stood, hand out in a conciliatory gesture. “Shit, I didn’t know she was with you. I-I didn’t…she—”
A fist hit the table, knocking over one of the fresh beers. “I asked for an apology. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s asking for something twice.”
A chorus of sorrys immediately went up, but all she could do was nod her acceptance. Who was this guy? The three men looked utterly horrified at having offended him, like their very lives were at stake. Slowly, he straightened and went back to his table, settling back in his chair. Everyone in the club had gone deathly still, but he didn’t seem to notice or give a damn. Not knowing what else to do, Sera placed the full glass of whiskey in front of him. When she tried to walk away, his hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist.
“Can I get that smile now?”
“If I don’t give it to you, what happens?” she asked, with a little more steel in her voice than intended. “Are you going to shout the smile out of me?”
His thumb massaged a circle into her palm, watching her closely. “Careful, Ladybug, you’re showing your spots.”
What is that supposed to mean? She snatched her hand back. “Maybe I keep the smile for my boyfriend only.”
He leaned back slowly and sipped his whiskey, all traces of amusement gone. “If you do have a boyfriend, he’s about to be sorely disappointed.”
“Why is that?”
“I’ve never been much good at sharing.”
Sera stared at him in shock. Instinctively she knew not to challenge him in front of the men sitting behind her, no doubt hanging on every single word. For some reason, they seemed to fear him, and until she knew the lay of the land, making a scene wouldn’t help her cause. She set her tray down and lowered her voice to a whisper. Still, she couldn’t let him get away with that comment. Share her? As if she were a can of Coke? “Who do you think you are?”
His gaze dropped to her lips. “I’m the guy who’s going to kiss you tonight.”
“Like hell you will,” she sputtered, crossing herself before she could resist the urge. “I don’t even know your name.”
A single eyebrow rose. “Did you just cross yourself?”
She shifted on the balls of her feet. “I’d tell you to try it, but it appears to be too late for religion where you’re concerned.”
“No arguments here.” He leaned forward, clasping his hands between his knees. The way his head tilted to the side probably sent most girls into a squealing fit. It hadn’t escaped her notice he still hadn’t revealed his name. “I’ll make you a deal—”
“Oh no.” She shook her head. “This is how every episode of Dateline NBC starts.”
“Ah, sweetheart,” he murmured so low she could barely hear it. “How did you end up here?”
Sera didn’t know what to make of his confusing question, so she picked up her tray and started back toward the bar, but his voice brought her up short.
“If I can make you smile, I get that kiss.” He rose and gently pried the tray from her hands. “That’s the deal. Harmless enough for you?”
“Nothing about you is harmless.” The statement slipped out on a whisper. “Aren’t there other girls you could be kissing?”
“Sure there are.” Without looking, he tossed her tray on the table. “But none of them bless themselves after saying ‘hell’ or make me crazy to see them smile.”
“You appear to be crazy regardless.”
His lips twitched. “How about it, then? If I’m so crazy, there’s no harm in the deal. No smile, no kiss.”
A slight hesitation was her mistake. Before she could protest, he grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the back of the bar. “Wait. Wait. I have customers.”
“They’ll live.” His calloused fingers twined with hers as he led her down the back hallway, past the bathrooms, and into the kitchen. The short-order cook and his assistant glanced up, looking completely unconcerned to see her being dragged through the kitchen by the insane customer. She opened her mouth to ask for their assistance when her kidnapper greeted them both by name. Fabulous.
“Where are you taking me?” Sera might know how to defend herself, but it wouldn’t be wise to go somewhere alone with this man she knew nothing about. She threw a desperate look at the cook. “Stop him!”
Laughter sounded behind her as she was pulled into the alleyway behind the club, the kitchen door slamming shut behind them. Never having been back there before, she took a moment to take in her surroundings. A loud extractor fan above the door hummed, and street sounds greeted her ears in the distance. It had rained earlier, leaving damp asphalt in its wake and water dripping from the drainpipes of the apartment building across the alley. A cool breeze whipped down the passage and Sera wrapped her arms around herself to protect her exposed skin.
Her kidnapper still held her hand tightly, but had stooped down to scoop up a pebble off the ground. As she watched in stunned silence, he lobbed the pebble up at the closest window of the building on the other side of the alley.
“What are you doing?”
He held up a finger, smiling when a light illuminated the window. “Wait for it,” he drew out.
When the window flew open on a barked curse, his hand squeezed hers, pulling her closer to his side. Sera stumbled into the crook of his arm, the smell of whiskey and smoke wrapping itself around her like fog. Above them, a white-haired woman in a housecoat appeared at the window, squinting into the darkness and looking less than thrilled by the disturbance.
“You, huh?” She propped a fist on her hip. “This ain’t a free show.”
He slapped his free hand to his chest. “My undying love isn’t enough payment?”
Sera blinked in surprise when the woman began to primp, patting the back of her hair. Her former irritation over the kidnapping turned to intrigue. She couldn’t stop herself from looking up at him, wondering how this playful man had put the fear of God into three men twice his age only moments ago. When she’d gotten her first look at him at the bar, she’d judged him to be older, thanks to the weariness in his eyes. Now, with a roguish grin playing around his mouth, a twinkle replacing the fatigue in his eyes, she changed her earlier assumption. He couldn’t be older than thirty.
Her assessment was interrupted when the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard floated through the alley and arrested her on the spot. Mrs. Petricelli leaned partially out the window, singing an opera song that Sera recognized as Puccini. She wasn’t shy with it, either. With wobbly arms outstretched toward the night sky, her voice rose and fell in such haunting perfection that Sera temporarily stopped breathing. One by one, windows in the building began to slide open, neighbors popping out to listen, joy written on their faces. Having lived in the area for even a short while, she knew that quiet respect was rare among the residents, making their utter silence almost as poignant as Mrs. Petricelli’s song.
She didn’t want the moment to end. Never in her life had she experienced something so spontaneous and wonderful. In all the hours she’d spent in church, listening to choirs sing, nothing she’d ever heard could compare to this. How ironic that it was taking place in a Brooklyn alley that smelled like stale garbage, with a man who had managed to infuriate and attract her within minutes of their acquaintance.
Sera glanced up at him. Instead of watching Mrs. Petricelli, he watched her, as if she were the main attraction. “You’re smiling.”
Her fingers flew up to trace her mouth. She was smiling. “Uh-oh.”
“Yeah. Uh-oh.” His thumb brushed her cheek. “I get that a lot.”
She couldn’t move as he angled his body toward hers, pulling her into the circle of his arms. In that moment, she forgot about her job. About being undercover or the fact that this man was an enigma that needed solving. With opera gilding the cool air around them, the masculine lips descending toward hers became her whole universe. She wanted him to kiss her. Badly. Even suspected it might be the kind of kiss she’d always dreamed of but no one had ever delivered.
The song ended on an abrupt note, breaking the spell. Sera jerked away from him. What is wrong with me? Letting him kiss her would be a mistake. Of that she was positive.
“Thank you,” she called up to Mrs. Petricelli, before racing back toward the kitchen as quickly as her legs could carry her. The door didn’t slam behind her as fast as it should have, telling her she’d been followed. Breath raced in and out of her lungs as she entered the hallway. Just a little farther and she’d be away from him.
A hand curled around her elbow just as she reached the dining room. “Welching on deals in this neighborhood can get you into trouble, Ladybug.” He turned her around, bringing her up hard against his muscular chest. “You’d do well to remember that.”
She couldn’t help it. Her gaze fell to his mouth. “Kissing you seems like worse trouble.”
“Yeah, but it’s the fun kind.” He glided his hand up the back of her neck, gathering her hair into his fingers. Such a proprietary gesture, it gave her pause, feeling a flood of tantalizing heat rush though her system. His eyes flared at whatever he saw taking place on her face and he didn’t waste time taking advantage. Cursing once under his breath, he yanked her up against him and fused their mouths together.
Ohhh. Oh, wow. Sera’s body melted along with her reservations, curves conforming to his hard planes in an effort to get closer. Because of their height difference, her head had fallen back to receive the aggressive kiss, but as his tongue skated across her lips, parting them, she pushed up on her toes and engaged him enthusiastically. A guttural groan met her action, the hand in her hair tightening as he backed her against the hallway wall.
She needed to breathe, but he seemed unwilling to let her do so. Worked for her. Breathing would give her time to think, and even a tiny flash of clarity could talk her out of this and it felt so good. His tongue worked deep inside her mouth, claiming her, leaving no room for protest. Then, oh then, his hips fit to hers and began mimicking the rhythm of his tongue. Slow, measured grinds that were somehow a little frantic at the same time. A thrum built between her legs, becoming unbearable. When she whimpered, he bent his knees and came up more firmly between her thighs, plastering every inch of them together.
Finally, as dizziness set in, his lips left hers. “Jesus,” he grated at her lips. “I said a kiss. You’re begging to be fucked.”
His words barely penetrated the desire still blanketing her mind. Quick rushes of breath seemed to be amplified in her ears as she drew them. “I…I am?”
He searched her eyes for a moment, his regard so intense she nearly missed the hardness pressed against her belly. But once she felt…it…nothing could prevent her face from heating, reddening.
Bowen’s gaze fell to her flushed skin and he released a tortured laugh. “Ah, sweetheart, I don’t fuck around with virgins.” His head dipped, teeth closing around her ear and tugging. “But I’ll get down on my knees and eat that untouched pussy like a motherfucker.”
“Well, shit, Driscol. Looks like you’ve met my new waitress.”
Hogan’s voice brought Sera’s surroundings back to her in a blinding flash. She shoved out from underneath the hard body pinning her to the wall, needing to escape into the dining room before her mortification swallowed her whole. But Hogan’s words halted her in her tracks.
Driscol. She’d heard that name before. Countless times.
When it hit Sera whom exactly she’d just let kiss her within an inch of her life, it took all her willpower not to buckle on the spot.
She’d just made out with Bowen Driscol, recent heir to South Brooklyn’s most ruthless criminal enterprise.
Chapter Four
Hear that? It’s the sound of your plan backfiring. Twice.
Doing his best to appear unconcerned at Hogan’s sudden arrival, Bowen watched Sera’s face as she processed her boss’s words. His last name and everything that came along with it. Why did he feel a surge of pride when she didn’t even flinch? He could pile it right on top of every other insane reaction he’d had to her since walking into Rush, because he sure as hell didn’t have a fucking clue. While he might not understand the fierce urge to protect a virtual stranger, one thing had become instantly clear. He wasn’t leaving her there to fend for herself. Not a chance.
When they’d briefed him at police headquarters, he’d told them he would do this his own way or not at all. It would be a cold day in hell before he took orders from the police, so they would have to trust him to handle it. When Newsom had balked at this condition, he’d managed to convince him that the closer the cops came to Sera, the more danger she would be in. He’d meant it, too. Everyone in this neighborhood knew one another. They craved the familiar.
It was one of the reasons he knew Sera’s time was limited.
Already, the idea of her being harmed had him by the throat. She’d had him by the damn throat since the moment he’d arrived. After seeing the photograph of her, he’d expected to walk in and find a wide-eyed Girl Scout seconds from her death. Only half of that expectation had come true. There was innocence, so much innocence, but she’d done a bang-up job hiding it underneath skintight jeans and a crop top. Rich brown hair, drizzled with a honey color, brushed where he knew her nipples would be if he lifted her shirt. Just enough makeup to fit in without looking unnatural, like most of the girls who frequented Rush. No spray tan, no glittery eye goop
, just a rosy glow that made his hands itch to touch her skin. On sight, she’d affected him so much it hurt to look at her, while at the same time it hurt worse to look away. Then her lips parted and that husky voice had come out, stroking over every inch of his body.
At that moment, his game plan had changed from simply making her casual acquaintance to daring anyone to come within ten feet of her. And the quickest way to ensure her safety, in his mind, had been to put a stamp of ownership on her. Right there in the middle of Rush.
Which is about when his plan had gone to shit. Anyone who knew him was aware that Bowen’s relationships ended as quickly as they started. Usually within the same night. It only took a few whispered words and a nod toward the door to convince a girl to leave with him. He sure as hell didn’t dry-hump them in plain view of the dining room, keeping his mouth locked to theirs until his brain forced him to breathe. Like he’d done with Sera, right in front of several neighborhood lifers who were no doubt more curious about her than before his ass had ever walked through the door. So, yeah. Now instead of Bowen’s latest hookup, she’d become a possible target.
But Christ. She’d tasted so damn good. With her perfection pressed up against him, her eager tongue tangling with his, he’d lost his cool. That kiss had complicated the shit out of everything. A virgin. She hadn’t needed to say it out loud; he’d seen the answer in her eyes, the surprised noise she made when he’d shoved up between her legs.
No time to think about that now, though. He was the only thing standing between her and possible death. Time for damage control. He adopted his best shit-eating grin and faced Hogan. As he’d anticipated, the man looked suspicious. “Someone’s got to keep the waitresses in line when you’re not around, right?” Bowen put his hand out and after a slight hesitation, Hogan shook it. “I came by to talk. Guess I got a little distracted.”
Hogan still appeared dubious, but he nodded once. “Can’t say I blame you. She’s quite the little distraction.”
