by Tessa Bailey
It was for the best his criminal status stayed fresh in her mind. As often as possible, she needed to be reminded to keep her distance. This is who he was. Not a painter or someone she should be letting kiss her neck.
Bowen leaned back against the kitchen counter. “We’ll pay them a visit tonight and remind them. Although after the last time, I’m not sure what’ll get through to them.” He hated the look of anticipation that entered Wayne’s eyes. “Anything else?”
“Yeah.” Wayne chuckled. “Our boy Tony still hasn’t paid for the big hit he took on the Jets’ loss last week. He’s been ducking me.”
Bowen massaged his eyes with the heel of his hand. “God, this guy doesn’t learn.”
“Let’s hope not. That’s how we make money.”
A sour taste flooded Bowen’s mouth. “If I wanted a punching bag, I’d go to the gym. He’s never good for it on time. Why do we keep taking his bets?”
Wayne spread his hands. “We get the dough eventually, don’t we?”
Exhaustion washed over Bowen. “Give him another couple days to make good before we go see him.”
“You can’t go easy,” Wayne warned. “You go easy, word spreads that you’re soft.”
“I’m not soft.” His voice quieted. “I don’t see you throwing the punches.”
Distracted, Wayne bent down and fished a lacy pair of underwear from the plastic grocery bags Sera had left in the living room. “What’s this?” Bowen tried not to react. “You wearing ladies’ underpants now?”
“Are you really asking me that question?”
Looking uncomfortable, Wayne shifted on his feet. “You got a girl here?”
Again, Bowen repressed the need to hide her in the closet, before guarding it with his life. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
“Not my business?” His lowered voice vibrated. “We’re out here talking shop while your latest piece of ass can hear everything we say? That sure sounds like my business.”
Rage filtered through his body at hearing Sera referred to as a piece of ass, but he managed to keep himself in check. “She’s asleep,” he said through clenched teeth, hoping she would overhear and follow suit. “I spent the morning wearing her out. Been a while since you did that to a woman?”
“Touchy, aren’t we?”
Bowen ignored the question. “Are we done here?”
“Not until I’m satisfied she didn’t hear anything. You know what happens when people have the misfortune of hearing too much.”
He took a step closer. The older man arched an eyebrow at the action. Very rarely did he challenge Wayne, even though he technically held rank over him. He’d known the man since childhood, had once even viewed him as a father figure. With Sera’s safety in question, he didn’t hesitate to pull rank now. “Are you questioning my judgment? I wouldn’t suggest it.”
The older man’s chin went up. “That’s the first time you’ve ever reminded me of your father. It’s almost enough to bring a tear to my eye.”
Nausea roiled in Bowen’s gut. Even though the comment had been insincere, it still made him feel ill. “Then you know how Lenny would deal with someone who questioned him.”
Wayne gave an exaggerated nod. “Very well, kid. If that’s how you want to play it.”
At the use of the old nickname, Bowen’s hands bunched into fists. “Time to go, old man.”
Wayne threw back his head and laughed on the way to the door, but it held a hint of menace. “Out of everything, I never thought pussy would be your downfall, Bowen. Can I at least count on seeing you tonight, or are you taking her to a Broadway show?”
He didn’t wait for Bowen’s response, but closed the door softly behind him. After flipping all three dead bolts back into place, Bowen released a pent-up breath and went to the guest bedroom. What he saw made his heart squeeze in his chest. Nestled under the covers, Sera had obviously overheard him and pretended to be asleep, even going so far as to make the bed look mussed from sex. Now she sat up, watching him with a wariness so different from the pleasure she’d shown when talking about his murals, it increased the queasiness he was experiencing.
Bowen cleared his throat into the silence. “What time do you work tonight?”
“Five.”
He nodded. “Be ready to go at four thirty.”
“Okay, sure.”
Frustration gripped him. He wanted to shout at her, tell her she was in over her head. He wanted to beg her to go home and let him deal with the fallout. He wanted to climb into the bed with her and see if she still planned on using her body to keep him happy while she went behind his back to bring down Hogan. So many things he wanted and couldn’t ever have. In the end, all he could do was walk away and leave her there, looking like his personal version of temptation.
Sera set down a plate of hot wings in the middle of the table, smiling softly at the chorus of masculine thank-yous that went up. Since Bowen’s intervention the night before, she’d apparently been upgraded from low-level peon to respected member of staff. While it definitely made waitressing more pleasant, it galled her it had taken threats from Bowen to earn her basic human decency. Not just threats, she amended, casting a glance at him where he sat sipping whiskey at the bar, daring anyone with his eyes to mess with her. Constant observation.
People obviously thought they were an item, and it made them curious about her. She didn’t need that, nor did she want his protection. Her goal had been to keep her head down and gather information. His oversight left very little opportunity for recon. And her time was running out. Even more so than before.
He’d let her overhear everything being said in his living room. Everything. Hadn’t even made a basic attempt to keep his voice down while talking about collecting illegally earned gambling money, following through on threats to drug dealers. That could mean only one thing. He didn’t plan on keeping her around long enough to let her tell anyone what she’d heard. She had to work fast.
Lying in bed that afternoon, she’d thought it was already over. The realization had been unlike anything she’d experienced before, and she wouldn’t go there again. She’d actually been surprised at the way Bowen spoke about her, at his obvious indifference to her hearing an incriminating conversation. Stupid. She had been stupid. And naive, just as her uncle had always accused her of being. Whatever good she thought she’d glimpsed inside Bowen was a facade, and remembering that might just save her life.
Furthermore, she’d allowed the tentative friendship she’d developed with Connor to make her complacent. Make her feel safe in this world. Their brief discussions about his ailing mother, his life before coming to Brooklyn, didn’t mean he would save her if presented with a crucial choice. It was unlike her to let down her guard like that. Had she developed some weird case of Stockholm syndrome? She might have nursed Connor back to health, but in this world, the bottom line was all that counted. Making money, staying alive. Protecting your interests. She’d learned early not to depend on anyone but herself, and a lapse in judgment could mean her life.
She didn’t understand why Bowen had moved her into his apartment, but thinking about it had become a distraction. Based on the conversation he’d had with Wayne, he would have to leave at some point to go pay his visit to the outsiders who’d had the audacity to invade his territory. That would be her chance to gain entrance to Hogan’s office, and she had to take it. She could feel the walls closing in around her. Until today, she’d felt relatively safe in her assumed identity. Now it had all begun to crumble around her ears.
Her uncle had never had any faith in her, choosing to place it all in her brother. When her father died in the line of duty so long ago, she’d been a child. She’d desperately needed approval, encouragement. Her mother’s subsequent death when her grief drove her to drink and drive one horrible night had left Sera precious little resources for that. Instead of giving her a solid foundation to rebuild on, her uncle’s response had been to send her away. As an adult, she could unders
tand why a busy man opted out of raising two children, but that rejection had also instilled a need to prove herself to him. To everyone.
Focus now. Stop dwelling on what you can’t change. Your plan is to find the evidence, expose Hogan, and become invisible again. Just like you have been forever.
Having finished serving the table, she straightened, intending to return to the bar. When she ran straight into Bowen’s solid figure, she couldn’t contain a yelp of alarm. He steadied her with both hands on her elbows, gaze narrowed suspiciously. “You all right?”
“I’m fine, I just didn’t expect you to be standing there.”
“Okay.” He drew the word out. “I have to leave for a little while, but I’ll be right back.”
She tugged away and pasted on a casual smile. “Who’s going to glare at me from the bar while you’re gone?”
“Nobody better. If anyone does, you tell me.” After what seemed to be an internal debate, he slid a hand around her waist and pulled her close again, as if offended to have her so far away. “Think you can manage to kiss me without turning into a wildcat?”
A mere breath separated their lips. “You didn’t seem to mind before.”
“Baby, you’re making me hard right when I need to walk out the door. It’s goddamn inconvenient.” He sampled her mouth with a wet tug of his lips. “Don’t stop.”
As though it were the most natural thing in the world, her hand slid up his chest and disappeared into his hair. He snaked his arm around her body so it rested against the small of her back and drew her close. So close. Their mouths came together on a groan. The sensual devastation reached to her toes, then slithered back up to settle between her legs. How could he do this to her? One minute he was the enemy; the next he drew reactions from her body, scrambling her brain. Made her question everything she knew about herself.
Bowen released her mouth on a curse. “Watching you work fucks me up. You have any idea what it does to me when you bend over a table and smile? It makes me want to pull up your skirt and turn that smile into a scream.”
His words shivered down her back. “Do you talk to every girl like this?”
“I don’t even turn on the lights for other girls.”
Why did that kick up a spark of pleasure? It was just another line. She knew it and yet, combined with the way he looked at her, she felt like the only person in the room. “That’s just bad manners.”
Gray eyes twinkled. “They’re the only kind I have.”
“You’re confusing me, Bowen.” She took a deep breath. “I need to get back to work.”
When she tried to extricate herself, he didn’t budge. “That’s the first time you’ve said my name.” He rubbed their lips together. “Whisper it again in my ear, then I’ll go.”
“You’re a lunatic.” He simply raised an eyebrow and she sighed, annoyed at the traitorous smile playing around her mouth. Holding his shoulders for support, she pressed up on her toes and laid her mouth against his ear. After taking a moment to inhale his smoky leather scent, she let his name fall from her lips. “Bowen.”
He actually shook. The arm banding her waist tightened, and the breath whooshed from her lungs. Then just as quickly, he let her go. “I’ll be right back.”
All she could do was nod.
Chapter Seven
Bowen bit the inside of his cheek to silence the screaming in his head, the churning sickness in his stomach. His knuckles ached and he needed to wash them off before he saw Sera. It helped to think about her, so he hung on to the image of her lying in the middle of his guest bed. Any minute, he would get out of this car full of jackasses bragging about the beatdowns they’d just delivered and see her again. And maybe she’d let him pretend like earlier. Maybe she’d let him kiss her and call her Ladybug and fantasize they weren’t so different. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Not one fucking certainty in his life, except for pain. The giving of it and the receiving of it. Not a day went by anymore where he didn’t condone the use of violence. As a teenager and even through his early twenties, he’d loved fighting. Lived for it. He’d loved the fact no one ever got the drop on him; he could use his fists to get out of any situation. That time had long passed, and now it was work. The kind of work that breaks you down until nothing registers. For a while now, he’d experienced slips into numbness. It got a little easier every time, to issue the order. A little easier to think of people as dollar signs instead of living, breathing human beings with souls.
Had he been born with a soul? He’d often wondered if it were possible to walk upright, communicating and living life with just the idea of where his soul should be. Worse, did people see that lack in him? Is that why everyone left in the end?
An image of the woman, hair streaked full of pink, replaced Sera in his mind, but he grabbed on to her and held tight, the way he wished he could do in real life. He didn’t want to think about the woman or why she’d left or if it had been something he could have prevented. Something he could have done differently. Right now, at least he had a purpose. Protect Sera. Keep Ruby’s involvement in his father’s arrest confidential. If he could do those two things, maybe he could look back one day and say he’d done something that mattered. Keeping his own ass out of jail didn’t quite rate in comparison, but it drove him, too. No way would he pass his father in the Rikers Island cafeteria and see smug satisfaction on his face.
Finally, after an eternity, the car pulled over to drop him at the curb outside of Rush. The other passengers were still in their element, mimicking the cries of pain they’d induced tonight, already talking about the next time.
Irritation snapping behind his eyes, he stooped down and leaned into the passenger side window. Everyone shut up, attention zeroing in on him. “Listen up. You assholes want to go out and get your dicks wet, get drunk? Have at it. But keep your fucking mouths shut. You’re about as inconspicuous as a couple of Macy’s parade floats. This isn’t your first fight and it won’t be your last, so quit acting like it. You’re embarrassing yourselves and me in the process.”
The driver held up his hands. “You got it, boss.”
God, he hated being called that. Boss of what? A car full of shitheads. He straightened and patted the car’s roof once. “Take it easy on them girls.”
Spirits somewhat restored, the car full of men pulled away as Bowen walked into Rush, nodding in greeting at the bouncer. As he wove through the crowd at the bar, he heard his name spoken several times. Some of the voices female, some male. He ignored them all. The moment his eyes landed on Sera, the screaming in his head died down to a whisper. Face flushed, hair falling out of its ponytail, she looked more than a little flustered. Since he’d left, the place had grown busy, the typical Saturday night crowd looking to get rowdy. The tray full of drinks in her hand looked seconds from gracing the floor.
Good Lord, the girl was a horrible waitress. Why did that make him want her even more?
He didn’t even realize he was walking toward her until Connor stepped into his path, bringing him up short. “Driscol.”
Bowen gave a quick nod, angling himself so he could keep an eye on Sera. “Look at you, fully clothed. Is there a special occasion?”
“Nah.” Connor shrugged. “I just don’t have a beautiful girl in my bed at the moment.”
His vision swam with red. “I’d be more careful about what comes out of your mouth. I don’t care if this club belongs to your cousin. Don’t talk about her.”
Connor considered him in a way that made Bowen almost uncomfortable. This wasn’t a typical neighborhood guy. Too much went on behind his eyes. A quick glance at the man’s forearm and the navy tattoo told him Connor hadn’t spent his entire life in Brooklyn, like the rest of them. “I just wanted to confirm my suspicion.”
“The suspicion that I’d like to kick your ass?”
“Nope.” He tipped back his bottle of Heineken. “The suspicion that the ladies’ man I’d heard so much about is gone over one chick.”
Bowen accept
ed a glass of whiskey from the bartender, not bothering to deny it. He’d already screwed himself with his possessive behavior. “So what? You want to go paint our nails and talk about it or something?”
“Funny. You know why I brought it up.” His voice trailed off when the music quieted between songs. When another one kicked in, he spoke again. “She overheard something. Something she shouldn’t have.”
“Excuse me?” Bowen swore he could feel the blood turning to solid ice in his veins. “We’re talking about Sera?”
“No, the other girl you almost ripped my throat out over.”
“Talk,” he gritted out.
Connor finished his beer and set it on the bar. “Last week. Hogan had a phone conversation in the hallway outside my room. He didn’t realize she was inside changing my bandage.” He glanced over his shoulder at Sera where she took a drink order. When he turned back, his eyebrows were drawn low. “It was the date of the shipment. She heard it. No location, but it was enough to worry my cousin. That’s why she’s marked, man.”
Even having already known Hogan wanted Sera gone didn’t ease the blow of hearing it spoken aloud. Over his dead body would those words ever come true. “The question is, why are you telling me this?”
“I’d be dead if it wasn’t for her. I repay my debts.”
Difficult as it was to admit, Bowen believed him. He’d had a lot of experience dealing with liars, and this guy wasn’t one. Second, he knew all too well the way Sera could work her way under your skin, make you question your own loyalties. Watching her call an order to the bartender, his throat squeezed. He needed to distract himself or he would carry her out of there over his shoulder. “How’d you end up here?”
Connor raised an eyebrow.
“Going from the navy to running small-time game in Brooklyn?” Bowen shrugged. “That’s pretty far to fall.”
“Thanks, man.” He pulled his wallet out of his pocket. “You want to go paint our nails and talk about it or something?”
