by Tessa Bailey
Why did that make her feel so empty now?
When she reached Bowen’s car, she let the slim jim she’d found beneath Bowen’s sink fall from her jacket sleeve into her palm. She slipped the tool between the car window and rubber seal, making quick work of the lock. Quickly, she popped the trunk and retreated to the back of the car, pushing the slim jim up her sleeve as she went. Inside, she saw nothing. A brand-new tire iron, a Brooklyn Nets sweatshirt. She lifted the lining and felt around, all the while praying her fingers didn’t connect with anything except the spare tire.
After her search yielded nothing, she heaved a sigh of relief and skirted the bumper to the front passenger side, flipping open the glove compartment. Clean. Not even a crumpled-up parking ticket. No, wait…a folded-up piece of paper tucked inside beneath the plastic manual. The yellow edge jumped right out at her because it was the only thing out of place in the clean car, appearing as though it had been stored in a rush. She pinched the very corner and drew out a yellow pamphlet, laying it on the seat.
Her hand rose to her throat. The church program. Bowen had kept it. Along the bottom edge, he’d written yesterday’s date in heavy script, circling it once. Guilt swarmed in the air, before swooping in to break right through her rib cage. Guilt and…something else. Maybe she hadn’t gone out there looking for evidence against Bowen. Maybe she’d been looking for something to justify her desire to save him. God, she wanted to. It had taken this gesture to kick her in the ass. Make her realize exactly how vital that additional mission was to her.
Without searching the rest of the car, Sera replaced the church program exactly as she’d found it, locked the car, and returned to the apartment. To Bowen.
Bowen drew on his cigarette as he watched Sera from across the street. She removed the rolled-up newspaper she’d used to prop his building door open and slipped back inside with the grace of an adorable cat burglar. When the door closed behind her, some of the tension lifted from his shoulders. Although he’d suspected she would sneak out at some point, watching her knowingly deceive him bothered him more than it should. A lot more.
He’d walked into this with his eyes open, knowing Sera would be playing a part. It shouldn’t be driving him out of his mind she hadn’t confided in him yet. Why would she? They’d known each other for four days. Did he honestly think she would jeopardize all her hard work on the chance he turned out to be a decent man?
Hell, he wasn’t a decent man. He’d been treading water before, but she finally managed to drag him below the surface last night. Her mouth, her taste, her voice. All things he couldn’t be without anymore. Necessities. Even standing across the street from her felt like miles, instead of yards. If he had his way, if the world were perfect, she would have her arms twined around his neck every second of the day. Her mouth within kissing distance, curves fitted against his. It wouldn’t feel so right, so essential, to touch her if she didn’t feel anything on her end. Right?
Deciding enough time had passed since she walked into the building, Bowen crossed the street, but was brought up short when his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He drew it out and stared at the screen. Manhattan number, but not one he recognized.
He answered anyway. “Yeah.”
“What the fuck did you say to her?”
“Troy.” Bowen took a final pull of his cigarette and ground it out under his boot. “I’m surprised it took you this long to call me.”
Silence met him on the other end.
“Look, I told you to keep Ruby out of my neighborhood. If you can’t keep tabs on your girl that’s not my problem. She give you the slip again?”
“I knew she went,” Troy responded tightly. “I know every time she goes.”
He encountered a kick of surprise. “You don’t care that it’s dangerous for her here? The girl who managed to put my father behind bars?”
“She’s never in danger. Don’t question my ability to protect her.” The pause that followed was full of frustration. “I do what I need to in order keep her. If that means letting her retain a piece of her old life, so be it.”
“I’m not that piece.”
“No, you’re not. And don’t worry. I think you finally managed to convince her. She’s walking around like a ghost. I’d like to kick your ass for that.”
“Been there, done that, got the bloodstained T-shirt.” Bowen’s own anger rose to match Troy’s. Brought on by guilt, having his hands tied where Sera was concerned. It poured over his head like hot water. “Is this what cops do all day? Sit around and whine about your girlfriends and their mood swings? As a taxpayer, I, for one, am appalled.”
“Fuck you, Driscol.”
“No, fuck you. The longer Sera is out here, the more she’s in danger. Try focusing on that.” Bowen ran a rough hand through his hair. “They’re suspicious. She’s good at what she does, but it’s not enough. Not here.”
“You can’t keep her safe?”
“No one. Is going. To touch her,” Bowen whispered furiously. “As long as I’m breathing, nothing happens to her.”
“So it’s true. She’s staying with you.”
Bowen dropped his head forward on a disgusted laugh. He’d been played. The realization tasted bitter in his mouth. “You could have just asked. You didn’t need to piss me off in order to find out what you needed to know.”
“Even us whiny cops need entertainment.” Troy sighed wearily. “You weren’t going to tell us. Why is that?”
“You’re the detective. Figure it out.” As soon as the words left his mouth, a wave of self-loathing battered him, but it was too late to take them back. “Your only rule was she doesn’t find out I’m working with you. I haven’t broken it. You didn’t say I couldn’t enjoy myself while I sell out.”
He could practically see Troy shaking his head. “Jesus, Bowen. I don’t know why, but I expected better from you.”
“Your mistake.” He felt a fierce sudden need to have eyes on Sera. To hold her and apologize for what he’d just implied. For blackening her good name by connecting it to his own. “Listen, we agreed I would do this my way. The safest place she can be is with me. Are we done here?”
“For now.”
“Fucking swell.”
Bowen hung up on Troy’s disappointment, refusing to examine why it actually bothered him. Since when did he give a shit what that asshole thought about him?
He started to reach for another cigarette, but changed his mind. Compelled by the craving to see Sera and reassure himself she was okay, he jogged toward the building. Before he jerked the door open, something caught his eye—or someone, rather. A block away, a man sat watching him from a parked car.
Dread settled in his gut. He started toward the car, but it pulled away from the curb. Very slowly, he reached behind his back and molded a hand around the butt of his gun. A moment later, the car passed and he got a glimpse of the driver inside. A driver who was looking right at him, expression inscrutable.
Connor.
Chapter Twelve
When Bowen walked through the front door of the apartment, instead of exiting his bedroom as expected, Sera’s heartbeat skidded to a halt. She sat in the windowsill, a bowl of Cheerios in one hand, spoon in the other. Oh, God, what if he’d seen her? She braced herself for questions, brain scrambling for a believable cover story that would explain why she’d broken into his car.
He tugged on the collar of his leather bomber jacket, restless energy radiating from every inch of him. “You want to get out of here, Ladybug?”
“What?”
“Come on.” His fingers harassed his hair. “We’ve been stuck in here since last night.”
She let him take the bowl of Cheerios from her hand. “Where were you?”
“Picking up smokes.”
“Okay.” The stores were still closed, though. She’d only been back ten minutes. They couldn’t have opened that quickly. How could she have missed him leaving the apartment? “Let me get dressed.” Something was wrong. She co
uldn’t put a name to the look in his eyes. Anxiousness. Forced casualness.
“Where are you going?” she asked as he followed on her heels.
“With you.” He smiled, but it was strained. “Let me pick something out?”
Sera watched dumbfounded as he rummaged through the neat stack of clothes on her side table, casting a look at her over his shoulder as if to make sure she was still there. Within seconds, he returned with a green short-sleeved sweaterdress. He shoved the garment into her hands and reached for the hem of her sleep shirt, tugging it up her bare thighs.
“Bowen.” She grabbed his hands. “Stop.” Their gazes connected, but she didn’t think he saw her. “What’s wrong with you? Did something happen?”
On a long exhale, he pressed their foreheads together. “Sometimes I feel a little trapped here, baby. In this place. Does that ever happen to you? Have you ever felt trapped?”
She thought of her years at boarding school, being kept at a safe distance while working in Boston, even living above Rush for two weeks in that tiny room. “Yes, I have.”
His jaw tightened, gray eyes snapping. “Now I wish I hadn’t asked.”
“I don’t feel trapped now,” she said, realizing she meant it. Not here, not with him. She stepped back and pulled the T-shirt over her head, leaving her standing before him in a bra and panties. His nostrils flared, muscular chest shuddering once. When his hands flexed at his sides, she thought he would touch her. She mentally begged him to, begged him to seek comfort in her. Instead, he dragged the dress over her head and fixed it over her curves in a series of jerky moves.
“Shoes?” He snatched up the ankle boots at the foot of the bed. She was forced to grab his shoulders for support as he placed them on her feet, one at a time. Task complete, he straightened and jerked his chin at her. “Before you insist on doing some girlie nonsense to your hair, it looks great. Let’s go.”
Bowen took her hand and pulled her from the room, barely giving her enough time to collect her purse off the counter. Here she went again. “Not until you tell me where we’re going.”
He paused at the door, facing her slowly. “Do you trust me, Sera?”
His entire world seemed ready to crash and burn if she gave the wrong answer. That responsibility scared her. If he placed this much importance on trust, her trust, what would happen when he inevitably found out her full identity as a police officer? What would happen when they had to go their separate ways?
Her throat started to close up, but she managed a nod. “Yes.”
Tension left his shoulders gradually. “Try not to think about it so hard next time.”
“Try not to ask questions that require thought before I’ve had any coffee.”
He draped an arm around her shoulders, holding her close as he locked the apartment. “Fair enough. You like the beach?”
“Yes. I love it.” They walked side by side down the hall. “Is the beach kind of an escape for you, from being trapped?”
“Sometimes.” Bowen shrugged, the edginess returning. “Today it’s just a backdrop, though. You’re the escape, sweetheart.”
His words knocked the wind right out of her. The way he’d murmured it, almost as an afterthought, made it more meaningful. It proved it hadn’t been a line or a joke. Just pure, honest Bowen. Not just the Bowen she wanted to save. The Bowen she…wanted. Period. Oh, God, she’d fallen for him. The word “fallen” didn’t suit how she felt, though. “Fallen” implied that she’d already landed, when her entire being still soared, gravitating toward him. Solid ground wasn’t even in her sight line. The practical part of her screamed bad news, but her heart only sped faster. After her investigation ended, could she walk away from him? Even thinking the words made her entire body rebel, hurting head to toe.
Bowen sent her a tentative smile as they reached the bottom of the staircase. He squeezed her to his side so tightly, she could barely breathe. His eyes scanned the street as he hustled her to his car parked at the curb and opened the passenger-side door. The second she settled into the seat, he slammed the door closed behind her.
Obviously something had happened between last night and this morning that had him worried. He said he’d left the apartment to buy cigarettes. Had he run into trouble instead?
They drove along the parkway with the windows down, crisp morning air tunneling through the car in a wash of white noise. It wasn’t exactly beach weather, but she knew they weren’t going for the usual reasons. Would he tell her if she asked?
Who is the man I’m free-falling for? The man who’d been so genuine with the offer to kill someone for her? Or the man who painted a halo over her head?
Bowen parked the car and they walked to a diner, ordering food to go. They took their wrapped breakfast sandwiches and ate them on the boardwalk, looking out over the Atlantic. Seagulls called to one another; people passed behind them speaking mostly in Russian as the ocean crashed in soothing intervals. It occurred to Sera she’d seen and experienced more with Bowen in the last four days than she had in years. She didn’t know whether to be grateful or depressed by the thought.
“You’re thinking too hard again.”
Sera held up her paper cup of coffee in response.
He chuckled from his position on the railing. It didn’t escape her he had a view of anyone coming up behind her. “When is the last time you were at the beach?”
She ate her last bite of sandwich as she dug through her memory. “When I was a senior in high school. Which is just sad, when you get right down to it.”
“Hmm. Who were you with?”
“A pack of nuns.”
He choked on a sip of coffee. “You make them sound like wolves.”
“Oh, you’ve met them?”
His crack of laughter drew the attention of some passing joggers. “That bad, huh?”
She collected their garbage and tossed it in the nearby garbage can. “Let’s just say, wearing a habit at the beach in ninety-degree weather doesn’t put someone in a good mood to begin with. Throw in thirty teenage girls who are seeing boys with their shirts off for the first time…it’s not pretty.”
Bowen’s eyes narrowed on her. “You were gawking again, weren’t you?”
“Guilty.”
His voice dropped. “We’ll sort that out later, won’t we?”
The air grew thick between them, heating her even in the cool morning breeze. It would be so easy to stand and wrap her arms around him, but she wanted to take this opportunity to know more. To understand him better as a person before their labels, their real lives, intruded and she’d never get the chance again. Her throat grew suddenly tight. “What about you? Last time at the beach.”
He opened his mouth to answer, but frowned and shut it again. “I don’t remember. I might have been here last week…” She could tell from his tone he meant it. If he wanted to, he could have easily made something up. Clearly, he couldn’t call to mind the last time he’d been, and it bothered him tremendously.
“Just tell me about any time you were at the beach, Bowen,” she offered quietly. “It doesn’t have to be the last time.”
Sera watched shadows pass behind his eyes as he thought. The lightheartedness of a moment ago had passed, leaving his troubles etched in the hard lines of his body. Outlined by the bright morning light from his position on the top rail, he looked like he belonged painted on the ceiling of a cathedral. An angel who had defected to the dark side.
“All right, I got one.” His far-off voice startled her out of her daydream. “My father drove me down here one afternoon when I was thirteen. Even let me sit in the front seat.” He pointed to a spot beyond her shoulder. “There was a group of high school kids hanging out, smoking, whatever. He told me to get out of the car and pick a fight with the biggest one. Wouldn’t let me get back in the car until I did it. Until I won.”
Sera was certain if she moved, her body would splinter in half. Anger coursed through her veins at the idea of a father treating his child so callou
sly. She felt pity for the little boy, too, but she held on to the anger because if he saw her pity, he’d hate it. “Did you win?”
“No. I rode the subway home with two busted eyes that day. So he brought me back the following week. And the week after that. Until he could point out anyone on the beach and I could take them.” He gave a quick shake of his head. “But I haven’t lost a fair fight since then, so lesson learned, right?”
“Fair fight? None of that was fair.” When he merely stared off into the distance, she drew in a deep breath to calm herself down. It didn’t work. Her hands were shaking in her lap with the desire to break a commandment on his behalf. “Why did you tell me that?”
“To see if you’ll leave.” His hands clenched and unclenched on the rail. “Once you know I’m just a trained attack dog.”
“Would you let me leave?”
“No.” Stormy gray eyes found hers. “No.”
In her old line of work, the ER had been a place where income brackets and political differences didn’t matter. Making people better, that’s what mattered. This need to care for Bowen went so far beyond a calling. It couldn’t be controlled or reasoned with. It was necessity. Sharing his aches wasn’t a burden, but a privilege. He’d just proven beyond a shadow of a doubt how vastly different their worlds had been growing up. How different they were still. She didn’t care anymore if her pity was unwanted, though. She needed to touch him.
At the exact moment she launched herself from the bench toward Bowen, he dropped from the railing and met her halfway, their bodies colliding. His arms banded across her back, crushing her to his chest. Her chin fit just right into the notch of his neck. They held each other and swayed for a while, ignoring the curious looks of people walking past. She could only hold tight and hope the simple act of her being there helped in some way.
