by Tessa Bailey
Her shoulders tightened at the condescending endearment, but she had to let it slide. She needed Bowen taken off the street and arguing wouldn’t accomplish that outcome for her. Furthermore, she’d known going into this her badge would be in jeopardy, but relating that to her uncle would only exacerbate his anger. “Just agree to it. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t extremely important.”
A long-suffering sigh greeted her. “What is it?”
Relief rushed through her. “Pick up Bowen Driscol for something, anything, on the afternoon of the ninth. Whatever is going down, he can’t be there. They’re planning a hit. I only want him kept overnight. No longer.”
Silence. “Since when do you concern yourself with the livelihood of criminals?”
Since I fell for one. “Isn’t it our job to protect people? Would you willingly send a man into a situation when you knew his life was in danger?”
He scoffed. “Sera, you’re too idealistic for this job. Just like I’ve always said.” A loud slam reverberated down the line. “I should pull you out of there tonight. Find a safe house and keep you out of sight until the job can be done right.”
“You wouldn’t.” The hard edge to her voice surprised even her. “You want Hogan too badly and I’m close enough to get him. And we both know this job should have been done by now.” She reeled back her irritation. “Will you pick up Bowen on the ninth or not?”
“Yes,” he returned in a clipped tone. “Get what we need, Sera, so we can have this done. This is completely unorthodox and I’m worried about you.”
“I’m a capable officer. Please treat me like one.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I have to go.”
“You have one more night, Sera. One. No exceptions. I’ll wait for your call.”
She hung up, emotions warring inside her, the most annoying of which was the unwanted warmth she got knowing her uncle was worried. He’d taken her father’s place at such a young age, but had never shown her anything resembling fatherly concern. Right now, when fear was creeping in, she wanted to bask in it. No time.
A car pulled up at the curb, interrupting her thoughts. One glance at the occupants of the vehicle had her turning on a heel, heading back toward Marco’s at a brisk clip. There were four men, none that she recognized. A single glance at them told her she needed to be inside before they exited the car. One of them tapped a baseball bat on the dashboard, his mouth stretching into a smile as he looked her over. A whisper of apprehension moved up her spine, intuition telling her they’d come to Marco’s to start trouble and she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Before she could reach the entrance, two of them jumped out of the passenger side and lunged in front of her, blocking her progress. The first thing she noticed were their injuries. Swollen purple discoloration under one man’s eye. Another’s arm wrapped in a plaster cast. It set off warning bells. “Where you going so fast, cutie?”
“Excuse me.” A third man circled up behind her, so she pressed her back to the wall. “Let me by.”
The man holding the baseball bat ignored her. “You belong to one of the assholes inside? That’s bad luck for you.”
Crap. Just as she’d feared, they weren’t from this neighborhood, which meant they’d likely come to retaliate for something. It came back to her then. Bowen’s conversation with Wayne the day he came to the apartment. His subsequent disappearance while she waitressed at Rush. These men were here to issue payback, and now her impulsive butt was caught in the cross fire. She knew how to handle herself, but there were too many of them and they all had weapons. Silently, she begged someone, anyone, to walk out the door and interrupt.
“I don’t belong to anyone.” She shrank back on purpose, appealing to their overblown arrogance, while also making sure they underestimated her. If their goal was to get her into that car, she would fight them with every ounce of strength in her body. Having surprise on her side would come in handy. “Please, just let me go.”
The man holding the bat laughed and ran the coarse wood up the inside of her leg. “Oh, you definitely belong to somebody. You think he’ll miss you?”
Before the bat could reach the apex of her thighs, she smacked it away. Knowing the attempt might be useless, she tried to pass one more time. Purple Eye snaked a hand around her elbow and yanked her to a halt. “We were parked down the block and saw you walk in with Driscol. Get in the fucking car.”
Someone inside the car pushed open the back door, letting out a whoop. “Our turn to send the message, isn’t it? Come on in, girl. I’ll keep you warm for him.”
Sera breathed deeply as they propelled her toward the car, putting up only a token resistance. As soon as they were under the false impression that she would be coming without a fight, the hand on her elbow loosened. That’s when she acted.
She snatched the baseball bat out of the man’s hands, swinging it in a large arc to give herself some room to evaluate. Two of them jumped back, having been caught off guard, but it connected with Purple Eye’s rib cage. He let out a vile curse and went down on one knee, allowing Sera a few precious seconds to focus on the other two men. The man wearing a cast on his arm circled up behind her, actually laughing at her attempts to fight them off. Trying to keep an eye on both men, she backed up a little, waiting to see who would come at her first. Unfortunately, the more she backed up, the farther she got from Marco’s, so she couldn’t let herself get too far.
“He should have taken better care of this one. She’s spirited.”
“Yeah, too bad,” the man in the cast spat. “Let’s go, girl. Only a matter of time, anyway.”
Laughter poured from inside the car, as if the occupant couldn’t believe his friends’ inability to subdue her. It visibly pissed them off. Purple Eye launched himself from the ground and barreled straight for her. She brought the bat down hard, but he dodged it and wrapped a meaty arm around her waist. Not wasting a second, she brought her foot down on his instep and threw her head back, connecting with his nose. The two other men converged on her, just as Purple Eye’s arm fell away with a shout of pain.
“Bitch.”
The bat was ripped from her hands to clatter on the ground a few yards away. Saying another quick prayer that someone would come out of Marco’s, she threw a punch at the closest man, satisfied when she felt the crunch under her fist. She didn’t have much time to celebrate landing a decent blow, though. A hand wrapped around her throat from behind, squeezing tight enough to cut off her air. Reflexively, her fingers tried to pry the hand away, but she couldn’t get a grip. Her vision began to flare in tiny spots as air ran scarce. She had to make a move. Now. After taking a second to judge where his body was positioned so she could inflict the most damage, Sera got ready to let her body go limp. When she caught him off guard, she’d spin and go for his testicles. Three…two…
Smash. The front door to Marco’s flew open, hitting the side of the building with enough force to splinter the wood. Through her dimming eyesight, Sera made out several men’s silhouettes, including Bowen’s, before his ferocious, earsplitting shout of denial rent the air around her. It startled the man choking her enough that he eased up on the pressure, allowing her to suck precious oxygen into her lungs. She caught herself just before her knees met the concrete, but her relief quickly gave way to horror.
Guns were drawn in quick succession, from both crews. Bowen held one in his outstretched hand. Sera didn’t know what was worse, the inevitable gunfire or Bowen’s expression. She barely recognized him. Never in her life had she seen someone so capable of murder, his body drawn tight, pupils dilated. Everyone in the vicinity sensed it, too. Each and every eye trained on him, waiting for him to react.
No. Sera wanted to rail over the unfairness. She’d been trying to save his life and in the process, she’d put him in a situation where he could very well commit murder. In front of her, an undercover cop. Don’t let it happen. “Bowen,” she whispered, taking a hesitant step toward him.
His haunted gaze ma
de her flinch. She could see the emotional battle taking place on his face. Finger poised on the trigger, he clearly wanted to fire on the man who’d been holding her. Without saying a word, he tore his attention away from her, indicating her captor with a nod of his head. “He doesn’t go anywhere.”
Sera shivered under the iciness of his order. As she watched, the group of men behind Bowen converged on the car, keeping their weapons trained on the intruders. Two of Bowen’s guys lowered their weapons in favor of wrestling her captor to the ground. His friends watched helplessly, unable to lower their weapons and help their friend or they would risk being shot. Finally, one of them cursed and shoved his gun into the waistband of his jeans, the others quickly following suit. They piled back into the car, leaving their friend behind as they peeled away from the curb.
Bowen jerked his chin at two men in his crew. “Follow them. This ends tonight.”
As they jogged off to follow Bowen’s dictate, he sauntered forward. Almost as an afterthought, he picked the bat up off the ground and went toward the man who’d been left behind. Dozens of patrons had spilled from Marco’s to witness the action, and they all watched in rapt silence now as Bowen tapped the bat against his palm. Every tap felt like a physical blow to Sera, who wanted desperately to wrap her arms around him and beg him to stop, but she couldn’t move. This man, this frozen, rage-filled version of Bowen…she didn’t know him.
He came to a stop directly over the left-behind crew member, twirling the bat in his hand. His gaze met hers for a brief, heavy second before he raised the bat and brought it down with enough force to make her gasp and jump back. Her heart raced out of control, breath shallow in her ears. She was terrified to watch, to see the death her decision had caused.
The bat connected with the sidewalk beside the man’s head, sending shards of wood in every direction. Some members of the crowd reacted with relief, others with disappointment. The latter made her sick even as thankfulness swamped her. He hadn’t done it.
Her stunning relief was short-lived. Bowen crouched down and looked the cowering man square in the eye. “You. Are a dead man.” Slowly and purposefully, he rose to his feet and held out a hand to her, his attitude daring her not to take it. She swallowed the hard lump in her throat and slipped her fingers against his cool palm, resisting the urge to snatch her hand back when she heard his low growl. One second she had both feet planted on the ground, the next he’d swung her up into his arms to carry her toward his car. She mentally begged him to look her in the eye as he settled her into the passenger seat and shut the door. Through the closed window, she heard him shout to his men, his words falling like boulders on her chest.
“You know where to take him. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
His order left no doubt as to what would happen when he got there. He planned to kill the man for what he’d done.
Sera vowed then and there she would do everything in her power to stop him.
Chapter Sixteen
Twice in his life, he’d been scared.
The first time, his father had pointed a gun at Ruby. He’d been on the floor with a freshly broken arm, too far away to get between his sister and the bullet. From his position, he’d watched resignation transform her features, features so similar to his. It had been such an obvious acceptance of her own death, he’d almost looked away so it wouldn’t be etched on his memory, but somehow he’d forced himself to continue watching. Somehow it would mean she didn’t die alone. So unfair, he remembered thinking. After the close calls and scrapes they’d been in, she wouldn’t even get the chance to fight. All of it, all these individual catastrophes, took place within his mind in one second. The longest second of his life.
Until tonight.
He hated the feeling of fear. It slithered like a living thing through his veins, trying to shut him down. Out of self-preservation, he allowed the fear to close himself off to anything but burning, festering anger. He welcomed it. Let it become comfortable and focused on it. Anything that would block out the image of Sera being choked, feet dangling in the air, hands clawing at her neck. If he let himself dwell on it, he knew with 100 percent certainty his world would implode.
The anger had a few different shapes, the first of which was directed at himself. He shouldn’t have left her alone, knowing she would take any opportunity to further her investigation. It had been a poor decision and he’d nearly paid for it the worst way possible. Losing—
No. Don’t think about it. Stay focused.
Anger. Anger at Sera. If he let himself feel it, maybe he could battle this need to pull the car over and drag her into his lap. Rock her. Smell her hair. Tell her what a crazy, stupid, maddening, beautiful girl she was. Shout at her. Kiss her. Shake her. Demand she hold him until this block of ice inside him melted and he stopped feeling shaky.
He wouldn’t let himself, though. It was vital he keep his rage, hold on to it like a precious gift. Whenever she touched him, he lost the grip on his darker self. The self that had finally made an appearance tonight, much to the delight of his crew of assholes. Even Wayne had been smugly satisfied to see him promising violence and retribution. While Bowen might regret giving the man what he wanted tomorrow, tonight he couldn’t give a shit. This hot, pumping anger needed an outlet and it would be unleashed on the man who’d put his hands on Sera.
At the reminder of what he’d seen as he walked out of the restaurant, his grip tightened on the wheel, making the car swerve. In the seat beside him, Sera’s hand flew to her throat. That’s when he noticed the red marks. Just over her windpipe, five fingerprints that had to have been digging into her hard, for a good while, to leave those kinds of marks behind. He stared at them, letting them fuel his anger, ignoring the brown eyes trying to get his attention. If he looked into her eyes, knowing he’d almost lost the chance to ever do so again, he would lose it. He would fucking lose it. After what felt like an hour-long drive, but in reality had only been three minutes, he pulled up in front of his building. He took a moment as he rounded the car to scan the block for Connor’s car, but didn’t see him.
Dammit, there were too many threats. Too many ways she could get hurt. As soon as he took care of business tonight, he was calling this shit off. Either the cops came and got her the hell out of Brooklyn tomorrow or he would get her out himself. He didn’t know how he would accomplish it when she would fight him every step of the way, but it would be done. Pain lanced his stomach at the realization he wouldn’t see her again once they took her. God, he wanted to keep her. Wanted to lock them both in his apartment and never leave, except maybe for church. Whatever it took to keep her happy. But he knew his stupid fantasy would never come true. It couldn’t, because of who they were and the damn countdown clock hovering over their heads. Trying to make it come true would be selfish and could get her killed.
Making sure not to look directly at Sera, he helped her from the passenger seat and hustled her toward the building. They were inside his apartment in under a minute, safe inside four walls, but he rejected the feeling of calm. If he narrowed his concentration down into one neat funnel, he could get out of there without touching her to reassure himself she was all right. If he let that happen, he didn’t know if he could stop.
Leaving her standing just inside the locked door, he flew around the apartment checking and double-checking no one had broken in. Her gaze stayed with him the entire time. It drew him, tempted him to lose himself inside it, but he staunchly refused. Once he’d checked every square inch of the apartment, he took her arm and led her into his bedroom. He wanted to watch her, gauge her reaction to his private space. Instead, he went to his closet and crouched down, so he could punch in the combination to his safe.
“Do you know how to use a gun?” he asked, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. Of course she did, but he wanted her to lie. He wanted to throw fuel onto his fire. Another deception from her would do the trick.
“Yes.”
His hand froze in the action of removin
g his Glock from the safe, something warm and unwanted expanding in his chest. That single truthful word doused his desire for her to lie. Tell me everything, baby. Please, no more hiding. “Really. Care to tell me how?”
“Bowen, please. Will you just look at me?”
He could feel her standing behind him. “You will stay in this room, with the door locked, until I come back. Anyone tries to get in that isn’t me, you shoot them, Sera. Tell me you understand. Tell me you’ll listen this time.”
When he stood to face her, she was entirely too close. Close enough to grab. To taste. His bed was only a few short steps away, covers still rumpled and unmade from this morning. The mural depicting death and destruction on the wall behind his bed outlined her body, hitting home just how much danger existed around her. His danger. His world.
Bowen kept his gaze glued firmly above her head, pretending fascination with some invisible spot that didn’t exist. “I’m waiting for an answer.” He heard her deep intake of breath. She moved closer and everything inside him seized. “Don’t.” Don’t what? He had no idea what he was asking her not to do, only knew it would break him.
Obviously deciding to ignore his request, she laid a hand on his chest, immediately making him shudder from head to toe. He closed his eyes defensively as her hand traced over his chest, up his neck and into his hair. Oh, God, he wanted to fall at her feet. Frantically, he searched in the darkness for his anger and gripped it like a lifeline.
When she laid her lips against his neck, that lifeline was ripped from his hands. “Please, don’t leave me. Please stay.” Unable to speak, he shook his head, but it only caused her lips to drag along the heated skin of his neck. A groan left him before he could stop it. The battle to remain detached growing weak with the sound of her voice. “I’m scared. Stay with me.”
No. Oh, Jesus. She’d said the one thing that could topple the reinforced steel barrier he’d built. At that moment, the only thing that kept it standing was the chance she could be playing him. Was she really scared or did she just want him to stay? He made the mistake of finally looking into her addictive brown eyes and felt irreparable cracks forming in his wall. Fear. She was scared. With the acknowledgment of that came the need to protect. To erase the fear. He tried to hold it back, to remember what needed to be done tonight. Retribution. Payback. He needed to punish the men responsible for the fear.
