by Tessa Bailey
Bowen raised a single eyebrow. “You just arrested us for transporting stolen goods, probably breaking at least twenty different laws, and you’re deputizing us? What am I missing?”
“Nothing. But I’d refrain from repeating that little recap outside of this room,” Troy said drily. “This is why you two were a package deal. You’re all heart, Bowen. Connor’s the thinker. If you can work together, you’ll do well.”
Connor threw an arm over the back of his chair. “They’re forming a new squad, from what I understand. They need us because we think like criminals.” A muscle jumped in his cheek, obviously disliking that description of himself. “At first, I said no deal. But they made me an offer I couldn’t turn down. Guess I’m a Cubs fan now.”
“Chicago,” Bowen mouthed. “What’s my other option?”
“Prison time.”
“Go Cubs.”
A smile tilted one end of Troy’s mouth. “Don’t act so grateful. I might blush.”
Bowen sat back down, looking far less satisfied than he should have been at receiving his get out of jail free card. “Thanks, man,” he said quietly. “Although we both know if you put me in prison, Ruby would have had your ass.”
“That played a part. It always does. But it was mostly Sera. As of now, the brass has managed to keep this quiet. They’ve sent Newsom out as if he’s resigned for health concerns. But she raised hell, threatening to go to the media about corruption in the department, unless they gave you a chance. They can’t afford the scrutiny.” Troy paused, watching him closely. “She was something else.”
Bowen didn’t speak for a long time. Sera could see he wanted to believe it, but was still not ready. When he seemed to realize both men were waiting for a response, he tossed an absent glance at Connor. “So which one of us gets to be Batman and who’s stuck playing Robin?”
“I’m Batman,” Connor said.
“You wish.”
“Actually,” Troy started slowly. “You’ll be traveling with a third. She’s not exactly a criminal, but she’s had some experience living among them. I guess you could call her Batgirl.”
Sera watched as Bowen went so still, he didn’t even appear to be breathing. That was her cue to go in, but she couldn’t judge his expression and it made her nervous. What if he couldn’t forgive her? What if he didn’t want her in Chicago? With a deep breath for courage, she left the observation area and joined the three men in the room. Bowen locked eyes on her the second she walked through the door, intense as always, but unreadable.
Troy and Connor stood abruptly, both appearing all too eager to flee the awkward situation. On the way out, Connor laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. It caused Bowen to tense, his fingers to curl against his thighs. That telltale sign he still felt possessive toward her boosted her confidence in a much-needed way.
When the door closed behind Troy and Connor, she didn’t bother sitting. This was her chance to explain everything and she wouldn’t waste a moment, wouldn’t risk him tuning her out again. “I asked my uncle to pick you up to keep you safe. That night in Marco’s, I overheard a discussion about everything changing on the ninth. That you wouldn’t be around for much longer after the score.” She wet her lips. “That’s why I went outside…to call him. I didn’t know any other way that wouldn’t blow my cover. And I’m only sorry because my uncle turned out to be someone untrustworthy. Not that I did it, though. I would have done anything to keep you from being hurt.”
His face remained impassive.
“I should have told you everything. About what my brother did, how my uncle hid it. Everything that happened while I was undercover. I’m sorry I didn’t. It put us both in danger and I’ll never forgive myself.” She swallowed hard. “I don’t have an excuse, except I’ve never had anyone to confide in before. It felt like a failure and I didn’t want to face it. Didn’t want you to know I’d failed.”
“It wouldn’t have made a damn difference.”
Bowen’s rusty voice made her insides jump. Wouldn’t have. Past tense? “You told me once that you started falling for me before we met. From just a photograph.” Her voice dropped to a near-whisper. “It happened that way for me, too, in a way. Before I found out your name, you were already overwhelming me. I saw you. It was already too late for me when I realized who you were.”
Still he said nothing, the picture of stillness in his metal chair, watching her.
“And you are not your name. You’re more. So much more. To me, you’re everything.” She drew in a deep breath. “I need the mural artist, the fighter, the man who might have lost his way for a while, but still remained good where it counted. I want the man who loves one minute and rages the next. The man who suffers through church and makes me egg sandwiches. The man who touches me so perfectly.” His lack of response made her want to scream and cry. “I’m coming to Chicago. If you don’t want me there, too bad. I’m going to be right there, every day, standing beside you, because standing anywhere else doesn’t feel right anymore. I love you. No, I’ve loved you. And I’m not saying take it or leave it. I’m saying take it.” Tears blurred her vision. “Please, take it?” she finished shakily.
Every second that passed where he didn’t move or speak felt like broken glass raking over her heart, her exposed skin. He didn’t want her. Okay, okay…she would just have to work harder. She’d earn his trust back in Chicago and eventually he’d come around. What they had didn’t just go away overnight. Did it?
She swiped a hand over her damp eyes and turned for the door, everything moving in slow motion around her. As soon as her hand touched the knob, she heard the metal chair scrape against the floor and go flying, colliding with the opposite wall. Bowen’s body heat suddenly surrounded her, wrenching a sob from her throat. His arms banded around her from behind, molding her to his chest, warm, rapid breaths in her ear.
“Jesus Christ, Sera,” he rasped. “You just handed me everything I’ve ever wanted in this world. I needed a minute to believe it was real.” The tension in her body evaporated with his words, but Bowen simply held her tighter so she wouldn’t fall into a heap. “I love you. So fucking much I’m not sure I have room for it all.”
She let her head fall back against his shoulder, incredible relief making her movements languid. “Make room. I’m not going anywhere.”
He pointed a shaking finger at the doorknob. “That’s the last time you make me watch you walk away. Never again. I’m keeping you, dammit.”
“I’ll never walk away again. I’m keeping you, too.”
“Thank God for that.” Bowen turned her around. She looked up at his beautiful face, running her thumb over a cut under his right eye. He leaned into the contact with a quick release of breath and laid a fist over his heart. “Sera, I’ll be dead in the ground before an ounce of this goes away. There’s nothing you can do to make it lighter and if you could, I wouldn’t let you. I want to be heavy with loving you, baby. Don’t question it again, okay?”
“Okay.” She nodded vigorously, sending tears falling down her cheeks. “Okay.”
He used his lips to brush away her tears. “Are you sure you don’t want to work as a nurse in Chicago? Something safer? I’m not above begging.”
“And miss out on all the action?”
He pinned her against the wall with a low growl. “You’ll be getting enough action at home.”
“Home,” she repeated breathlessly. “I like you saying that.”
Their lips met for a lingering kiss. “You’re my home, Sera. The only one I’ve ever had. I want to be yours, too. Let me.”
Love expanded in her chest. “You’re the only home I’ll ever need, Bowen.”
Epilogue
With a muttered curse, Bowen dragged Sera off the sidewalk and into a shadowed doorway to kiss her. At first, she laughed at his spontaneous gesture, but as soon as his tongue stroked over hers, her amusement disappeared along with his sanity. Cool fingers slid into his hair, tugging a little the way he liked. He pressed his pa
lms high against the door, knowing if he touched her, they would need to find somewhere to finish each other off. Too bad they were already late for their first meeting with the Chicago PD. The meeting to which his wickedly hot girlfriend had decided to wear a tight skirt, probably to drive him crazy until they could get back to the brand new king-size bed he’d insisted needed to be rechristened several times a day. The bed they’d bought together, in a furniture store, holding hands and making decisions like a couple. Bowen had decided that day was the best one he’d ever lived through. Until the next day with Sera had started. And the next. Now every new day with her became his new favorite.
Sera looped her fingers around his belt and tugged his body closer. Her curves meshed with his harder form, her sexy little moan blanketing his brain in a sensual fog. Against his better judgment, one hand dropped from the door and smoothed over her ass. He’d seen her tug on a red thong while they were dressing to leave and now all he could think of was massaging her pussy through the material. Would be thinking about it straight through this meeting and the entire way home until he got her alone.
Since they’d moved to Chicago last week, he’d been doing this kind of thing with growing frequency. Reminding himself that the one-bedroom apartment he shared with Sera was real by painting her on every wall. Reminding himself that she was real by kissing her sweet mouth every chance he got. These reminders always ended with her legs wrapped around his head, neck, or hips, screaming for mercy. Part of him hoped the need for confirmation of his dreams coming true never went away completely. If they did, he might forget what a lucky bastard he was for a second. That wouldn’t work for him. He never wanted to take a single second for granted with his girl. His Sera.
Her hips started to move, which gave him no choice but to push his hardening cock against all that hot friction. She broke the kiss with a whimper, and then the brown eyes that ruled his dreams were locked on his. Bright, excited, lusty. Trusting. Fuck, what had he started? Recognizing the point of no return, Bowen forced himself to rein in the urge to reach a hand under her skirt and give her relief. Instead, he stepped back and adjusted himself.
“Unfair,” she breathed.
He brushed her hair back over her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Ladybug. I needed a reminder and got carried away.”
Her eyes went soft. “You still need them?”
She really had no idea. Not even a clue how thoroughly she owned his thoughts. At first, he counted it as a blessing. If she knew the depth of his obsession with her, she might freak out a little. The more time went on, though, he felt hope bloom that she wouldn’t even flinch if she knew. That she might be a little obsessed with him as well. God, he fucking well hoped so.
He twined their fingers together and reluctantly pulled her from the doorway. “What’s wrong? You don’t like my reminders?”
“I love them.” She tucked into his side. “You take them as often as you want. No complaints from this corner.”
“I’ve created a monster.”
She growled playfully, but he could still see the need in her eyes. He’d make it up to her later. Several times. His blood went hot just thinking about it.
“Is Connor meeting us there?”
“Yeah.” They stopped at the corner and waited for traffic to pass. “He’s helping his mother get settled in. Said he’d head to the station afterward.”
Bowen hadn’t found out until the day they left New York what the NYPD had offered Connor to turn informant on his cousin. His mother’s declining health had been the driving force behind his decision. The driving force behind every one of the guy’s decisions, really. Bowen still didn’t know how the man he now considered a friend got himself booted from the navy, but he wouldn’t press for more information. He was glad his instincts had been on point where Connor was concerned, though. Like him, Connor had been in a bad situation with no easy way out. If it weren’t for Sera, and okay, Troy, he’d still be treading water, just waiting for the day when he would finally sink.
Not anymore. He looked over to find Sera smiling up at him, the Chicago wind lifting the hair from her shoulders to brush across her still-swollen mouth. If he lived to be a hundred years old, he couldn’t repay what he owed her. She’d given him a life worth living, helped him begin to bury the past. Before they left New York, she’d gone with him to see Pamela, his mother. He’d listened to her explanation for leaving, thanks to her fear of Lenny. She claimed she’d thought of him every single day. There wouldn’t be any family vacations or Thanksgiving dinners in the near future, but he couldn’t deny feeling a sense of peace that night.
News about Newsom’s corruption had leaked and the NYPD had been given no choice but to come clean about what had taken place behind the scenes. Newsom had been indicted on several charges including conspiracy, misappropriation of funds, and bribery. It seemed as if each day brought a new confession, a new crime he’d committed within the department. The NYPD hadn’t succeeded in keeping the media uninformed completely, and he suspected Sera didn’t like seeing her family name dragged through the mud on the evening news. He sure as hell didn’t like it either, but as long as her identity stayed protected, he could sleep at night.
She’d had a harder time coming to terms with her brother’s dishonesty, but in the end, she’d seemed to realize that shades of gray existed everywhere, just as they did with him. That her happy memories of Colin didn’t need to go away. They could stay along with the bad ones. Bowen had done his part to help her heal by scouring the Chicago pawnshops looking for a Nintendo console. Wouldn’t you know it? The owner had unearthed an ancient Tetris cartridge from the back room. If having Sera in his life hadn’t already proved his luck had changed, that would have done it. Their tournament had started the same night.
When they reached the precinct, Bowen felt a prickle of unease at the officers staring at them curiously; some even eyed him with open hostility. Wisely, none of them turned it on Sera or they would have been much later for the meeting.
Bowen held open the door for Sera, following her into the bustling front office. Phones rang loudly; men in navy blue uniforms shouted to one another across the space. He might never get used to this, working with cops, going to work at a fucking police station every day. Especially knowing these people planned on putting his girl in danger. It pissed him off royally, even though he knew how capable she was. As if sensing his discomfort, Sera squeezed his hand. It was the only reminder that he needed. He’d go to work on an oil rig in the middle of the Atlantic if it meant sleeping beside her at night.
And come hell or high water, he’s protect her through it all.
A tired-looking receptionist whistled at them. “You here for the meeting with Captain Tyler?” Bowen nodded once and the woman pointed to a closed door. “In there. You’re late.”
He traded an amused glance with Sera and led her toward the door. When he pushed it open, they both came up short.
Around a giant conference room table sat five people, all staring back at them. Well, almost all of them. Connor was busy glaring across the table at a gum-chewing half-blond, half-pink-haired girl who wore a T-shirt that said Bitch Don’t Kill My Vibe. Beside Connor, an ancient man in a newsboy cap looked absolutely delighted with himself. Closest to the door, a black-haired girl twirled her hair with nervous fingers, back ramrod straight, obviously agitated by her surroundings.
Who the hell were these misfits?
Bowen didn’t have much time to think about it, because the fifth person at the table stood and blocked his line of vision. In a suit and tie, badge clipped to his belt, the guy had such an air of command, Bowen immediately stepped into his space to let him know he wouldn’t be following orders from just anyone. To his surprise, the guy nodded as if he approved. After the stories Troy had told him, he knew this had to be Captain Derek Tyler.
“Nice of you to show up. Now sit down. We’ve got work to do.”
Keep reading for a sneak peek of
up in smoke
> book two in the Crossing the line series
Up in Smoke
You can take the man out of the SEALs…
Connor Bannon stared across the empty conference room at the clock, watching the second hand tick past 3:00 p.m. Impatience prickled the back of his neck. He hated being late. Hated other people’s being late. If the Navy had taught him one thing, it was how to show up on time. Even now, when his military career wasn’t even visible in the rearview mirror and the consequences weren’t nearly as severe, his ass showed up when it was supposed to. He couldn’t be late if he tried.
Apparently he’d been banished into the midst of an undercover squad that didn’t share the same quality.
Connor tapped his fist against his knee, breathing through the need to look at the clock again. The blank whiteboard and the room’s six empty chairs mocked him. He didn’t like going into meetings blind. It went against his nature to be unprepared, but he’d been given no choice. All he knew was Bowen Driscol and Seraphina Newsom were on the squad, sent from New York City to Chicago in exchange for favors, same as him. For the first time since his short-lived stint with the SEALs, he was going to be on the right side of the law.
Or the wrong side, depending on who was doing the asking.
He’d be working with cons, criminals who wanted to stay out of prison. That was where his knowledge started and ended, truly pissing him off. If they’d been given the same options as him, they’d decided helping the Chicago Police Department catch criminals such as themselves was the lesser of two evils.
Another valuable lesson he’d learned from the SEALs? If it doesn’t look like a bomb, it’s probably a bomb.
The door of the conference room flew open, crashing against the opposite wall. Connor’s hand flew toward the small of his back, searching futilely for his gun—a gun the uniforms had taken away from him upon arrival, dammit. He shot to his feet instead, focusing on the…threat?
