Risking it All (32 page)

his reflexes dulled, so he suffered

through a long pull. His hand tightened

on the glass when she dropped off a

round of drinks to a table full of men

who, in their inebriated state, couldn’t

help sending her appreciative looks.

She would make her move soon. He’d

seen the glances she’d been throwing

around the club to judge how much

longer she should wait to head

downstairs. As it got later, the music got

louder and people stopped noticing how

long she spent out of the dining room.

Except for him. He noticed every single

movement she made. Every breath, every

hesitation, every gesture.

The torturous afternoon he’d spent

painting so he wouldn’t lose the battle

with his urge to just fucking seduce her

already, she’d spent plotting in the guest

room. Knowing she was so close had

wreaked havoc on his senses for five

unbearable hours. He’d wanted that

voice in his ear, begging him to fuck her

faster, deeper. He still wanted it with a

vengeance, but at this point he would

settle for her simply talking to him,

sharing her plans. After the shower that

had resulted in this century’s worst case

of blue balls, they’d retreated to their

corners and hadn’t spoken since, except

to decide what time he’d take her to

work.

There was an unspoken agreement that

tonight

she

would

finish

her

investigation come hell or high water,

but she obviously had no intention of

involving him. So he was involving

himself. He’d sit at the bar drinking

shitty nonalcoholic beer until she needed

him. A dozen different emotions battled

for supremacy in his chest. Desire for

her to succeed and prove herself in a

way he’d never gotten the chance to

experience. Self-disgust over a small

hope that she didn’t succeed and had to

stay with him longer. Rage that she

wouldn’t involve him. Fear that she’d

get hurt.

Not that he would allow that

nightmarish outcome willingly, but what

if she got caught in a cross fire? He bit

his bottom lip to avoid asking the

bartender for something stronger, to

drown out the image of Sera in pain. In

fifty years, even if he never saw her

again after the dust settled, he knew that

outcome would remain his worst

nightmare. He’d told her as much this

morning, ripped open his bleeding chest

and let her see his bones. And she’d

rejected him. It didn’t matter that she

still wanted him physically. Women had

wanted him as long as he could

remember. That didn’t help him now, not

with someone like Sera, who needed

something more. Some
one
more.

As if she’d heard his thoughts from

across the dining room, she slowly

straightened from the table she served

and looked at him. Just…looked. At

first, he didn’t know what she was trying

to communicate to him, but it slowly

dawned on him. Good-bye? This was

her good-bye? It plowed through his

chest like a freight train, sucked the

oxygen from his lungs. He slipped off the

stool, wanting,
needing
, to go to her, but

she shook her head subtly, halting him in

his tracks.

No, no.
No
. It couldn’t end like this.

What he’d said to her in the bathroom

couldn’t be how he left things. He

couldn’t live with that. Couldn’t live

with the memory of her cowering from

his touch, as if he’d ever lift a finger to

hurt her. But he had; he’d been hurting

her by throwing their mutual attraction in

her face. Challenging her to say no, even

though he’d known it was the right thing

for her to do.

He shook his head, trying to

communicate his need to say a decent

good-bye. Remind her that she’d live

inside his head forever. But she broke

their eye contact and disappeared into

the kitchen. Bowen stood there frozen,

torn between the need to go after her and

common sense, which told him someone

would notice if he followed her. A

minute passed, maybe two, and he could

already feel insanity creeping in. As if

she’d dragged the light out along with

her, leaving him standing in an awful red

glow that felt more like a horror flick

than real life.

“Driscol.”

His last name being spoken behind

him permeated the red fog. He wanted to

turn and take a swing at whoever stood

there, like a wounded animal. Then the

voice registered and his blood ran cold.

Connor. What were the odds that he

would arrive just as Sera disappeared

downstairs? He didn’t have time to think

about it, only knew he had to keep the

man there. The chance he’d been waiting

for to help Sera had presented itself. It

would also prevent him from ever seeing

her again. The irony of that made him

want to bang his head against the bar.

“Connor.” His voice sounded rusty.

“Shouldn’t you be hiding shirtless in the

shadows somewhere?”

The other man eyed him suspiciously.

“Union break.”

Bowen nodded to the empty stool

beside his own and gestured to the

bartender. “You allowed to drink on the

job?”

“Who gives a fuck?”

“Point taken.”

They stayed silent as the bartender

pulled a pint of beer for Connor and set

it in front of him. Tension lay thick

between them, but both were waiting for

the other to acknowledge it. Bowen

understood this dynamic. He had it with

Wayne

and

his

father.

Passive-

aggressive bullshit that passed for being

friendly in Bensonhurst. But he’d never

dealt with Connor before, a man who

actually had something more than greed

going on behind his eyes. He just didn’t

know what it was.

“Heard about what happened last night

outside of Marco’s,” Connor said, taking

a sip of his beer. “Also heard you let

him off with a couple broken bones.”

Remembering the sound those bones

made as they broke, nausea rolled in

Bowen’s stomach. “What’s it to you?”

Connor shrugged. “It’s not like you to

be

so

benevolent.

That

Sera’s

influence?”

Never going to see her again. Never

again.
“I don’t like you saying her

name.”

“I don’t care.”

Bowen’s fists started to shake, so he

hid them under the bar. He didn’t get

challenged very often and he shouldn’t

let it stand, but he had Sera to think

about. On top of it, there was something

in Connor’s tone that stopped his words

from being a taunt. Almost as if he were

amused. At least someone was. But he

didn’t like this asshole throwing him off

guard, so he decide to surprise him.

“Speaking of benevolent, I hear you

starting working for your cousin, Hogan,

just so he’d help pay off your mother’s

medical bills.”

The beer paused halfway to Connor’s

mouth. “Mind telling me where you

heard that?”

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

Connor’s lips twitched, but Bowen

could see murder in his eyes. “All right,

you don’t want to tell me who’s been

running their mouth, that’s fine. I’ll find

out on my own.” A tense pause ensued.

“What about the nonalcoholic beer? You

turning over a new leaf?”

“Just watching my waistline.”

“Where’s Sera?”

Gone. She’s gone to me.
The

sickening thought rattled around his skull

like dice, but he managed a casual laugh.

“She’s working, otherwise I wouldn’t be

here. The atmosphere isn’t exactly

captivating.”

“I mean, where is she
now
?”

Bowen held the man’s steady gaze. As

far as he could tell, Connor hadn’t

glanced once at the dining room since

walking into Rush. “If you have

something to say to her, you’ll say it to

me first.”

A muscle jumped in Connor’s cheek.

“My cousin will be back in the morning,

a day ahead of schedule. He asked me to

talk to you personally.” He leaned in and

lowered his voice. “Our contact

overseas got in touch with Hogan. The

shipment has been rescheduled for

tomorrow night. It’s risky, but he wants

to stay the course. Same plan, different

night. He wants to make sure you’re still

in. If not, we call it off and wait another

month. We need your manpower.”

The back of Bowen’s neck tingled. It

didn’t sound right. “I’m just supposed to

trust the word of this contact who I

didn’t speak to directly?”

Connor nodded, before pulling a slip

of paper from his jacket and sliding it

across the bar. “I told Hogan you’d ask,

so here’s his phone number. Do

whatever you have to do and get back to

me by tomorrow afternoon.”

Bowen shoved the paper into his jeans

pocket. Tomorrow. He almost laughed.

Tonight was a difficult enough concept

to wrap his mind around. Tomorrow

sounded like a far-off place when his

present had just walked away from him

without a backward glance.

“Driscol,” Connor said, drawing him

back before he could be sucked in

permanently by the red fog. He jerked

his head toward the dining room, where

Sera had vanished from five minutes

prior. “If you haven’t already, I’d

suggest handling this little matter before

it’s taken out of your hands.”

Sera closed the drawer of Hogan’s desk

quietly, just in case anyone stood at the

top of the staircase. When it jammed, she

set down her flashlight on the desk to

jiggle it carefully, not wanting to break

anything that would be visible the first

time Hogan came back. A piece of loose

wood at the base of the drawer snagged

the skin of her palm and she hissed. With

a frown, she grabbed the flashlight and

shone it on the source of her injury. The

slat had come loose in one corner of the

drawer. Something black and hard was

visible through the crack.

She crouched down and gently pried

the bottom away, eyebrows shooting up

when a slim laptop slid free into her

hands. A hidden laptop. Valuable

information. There was no more time.

Sitting down and searching through the

device wasn’t an option. Thinking

quickly, she snatched a letter opener off

the desk and used it to pry the cover off

the underside of the laptop and remove

the hard drive. With one more nervous

glance at her watch, she shoved it into

her back pocket and pulled out her cell

phone.

A terse voice answered midway

through the first ring.

“This is Officer Seraphina Newsom

requesting my pickup. I’m—”

The line went dead before she could

relate her exact location.

Ignoring an odd foreboding in her

stomach, Sera made sure nothing

appeared out of order on Hogan’s desk.

She tucked the ledger book under her

arm and turned to leave. Okay. She

simply needed to walk up the stairs,

through the kitchen and out into the alley.

They’d hung up because they already

knew where she was. That had to be it.

Someone would be there within minutes

for her in an unmarked vehicle. An

officer who would take her to police

headquarters

and

out

of

this

neighborhood. Forever.

Her steps faltered when relief didn’t

come flooding in as expected. Not an

ounce of triumph or pride came with

finally having secured Hogan’s list of

financial transactions. Names, dates,

locations that she’d now seen with her

own eyes. It had the potential to crumble

not only Hogan’s enterprise from the

inside, but other Brooklyn operations as

well. Her uncle would finally be proud.

The injustice of watching Hogan profit