Authors: Tessa Bailey
Tags: #police, #Romantic Suspense, #brazen, #line of duty, #erotic, #new york, #Contemporary Romance
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 some
one
, 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
couldn’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