Authors: Tessa Bailey
Tags: #police, #Romantic Suspense, #brazen, #line of duty, #erotic, #new york, #Contemporary Romance
to find them traveling over the Brooklyn
Bridge. What the hell did they want with
him in Manhattan?
“You know, I love this new air of
mystery you boys have going. It’s sexy.”
Instead of responding, they turned up
the chattering dispatch radio to drown
him out. It took every ounce of
willpower not to question the officers
further when they pulled into NYPD
headquarters a few minutes later. His
heart pounded in his chest as they pulled
him out of the backseat, but he did his
best to look bored.
This is it. I’m done.
No more instilling fear, no more
resorting to violence to collect money
owed to him. No more issuing orders to
soulless men who didn’t know how to
feel remorse. All done.
The officers led him through the
entrance
and
every
head
turned;
animosity and disgust targeted him from
all directions. Bowen ignored the twinge
of pain from his cut lip as he grinned at
his
rapt
audience.
“Afternoon,
gentlemen.” He wished he were wearing
a hat so he could tip it. “Weather today
is beautiful. Not a goddamn cloud in the
sky.”
He didn’t have the pleasure of hearing
any angry responses because the officers
pulled him down a hallway, shoving him
into the first interrogation room.
Irritation clawed at his throat over being
pushed around, but he didn’t give them
the satisfaction of showing it. If he
weren’t wearing handcuffs, he would
have already swung on them and they
knew it. They also knew he could easily
take them both on and win. Fighting was
in his blood. He did it often and he did it
well. So he couldn’t contain his surprise
when they removed the handcuffs. It
even managed to distract him from his
anger.
“All right. I give up. What the fuck is
going on?”
“Have a seat.” The officer who’d
driven them there kicked out the metal
chair before leaning against the wall
with his arms crossed. “You’ll find out
soon enough.”
He remained standing, turning slightly
when the interrogation room door
opened again and an older man walked
in, looking grave. Bowen’s eyebrows
shot up when he recognized the man.
Police Commissioner Newsom.
He’d seen the man on television doing
press conferences more times than he
could count. That’s what he did. Sound
bites to reassure the masses. Public
relations. He sure as hell didn’t
interrogate street toughs from Brooklyn.
Newsom tossed a file on the metal table
and nodded at him. “Why the black eye,
Driscol? Don’t you have men to do the
dirty work for you now that you’re in
charge?”
No way would he tell him the truth
about his perpetual black eyes. He
wouldn’t tell him that when he went to
collect debts and the money wasn’t
ready, he always let the other man take a
swing at him before leaving his men to
deliver the rest of the message. He
welcomed the pain that came with that
single blow, craved it even. Lately, it
was the only thing reminding him he was
alive. Sometimes he even hoped the
mo ne y
wouldn’t
be available, as it
hadn’t been last night. Bitterness flooded
his mouth at the memory of the man’s
desperate eyes when Bowen had shown
up at his door.
No money for me, huh? Go ahead,
take a shot at me. Do it. You’ll be glad
you did it in an hour when you wake up
hating me.
“Why am I here?” Bowen fell into the
chair without answering Newsom’s
question. “Not that I don’t appreciate the
stellar hospitality.”
“Already you’re living up to your
reputation as a smart-ass.” Newsom sat,
scrubbing a weary hand over his
whiskered face. “Look, I’m not here to
play any bullshit games with you, so I’d
appreciate the same courtesy.”
“Fair enough.” Bowen lit a cigarette.
“Shoot.”
Newsom’s jaw hardened. Behind him,
the two officers shifted, but stilled when
Newsom held up a hand. “We have a
situation and I’ve been informed you’re
in a position to help us.”
Bowen paused in the middle of his
second drag of nicotine. “Help
you
?”
When the commissioner just looked at
him, he laughed out loud. “Any minute
now I’m going to wake up, right?”
“No, I’m afraid not.” Newsom flipped
open the file and scanned the contents.
“And in case you’re wondering, asking
for help from some punk who we’ve
been trying to take down for over a year
wasn’t exactly my number one choice.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere.” He
took a deep drag of his cigarette and
blew the smoke toward one of the
scowling officers. “Okay. What do you
need my help with? I’d at least like to
know the particulars before I turn you
down.”
“You sound pretty certain.”
“Good. That’s what I was aiming for.”
Newsom muttered something under his
breath, but all Bowen could make out
was the word “mistake.” “How about I
lay it out for you in black and white, then
you decide?”
Bowen
stayed
silent,
watching
Newsom through a cloud of smoke.
The commissioner sighed wearily.
“We’ve lost contact with an undercover
officer. At the risk of sounding cliché,
they’ve gone rogue. Went in without
permission.” He considered his hands a
moment. “We’d like you to make contact
with the officer, first and foremost to
confirm they’re alive and well. We need
them extracted from the situation
unharmed.”
“Undercover.” Bowen felt a tingle at
the back of his neck. “Investigating
who?”
“You think I’d reveal a name without
your signed agreement to cooperate?”
Bowen didn’t answer, the word
“cooperate” hanging in the air like rank
garbage.
“The officer is looking for evidence,”
the commissioner continued. “Frankly,
it’s evidence I—
we
—need. This isn’t
how I wanted to go about obtaining it,
but they’re
in
now.”
“Evidence of what?”
“Corruption. Something you should be
familiar with.” He formed a steeple with
his fingers. “Which leads me to your
secondary task. If the officer is indeed
alive and well, allow them a small
window of time to continue the mission.
If it proves fruitful and they uncover
what we’re looking for, you bring that
evidence to me
before
they have a
chance to lose it or get killed.” He shook
his head. “A damn rookie cop. No
business whatsoever this deep in the
game.”
“This idea gets more appealing by the
minute.” Bowen sent a pointed glance
toward the two flunkies. “Cops aren’t
exactly my jam on a good day. Some
inexperienced rookie with a death wish?
Why would I agree to that?”
“Because, Mr. Driscol, we can make
life very difficult for you otherwise. We
know
about
the
circumstances
surrounding your father’s incarceration.”
Newsom paused, as if to let that
statement sink in. Bowen kept his
features carefully schooled so he
wouldn’t betray the shock pounding
through his blood. He hadn’t seen this
coming. Couldn’t have anticipated it in a
million years. “We know you were
aware of your father’s impending arrest
and didn’t warn him because it would
have put someone very close to you in
danger. I think some of your associates
would find it interesting that your sister
was working as an unofficial informant,
don’t you?”
Grinding out his cigarette on the
bottom of his shoe, Bowen felt sick.
With guilt, with dread. “You can’t prove
that.”
Newsom smiled without humor. “We
wouldn’t need to. The mere suggestion
would put a target on your back.
Her
back.” The commissioner paused as that
horrifying statement sank in. “Until now,
we haven’t fully committed resources to
ending your little run as king. That could
very easily change. I suggest playing
ball, Driscol. Unless you want to end up
behind bars, just like dear old dad.”
The impact of that statement sent
Bowen back in his chair, but he made it
look casual at the last minute. Just like
his dad. He couldn’t think about that
right now. Not with these cops staring at
him like a science project. He’d had
Ruby’s back since childhood and vice
versa. She never would have given the
police leverage to use against him. It
would be a cold day in hell before she
told another living soul. Unless…
“Let me guess.” Bowen swiped a hand
through his hair. “Troy Bennett is on the
other side of that glass. He’s the one
who so graciously offered my services.”
Newsom’s lips twitched. “You catch
on quick. Ever think of joining the
force?”
The officers behind him laughed as if
the mere idea of him being anything but a
criminal was hysterical. For once, he
didn’t really blame them. Bowen turned
toward the two-way glass and showed it
his middle finger. Ruby’s boyfriend, the
man who’d managed to put the pool
hustler on the straight and narrow, had
been a fucking thorn in his side since day
one. He should have known when Ruby
hooked up with a cop that this was
inevitable.
Seconds later, the door opened and
Troy strolled in holding a cup of coffee.
“Bowen.”
He didn’t return the greeting, jerking
his chin at Newsom instead. “Before, my
answer was no. Now, it’s
hell
no.”
Troy’s mouth tightened. “Can I have a
moment with him, Commissioner?”
Newsom gave a brusque nod and left
the room, followed by his two flunkies.
Bowen lit another cigarette and tossed
his lighter onto the table. “You’re
wasting your time.”
“Why haven’t you been returning your
sister’s phone calls?”
The question threw him, before it
circled back around and pissed him off.
“What the hell is this? A family therapy
session?” He pushed to his feet and
paced. “There was a time when you
didn’t want me within a hundred yards
of her.”
“She misses you.” Troy shrugged.
“When she’s unhappy, I’m unhappy.”
Bowen ignored the stabbing feeling in
his chest. “Yeah? She has a funny way of
missing me. Telling her cop boyfriend
the one thing that could fuck me over.”
“It won’t fuck you over, because
you’re going to help us.”
“Not. Happening.”
Troy walked to the metal table and
flipped open the file. Bowen watched as
he sifted through some papers and pulled
out a picture. “I’m not supposed to show
you this until you agree to help, but I’m
going to anyway. You know why?”
“I couldn’t care less.”
“Because
I
trust
you,”
Troy
enunciated.
“Enough
to
convince
Newsom that you’re redeemable and
could make a difference in this case.
This is my ass on the line, too.”
I trust you.
Bowen didn’t want to hear
those words. Didn’t like the way they
made him feel. He shouldn’t be trusted.
Not after the things he’d been compelled
to do. Not after he’d let his own father
get put behind bars. Let his sister nearly
get murdered. “Sorry to let you down,
but I’ll take my chances with a bull’s-
eye on my back.”
“We don’t have any other options
here, man. You’re a part of that world,
and if the alternative is Newsom
dropping a dime on Ruby—and finding a
reason to put you in a cell—you have to
do it.” Troy shook his head. “You know
I’ll protect your sister. Even if it means
we have to leave the city and never