Risking it All (8 page)

“Why would I do that?”

His laughter held only the barest hint

of amusement. “You have no fear, do

you?”

“Of you?” She gulped when he closed

the distance between them. “Should I

fear you?”

His mouth came down on hers, kissing

her long and hard. Lips meshed, teeth

scraped, tongues tangled. When he

pulled back, his breath came in harsh

pants. “Why do you think I asked you to

lock the door?”

Before

she

could

formulate

a

response, he’d left, disappearing at the

end of the hallway.

CHAPTER FIVE

Bowen pulled himself up from the top

stair, where he’d spent the night propped

against the wall. Not wanting to leave

Sera for a second on the chance Hogan

changed his mind and decided to take

care of her sooner, he’d spent the night

in the stairwell, watching her door. He

still hadn’t trusted himself enough to

bring her home last night. Not when he’d

been starving for her. It had taken every

measure of willpower to walk out of her

room. If he’d taken her back to his place,

no doubt she would have ended up on

her back. Watching her move around the

dining room for hours on end last night,

her firm ass swishing in those jeans, the

air-conditioning causing her nipples to

bead, he’d been strung so tight by the

time her shift ended, his vision had

started blurring. Dangerous territory.

Especially when despite her protests,

she’d clearly wanted him to stay.

He hadn’t exactly gotten the most

restful night of sleep on the metal

staircase, so he’d had a lot of time to

think. Sure, he made a living out of being

underhanded, but the kind of deceit it

would take to sleep with Sera without

her

knowing

his

role

in

her

investigation? Even he didn’t lack

enough conscience for that.

Worse, after she’d given him so little

protest over entering her room, he had

the sneaking suspicion she planned on

seducing information out of him. Or

distracting him with sex while she

continued to pursue Hogan. The physical

connection he felt with her couldn’t be

faked, but the idea of her using it against

him made him undeniably angry.

A hot-to-trot virgin. Wasn’t that just

his fucking luck?

He wouldn’t know the first thing about

being with someone inexperienced. He’d

never been anything but hard and fast

with a woman. As soon as they’d been

pleasured, he took his own, having

already mentally moved on.

Scrubbing a hand over his morning

beard, he made his way toward her

room. Or more accurately, her prison

cell. When they got back to his place, he

planned on putting her in a room she

could breathe in. A room with a

window. Granted, it would be clear on

the opposite end of the apartment with

plenty of distance between them. Bowen

had to laugh at himself. As if it would

matter. He would know she was there,

sleeping in his sheets, showering in his

bathroom. Naked.

This was going to be a long week.

Bowen reached her door, testing the

handle to make sure it was still locked.

When it opened with little urging, panic

rushed in and overwhelmed him. He

shoved the door open, his heart stopping

when he found her bed empty. Her

clothes were still stacked in the same

spot as last night; her bed looked slept

in. Where the hell was she?

Oh, God.
He rubbed the heel of his

hand against his chest, cursing himself

for not taking her out of this place last

night. What had he been thinking?

“Sera!”

He pivoted on a heel and strode out of

the room, only to be brought up short at

the sound of a musical laugh. Even

though he’d never heard the amused

notes before, he immediately knew it

was Sera. Relief swamped him at the

sign she was okay. The rest of him

wanted to know who had managed to get

a laugh out of her. Following the sound

toward an open door, he banished the

panic. No more. It would be a cold day

in hell before he let her out of his sight

again.

Panic morphed to swift, consuming

jealousy. It whooshed through his system

like a hot wind, obliterating rational

thought. Sera sat cross-legged on the bed

with a shirtless man, folding a bandage

in her lap. The ends of her mouth were

tilted in an absent smile, the smile he’d

had to work double time to get a glimpse

of last night. She hadn’t noticed him yet,

but the man leveled a steady gaze at him

from his position against the pillows.

The only thing saving the guy’s life was

the fact that Sera had all her clothes on.

The life-threatening injury he sported

didn’t hurt his cause either.

“Sera,”

shirtless

man

rumbled,

nodding toward Bowen.

“Huh?” Her eyes met his. “Oh.”

Oh?

“Get off the bed.”

Wisdom won out and she didn’t argue

with him, coming to her feet almost

immediately. But irritation at following

orders

replaced

self-preservation.

“Don’t order me around.”

“You’re mine for the week. Or did

you forget?”

Angry color flooded her cheekbones.

It was the wrong thing to say, but he

couldn’t

see

reason.

A

foreign

possessiveness had taken up residence

in his chest, and until she moved away

from the shirtless man, nothing could

breach it.

He jerked his chin toward the patient.

“You got a shirt or something, man? Not

that I’m not fucking dazzled.”

Shirtless ignored him. “I’d ask Sera to

introduce us, but based on your temper, I

think I can guess who you are.”

“Impressive.” He crossed his arms.

“Shirt.”

With a heavy sigh, Sera moved toward

a chest of drawers and pulled out a shirt.

It didn’t help ease his irritation she knew

which drawer they were in. She walked

over to the bed and handed over a red

shirt, nodding once when the guy thanked

her.

“Bowen, this is Connor Bannon. Mr.

Hogan’s cousin.” She glanced between

the two of them. “Call me crazy, but I

smell a budding friendship.”

Both of them snorted.

Connor finished pulling the shirt over

his head. “Wasn’t expecting you so

early.” One dark eyebrow lifted. “You

must have slept here or something.”

Bowen made a mental note not to

underestimate Connor Bannon. “Or

something.” He turned his attention back

to Sera. “Get your things. I’m taking you

to my place.”

“Doubtful,” Connor said.

“Excuse me?”

“ I
said
, doubtful.” With a wince,

Connor swung his legs over the side of

the bed. “I know Hogan spoke to you

about our arrangement.”

“Hogan can talk to me if he has a

problem with her leaving.” He moved

closer to Sera, letting his hand drift

across her lower back. A gesture of

possession he shouldn’t be making, but

couldn’t seem to stop. “Or doesn’t it

bother you the girl taking care of you has

been sleeping in a broom closet?”

A muscle jumped in Connor’s cheek.

“I don’t make the decisions.”

“Yeah? That’s
all
I do.” He felt Sera

studying him and looked down at her,

reeling a little over seeing her face in the

light of day for the first time. Those

gorgeous big brown eyes hit him like an

uppercut, the scattering of freckles

making her so fresh. So beautiful. So out

of place in this world. He needed to stop

staring, but not absorbing every nuance

of her face seemed like the worst crime.

“Hey, Ladybug.”

“Don’t ‘hey Ladybug’ me.”

He couldn’t contain his grin. Shit, he

was in trouble. Still not taking his gaze

off her, he spoke to Connor. “She’s

coming with me. You want to check in

on us, that’s up to you.”

A drawn-out pause. “Oh, count on it.”

“Great.” Bowen laced his fingers with

Sera’s and led her toward the door. “Try

and show up wearing clothes when you

do.”

Sera followed Bowen up the three

flights of stairs leading to his apartment,

wishing he hadn’t been so silent on the

ride over. He’d waited in the hallway

and she stuffed her things into two

grocery bags and fifteen minutes later,

they

were

in

his

working-class

neighborhood of Bensonhurst. Soon, she

would be inside the home of Bowen

Driscol, known felon. If she hadn’t been

in deep before, she’d just sunk to the

bottom of the ocean with no oxygen tank.

He lived above an Italian restaurant

called Buon Gusto. As they’d walked

past to the adjacent entrance, two porters

having a cigarette break greeted him as

if he were a god returning to Olympus

after winning a battle. They’d watched

her with open curiosity until Bowen put

a hand on her shoulder, his features

darkening. Both cigarettes had been

crushed underfoot, the restaurant door

slamming as they ducked back inside in

their haste. She’d wanted to question

him about his behavior, but his rigid

posture

hadn’t

exactly

invited

conversation.

It frustrated her she didn’t know

where they stood. One minute, he was

snarling at anyone who came near her,

the next he seemed to be restraining

himself from touching her. Last night,

she’d sworn she had him pegged. A self-

entitled ladies’ man who thought he had

the right to “keep her” until Hogan

returned. As far as she’d been

concerned, Hogan and Driscol were one

and the same. Then he’d left her alone

last night, even warning her to lock the

door behind him when he left. Perhaps

his seduction style was to confuse his

prey until they grew too dizzy to put up a

fight?

Obviously Bowen had been tasked

with keeping an eye on her until Hogan’s

return, but knowing what she did about

Hogan, if he was suspicious of someone,

they wouldn’t live to see the next

morning. Bowen had intervened on her

behalf. But why? If he didn’t plan on

pursuing a fling with her, what did he

want her for?

The sound of Bowen’s key sliding into

the lock dispelled her musings. One hand

knocked against his thigh, in a gesture

that seemed almost nervous. “I don’t

bring girls here during the day. And at

night, the lights always stay off.”

She

didn’t

bother

hiding

her

confusion. “Was that meant to reassure

me?”

His breath escaped in a rush. “I have

no idea. Did it?”

“No.”

“Yeah, well.” He pushed open the

door. “That’s probably a good thing.”

Sera hefted her plastic grocery bags

higher in her arms and followed him

inside. The second she crossed the

threshold, she came to a dead stop.

Murals.

Everywhere.

On

every

available inch of the apartment wall,

loud, swirling, chaotic colors jumped

out at her. So many shades, she could

never count them all, careering through

the space like a kaleidoscopic dream.

Slowly, she turned in a circle, trying to

find a pattern in the chaos. Too many

scenes, too much to look at.

Some were abstract shapes painted in

dynamic

shades,

wedged

between

almost

frantic

depictions

of

city

landmarks, such as the Brooklyn Bridge.

Yankee Stadium. A subway train. In

each vignette, half of the perfectly

rendered landmark remained intact,

while the other half disappeared in

flames. The more scenes she took in, the