Risking it All (Crossing the Line, #1)(11)

Fists clenched so hard he thought the bones might shatter, Bowen followed Hogan to the bar. He somehow resisted the impulse to turn around and gauge Sera’s expression. Pass on some sort of reassurance that he’d handle Hogan. But not only would she reject such reassurance from him, she didn’t know he was on her side.

And she couldn’t know. He’d agreed to keep his involvement in the investigation from her. Newsom had explained that his niece’s stubborn nature might cause her to make rash decisions if she knew the police were monitoring her, possibly getting ready to swoop in and put an end to her impulsive mission. She’s got nothing to lose, he’d said. No care for her own well-being. Bowen damn well wished he hadn’t agreed to that condition now so he could talk some sense into her.

When he reached the seat he’d left vacant what felt like hours ago, he slid onto the stool and signaled for a whiskey. God only knew how much he needed it.

Hogan took the seat beside him, looking thoughtful. “You know, I hadn’t quite decided not to have her for myself.” One by one, he popped his knuckles. “How was she?”

Stay calm. Stay calm. “I wouldn’t know. You interrupted us before we got to the good part, man.”

The other man smiled tightly. “Are you expecting an apology?” He picked up the shot of top-shelf tequila the bartender had placed in front of him. “I don’t know if I like you coming into my club, handling my waitress. We might be making peace, but that doesn’t mean I have an open-door policy.”

Since he would rather chew nails than apologize,

Bowen

stayed

silent.

Eventually, Hogan laughed and slapped him on the back, making him stiffen.

“So let’s talk.” Hogan leaned close.

“Everything still in order for next week’s shipment?”

He nodded, the familiar pit opening in his stomach that always came when discussing business. “All set. I need to know what kind of manpower you’re bringing, so I can match it. With that much cargo, we’ll need a decent number, but they’ve all got to be trustworthy. No last-minute additions.”

Hogan rubbed his palms together, turned on by the promise of the upcoming score. “Not a problem. I’ve handpicked every one of them. They know what happens if they talk.”

Rapping the bar with one hand, he looked back toward the dining room.

“I’m not taking any chances with this one. It’s too big. Which is why I hope you got the waitress out of your system.”

Bowen’s blood ran cold. “Meaning?”

Hogan’s voice dipped low. “I kept her around because one of my guys got his ass shot a couple weeks back. She seemed to know what the f*ck she was doing, and I sure as hell didn’t have time to play nurse to anyone. So I brought her here.” He shrugged. “He’s up and around now. And she’s not exactly waitress of the year. In fact, there’s something about her…”

“Besides

those

legs?”

Bowen

interjected, wanting to distract Hogan from that suspicious line of thinking.

He acknowledged Bowen’s comment with a cold smirk. “She’s been around too long. I can’t be sure what she’s heard or seen.” A touch of concern laced his tone. “Anyway, in the spirit of taking no chances leading up to this next shipment, I’m not keeping an outsider around longer than necessary.”

The clawing in Bowen’s throat was back. “Seems a little hasty, doesn’t it?”

His comment earned him a jab in the shoulder. Hogan actually had the nerve to look amused after so casually mentioning his decision to get rid of Sera. “Should I take that to mean she’s not out of your system yet?”

Hating the words he was about to say, Bowen made an indifferent gesture. “I wouldn’t mind finishing what we started first.” His stomach turned over. “After that, it’s none of my business.”

Hogan leaned back on his stool, eyes focused sharply on Bowen. “Tell you what. I’m heading to my Jersey club for a week to knock some heads together.

Until

I

get

back,

she’s

your

responsibility.” One of his shoulders lifted. “Why not let you have your fun?”

Bowen felt like breaking something. “I got no problem with that.”

“I bet you don’t.” Hogan turned, gesturing Sera closer with a crooked finger. “But just to be safe, I’m going to have my cousin Connor keep an eye on things.”

“You mean keep an eye on me.”

Bowen couldn’t soften the harshness of his

statement.

“I

don’t

need

a

babysitter.”

“Think of it more like insurance.

Nothing is going to stand in the way of this job, Driscol, especially your cute piece of ass. You’ve got one week.”

Jesus, how many times would he have that same warning issued in his direction? One week. The world would apparently end in one damn week.

Sera arrived then, splitting a glance between him and Hogan. If she’d shown up a second later, Bowen strongly believed he would have given in to the urge to bury his fist in Hogan’s smug face and blow the whole operation.