Risking it All (Crossing the Line, #1)(17)

The suffering in his voice lacerated her. There was so much more going on here than sexual frustration, although there was definitely a healthy dose of that. He seemed to think there would be consequences for getting physical with her. But that didn’t make any sense.

Since when does a man who rules streets with fear care about consequences for anything? This man took what he wanted and damn the outcome. Right?

Without thinking, she took the hand he’d dropped and brushed a stray piece of hair off his forehead. His body went liquid, melting against her for long moments while she held her breath.

“Aren’t there other ways to buy yourself out of hell?”

“Not for me.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than someone pounded on the door.





CHAPTER SIX


Safe. Keep her safe.

Bowen jerked away from Sera, his body going on full alert. No one just walked up and pounded on his apartment door without advance warning. No one, except for one man. A man who absolutely could not be allowed anywhere near Sera. His jaw clenched against the urge to bury her in the closet underneath a pile of clothes. It might give him peace of mind, but it would make her suspicious. He couldn’t afford that, nor did he want it. For some reason, her being comfortable around him mattered. A lot.

Sensing how closely she watched him, he ran a casual hand through his hair. “I need to discuss some business. Make yourself comfortable.”

She nodded carefully and sat down at the edge of the bed. Oh, God, what would it be like if he nudged her onto her back, settled himself between her thighs and worked them both into a sweat? His need for her hadn’t calmed in the least. In fact, it only raged higher now that a threat was nearby. He couldn’t allow anything to touch her. Not even himself.

She looked so out of place in this bedroom, fire and destruction raging on the walls behind her. When he’d painted that particular mural, he never imagined a cop sitting in the room with him. He would have laughed out loud at the very idea. Yet there she sat, looking like a lamb on her way to slaughter. Instead of flames outlining her head, she looked more suited to wearing a halo. When she looked up at the ceiling, he followed her line of vision and nearly laughed out loud. He’d painted the scales of justice one night after a particularly bad run-in with a gang that had been dealing drugs in Bensonhurst, the one thing he would never abide. Now the undercover cop would be sleeping beneath them. If that wasn’t irony, he didn’t know what was.

To her credit, she showed no reaction except

for

an

arched

eyebrow.

“Shouldn’t you get the door?”

Christ, he’d been so wrapped up in her, he’d completely forgotten about the man waiting outside. “Right,” he said gruffly. “I’ll be right back.”

“Bowen?”

“Yeah,” he said, looking back over his shoulder.

“They’re kind of great.” She pushed her hair behind her ear. “The murals.”

Something heavy inside him shifted so dramatically, it surprised him she didn’t react to it. Very few people had ever seen what he did in his spare time.

Judged the tool he used to occupy his mind in order to think about anything other than what he did for a living. He’d never thought to show it to anyone, let alone have the work appreciated. Even more, she seemed to mean what she said.

If he stood here looking at her a second longer, he wasn’t sure what the odd mixture of pride and gratefulness would make him do, so he took a deep breath to compose himself and walked into the living room, looking at the murals with fresh eyes. Wondering what Sera saw when she looked at them. What they made her think about him. Pushing those thoughts to the side, he opened the door.

His father’s oldest business partner, Wayne Gibbs, stood in the hallway, the day’s racing form sticking out of his front pocket.

“Wayne.”

“You mind letting me in? I’m catching a cold out here.”

When he made a move to pass him, Bowen blocked his path. “Let’s talk downstairs.”

“You can’t invite your godfather inside?” He clucked his tongue. “I know Lenny taught you more respect than that.”

His tone was teasing, but Bowen heard the underlying steel. Jesus, these old-school guys didn’t take disrespect lightly. Neglect to invite them in for coffee and you signed your own death warrant. Furthermore, Wayne never failed to bring up his father every time they met. Bowen knew he was suspicious about the events leading to his business partner’s arrest, but since he didn’t have concrete evidence of Bowen’s role, he settled on needling him every chance he got.

He didn’t want to invite Wayne inside, but not doing so would be suspicious.

The last thing he needed was added scrutiny while he had Sera under his protection. He’d just have to hope Sera knew enough to stay out of sight in the back bedroom.

With a tight smile, he stepped back.

“Coffee?”

“Nah, I’m good. I only got a minute before I have to split.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets, doing his best to ignore Wayne’s usual amusement over the paint-covered walls. “What’s up?”

“That crew from Central Brooklyn we took care of a few weeks ago is back.”

The older man picked up a paintbrush and let it drop. “One of our guys said they were selling again down on Kings Highway. Either they’ve got balls of steel or they can’t read a map. We told them to keep it in their territory, but they ain’t listening.”