Risking it All (Crossing the Line, #1)(29)

He laughed without humor. “Please tell me you didn’t break into my apartment to make small talk.”

“So what if I did? We used to talk all the time.”

Bowen stayed silent. What did she want from him? She’d made a better life, and being associated with him would only screw it up. Why wouldn’t she just move the hell on?

“Last time I was in the neighborhood, you said things were bad.” She took a hesitant step toward him. “Have they gotten any better?”

He pointed toward the window. “This doesn’t get better. Don’t you understand that?”

“Troy and I can help. Let us.”

Troy’s intervention wouldn’t save him. It was too late. Hell, the day he was born, it had already been too late. He had only one option and it was why he’d agreed to aid the police in the first place. Save the people he loved from being dragged down with him. And he f*cking loved his sister beyond words.

Which is why saying what came next caused him physical pain. “I don’t want your help. I want you to get lost.”

“No.” Tears brimmed in her eyes.

“It’s not fair, Bowen. All those nights spent hiding in alleys and parking lots, freezing cold, hungry. Scared. You knew I was your sister. I just want to spend time with you knowing you’re my brother.”

“The

knowing

doesn’t

change

anything.”

She slapped the countertop. “Yes, it does. It changes everything. You don’t get to shut me out. We’re your family.”

He went still. “We?”

Red stained her cheeks, but she raised her chin. “She just wants to make things right, Bowen. It won’t kill you to hear her out.”

Their mother. She meant their mother.

Everything inside him rebelled at the thought of seeing her. “Is that why you came here? To set up some tearful mother-son reunion? You’re wasting your time.”

“Hey, she left me, too. Okay?” She closed the distance between them and grabbed his arm, but he yanked it away.

“I’m not exactly over it, either. But aren’t you even a little curious? Don’t you at least want an explanation?

“I couldn’t give less of a f*ck.”

“Oh, yeah?” She spun around, gesturing toward the living room wall.

“Is that why you’ve painted her all over the apartment?”

Her barb stuck in his chest. “Go back to Manhattan, Ruby.”

“She’s downstairs.”

At once, he felt like he’d just run a marathon. He couldn’t seem to get enough air, but the need to escape the situation overrode everything else.

Trapped. He felt trapped. Ruby was still talking to him, but nothing could break through the rush of white noise in his ears. Trying to regain some semblance of control, he strode toward the front door. “You crossed the line this time. I don’t want to see her. Or you. Get the hell out and don’t come back.”

“Bowen, don’t do this.” She looked desperate now, shifting on her feet, mind racing behind her eyes. “You’re hurting me. You’re the one person I never thought would hurt me.”

Dammit, she knew him too well.

Knew saying that would kill him. But right now, when she’d forced him into his own personal nightmare, he couldn’t, wouldn’t, comfort her. “Yeah, that’s too bad. Hurting people is what I do. Live with it.”

Needing to get away from the pain on her face, he turned and yanked open the door.

And came face to face with his mother, Pamela Hicks.

She stumbled back a step, as if she hadn’t expected him to open the door so fast. He didn’t want to look at her, but he couldn’t look away either. He hadn’t seen her since he was a child, but somehow she looked exactly as he expected. She still had the streak of pink in her hair, still looked like a roadie for the Grateful Dead. With ripped jeans and a bullet belt, she looked like the furthest thing from a mother you could get. Which was totally accurate. She wasn’t a mother.

When he realized he’d been standing there,

numb

and

dumbstruck,

he

swallowed hard and turned back to Ruby. “Go.”

“Don’t blame her,” Pamela said, recapturing his attention. “I was supposed to stay in the car. I guess doing what the hell you want runs in the family, huh?”

The joke fell flat, as she seemed to expect it would. “I don’t have a family.”

“You could.”

His laughter was even painful to his own ears. “What happened? Did you run out of money or something?” He reached into his back pocket for his wallet. “If I lend you a couple grand will you go back to wherever you came from?”

Behind him, Ruby spoke up. “Knock it off, Bowen.”

“I don’t need your money,” Pamela said.

“Then that concludes our business.”

He held the door wide and looked at Ruby. “I don’t want to see you here again. If you come back, I’ll be more than happy to fill your boyfriend in on your occasional trips to Brooklyn. Still hustling for old time’s sake, Ruby?”

Her face went white. “How…did you know?”

“I know everything that happens here.