Risking it All (Crossing the Line, #1)(35)

Bowen had to laugh at that.

As soon as her thighs went slack on his shoulders, he pushed them up, bringing her knees even with her chest.

“More, Sera. I’ll always give you more.”

His mouth didn’t stop until her throat was too hoarse to scream his name anymore.





CHAPTER ELEVEN


Sera leaned against the kitchen counter, eating a green apple and trying not to stare at Bowen’s closed bedroom door.

Even after what they’d done together last night, he’d retreated to his own room after depositing her limp body in the guest room bed, underneath her halo where he claimed she belonged. His behavior grew more and more confusing, and while she should be focused on the case and not examining his actions, she couldn’t help it. His huge presence had taken up permanent residence in her mind, and no way could she shake him.

He continued to be honorable, sticking to his guns and not sleeping with her.

Even the nuns at Holy Angels would approve. She should be grateful. Really.

Even without sleeping with him, she’d started feeling…an attachment to him. A dangerous realization if she’d ever had one.

She could hear her uncle now. You see all the good in people. Never the bad.

You’re too soft to be a cop. The familiar rhetoric was so ingrained in her mind, she could hear his voice like he stood in the room.

Originally, she’d justified coming to stay with Bowen as a way to further her investigation while finding out if he’d played a role in Colin’s death. Yet here she stood days later without even one attempt under her belt. She’d become too comfortable and she needed to step back, view the situation objectively again. Already this morning, she’d done a quiet search of the apartment that yielded no results. Not that she’d expected much in the living area or guest room, Bowen being smart enough to keep

any

possible

incriminating

evidence somewhere safe. Away from prying eyes. Where, though?

Sera pushed off the counter. It would only take her five minutes to get to Bowen’s car and back. She could clear her head and cross one more searchable location off her list. It had to be done.

After tossing her apple core in the trash can, Sera pulled on a light jacket and went to the door. Unlocking the dead bolts sent three loud clank s echoing through the silent apartment, making her cringe. She held her breath and waited to hear movement in Bowen’s room, but nothing came. With a relieved exhale, she gently pried the door open and slipped into the hallway.

Hands tucked in her pockets, she moved quickly down the sidewalk, grateful

that

residents

in

this

neighborhood appeared to be late risers.

Most of the shops hadn’t rolled up their metal gates for the day. The fewer eyes on her the better.

Bowen’s car sat parked just around the corner from his building. She only felt safe taking five minutes to search, knowing that Bowen could wake up any moment. It wouldn’t be a pretty scene if he found her room empty. Five minutes wasn’t very long, especially when you had no idea what you were looking for.

Or in this case, hoping you didn’t find.

Her brother’s case had been labeled cold— officially, anyway—and it had been years since his death, so she didn’t necessarily expect to find evidence.

However, she could search for a link between Bowen and Hogan. Weapons.

The one that killed Colin had never been recovered.

Sera’s hands clenched inside her pockets. What would she do if she found something incriminating? As soon as she asked herself the question, something became glaringly obvious. She was in deep. Into the investigation, yes, but even more so with Bowen. When evidence was found, it went to the department.

There were no other options. In her case, it went to the department and she vamoosed as soon as she was sure Hogan was gone. And she’d go alone.

Why did that make her feel so empty now?

When she reached Bowen’s car, she let the slim jim she’d found beneath Bowen’s sink fall from her jacket sleeve into her palm. She slipped the tool between the car window and rubber seal, making quick work of the lock.

Quickly, she popped the trunk and retreated to the back of the car, pushing the slim jim up her sleeve as she went.

Inside, she saw nothing. A brand-new tire iron, a Brooklyn Nets sweatshirt.

She lifted the lining and felt around, all the while praying her fingers didn’t connect with anything except the spare tire.

After her search yielded nothing, she heaved a sigh of relief and skirted the bumper to the front passenger side, flipping open the glove compartment.

Clean. Not even a crumpled-up parking ticket. No, wait…a folded-up piece of paper tucked inside beneath the plastic manual. The yellow edge jumped right out at her because it was the only thing out of place in the clean car, appearing as though it had been stored in a rush.

She pinched the very corner and drew out a yellow pamphlet, laying it on the seat.

Her hand rose to her throat. The church program. Bowen had kept it.

Along the bottom edge, he’d written yesterday’s date in heavy script, circling it once. Guilt swarmed in the air, before swooping in to break right through her rib cage. Guilt and…something else.

Maybe she hadn’t gone out there looking for evidence against Bowen. Maybe she’d been looking for something to justify her desire to save him. God, she wanted to. It had taken this gesture to kick her in the ass. Make her realize exactly how vital that additional mission was to her.