Risking it All (Crossing the Line, #1)(38)

“Fallen” implied that she’d already landed, when her entire being still soared, gravitating toward him. Solid ground wasn’t even in her sight line. The practical part of her screamed bad news, but her heart only sped faster. After her investigation ended, could she walk away from him? Even thinking the words made her entire body rebel, hurting head to toe.

Bowen sent her a tentative smile as they reached the bottom of the staircase.

He squeezed her to his side so tightly, she could barely breathe. His eyes scanned the street as he hustled her to his car parked at the curb and opened the passenger-side door. The second she settled into the seat, he slammed the door closed behind her.

Obviously something had happened between last night and this morning that had him worried. He said he’d left the apartment to buy cigarettes. Had he run into trouble instead?

They drove along the parkway with the windows down, crisp morning air tunneling through the car in a wash of white noise. It wasn’t exactly beach weather, but she knew they weren’t going for the usual reasons. Would he tell her if she asked?

Who is the man I’m free-falling for?

The man who’d been so genuine with the offer to kill someone for her? Or the man who painted a halo over her head?

Bowen parked the car and they walked to a diner, ordering food to go.

They took their wrapped breakfast sandwiches and ate them on the boardwalk, looking out over the Atlantic. Seagulls called to one another; people passed behind them speaking mostly in Russian as the ocean crashed in soothing intervals. It occurred to Sera she’d seen and experienced more with Bowen in the last four days than she had in years. She didn’t know whether to be grateful or depressed by the thought.

“You’re thinking too hard again.”

Sera held up her paper cup of coffee in response.

He chuckled from his position on the railing. It didn’t escape her he had a view of anyone coming up behind her.

“When is the last time you were at the beach?”

She ate her last bite of sandwich as she dug through her memory. “When I was a senior in high school. Which is just sad, when you get right down to it.”

“Hmm. Who were you with?”

“A pack of nuns.”

He choked on a sip of coffee. “You make them sound like wolves.”

“Oh, you’ve met them?”

His crack of laughter drew the attention of some passing joggers. “That bad, huh?”

She collected their garbage and tossed it in the nearby garbage can. “Let’s just say, wearing a habit at the beach in ninety-degree

weather

doesn’t

put

someone in a good mood to begin with.

Throw in thirty teenage girls who are seeing boys with their shirts off for the first time…it’s not pretty.”

Bowen’s eyes narrowed on her. “You were gawking again, weren’t you?”

“Guilty.”

His voice dropped. “We’ll sort that out later, won’t we?”

The air grew thick between them, heating her even in the cool morning breeze. It would be so easy to stand and wrap her arms around him, but she wanted to take this opportunity to know more. To understand him better as a person before their labels, their real lives, intruded and she’d never get the chance again. Her throat grew suddenly tight. “What about you? Last time at the beach.”

He opened his mouth to answer, but frowned and shut it again. “I don’t remember. I might have been here last week…” She could tell from his tone he meant it. If he wanted to, he could have easily made something up. Clearly, he couldn’t call to mind the last time he’d been, and it bothered him tremendously.

“Just tell me about any time you were at the beach, Bowen,” she offered quietly. “It doesn’t have to be the last time.”

Sera watched shadows pass behind his

eyes

as

he

thought.

The

lightheartedness of a moment ago had passed, leaving his troubles etched in the hard lines of his body. Outlined by the bright morning light from his position on the top rail, he looked like he belonged painted on the ceiling of a cathedral. An angel who had defected to the dark side.

“All right, I got one.” His far-off voice startled her out of her daydream.

“My father drove me down here one afternoon when I was thirteen. Even let me sit in the front seat.” He pointed to a spot beyond her shoulder. “There was a group of high school kids hanging out, smoking, whatever. He told me to get out of the car and pick a fight with the biggest one. Wouldn’t let me get back in the car until I did it. Until I won.”

Sera was certain if she moved, her body would splinter in half. Anger coursed through her veins at the idea of a father treating his child so callously. She felt pity for the little boy, too, but she held on to the anger because if he saw her pity, he’d hate it. “Did you win?”

“No. I rode the subway home with two busted eyes that day. So he brought me back the following week. And the week after that. Until he could point out anyone on the beach and I could take them.” He gave a quick shake of his head. “But I haven’t lost a fair fight since then, so lesson learned, right?”

“Fair fight? None of that was fair.”

When he merely stared off into the distance, she drew in a deep breath to calm herself down. It didn’t work. Her hands were shaking in her lap with the desire to break a commandment on his behalf. “Why did you tell me that?”