Risking it All (Crossing the Line, #1)(4)

“All right. I give up. What the f*ck is going on?”

“Have a seat.” The officer who’d driven them there kicked out the metal chair before leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

He remained standing, turning slightly when the interrogation room door opened again and an older man walked in, looking grave. Bowen’s eyebrows shot up when he recognized the man.

Police Commissioner Newsom.

He’d seen the man on television doing press conferences more times than he could count. That’s what he did. Sound bites to reassure the masses. Public relations. He sure as hell didn’t interrogate street toughs from Brooklyn.

Newsom tossed a file on the metal table and nodded at him. “Why the black eye, Driscol? Don’t you have men to do the dirty work for you now that you’re in charge?”

No way would he tell him the truth about his perpetual black eyes. He wouldn’t tell him that when he went to collect debts and the money wasn’t ready, he always let the other man take a swing at him before leaving his men to deliver the rest of the message. He welcomed the pain that came with that single blow, craved it even. Lately, it was the only thing reminding him he was alive. Sometimes he even hoped the mo ne y wouldn’t be available, as it hadn’t been last night. Bitterness flooded his mouth at the memory of the man’s desperate eyes when Bowen had shown up at his door.

No money for me, huh? Go ahead, take a shot at me. Do it. You’ll be glad you did it in an hour when you wake up hating me.

“Why am I here?” Bowen fell into the chair without answering Newsom’s question. “Not that I don’t appreciate the stellar hospitality.”

“Already you’re living up to your reputation as a smart-ass.” Newsom sat, scrubbing a weary hand over his whiskered face. “Look, I’m not here to play any bullshit games with you, so I’d appreciate the same courtesy.”

“Fair enough.” Bowen lit a cigarette.

“Shoot.”

Newsom’s jaw hardened. Behind him, the two officers shifted, but stilled when Newsom held up a hand. “We have a situation and I’ve been informed you’re in a position to help us.”

Bowen paused in the middle of his second drag of nicotine. “Help you?”

When the commissioner just looked at him, he laughed out loud. “Any minute now I’m going to wake up, right?”

“No, I’m afraid not.” Newsom flipped open the file and scanned the contents.

“And in case you’re wondering, asking for help from some punk who we’ve been trying to take down for over a year wasn’t exactly my number one choice.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” He took a deep drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke toward one of the scowling officers. “Okay. What do you need my help with? I’d at least like to know the particulars before I turn you down.”

“You sound pretty certain.”

“Good. That’s what I was aiming for.”

Newsom muttered something under his breath, but all Bowen could make out was the word “mistake.” “How about I lay it out for you in black and white, then you decide?”

Bowen

stayed

silent,

watching

Newsom through a cloud of smoke.

The commissioner sighed wearily.

“We’ve lost contact with an undercover officer. At the risk of sounding cliché, they’ve gone rogue. Went in without permission.” He considered his hands a moment. “We’d like you to make contact with the officer, first and foremost to confirm they’re alive and well. We need them extracted from the situation unharmed.”

“Undercover.” Bowen felt a tingle at the back of his neck. “Investigating who?”

“You think I’d reveal a name without your signed agreement to cooperate?”

Bowen didn’t answer, the word “cooperate” hanging in the air like rank garbage.

“The officer is looking for evidence,”

the commissioner continued. “Frankly, it’s evidence I— we—need. This isn’t how I wanted to go about obtaining it, but they’re in now.”

“Evidence of what?”

“Corruption. Something you should be familiar with.” He formed a steeple with his fingers. “Which leads me to your secondary task. If the officer is indeed alive and well, allow them a small window of time to continue the mission.

If it proves fruitful and they uncover what we’re looking for, you bring that evidence to me before they have a chance to lose it or get killed.” He shook his head. “A damn rookie cop. No business whatsoever this deep in the game.”

“This idea gets more appealing by the minute.” Bowen sent a pointed glance toward the two flunkies. “Cops aren’t exactly my jam on a good day. Some inexperienced rookie with a death wish?

Why would I agree to that?”

“Because, Mr. Driscol, we can make life very difficult for you otherwise. We know

about

the

circumstances

surrounding your father’s incarceration.”

Newsom paused, as if to let that statement sink in. Bowen kept his features carefully schooled so he wouldn’t betray the shock pounding through his blood. He hadn’t seen this coming. Couldn’t have anticipated it in a million years. “We know you were aware of your father’s impending arrest and didn’t warn him because it would have put someone very close to you in danger. I think some of your associates would find it interesting that your sister was working as an unofficial informant, don’t you?”