Risking it All (Crossing the Line, #1)(45)

“Buy you your next drink?”

The words were slurred to her right, issued from the apparent nominee of Drunk and Bored Central. She smiled politely and shook her head, already having learned while waitressing that reasoning with a drunk man usually meant a convoluted or inappropriate response.

“Bowen and I are friends. He won’t mind.”

“If that were true, I think you know he would.”

“You talk pretty.”

Berating herself for opening her mouth, she scanned the bar for Bowen, but hadn’t seen him since he disappeared into the back room a few minutes ago. A group of young women standing outside the ladies’ room caught her eye, though.

The last thing she wanted was Bowen to come back and find this guy talking to her, and the nearby ladies’ room looked safe and close enough.

She slid off her stool. “Excuse me.”

Trying to blend into the wall, she got in line behind the group of women, her eyes immediately tearing up as their abundance of flowery perfume hit her.

They sent her a few furtive looks, then lowered their voices and huddled closer. Fortunately, they appeared to have knocked back a few drinks, much like everyone else in Marco’s. Their voices weren’t half as quiet as they seemed to think.

Walks in here like she’s the first lady of the United States or something.

Maybe, but he won’t be the president for long.

Thinks he’s better than everyone…

we’ll see who’s better real soon.

He’s

gone

soft.

Now

there’s

something I never thought I’d say that about Bowen Driscol.

My Nicky says after that score on the ninth, everything is going to change.

Denial thundered through Sera as she absorbed

their

snidely

whispered

words, the implications of them. The ninth…the ninth. She’d overheard that same date mentioned in the hallway above Rush when Hogan was still in town. Combined with the women’s conversation, it could only mean one thing. Bowen and his crew were involved in whatever Hogan had planned for May ninth. It connected the dots, finally answering the question as to why

Bowen

and

Hogan

were

associating. But now a bigger, horrifying picture came into sharp focus.

They planned to take Bowen out.

The shaking started in her knees and moved up, higher until she trembled against the wall. Paralyzed, her heart seized in her chest at the image of a vibrant Bowen lying lifeless on the sidewalk. The trained fighting hands that painted murals and brought her body to life, never to be used again. Until hearing his life was in jeopardy, she hadn’t known exactly how deep she’d let herself sink.

No, she couldn’t let it happen. She hadn’t been able to save her brother, but she could do something about this.

A sparkly pink cell phone twinkled at her from inside one of women’s purses.

She murmured a quick prayer and asked forgiveness

for

stealing.

Possibly

coveting, too. Then she snatched the phone out of the purse. While they were engrossed in a conversation that had turned to which bar they would head to next, Sera slipped away. Even as she made sure to maintain a casual air while walking through the packed bar, she knew Bowen would be back any minute and she needed to be quick. She didn’t even want to envision what he would do if he came back and found her gone, although since every eye in the place was watching her leave, he’d have no trouble locating her. Hopefully they would assume she was popping out for a cigarette, instead of making the phone call that would save Bowen’s life. A phone call that could very well put the kibosh on her investigation.

Thankfully she found the sidewalk outside Marco’s empty. It wouldn’t stay that way for long, though, so she needed to get her nerves under control. The jig would be up once she placed the call.

Her uncle would know what, exactly, she’d done without his permission.

Would attempt to convince her it was an overzealous crusade, possibly even try to bring her out against her will.

Didn’t matter. Bowen’s life was at stake. Her choice was clear. Sera centered herself with a deep inhale and dialed her uncle’s desk line at the precinct. On a weeknight, he would be working late, probably getting ready to order Chinese takeout for anyone working overtime.

True to form, he answered on the first ring. “Newsom.”

The phone felt heavy in her hand.

“Uncle. It’s me.”

Silence. “Seraphina. What the hell is going on?”

Something in his tone felt off, but she didn’t have time to mull it over. “I don’t have a lot of time, so try to keep the lecturing to a minimum.” When she tossed a look at the entrance to Marco’s, a car idling at the curb caught her eye.

She squinted to make out the driver, surprised to find Connor watching her.

Her hand went up automatically in greeting, but he didn’t return it. An uncomfortable feeling spread in her midsection when he pulled away and turned the corner at the end of the block without so much as acknowledging her.

“Sera.” Her uncle’s impatient voice brought her back to the present. “You take last-minute personal vacation time t h e week before Colin’s birthday and don’t even check in? Where are you? I demand a goddamn answer.”