Risking it All (Crossing the Line, #1)(57)

Trying not to let her alarm show at the deadness in his voice or what he’d said, Sera waited for him to explain, but he stayed silent. “Where are we going?”

“Quick stop.” His lips barely moved.

“Won’t take long.”

The uncomfortable feeling in her chest increased as they pulled up in front of a run-down white house. A dirty FOR SALE

sign hung at an angle in the yard and one of the steps leading to the porch had completely caved in. She didn’t know what kind of business Bowen planned on handling, but he didn’t seem in good shape for much of anything at the moment. It shouldn’t concern her, not after what she’d just found out, but it did. A lot. She hated the idea of him walking into a potentially dangerous situation, especially alone, in a frame of mind she couldn’t read.

Up until this point, he’d at least made a token effort to hide his illegal activities from her. The fact that he seemed to have given up on that score…

frankly, it scared her.

“Don’t go in there.”

He gave no sign that he’d heard her.

“Stay in the car. Don’t get out for any reason.”

“Please.”

Without so much as a glance in her direction, he climbed out of the car and slammed the door. He moved with graceful purpose toward the house, rapping quickly on the door twice. Sera held her breath, her heartbeat echoing in her ears. Everything inside her screamed at her to stop him, but she also felt glued to the seat, as if watching a horrible accident in progress. A minute passed before the door opened a crack. She barely glimpsed the man’s pale, panicked face before Bowen wedged his foot inside the crack and muscled his way into the house, locking a hand around the man’s throat as he went.

No. The house’s front door thumped shut with a hollow noise and the only audible sound was her shaky inhales.

Was this some kind of challenge? Go ahead and try to stop me, cop. Sera didn’t think so. His move seemed desperate, born of the frustration she’d caused.

She flashed back to the previous night, when he’d held her in his arms like a treasured possession. I’m f*cked for life, he’d said back at the construction site. A hard lump formed in her throat at the memory of his face, the torture written all over it. No, this reckless behavior was something else. Something that both of them could later regret.

Bowen, because he wasn’t thinking clearly, and her, for once again sitting back and watching the action take place around her. She needed to do something.

Decision made, she double-checked the weapon tucked into the deep pocket of her coat and left the car, careful to close the door gently behind her.

Midmorning on a weekday, the street stood empty, the blue-collar residents long since having left for work. She moved swiftly on the cracked cement surrounding the house, locating a window that would allow her a glimpse inside. Using an overturned bucket for extra height, she boosted herself up and peered through the filthy window. What she saw nearly made her body shut down.

Bowen stood in front of the man who’d answered the door, face covered in blood. He swayed a little on his feet, eyes glassy and unfocused. The man stood with hands fisted at his sides, still looking terrified. It made no sense when he was clearly the one inflicting injury.

He shook his head and tried to step back from Bowen, but Bowen only followed.

Then his mouth moved and Sera read the four words on his lips with dawning horror.

Hit me again. More.

He wanted to be hit. Wanted the pain.

Tears blurred her vision as she scrambled off the bucket. Responsibility for his pain bogged her down as she sprinted for the door. If she wasn’t responsible, at the very least, her uncle owned the burden. But no, this was her.

She’d done this.

When she reached the door and heard a sickening thud on the other side, she wasted no time throwing open the unlocked door, letting it slam against the inside wall. Her hand itched to draw her weapon, but the white-faced man wasn’t armed. To her shock, she still wanted to retaliate against the man who continued to pummel Bowen with his fists, even knowing Bowen was asking him for it.

“Get away from him.” The man appeared slightly dazed as his attention flew to her, but he didn’t move to follow her order. “I said, get the f*ck away from him!”

Bowen weaved on his feet as the man jumped back. “Get back in the car, Ladybug.”

The use of her nickname, slurred and flat, sliced like a knife through her heart.

Swallowing the fear of seeing his bloodied face up close, she closed the distance between them and slipped her hand around his elbow. “Come on. I’m not getting back in the car without you.”

“Not done here.”

“Yes, you are.” She pulled him around to face her, wincing at the cut under his eye pouring blood. His lips were lacerated in two spots. The eye that had already been blackened when she met him was now swollen shut. Tears clogged her throat. “Dammit, Bowen.

Dammit.”

“I hate it when you curse…you’re too good. My girl is too good.” He cupped her cheek and swayed toward her. “But you’re not my girl, are you? I dreamed it?”

She felt on the verge of collapse, under his weight, his words, but she needed to focus on getting him out of there. “No, you didn’t dream it. Let’s go home.”

“Home. I like you saying that.” He pierced her with his one good eye. “I didn’t do it. Last night…that guy who tried to take you away from me. I couldn’t do it.”