Risking it All (Crossing the Line, #1)(6)

“That’s the officer we’ve lost contact with. Going on a week now.” Troy lowered his voice, putting his back toward the two-way glass. “She’s investigating Trevor Hogan.”

Bowen couldn’t hide his astonishment.

“This girl? This girl with the freckles and the rosary beads around her neck?

She’s undercover with Hogan’s crew?”

When Troy simply nodded, Bowen cursed under his breath. He didn’t understand the reaction he was having to the photograph, but he couldn’t deny the unwelcome surge of protectiveness. A pretty brunette smiled up at him, squinting into the sunshine, hand closed around the cross at her chest. She didn’t belong anywhere near the ruthless Hogan, the man who had recently taken over North Brooklyn. If he suspected her for one second, she would be killed without hesitation.

Bowen knew something Troy didn’t, though. He and Hogan had an upcoming deal, set to take place on May ninth.

Little over a week away. A shipment of stolen computer hardware would land in neutral territory, thanks to a Brooklyn defector who had taken his theft operation overseas. At their contact’s request, he and Hogan were going to split the hardware down the middle as a gesture of goodwill between North and South Brooklyn, since warring over the goods would up his chances of being caught. If Bowen wanted to cooperate with the police, he had a perfect opening to do it.

If he cooperated? Jesus, was he actually considering this? Absently, his finger smoothed over the picture.

“What’s her name?”

“Seraphina.” Troy cleared his throat.

“Hogan killed her brother and walked.

Seems to me you can relate to wanting what’s best for a sibling. Only she didn’t get that chance.”

A wave of sympathy moved through him. Could he do this? Turn…informant?

By going in and protecting this girl— Seraphina—he kept himself out of prison and let his sister keep her shiny new life.

And dammit, someone needed to bring this impulsive rookie cop home, right?

This might be an old photo, but if she’d retained an ounce of that innocence, Hogan would have her for breakfast.

Who the hell was he kidding? There was no choice.

“How long do I have to get her out?”

“The sooner the better. No more than one week.”

Perfect timing. “You have to tell me what she’s looking for. I’m not going into this blind.”

Troy lowered his voice. “Financial records. A ledger.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Men have gone undercover with Hogan before. They…

didn’t

last

long,

but

were

in

communication long enough to confirm he keeps track of business by hand.”

Bowen decided it wouldn’t be wise to mention he’d seen the damn thing himself. He reached into his jeans again for his packet of cigarettes. “Let’s get this over with. I hate paperwork.”





CHAPTER THREE


Sera hated the man on sight.

But since hating another person was a sin, she decided to strongly dislike him instead. He’d walked into Rush, Hogan’s nightclub, five minutes ago and hadn’t taken his eyes off her once.

Nursing a glass of whiskey at the bar, he somehow fit in and stood out at the same time. He was in possession of a wicked black eye, yet he’d walked through the door with the confidence of a man who doled them out, not received them. Tall and broad-shouldered with the cut muscles of a working man, he caught the attention of women and men alike, drawing looks of appreciation as well as apprehension. The way he moved said do not f*ck with me, louder than if he’d shouted the statement. His dark blond hair had been tousled in a way that looked purposeful, like a woman had just been holding on to it for dear life.

Sera shook herself, realizing she’d been openly scowling at him. These were not the type of thoughts she normally had. She shouldn’t be picturing a woman in the throes of ecstasy with her fingers clutching some stranger’s hair.

With

a

muttered

admonishment

directed at herself, she picked up her tray and turned, resolving to ignore the stranger. She’d been waitressing at Hogan’s nightclub for two weeks and she’d gotten no closer to incriminating him. He’d given her a room upstairs and ordered her to heal his cousin, whose condition began to decline, much to her alarm. She’d wondered if the man even wanted to survive. She’d begged Hogan to take him to a hospital, knowing the action would ruin her chances of bringing him down. No matter how hard she’d pleaded, Hogan had refused to pursue medical attention and against all odds, she’d managed to stabilize the patient after several days.

Once she’d made him reasonably comfortable and he appeared to be out of the woods, she’d thought Hogan would send her packing. He’d thrown her an apron instead. Whether he’d decided her healing skills might come in useful in the future or he simply didn’t know what to do with her, she couldn’t decide. Not having answers had begun to wear thin, making her jumpy. She’d even requested to be allowed to leave and return home several times so she wouldn’t appear eager to stick around, but he continued to put her off, using his injured cousin as an excuse to keep her there. Sera had caught him watching her on a few occasions, a thoughtful expression on his face, as if he were deciding her fate. That cold calculation unnerved her, and his wariness hadn’t exactly been conducive to her investigation, but she’d gotten a glimpse of the ledger book early yesterday morning. She refused to give up her chance at him.