Risking it All (Crossing the Line, #1)(79)

Wayne growled and shoved the barrel against his head, but Bowen refused to wince. Not with Hogan watching him with a smug expression. “You little f*ck.

I should have done this a long time ago.

Your father thinks I’m weak? That I can’t do better than some *-whipped painter? He’s in for a surprise when he gets out.”

“Don’t forget balloons and a cake.

The man has a thing for coconut.”

As expected, Wayne now felt the need to get in his face. For a split second, the gun dislodged from his skull and Bowen took advantage. He ducked low and spun, reaching up to knock the weapon from Wayne’s hand. It went skidding across the pavement, but Bowen didn’t take time to see where it stopped. He was too busy drawing the weapon tucked into the back of his jeans. The one Wayne had been too cocky to remove.

The whites of Wayne’s eyes stood out in the near-darkness. Slowly, his hands went up but the sneer on his face remained in place.

“Looks like this painter got the drop on you, old man.”

“Not on me,” Hogan drawled.

Bowen saw Hogan point the gun at him out of the corner of his eye and braced himself. When the bullet didn’t immediately come, he started talking.

“You think South Brooklyn will be easier to deal with if Wayne’s running things? You’re wrong. This is a mistake, Hogan.”

Hogan laughed. “I’m seeing a much bigger picture, my friend. Tonight’s deal is two for the price of one. After tonight, I won’t be dealing with either one of you. Just myself.”

So he planned on putting them both down and running both territories. From the panicked expression on Wayne’s face, he’d been confident in his alliance with Hogan. The gun in Bowen’s hand pointing

toward

Wayne

became

irrelevant. Hogan would only laugh if he pulled the trigger. It would make things easier for him.

Anger flooded Bowen. No. No. He’d only just decided to live. He needed to see Sera again, find a way to immortalize the memories in his head, and this motherf*cker was trying to take that chance away. There didn’t appear to be a damn thing he could do about it, either. No way of negotiating when a man’s greed outweighed his conscience.

“Where’s the girl, Driscol?”

Every muscle in his body seized, but he showed no reaction to the question.

“There’s been more than one girl this week. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“You’re not as good a liar as you think.” Hogan used his thumb to cock his gun. “There’s some important shit missing from my office and I’m missing a waitress. Where the f*ck is she?”

“Even if I could tell you, you’re planning on shooting me anyway. I’m not exactly swimming in motivation here, man.”

Hogan bared his teeth. “I’m going to find her, you know. I won’t stop looking.

There’s nowhere they can put her that’s out of my reach. And when I find the bitch, I’m going to tell her you sent me.”

When Hogan aimed the gun at his head, Bowen already felt dead and buried, those final words being the nail in his coffin. He would be leaving her in danger, at the mercy of the same criminals he’d been appointed to protect her from, and the ineptitude of the cops who would have the job going forward.

Finding the image of her face, he closed his eyes and focused on it. It took him a moment for Hogan’s outraged curse to break through to him.

“What the f*ck are you doing?”

Bowen looked on in shock at Connor pressing a gun to the back of Hogan’s head. “I second that,” Bowen muttered, relief and confusion joining forces in his chest.

“Sorry,

cousin,”

Connor

said.

“Nothing personal. Just put the gun down nice and slow.”

After a brief hesitation, Hogan lowered the gun with a low expletive.

“After what I did for you? For your mother? You bastard.”

Connor’s laugh sounded cold. “We both know I’ve paid that debt ten times over.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Hogan grated.

“You’re welcome to try.”

Sirens.

Breathless seconds passed as all four men exchanged looks. Hogan looked like a trapped rat, while Connor didn’t even react, simply keeping the gun trained on his cousin. Wayne, old school to the bone, made a run for the shadows, disappearing

from

sight

almost

immediately. Bowen had never run a day in his life, so he stayed still and watched the half dozen NYPD squad cars approach with something akin to fascination. Until he saw Sera step out of one of them. His eyes greedily took in the sight of her, even as he registered the gun in her hand. The badge at her hip.

Her professional clothing so different from the dresses she wore in his memory.

When

several

officers

approached them, weapons drawn, Connor finally dropped the gun and knelt, hands over his head, as did Hogan.

Bowen was pushed to his knees, his gaze still locked on Sera as they cuffed him.

Shame ripped him wide open. No, she couldn’t see him like this. Now, now, he truly wished he were dead. Troy came up behind her and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. Seeing anyone besides himself comfort her finally succeeded in breaking him.