Authors: Tessa Bailey
Tags: #police, #Romantic Suspense, #brazen, #line of duty, #erotic, #new york, #Contemporary Romance
he nodded, but his eyes grew suspicious.
“Why? Where are you thinking?”
Sera breezed past him and took a jug
of milk out of the fridge. “Church.”
Later.
She’d get back on track with
how to proceed later.
This isn’t happening.
As Bowen walked down the sidewalk
of his familiar neighborhood, Sera’s
hand warm inside his, he tried to
remember the last time he’d been to
church. Had he
ever
been to church?
Once in middle school, he might have
sneaked into the rectory and stolen wine.
Did that count? He tried to picture what
the inside of Saint Anthony’s looked
like, but could only remember the
abandoned lot behind it, where he’d
once watched his father end another
man’s life for shorting him by fifty bucks
on payback of a loan.
Learning from his father had been his
sick version of church. Sure, he’d
listened to sermons, but they’d been
about instilling fear and brooking no
disrespect. Running numbers, inflicting
pain, evading the police. His bible had
been a notebook filled with debts,
passed down when his father got
pinched.
How could he walk into a church,
holding this girl’s hand? He’d be an
imposter, a hypocrite. And hell, that was
if he didn’t burst into flames first. Why
had he agreed to take her?
He knew the answer to that. She’d
looked like a bright, beautiful mirage
sitting on his windowsill when he’d
woken up this morning after a mere hour
of sleep. An antidote to the grisly images
tattooed on the back of his eyelids.
Images he added to every day, with
situations like last night. Situations that
left blood on his knuckles and another
piece of him lying discarded in the
gutter. One look at her, though, and he
forgot everything, at least momentarily.
She’d opened her mouth and said
church
.
Yes
had been his only possible
answer, because she
wanted
it.
Make her happy. Keep her safe.
The
mantra had played on a loop in his head
last night, keeping him awake as he
painted every free inch of space in his
room, until he’d run out of wall space.
Before he knew it, he’d been standing at
the foot of her bed. He’d fed himself the
excuse that he just wanted to make sure
she hadn’t tried to sneak out, maybe head
back to Rush for another shot at stealing
the ledger. But minutes had passed and
he’d still stood there, heart thudding in
his chest as he stared down at her
peaceful form. What would goodness
and purity feel like wrapped around him
nightly? He’d had to put a stranglehold
on the need to crawl into the bed with
her and try to absorb it. The fear it might
have the reverse effect had stopped him.
What if he dirtied her instead?
God, he’d come close on that
stairwell. So damn close. Tackling her
on the stairs, his head had been fucked
up. She’d just looked at him and seen her
death. He’d
known
it. That certainty had
been the equivalent of a shotgun blast to
his chest. Minutes later, the reassurance
in her eyes had been like a balm over the
blast wound. He’d gotten lost in her, his
need for her… He didn’t know how long
he could go without touching her again.
Church was certainly a good start.
Thankfully, when they reached the
steps leading to Saint Anthony’s,
everyone had already gone inside.
Everyone in Bensonhurst knew him, or at
least knew
of
him, and would wonder
what the hell he was doing there. He
didn’t care about the scrutiny on himself.
He’d grown used to it. But he didn’t
want anyone making Sera uncomfortable.
Not today, when it felt so goddamn
perfect walking down the street, holding
her hand. Since he didn’t know if he’d
ever get the chance again, he needed to
savor it.
When they walked into the church,
Bowen swore he could hear a record
scratching. The priest actually paused in
his opening welcome. One by one, every
head in the church turned to face him, a
few mouths even dropping open at the
sight of him. Obviously sensing his
discomfort, Sera pulled him into the very
last row, a resolute smile on her face.
After a beat, the priest resumed his
welcome, before opening the Bible on
the altar and beginning a reading.
“I guess you don’t get to church
much,” she whispered. “They seem
surprised to see you.”
So, that’s how she was going to play
it. As if she wasn’t aware of the real
reason they looked horrified to have him
in their sacred midst. “It’s not my fault.
They keep turning down my application
to be an altar boy.”
Her lips pressed together, laughter in
her eyes. “You’re not missing anything.
The robes are itchy and all that kneeling
is murder on your knees.”
His dropped his head forward. “Don’t
tell me you were an altar—”
“Person. We prefer altar
person
.”
“Unbelievable.” He couldn’t stop
himself from pulling her more securely
against his side. For the first time since
he could remember, he felt comfortable.
At ease. Even knowing she was only
staying with him long enough to get the
goods on Hogan didn’t matter. He let
himself trust the gut feeling that she felt
something, too. He chuckled when he
noticed a woman in the second row
craning her neck to get a look at him.
“You see that lady in the green jacket…
the one with white hair?”
Sera nodded. “The gawker?”
“Like recognizes like.” He just barely
blocked her elbow from connecting with
his stomach. “That’s Mrs. Cormac, my
fifth-grade teacher.”
“No way.”
“Oh,
way
.” He began massaging her
palm with his thumb. “There’s a reason
she doesn’t look happy to see me. I once
put a live chicken in her desk.”
She slapped a hand over her mouth,
but not quickly enough. Her clear,
tinkling laugh sailed past her lips,
drawing everyone’s attention. None of
them looked remotely happy about the
interruption. While Sera hid behind the
yellow program they’d picked up on the
way in, all Bowen could do was shrug
and give them all his most apologetic
smile, teeth and everything. Apparently
his apologetic smile was a little rusty,
though, because it only seemed to piss
them off more.
“She’s just so happy to be here,” he
called, making Sera bend at the waist to
hide her face between her knees.
“Please, continue.”
They managed to make it through the
rest of the Mass without any more
outbursts. Bowen found himself enjoying
the hour-long service. Not that he
listened to a word the priest said, but
sitting there in the daylight, his arm
draped
across
a
smiling
Sera’s
shoulders, he let himself imagine doing
it every Sunday. Having that certainty,
that routine. Knowing she would be
there to sit with him, letting him hold
her. Going home with him afterward
without question, because it was
her
home, too. Not just a guest anymore. In
his apartment or his life. Permanent.
Could he bring her into his world—to
stay? If a miracle happened and she
stuck around after the dust settled, could
he rest a single second? Sera would be
his vulnerability. A way to get to him.
Not safe. Never safe. No, he’d have to
change for her. Change into what,
though? He didn’t know how to be
anyone else. Sera rested her head on his
shoulder and his throat went tight. He
could learn. He could learn to be
someone else, do something else, if it
meant keeping her. He’d do anything.
After it ended, they walked back to his
apartment, only stopping to pick up
bagels and coffee. He had business to
deal with, but it could wait until
tomorrow. Sera didn’t have to work
tonight and although spending the
remainder of the day with her alone in
his apartment would be an incredible
test of his will, not spending time with
her sounded much worse.
As they climbed the stairs leading to
his apartment, she squeezed his hand,
drawing his attention. “Bowen?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you paint a halo over my head
last night?”
He sighed. “Yeah.”
When he tried to keep walking, she
pulled him to a stop just before they
reached his door. She started to say
something, but surprised him by going up
on her tiptoes and kissing him instead. It
started as a peck. But when he curled a
hand around her wrist and felt her pulse
racing out of control, his good intentions
deserted him. Fisting her shirt, he tugged
her close and let his tongue explore her
perfect texture, slow and deep. A little
whimper jumped from her mouth into
his, making him hungry to hear it again.
Louder. God, her tempting body was
rubbing against his, lighting him up like
a pinball machine.
He needed to let her breathe, but
wasn’t willing to let her go, so he
released her mouth in favor of sucking at
her neck. Her skin smelled like his soap
and
fuck
, he loved that. It made his cock
swell in his pants, the realization the
same object had touched both of their
bodies. He wanted her walking around
smelling like him all the time. Not just
his soap.
Him
. All of him.
Sera’s fingers tugged at his hair, the
hard points of her nipples visible against
the material of her shirt. “Why did you
take me to church just to turn me right
back into a sinner?” He bent her back
over his arm so he could rake his teeth
over her covered nipple. “You could
take me to Mass every day for the rest of
my life and I’d still be the kind of guy
who would finger you in the back row.”
“Bowen, take me inside. I want…”
He drew her upright and pressed their
foreheads together, unable to resist the
urge to bite and drag her plump bottom
lip forward. “What do you want, Sera? I
told you, no fucking.”
“What we did last night.” She closed
her eyes and he immediately missed
them. “Can we do that again?”
Just like earlier when she asked him to
take her to church, he only had the ability
to say yes. He suspected that would be
the case no matter what she asked.
Bowen, scale the Empire State Building.
Bowen, take me to Mars. Bowen, make
me come.
Yes, yes, yes.
“Come here, sweetheart.” He trailed
his hands down her back to grasp the taut
cheeks of her ass. With no more
encouragement than that, she twined her
legs around his waist, trailing kisses on
his face as he walked them to the
apartment door. Before he could open it,
however, the door swung wide.
Terror unlike he’d ever known
whipped through him. Fast as he could,
he whirled, putting himself between Sera
and the unknown intruder. He expected
to feel the sting of a bullet any moment,
but he didn’t care about the pain. Once
he was incapacitated, he couldn’t help
Sera. She’d be alone. In one swift
motion, he set Sera on her feet, drew the
gun from his jeans waistband, and
pointed it…at Ruby?
His sister.
CHAPTER NINE
Like any smart girl who’d grown up in
this section of Brooklyn, Ruby’s knees
hit the floor and she raised her arms
over her head. “Jesus, Bowen. Put the
gun down.”
It took him a moment to process that
there wasn’t a threat to Sera. The gun
shook slightly as he lowered it to his