Risking it All (28 page)

you no cops…that it had to be on my

terms.” He couldn’t swallow, couldn’t

get a decent breath. “She wouldn’t just

leave. I told her. I told her there was no

going back.”

“You’re not making any sense, man.”

Troy blew out a breath. “Look, I have no

reason to lie. We’ve heard nothing from

her.”

Bowen barely registered Troy’s

assurances over the buzzing in his brain.

She hadn’t called in. She wasn’t here.

He hadn’t kept her safe. Failed. Oh,

God, he’d failed her.

“
Mr. Driscol.
”

Not Troy’s voice. Someone else’s.

Newsom? Based on the impatience in

his tone, he’d been trying to get his

attention for a while. Bowen almost felt

too numb to respond. “What.”

“I have an idea where she might have

gone.”

Sera stared blankly across the empty

field, watching a plastic Ziploc bag float

around in the wind. She pulled up the

hood of her sweatshirt and drew her

knees up to her chest, ignoring the

creaking of the ancient bench beneath

her. She’d come here before, but there

had always been families, teenagers

playing soccer, senior citizens walking

in groups.

That hum of activity had made the park

where Colin had been shot seem less

desolate, more redeemable. Possibly

because of the slight chill in the air, the

only thing inhabiting the field today was

garbage. A forgotten sweatshirt. A

cracked Frisbee. It made the park, the

last place where her brother had drawn

breath, unbearable.

Black spots winked inside her vision,

a product of her lack of sleep. Bowen

had left. Just…left. She had no

recollection of how long she’d sat on his

bed feeling raw and exposed, convinced

he would come back and hold her,

before dragging herself to the guest

room. No. He’d chosen retaliation. The

pipe dream that she could save him had

cracked and flooded her insides.

Eventually, the flood turned to a block of

ice so thick she wasn’t sure it would

ever thaw.

Around three in the morning, Bowen

had crashed into the apartment. She’d

heard him come into her room but

pretended to be asleep, terrified to see

the evidence of what he’d done in her

name. Hours later, she’d heard him

through the door, mumbling her name,

saying it like a curse, a prayer,

accompanied by the disctinct sound of a

glass bottle clinking on the floor. The

healer inside her had still wanted to go

to him. Hold him. By morning, though,

she’d managed to steel herself against

the urge, stepping over him and his

empty liquor bottle in the darkness, and

leaving before she broke down and

indulged the impulse.

No longer.

Her brother would have been twenty-

nine today, and what gift had she given

him? She’d allowed herself to get swept

up in a man and forgotten about his

justice. The future he’d been denied.

Selfish. She’d been selfish. Worse,

she’d been wrong about the man who

caused the lapse. After last night, even

thinking his name hurt. She’d let him

distract her from the needs of her family,

she’d trusted him, given him a part of

herself, and he’d disappointed her.

Honestly, she deserved it. She deserved

to feel as though her chest had been

chiseled into and ripped wide open. Her

uncle hadn’t trusted her to do this job, to

avenge Colin, and she’d proven him

right.

Not anymore. She would do whatever

it took to make up for her lapse in

judgment. With so many eyes on her, it

would be risky, but no other options

existed. She would
not
be the failure her

uncle expected her to be. Her brother’s

death would not be in vain, no matter

what mistakes he’d made or payouts

he’d taken. She had to believe if he were

still alive, he would have corrected his

mistakes. Now she had to do it for him.

Tonight’s waitressing shift at Rush

would be her final chance, and she

wouldn’t waste it.

Right now, she needed to go back to…

Bowen’s, much as it would kill her to be

around him when her feelings still

existed. They
more
than existed, they

crowded her insides, making it hard to

breath. She thought she’d known him,

swore a different man lived beneath the

violent facade, but he’d proved her

wrong. No longer could she trust him or

let herself be sucked in by the magnetic

pull in his direction.

Sera dropped her feet to the ground

and stood, but something kept her from

leaving. Before she knew her own

intention, she began walking through the

park, picking up trash. She tossed an

empty juice box, a candy bar wrapper,

and two paper plates into the garbage

can, then went back for more. A little bit

of pressure that had been building in her

head since last night eased, the routine

giving her purpose, comforting her. Her

brother’s grave had been too far,

considering

she

only

had

public

transport at her disposal, so instead of

leaving flowers, she could do this

instead. She could make this place a

little less miserable.

Every few minutes, Sera scanned the

surrounding area. She was a good

distance away from Bensonhurst and she

still carried the gun Bowen had given

her, but that didn’t mean someone hadn’t

spotted her. After the way Connor had

ignored her as he drove past last night,

she knew he didn’t trust her. Another

person she’d had a positive gut feeling

about that turned out to be wrong. It

called her decision-making ability into

question. A tiny voice in her head

whispered
your uncle is right.
She

quickly buried the recurring thought

when a car roared into the parking lot

behind her, sending her heart into her

throat.

Very slightly, she turned, careful to

keep her face hidden underneath the

hood. The aluminum can she held in her

hand dropped to the ground when she

saw Bowen coming toward her. Warning

bells went off. Not only because of the

wild look in his eye, but the fact that he

was there in the first place. She hadn’t

told him anything about Colin. At least,

nothing that would lead him here.

Unless…

Unless he’d already known her

brother had been killed here.

Sera’s

stomach

bottomed

out,

possibilities whipping through her head.

Flashing images of their exchanges came

back to her with disorienting speed,

refusing to make sense. How had he

known to come here? To this
exact
park

on this
exact
day? Her brother had died

here and he’d known to come. Which

meant…he knew about Colin.
Her
. He

knew
her
identity.

Sera held back a sob. How long had

he known and kept it from her?

Furthermore, did his knowledge of this

place mean he’d been here before?

Oh, God, had he been involved in her

brother’s death?

With that final sickening possibility

coating her brain like molasses, Sera

started to run.
Think, think.
She couldn’t

pull out her gun in broad daylight, not

this close to the street, but she wanted to.

Wanted to point it at him and demand the

truth of what had happened. She let out a

frustrated noise when she realized that

even with all the doubt, all the questions

circling him, the idea of pointing a gun at

him felt abhorrently wrong.

“
Sera
.” Bowen gave chase behind her.

“Don’t you run from me.”

Ignoring him, she sprinted from the

park to the sidewalk across the street.

This neighborhood had been thriving at

one time, but construction developments

had halted only halfway finished thanks

to the weak economy. She ducked inside

one of those empty concrete structures,

jumping over stray cinder blocks,

abandoned tools, and overgrown weeds.

Not far behind, she could hear his feet

hitting the pavement, his constant calling

of her name. As soon as she was out of

view of the street, she drew her gun and

waited for him to enter the building.

Seconds behind her, he entered the

near-darkness and came to an abrupt

halt. His gaze landed on the gun and then

rose to meet hers. She refused to

acknowledge the pain she saw there.

“Ladybug, put the gun down.”

“No. You put
yours
on the ground.”

Without hesitating, he put one hand up,

slowly reaching behind him with the

other to remove the gun at the small of

his back. He laid it down on the ground

and kicked it away, never removing his

steady attention from her. “Now put

yours down so we can talk.”

“How did you know where to find

me?” she asked, horrified to hear her

teeth chattering.

His hesitation hit her like a physical

blow. For the first time since meeting

him, she felt as though she didn’t know

him at all. He was everything his police

file proclaimed him to be.

“
Answer me
,” she shouted, the gun

blurring in front of her. “How did you

know? Were you here that night…did

you—”

“
Jesus
.” His voice packed a raw

punch. “Do it. Pull the trigger right now.

It’ll be better than hearing the rest of

what you were going to say.”

Sera shook her head. “Stop. Just

stop.”

“Stop
what
?”

“Saying things like that to me.

Pretending I mean something to you,

when you’ve been lying to me since the

beginning.” Her extended arm started to

shake. “Haven’t you?”

“No more than you’ve been lying to

me, Seraphina,” he returned, gravely.

Everything inside her seized at the use

of her full name. Confirmation of what

she’d already suspected, that he’d

known her identity since the beginning.

Had he just been humoring her, so secure

in his own criminal immortality that he

hadn’t found her a threat? The idea hurt

worse than she could have imagined.

She thought back to last night, how he’d

waited to exact revenge, instead of doing

it in front of her, so she’d have no way

to prove his guilt. He’d known.

“You still haven’t answered me,” she

said, her voice barely above a whisper.

She needed this final nail in his coffin,

so she could maybe one day put him

behind her. “How did you find me?”

His

jaw

flexed.

“Commissioner

Newsom told me where you were.”

Her arm went limp, the gun dropping

to her side. Every available breath in her

body fled, driven away by confusion.

“What?” she wheezed.

He took a step toward her, cursing

when she backed up. “It’s complicated,

Sera, and I can’t think straight enough to

explain when you’re looking at me like

I’m a monster.”

“Aren’t you?”

Pain blanketed his features. “Only half

of me. The half I never wanted you to

see.”

“Stop talking in code and explain

yourself,”

she

demanded.

The

implications of his words were refusing

to register. Bowen and her uncle. Her

uncle and Bowen.

Bowen dragged agitated hands through

his hair, drawing her attention to the

kaleidoscope of colors coating his

fingers and knuckles. Had he been

painting
inside his bedroom last night?

Such an absurd thing to be curious over

when her world was crumbling around

her, but for some reason it seemed

important.

“Ruby’s boyfriend, Troy,” he said.

“He’s a detective. When you went solo

and dropped out of sight, they pulled him