Risking it All (3 page)

to find them traveling over the Brooklyn

Bridge. What the hell did they want with

him in Manhattan?

“You know, I love this new air of

mystery you boys have going. It’s sexy.”

Instead of responding, they turned up

the chattering dispatch radio to drown

him out. It took every ounce of

willpower not to question the officers

further when they pulled into NYPD

headquarters a few minutes later. His

heart pounded in his chest as they pulled

him out of the backseat, but he did his

best to look bored.

This is it. I’m done.

No more instilling fear, no more

resorting to violence to collect money

owed to him. No more issuing orders to

soulless men who didn’t know how to

feel remorse. All done.

The officers led him through the

entrance

and

every

head

turned;

animosity and disgust targeted him from

all directions. Bowen ignored the twinge

of pain from his cut lip as he grinned at

his

rapt

audience.

“Afternoon,

gentlemen.” He wished he were wearing

a hat so he could tip it. “Weather today

is beautiful. Not a goddamn cloud in the

sky.”

He didn’t have the pleasure of hearing

any angry responses because the officers

pulled him down a hallway, shoving him

into the first interrogation room.

Irritation clawed at his throat over being

pushed around, but he didn’t give them

the satisfaction of showing it. If he

weren’t wearing handcuffs, he would

have already swung on them and they

knew it. They also knew he could easily

take them both on and win. Fighting was

in his blood. He did it often and he did it

well. So he couldn’t contain his surprise

when they removed the handcuffs. It

even managed to distract him from his

anger.

“All right. I give up. What the fuck is

going on?”

“Have a seat.” The officer who’d

driven them there kicked out the metal

chair before leaning against the wall

with his arms crossed. “You’ll find out

soon enough.”

He remained standing, turning slightly

when the interrogation room door

opened again and an older man walked

in, looking grave. Bowen’s eyebrows

shot up when he recognized the man.

Police Commissioner Newsom.

He’d seen the man on television doing

press conferences more times than he

could count. That’s what he did. Sound

bites to reassure the masses. Public

relations. He sure as hell didn’t

interrogate street toughs from Brooklyn.

Newsom tossed a file on the metal table

and nodded at him. “Why the black eye,

Driscol? Don’t you have men to do the

dirty work for you now that you’re in

charge?”

No way would he tell him the truth

about his perpetual black eyes. He

wouldn’t tell him that when he went to

collect debts and the money wasn’t

ready, he always let the other man take a

swing at him before leaving his men to

deliver the rest of the message. He

welcomed the pain that came with that

single blow, craved it even. Lately, it

was the only thing reminding him he was

alive. Sometimes he even hoped the

mo ne y
wouldn’t
be available, as it

hadn’t been last night. Bitterness flooded

his mouth at the memory of the man’s

desperate eyes when Bowen had shown

up at his door.

No money for me, huh? Go ahead,

take a shot at me. Do it. You’ll be glad

you did it in an hour when you wake up

hating me.

“Why am I here?” Bowen fell into the

chair without answering Newsom’s

question. “Not that I don’t appreciate the

stellar hospitality.”

“Already you’re living up to your

reputation as a smart-ass.” Newsom sat,

scrubbing a weary hand over his

whiskered face. “Look, I’m not here to

play any bullshit games with you, so I’d

appreciate the same courtesy.”

“Fair enough.” Bowen lit a cigarette.

“Shoot.”

Newsom’s jaw hardened. Behind him,

the two officers shifted, but stilled when

Newsom held up a hand. “We have a

situation and I’ve been informed you’re

in a position to help us.”

Bowen paused in the middle of his

second drag of nicotine. “Help
you
?”

When the commissioner just looked at

him, he laughed out loud. “Any minute

now I’m going to wake up, right?”

“No, I’m afraid not.” Newsom flipped

open the file and scanned the contents.

“And in case you’re wondering, asking

for help from some punk who we’ve

been trying to take down for over a year

wasn’t exactly my number one choice.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” He

took a deep drag of his cigarette and

blew the smoke toward one of the

scowling officers. “Okay. What do you

need my help with? I’d at least like to

know the particulars before I turn you

down.”

“You sound pretty certain.”

“Good. That’s what I was aiming for.”

Newsom muttered something under his

breath, but all Bowen could make out

was the word “mistake.” “How about I

lay it out for you in black and white, then

you decide?”

Bowen

stayed

silent,

watching

Newsom through a cloud of smoke.

The commissioner sighed wearily.

“We’ve lost contact with an undercover

officer. At the risk of sounding cliché,

they’ve gone rogue. Went in without

permission.” He considered his hands a

moment. “We’d like you to make contact

with the officer, first and foremost to

confirm they’re alive and well. We need

them extracted from the situation

unharmed.”

“Undercover.” Bowen felt a tingle at

the back of his neck. “Investigating

who?”

“You think I’d reveal a name without

your signed agreement to cooperate?”

Bowen didn’t answer, the word

“cooperate” hanging in the air like rank

garbage.

“The officer is looking for evidence,”

the commissioner continued. “Frankly,

it’s evidence I—
we
—need. This isn’t

how I wanted to go about obtaining it,

but they’re
in
now.”

“Evidence of what?”

“Corruption. Something you should be

familiar with.” He formed a steeple with

his fingers. “Which leads me to your

secondary task. If the officer is indeed

alive and well, allow them a small

window of time to continue the mission.

If it proves fruitful and they uncover

what we’re looking for, you bring that

evidence to me
before
they have a

chance to lose it or get killed.” He shook

his head. “A damn rookie cop. No

business whatsoever this deep in the

game.”

“This idea gets more appealing by the

minute.” Bowen sent a pointed glance

toward the two flunkies. “Cops aren’t

exactly my jam on a good day. Some

inexperienced rookie with a death wish?

Why would I agree to that?”

“Because, Mr. Driscol, we can make

life very difficult for you otherwise. We

know

about

the

circumstances

surrounding your father’s incarceration.”

Newsom paused, as if to let that

statement sink in. Bowen kept his

features carefully schooled so he

wouldn’t betray the shock pounding

through his blood. He hadn’t seen this

coming. Couldn’t have anticipated it in a

million years. “We know you were

aware of your father’s impending arrest

and didn’t warn him because it would

have put someone very close to you in

danger. I think some of your associates

would find it interesting that your sister

was working as an unofficial informant,

don’t you?”

Grinding out his cigarette on the

bottom of his shoe, Bowen felt sick.

With guilt, with dread. “You can’t prove

that.”

Newsom smiled without humor. “We

wouldn’t need to. The mere suggestion

would put a target on your back.
Her

back.” The commissioner paused as that

horrifying statement sank in. “Until now,

we haven’t fully committed resources to

ending your little run as king. That could

very easily change. I suggest playing

ball, Driscol. Unless you want to end up

behind bars, just like dear old dad.”

The impact of that statement sent

Bowen back in his chair, but he made it

look casual at the last minute. Just like

his dad. He couldn’t think about that

right now. Not with these cops staring at

him like a science project. He’d had

Ruby’s back since childhood and vice

versa. She never would have given the

police leverage to use against him. It

would be a cold day in hell before she

told another living soul. Unless…

“Let me guess.” Bowen swiped a hand

through his hair. “Troy Bennett is on the

other side of that glass. He’s the one

who so graciously offered my services.”

Newsom’s lips twitched. “You catch

on quick. Ever think of joining the

force?”

The officers behind him laughed as if

the mere idea of him being anything but a

criminal was hysterical. For once, he

didn’t really blame them. Bowen turned

toward the two-way glass and showed it

his middle finger. Ruby’s boyfriend, the

man who’d managed to put the pool

hustler on the straight and narrow, had

been a fucking thorn in his side since day

one. He should have known when Ruby

hooked up with a cop that this was

inevitable.

Seconds later, the door opened and

Troy strolled in holding a cup of coffee.

“Bowen.”

He didn’t return the greeting, jerking

his chin at Newsom instead. “Before, my

answer was no. Now, it’s
hell
no.”

Troy’s mouth tightened. “Can I have a

moment with him, Commissioner?”

Newsom gave a brusque nod and left

the room, followed by his two flunkies.

Bowen lit another cigarette and tossed

his lighter onto the table. “You’re

wasting your time.”

“Why haven’t you been returning your

sister’s phone calls?”

The question threw him, before it

circled back around and pissed him off.

“What the hell is this? A family therapy

session?” He pushed to his feet and

paced. “There was a time when you

didn’t want me within a hundred yards

of her.”

“She misses you.” Troy shrugged.

“When she’s unhappy, I’m unhappy.”

Bowen ignored the stabbing feeling in

his chest. “Yeah? She has a funny way of

missing me. Telling her cop boyfriend

the one thing that could fuck me over.”

“It won’t fuck you over, because

you’re going to help us.”

“Not. Happening.”

Troy walked to the metal table and

flipped open the file. Bowen watched as

he sifted through some papers and pulled

out a picture. “I’m not supposed to show

you this until you agree to help, but I’m

going to anyway. You know why?”

“I couldn’t care less.”

“Because

I

trust

you,”

Troy

enunciated.

“Enough

to

convince

Newsom that you’re redeemable and

could make a difference in this case.

This is my ass on the line, too.”

I trust you.
Bowen didn’t want to hear

those words. Didn’t like the way they

made him feel. He shouldn’t be trusted.

Not after the things he’d been compelled

to do. Not after he’d let his own father

get put behind bars. Let his sister nearly

get murdered. “Sorry to let you down,

but I’ll take my chances with a bull’s-

eye on my back.”

“We don’t have any other options

here, man. You’re a part of that world,

and if the alternative is Newsom

dropping a dime on Ruby—and finding a

reason to put you in a cell—you have to

do it.” Troy shook his head. “You know

I’ll protect your sister. Even if it means

we have to leave the city and never