Risking it All (Crossing the Line, #1)

It had been a poor decision and he’d nearly paid for it the worst way possible. Losing— No. Don’t think about it. Stay focused.

Anger. Anger at Sera. If he let himself feel it, maybe he could battle this need to pull the car over and drag her into his lap. Rock her. Smell her hair. Tell her what a crazy, stupid, maddening, beautiful girl she was. Shout at her. Kiss her. Shake her. Demand she hold him until this block of ice inside him melted and he stopped feeling shaky.

He wouldn’t let himself, though. It was vital he keep his rage, hold on to it like a precious gift. Whenever she touched him, he lost the grip on his darker self. The self that had finally made an appearance tonight, much to the delight of his crew of assholes. Even Wayne had been smugly satisfied to see him promising violence and retribution.

While Bowen might regret giving the man what he wanted tomorrow, tonight he couldn’t give a shit. This hot, pumping anger needed an outlet and it would be unleashed on the man who’d put his hands on Sera.

At the reminder of what he’d seen as he walked out of the restaurant, his grip tightened on the wheel, making the car swerve. In the seat beside him, Sera’s hand flew to her throat. That’s when he noticed the red marks. Just over her windpipe, five fingerprints that had to have been digging into her hard, for a good while, to leave those kinds of marks behind. He stared at them, letting them fuel his anger, ignoring the brown eyes trying to get his attention. If he looked into her eyes, knowing he’d almost lost the chance to ever do so again, he would lose it. He would fucking lose it. After what felt like an hour-long drive, but in reality had only been three minutes, he pulled up in front of his building. He took a moment as he rounded the car to scan the block for Connor’s car, but didn’t see him.

Dammit, there were too many threats.

Too many ways she could get hurt. As soon as he took care of business tonight, he was calling this shit off. Either the cops came and got her the hell out of Brooklyn tomorrow or he would get her out himself. He didn’t know how he would accomplish it when she would fight him every step of the way, but it would be done. Pain lanced his stomach at the realization he wouldn’t see her again once they took her. God, he wanted to keep her. Wanted to lock them both in his apartment and never leave, except maybe for church. Whatever it took to keep her happy. But he knew his stupid fantasy would never come true. It couldn’t, because of who they were and the damn countdown clock hovering over their heads. Trying to make it come true would be selfish and could get her killed.

Making sure not to look directly at Sera, he helped her from the passenger seat and hustled her toward the building.

They were inside his apartment in under a minute, safe inside four walls, but he rejected the feeling of calm. If he narrowed his concentration down into one neat funnel, he could get out of there without touching her to reassure himself she was all right. If he let that happen, he didn’t know if he could stop.

Leaving her standing just inside the locked door, he flew around the apartment checking and double-checking no one had broken in. Her gaze stayed with him the entire time. It drew him, tempted him to lose himself inside it, but he staunchly refused. Once he’d checked every square inch of the apartment, he took her arm and led her into his bedroom. He wanted to watch her, gauge her reaction to his private space.

Instead, he went to his closet and crouched down, so he could punch in the combination to his safe.

“Do you know how to use a gun?” he asked, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. Of course she did, but he wanted her to lie. He wanted to throw fuel onto his fire. Another deception from her would do the trick.

“Yes.”

His hand froze in the action of removing his Glock from the safe, something

warm

and

unwanted

expanding in his chest. That single truthful word doused his desire for her to lie. Tell me everything, baby. Please, no more hiding. “Really. Care to tell me how?”

“Bowen, please. Will you just look at me?”

He could feel her standing behind him.

“You will stay in this room, with the door locked, until I come back. Anyone tries to get in that isn’t me, you shoot them, Sera. Tell me you understand. Tell me you’ll listen this time.”

When he stood to face her, she was entirely too close. Close enough to grab.

To taste. His bed was only a few short steps away, covers still rumpled and unmade from this morning. The mural depicting death and destruction on the wall behind his bed outlined her body, hitting home just how much danger existed around her. His danger. His world.