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.”