He wanted to be hit. Wanted the pain.
Tears blurred her vision as she scrambled off the bucket. Responsibility for his pain bogged her down as she sprinted for the door. If she wasn’t responsible, at the very least, her uncle owned the burden. But no, this was her.
She’d done this.
When she reached the door and heard a sickening thud on the other side, she wasted no time throwing open the unlocked door, letting it slam against the inside wall. Her hand itched to draw her weapon, but the white-faced man wasn’t armed. To her shock, she still wanted to retaliate against the man who continued to pummel Bowen with his fists, even knowing Bowen was asking him for it.
“Get away from him.” The man appeared slightly dazed as his attention flew to her, but he didn’t move to follow her order. “I said, get the fuck away from him!”
Bowen weaved on his feet as the man jumped back. “Get back in the car, Ladybug.”
The use of her nickname, slurred and flat, sliced like a knife through her heart.
Swallowing the fear of seeing his bloodied face up close, she closed the distance between them and slipped her hand around his elbow. “Come on. I’m not getting back in the car without you.”
“Not done here.”
“Yes, you are.” She pulled him around to face her, wincing at the cut under his eye pouring blood. His lips were lacerated in two spots. The eye that had already been blackened when she met him was now swollen shut. Tears clogged her throat. “Dammit, Bowen.
Dammit.”
“I hate it when you curse…you’re too good. My girl is too good.” He cupped her cheek and swayed toward her. “But you’re not my girl, are you? I dreamed it?”
She felt on the verge of collapse, under his weight, his words, but she needed to focus on getting him out of there. “No, you didn’t dream it. Let’s go home.”
“Home. I like you saying that.” He pierced her with his one good eye. “I didn’t do it. Last night…that guy who tried to take you away from me. I couldn’t do it.”
Sera should have felt surprise. Or relief. Remembering the state he’d been in leaving the apartment last night, it didn’t seem possible he’d left the man alive.
Yet
she
believed
him
wholeheartedly.
“Why didn’t you do it?” she whispered, aware of the other man still standing close by.
“I don’t know.” His throat muscles worked. “I wanted you to be proud of me or something.”
She scrubbed a hand over her hollow-feeling chest. “I am. I’m proud of you.”
Finally, he let her lead him toward the door. Before they walked out, he turned to the man who’d been pounding him with fists only minutes ago. “The debt is squashed.”
The man deflated. “Thanks, man.”
Bowen shook his head. “No more.
Lose your money somewhere else. I don’t want it.”
I’m proud of you.
Bowen focused on those words, let them mingle with the pain in his jaw, his head. No one had ever said that to him.
He never realized it until he heard them.
He’d done something right. It wouldn’t make a difference now, but at least she didn’t think he was a total monster. Part of him wished he were still standing in that house, fists connecting with his face.
He’d craved that pain, found it beautiful as long as it distracted him from the image of her running away from him.
Pointing a gun at him and calling him a murderer. Hating him.
He’d only meant to let the guy get one good shot at him, but it felt so damn good to feel something other than loss.
There is no us.
She would leave as soon as this investigation wrapped, leaving him with the knowledge of her and no way to achieve the contentment she provided ever again. In his mind, she might as well have already walked out the door.
It made him feel sick and raw and frantic. Made him want to beg her to turn the car around so he could seek out more of the reality-blurring pain.
Sera took a left, steering the car toward his block. “Why didn’t you tell me you were working with the police?”
Her question dragged him back from his helpless rage, but didn’t detract from it. Too much of it existed. He could feel it gathering, expanding, multiplying inside him. She’s leaving. She’s as good as gone. “Why would I do that, huh? So you’d know you’re safe with one of the good guys?” He pulled at his hair, bitterness lacing his tone. “I’m not a good guy. I might not be the guy who killed your brother, but I’m closer to their kind than I am to yours.”
When she flinched beside him, he wanted to throw himself out of the moving vehicle, but managed to remain in his seat. After a heavy silence, she spoke quietly. “Is that the only reason?
This could have been much easier if I’d known you were on my side.”
No way would Bowen tell her what his other orders had been. Remove the ledger from her possession, take it to the commissioner. He couldn’t do it, anyway. Couldn’t take away her chance to prove herself. More importantly, the ledger was her ticket out. The ticket he’d never been given, but always wanted.