Bowie: The Sinner Saints #5 Read online

  “I know of him,” he said after a long second passed. “The man has quite the reputation in the private security world.”

  The hair on the back of Charlie’s neck stood up. There was no way that could be true. Bowie’s assignments were notoriously hush-hush. Not even she could dig up information on them, and that was saying something. If Trevor knew Bowie’s name there was definitely something going on…something that went beyond a couple of bad pickup lines and her brother’s wedding.

  Her fears were confirmed a moment later when Trevor seemed to double down on his bet. He inched in closer to her side. Charlie tried to move away, but was blocked on the other side by her mom.

  “So, you’ve called in a favor and managed to get a co-worker to agree to be your plus one,” Trevor said, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice. “That doesn’t mean that you can’t spend the week showing me the local bar scene.”

  Charlie drew in a deep breath. She wasn’t sure if she was about to make the biggest mistake of her life. Hell, the only thing she knew for certain was that if Darktide was keeping tabs on Macmillan Security, she needed to figure out why. And that meant seizing the opening right in front of her.

  “Actually, it does,” she said. “Bowie Tamatoa’s not just my date for Henry’s wedding. We’re also seeing each other…romantically.”

  Deep furrows dug into Trevor’s brows. He didn’t seem shocked anymore…just skeptical. Her mother, on the other hand, had never looked more astonished. Her mouth opened and closed wordlessly like a landed trout.

  “You have a boyfriend?” she asked eventually. “When did this happen?”

  “A little while ago,” Charlie said, glancing away when the guilt became too much. “I was going to tell you, Mom. I was just waiting for the right time.”

  Her mother arched a single, perfectly plucked brow. “And when was that going to be?”

  Just as soon as she finally got up the courage to make her move on the man she’d had a mad crush on for the last few years. So, in a word—never.

  Charlie shrugged. “Not tonight.”

  Her mother’s lips flattened into a tight, straight line. All right. So, her mom was upset and disappointed with her. Nothing new there. At least she wasn’t asking any more questions.

  Too bad she didn’t seem to have the same effect on Trevor.

  “So, why isn’t Mr. Tamatoa here with you tonight?” he asked.

  Charlie glanced over at him. “Oh, you know Bowie,” she said, with a strained laugh. “He’s not exactly what you’d call a social guy.”

  At least that wasn’t a lie. As far as Charlie could tell, other than the four guys at Macmillan Security who used to be in the same Special Forces unit as him, she was the only person willing to engage in conversation with him on a daily basis. Even their receptionist was so intimidated by him that, after a full year of working there, she could barely manage to nod at him when he walked in every morning.

  Not that Charlie could blame her. Bowie was a hell of a lot of man to deal with. Sure, he was big, broad and muscular, with a withering glower that could make a charging rhino rethink his plans. But if you could get past his outer shell, you’d find the guy was nothing but a big softy.

  Okay, maybe that wasn’t entirely true. He was still Bowie after all, an elite soldier, and an expert tactician. But he was also a loyal friend, one with a sharp mind and a steady temper. He was patient and giving, completely unselfish…and so much fun to tease.

  “I’m just wondering how serious this relationship really is,” Trevor said, the suggestive look back in his eyes. “After all, what kind of man lets his girlfriend go to a cocktail party without him?”

  “Any confident man born in the last century,” Charlie shot back. “But you have a point, Trevor. I haven’t seen Bowie for at least a few hours. I should probably go change that.”

  “You’re going now?” Trevor asked, arching a brow.

  “Right this very second.”

  Well, maybe she wouldn’t go straight to his house. Maybe she’d swing by her place and pour herself a glass of wine or three before she called him on the phone…or texted him.

  Yeah, texting was probably the way to go.

  After all, Bowie had a way of getting a little weird any time she involved herself in business outside of her department…which was always. She could only imagine his reaction to finding out that she’d volunteered him to be her undercover boyfriend. Chances were it wasn’t going to be positive.

  Charlie drew in a deep breath before she took a step forward. This time when she went, no one tried to stop her.

  Chapter Two

  Something was wrong.

  Bowie knew the instant his phone began to ring. To be honest, his stomach always rolled over a little every time the ringtone he’d chosen for Charlie started to chime. Usually, his fears were unwarranted, and she was just calling with a quick work-related question, or a reminder about an office birthday.

  But deep down, he couldn’t help but remember the one time that it wasn’t any of those things. The time that his boss, Carter Macmillan, had used her phone to call him from her hospital bed. The time he’d stood helplessly on a street corner half a world away and listened as his old friend told him that the only woman he’d ever loved had just taken two bullets to the chest, and the doctors still didn’t know if she was going to pull through.

  Bowie’s heart had sunk right before he’d picked up that call. Just like it was sinking now.

  After all, he knew she couldn’t be calling him from work. She’d taken the week off for her brother’s wedding. She should have been enjoying time with her family, not calling him. Not unless something was wrong.

  He snatched his phone off the kitchen counter and hit accept. “Go.”

  “Oh, Bowie.” Her voice came through ragged and breathy on the other side. Like she’d been moving fast. Running even. “Thank God you picked up. Please tell me you’re around.”

  His heart dropped all the way down to his knees. She was in trouble. He could hear it in her voice. Real fear vibrated through every word. He instinctively balled his hand into a fist.

  “I’m here,” he said. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  She drew in a breath. A shaky one. Damn, he could practically hear the unshed tears blocking her throat.

  “They’re at my place, Bowie,” she said in a rush. “I was going to go by my apartment but they’re already there. I saw a couple of them hanging out on the corner outside my building. And now I think they’re following me. Though, hell, they’ve probably been following me since I left my mother’s house.”

  “Slow down,” he said, as calmly as he could manage. He’d already grabbed his keys and jacket and was heading out the door of his apartment. “Who’s following you?”

  “Darktide agents.”

  Bowie froze with the key half inside his deadbolt lock. Every hair on the back of his neck stood up. The muscles in his arms tensed.

  “You’re certain they’re Darktide?” he asked.

  “Positive,” she said.

  “What did you do, Charlie?”

  “What did I do?” she said with a laugh—the high, tight kind she only gave when she was really nervous. Or terrified. “Let’s just say it’s been a really interesting night.”

  Damn it. Only Charlie could turn a handful of vacation days into a potentially fatal incident.

  “Where are you now?” he asked, moving down the hall toward the stairwell.

  “Walking up Columbus Avenue toward Washington Square,” she said. “I thought I might be safer in a crowd.”

  Bowie nodded. Good thinking. Though the foot traffic in North Beach might be a little lighter on a Tuesday night, it was still her best bet.

  “Where are you headed?” he asked.

  “You remember that Irish pub on Green?”

  “Sure,” Bowie said. “Jake’s place is only a few blocks from there. I’ll give him a call now. He can be there in a matter of minutes.”

 
; “No.” Her voice was emphatic. Bordering on irrational. “Not Jake. You’re the one that has to come. It has to be you.”

  “Why me?”

  A long pause stretched out on the other end of the line, long enough for him to race down two flights of stairs and out into his building’s garage, but Bowie didn’t panic. He knew she was there. He could still hear the background noise of cars and passersby. He could even hear the quick, steady tempo of her breaths against the mouthpiece. She waited until he’d unlocked his door and slid into the driver’s seat of his black Range Rover before she finally answered.

  “Don’t be mad,” she said. “But it’s possible that this whole mess might be happening because I accidentally told a Darktide executive that you and I were dating.”

  She’d done what?

  Bowie felt every muscle in his jawline tighten as his back teeth ground together. He tried to draw in a steadying breath, but instead air filled his lungs hard and fast.

  “Charlie—” he started.

  “Hey, I said don’t be mad.”

  ***

  He was mad.

  More than mad. He was pissed. Furious.

  Charlie had heard that low grumble way too many times. She knew what it meant. Usually when Bowie started using that tone of voice people scrambled to get out of his way. They cleared the halls. They left the office. Hell, a few were even known to skip town for a while.

  She, sadly, didn’t have any of those options. So, she did the next best thing.

  She hung up on him.

  Knowing he’d only try to call her back, she turned off her ringer and raced the rest of the way up the street to the pub. Fortunately, there was a band playing that night, so the place was packed. She squeezed her way into an empty space at the bar and ordered a rum and Coke. A minute later, she finished it off and ordered another one. Only then did she manage to gather up enough courage to glance toward the door.

  Sure enough, one of the guys who had followed her across town was standing just inside, but he was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. He didn’t look like he had any plans to approach her. Not yet anyway. He probably had orders to keep his distance.

  But why? What the hell was Trevor hoping to gain by following her? By watching her apartment? She had no idea.

  Hopefully, Bowie would have some insight. And maybe if she were lucky he would share it with her before strangling her for dragging him into this mess.

  Dear God, she needed to relax.

  She picked up her glass and took another long drink. She closed her eyes, and listened to the music filling up the bar. At least the band was good—a female-fronted, classic rock cover band. She felt her shoulders starting to fall. Her breathing started to calm down.

  Or maybe that had more to do with the rum working its magic.

  Either way, the moment of peace didn’t last long. Halfway through the song, Charlie’s eyes flew open when a strong hand suddenly clasped her shoulder. She started hard, nearly falling off her barstool, but the hand held her steady. Only after she regained her balance did she look up and realize that it wasn’t a Darktide agent.

  “Bowie,” she said, with a laugh. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  He didn’t so much as crack a smile.

  “I tried calling you,” he said, glowering down at her. “But it seems your phone’s not working.”

  “Oh. Yeah,” Charlie said, baring her teeth in what had to be her guiltiest grin. “I can explain that.”

  Bowie crossed his arms over his chest.

  “I had to turn off the ringer…”

  He arched a brow, waiting for her to finish. But it seemed that she was all out of clever lies for the night.

  “…because I was afraid that you would yell at me.”

  She watched as his chest expanded, stretching the material of his shirt to its limit.

  “Charlie—”

  “And I was right.” She swiveled around and flagged down the bartender with her empty glass. “Two more, please.”

  “I’m not drinking,” Bowie said behind her.

  “They’re not for you.”

  When she spun back around, drinks in hand, his eyes were narrowed. “Do you think that’s the best idea?”

  “Honestly,” she said with a shrug, “I have no idea. But after the night I’ve had I know I deserve them.”

  The line of his jaw hardened. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened?”

  She shook her head. “Not here. The guy in the black jacket by the door is one of the Darktide agents that followed me here. I’m not sure if there are any others.”

  “Two others,” Bowie said without hesitation.

  Charlie’s eyes widened. Her heart started to pound again. “What? Where?”

  “One guy is over by the band. The other is by the window.”

  Charlie resisted the urge to turn her head and check over her shoulder. “How can you tell?”

  “I’ve been checking the crowd in the mirror since I walked in. Everyone in this place is either looking at the people they’re here with, or are watching the band. But those three men have been looking at you.”

  Damn it. Charlie picked up her glass and took another long swallow. “Do you think they can hear us?”

  He shook his head. “Music is too loud.”

  “Still, it’s a little crowded,” she said. “Maybe we could find a slightly quieter spot.”

  Bowie gave a single nod and looked around. This is where being a full head taller than everyone else had to come in handy. He had no problem seeing right over the top of the crowd.

  “There’s a corner near the bathrooms that looks a little more private,” he said.

  “Or we could just run like hell out the back door,” she tried.

  “Not until I know what I’m running from.”

  Charlie let out a small sigh and nodded. He was right. She owed him an explanation. A real one. Not the kind where she simply hung up when the truth got too scary.

  She downed one of her glasses before scooting off her bar stool and following Bowie through the crowd.

  He was right. The corner was a little more private. Very little. There were still some people, but at least they weren’t crushing in from every side like they had been at the bar. Bowie led her over to a spot near the wall, and leaned his shoulder up against it, blocking her off from the worst of the crowd with his back.

  Charlie bit into her lower lip when he crossed his arms.

  “Now,” he said. “Tell me everything that happened tonight.”

  She slowly let out the breath that she’d been holding.

  “Okay. But I should warn you,” she said. “You’re not going to like it.”

  ***

  Charlie was right.

  He didn’t like her story. Though not for the reasons she seemed to think.

  His anger had started to rise when she’d told him about the way Trevor Bishop had continued to hit on her even after she’d made it clear that she wasn’t interested. He’d felt his back teeth start to grind when she’d explained how he knew far too much about Macmillan Security.

  She’d started to sputter a little when she confessed the lies she’d told. Deep down, he knew he shouldn’t care about any of that. After all, she’d done what she’d had to do to get out of a bad situation. He couldn’t deny that she’d made the right decision. She’d provided him a decent cover to get close to this Trevor Bishop and figure out what the hell he really wanted.

  But it wasn’t until she’d talked about what had happened after she’d left the party that he’d really begun to see red.

  “So, the man at the door was waiting for you outside your parents’ house?” he asked, making sure to keep his voice low.

  “Maybe,” she said. “I can’t be sure. Honestly, I didn’t really notice him until I had to switch busses halfway through town. I was too busy thinking about other things.”

  “And the men outside your building were definitely Darktide?”

&nb
sp; Charlie gave him a half-hearted smile. “Either that or everyone in my neighborhood started using the same tailor.”

  Bowie nodded. He’d noticed the same thing during all his dealings with Darktide. For a group of mercenaries that were supposed to be the government’s top-secret defense contractors, they were surprisingly easy to pick out of a crowd.

  “We have to assume that if they’re outside your apartment, they’ve been inside too,” he said.

  “Oh, God.” She hung her head and leaned in toward him. Bowie stiffened, readying himself for the contact, but she stopped short of actually pressing against him. “All my things are in there. My laptops. My hard drives. Everything.”

  He dipped his chin down. “Is there any sensitive information on those devices?”

  Charlie shook her head. “Of course not. I’d never bring anything like that home with me,” she said. “But it means that I can’t use any of my things. Not if there’s a chance that Trevor’s men have been poking around inside them. Hell, I probably shouldn’t even use my phone anymore.”

  “We’ll get you a new one,” he said. “Do you think you raised any red flags when you didn’t go inside?”

  “I don’t know.” She let out a long breath. “I mean, what would you think if the person you were following got within ten feet of their front door, but instead of going inside, they ran like hell halfway across the city?”

  “I would think that I’m terrible at tailing people.”

  “Oh, God. I’ve really screwed this one up, haven’t I?” She said the words out loud, but Bowie had the feeling they weren’t meant as conversation. She was talking to herself. Chastising herself. The way she always did when she’d felt that she’d made a mistake.

  Bowie was just about to open his mouth to tell her that he wasn’t going to let anything happen to her, that they would figure this out together, when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He glanced up at the reflection in the small window in the center of the back door. Sure enough, the man who had been standing sentry by the door was slowly making his way toward them.