Skin Deep (Station Seventeen #1)(26)
“That’s a lot of cloak and dagger for a meet-up that’s supposed to be no big deal, you know.”
She had to hand it to him. He wasn’t stupid by any stretch. “It’s more caution than cloak and dagger. Your car is conspicuous as hell, and your sister’s even smarter. If she thinks you left but still sees your car in the parking lot, she’s going to grill you into next week about it.”
Understanding flickered over his face, followed quickly by a smirk that made her pulse jump without her consent. “I could always tell Kylie I left with you. After all, it’d be true.”
“Don’t get cocky, Walker, or I’ll leave you here.” The threat was a bluff, to be sure, but hell if she’d let him rock the composure she’d damn well need to tug any information out of Carmen.
Thankfully, Walker didn’t call her bluff. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll move my car in thirty and meet you on Delancey.”
“Excellent.” Before Isabella could talk herself out of the move, she pressed up to her toes, brushing her lips right over the line where the scratchy-soft stubble of his goatee met the smooth skin of his cheek.
Kellan froze, his eyes betraying his shock. “What was that for?”
To lower your guard so you don’t wreck mine. “The dance. Just don’t make me sorry I agreed to the rest of our night.”
She sauntered off the dance floor, sights set on the table where her fellow detectives sat by the front door. Although the bold, brash part of her that had pushed to kiss him in the first place wanted nothing more than to turn around to see the look on his face, she refrained. Even with the slam-dunk cases, working a suspect required a dump truck’s worth of finesse, from the truths you chose to tell versus the ones you picked to sidestep, or even cover up outright.
Working your partners without them realizing what you were up to? Yeah, quantum physics was a day at the beach in comparison. But as much as Isabella hated the task in front of her, she didn’t have a choice.
If she wanted to get off square one with this case, she was going to have to keep her plans to find more intel hidden from her unit.
“Hey. Thanks for watching my beer.” She pushed herself back over the bar stool she’d abandoned fifteen minutes earlier, bracing for impact in three, two…
“Don’t even think about taking the no-big-deal road, you shameless hussy!” Addison Hale, the newest and only other female member of intelligence, shot a look of total disbelief across the table. “Did you just kiss Kellan freaking Walker?”
“You saw that, huh?” Of course, Moreno had known full well that the woman had. Even the academy’s freshest recruit would’ve caught the glances her partners had leveled at her and Walker on the dance floor.
Hale made a sound dangerously close to a snort. “Um, yeah. Along with everyone else in the bar. Including all of Seventeen’s A-shift from all the way in the cheap seats.”
“Then I guess I did kiss him,” Isabella said, and score the other half of the reason for her lip service. Distraction was a fucking beautiful thing.
Hale’s disbelief went another round. “You just kissed the same Kellan Walker who’s been trading death glares with you for the last three months over the Fagan case?”
“That would be the one.”
“Jesus, Moreno, please.” Maxwell laughed and ran a hand over his shaved head, tipping his glass of club soda in Hale’s direction. “I know you keep your shit close to the vest, and I’m not really one for gossiping like a tabloid rag. But if you don’t throw my partner a bone, she’s going to stroke out over here.”
Isabella bought herself a no-big-deal pause with a sip of beer. Nice and easy, girl. “Walker’s sister wanted me to give him the update on what went down in Chicago last month. Once he heard the Feds have Burton in custody, he came around a little. The whole thing was your basic kiss and make up, no hard feelings type deal. That’s all.”
“Really?” Clearly, Hale had been looking for way more scandal. God, intelligence rookies were so hungry for the angle with the most bang, it wasn’t even funny.
“Sorry to disappoint,” Isabella said. “But really.”
Hollister leaned his shoulders against the ladder-back on his bar stool, aiming a not-so-subtle frown in the direction of Kellan’s table across the bar. “The work you did on the Fagan case was solid. It’s about time he got the fuck over it.”
Ah, hell. Hollister was one of the most straight-up guys in the RPD. He and Isabella might not live by the share-fest code like most partners, and yeah, no one had ever accused him of being calm, cool, or collected—especially when it came to his loyalty to the intelligence unit. But he was a decent guy and an even better cop.
And she needed to divert his attention from Kellan Walker. Right now.
Guilt pricked at Isabella’s chest, but she forced herself to shake her head, literally shrugging off the topic. “It’s all good, Liam. The screw up with his sister wasn’t a garden variety oops. He was just doing what big brothers do.”
The use of Hollister’s first name got him, just as she’d known it would, and he turned back toward their table with a lift of one shoulder. “If you say so.”
“I do.”
The conversation turned toward college football matchups and whether or not Hale’s amber lager was better than Hollister’s IPA, and Isabella bided her time with a few well-placed nods, staying a half-step outside of the conversation just as she always did. Finally, distractions done, she slid her fingers over her temple, letting them linger just long enough before pushing back from the table.