Skin Deep (Station Seventeen #1)(31)

“Oh, no.” The woman, who couldn’t be more than five-foot-zip on her best day, jabbed an inch-long lime green fingernail in Isabella’s direction. “Turn back around, pendeja. We’re locking it up for the night, and we don’t got what you want in here anyway. Mmm-mmm.”

“Come on, Carmen. I just want to order dinner,” Moreno said, pointing to the pair of pizzas sitting under the grease-smudged heat lamps over Carmen’s shoulder. “I’ll take a slice of pepperoni. For here.”

The woman’s black-coffee eyes flashed beneath a heavy layer of makeup, her lashes so long and thickly fringed that Kellan wondered how she kept them open beneath the weight. “You want pizza,” she said, although she didn’t move a muscle.

“For starters.” Isabella reached into the back pocket of her jeans, peeling a twenty-dollar bill from the other four in her hand.

“With you, it’s always for starters,” Carmen grumbled. She turned to slide a piece of pizza onto a paper plate, but clearly, she wasn’t done trying to push Isabella’s buttons. “So, what,” Carmen said in Spanish, suggestion curving around every syllable. “You screwing this one? Because I gotta tell you, I wouldn’t throw his ass out of bed for eating crackers just as long as he was eating everything else, you know what I’m saying?”

Kellan clamped down on the urge to let his surprise show at the same moment Moreno froze into place next to him at the counter. “Yeah, I know what you’re saying, and no. I’m not screwing him,” Isabella answered, also in Spanish.

“But you want to.” Carmen’s eyes glinted, her lips curving into a hard smile as her stare moved from Moreno’s face to his and then back again. “Girl, I can practically smell it on you.”

By the time the second wave of Kellan’s shock registered, Moreno had the twenty tucked safely back in her pocket and a healthy foot added to the dance space between her body and the counter. “Your mouth always gets you into trouble, Carmen.”

The tension between the two women was even easier to translate than the words and shit. Shit. Moreno had made it clear that he was just along for the ride. She didn’t even have a clue he’d understood her conversation. But they’d come for answers, not a pissing contest, and they weren’t going to get anywhere this way. Best case scenario if he butted in was calming Carmen down enough to get her talking. Worst was that Moreno would be pissed that he hadn’t stayed quiet, and fuck it. He was getting pretty good at fielding her irritation anyway.

Kellan leaned one arm over the scuffed red Formica and worked up a smile just shy of cocky. “Isabella and I are only friends,” he said in Spanish. “But thanks for the compliment.”

Although both women gaped at him in clear what-the-fuck surprise, Carmen spoke first, switching back to English. “You’re welcome. I suppose you want pizza for starters too.”

“That would be great. Thank you.”

“You a cop?” Carmen watched Isabella, not Kellan, as she murmured the question softly, and damn, the woman knew exactly what she was doing.

“Nope.” He tiled his gaze downward to look her right in the eye, answering just as quietly even though the restaurant was dead empty. “Like I said, I’m just a friend of Isabella’s.”

“Hmm. All my ‘friends’ should look like you.” Carmen’s tone hooked verbal air quotes around the word, and she stood back, shifting her gaze between him and Moreno. Finally, she turned for another piece of pizza, nudging both plates across the counter, and Kellan let go of the breath he’d been holding. “I like you better than the other one she normally comes in with. He’s hot too, but bossy. Thinks he owns the place.”

“I’ll be sure to let Hollister know you said hi,” Isabella said lifting a brow along with one corner of her mouth. She passed over the twenty to cover the pizza, putting all the change Carmen handed back into the otherwise empty tip jar by the register.

“Be sure to tell him I said kiss my ass. Now what else do you want? Believe me when I tell you I’m not wasting all night with you two.”

She didn’t have to ask Moreno twice. “I’m looking for some information on a delivery you guys made to a house not far from here on August twenty-second.”

“That was almost a month ago, and we make a lot of deliveries.” Carmen folded her arms over her chest, but Moreno didn’t so much as bat an eyelash.

“You also have a computer system that keeps great records. Ninety-three-ten Glendale, about four miles from here. Can you look it up?”

“It’ll cost you.”

“I tip well.”

“You’d better,” Carmen said, blowing out an exaggerated breath before tapping the touch screen register to life. “Ninety-three-ten Glendale, let’s see…oh.” Her lips pressed into a hard, flat line. “Looks like we delivered there a bunch of times.”

“Anything recent?” Moreno asked, and Kellan could practically see the wheels turning in her mind.

Just like he could see Carmen’s expression slam shut. “Not in the last three weeks.”

Moreno leaned forward, hands flat over the chipped countertop. “Did the customer ever pay with a credit card?”

“No.” Carmen frowned and started to fidget. “Always cash.”