Skin Deep (Station Seventeen #1)(39)
Kellan saw Marcus make up his mind two nanoseconds before the guy tossed the baggie into the grass and lunged down the footpath, and score one for Moreno’s gut. But Kellan had been ready for Marcus to jump ever since they’d put eyes on him, and he sprang out of the shadows to block Marcus’s trajectory in less than two steps. Whether or not Marcus would see him and stop was a fifty-fifty, Kellan knew, and part of him begged for an excuse to tackle the guy to the asphalt. Marcus recognized the roadblock with just enough space to slow his sloppy advance, though, fear channeling his oversized running shoes in the opposite direction even though in its panic, his brain had clearly forgotten that Moreno was standing there in wait.
“Remember me?” she asked, advancing enough to box Marcus in. His fight or flight instinct was still gunning hard for choice B, and he swung one last time to try his luck on Kellan’s side.
Not today, douchebag. Kellan grabbed the guy in a rough hold, spinning him to face Isabella and wrenching both of Marcus’s arms behind his back as he nudged him toward the bench and the street light.
“Isabella Moreno, Remington PD.” Moreno’s badge glinted in a quick flash of gold before she replaced it deep in the well of her pocket. “Let’s have a chat, Danny.”
“I don’t have anything. You don’t have anything!” he half-whined, half-pleaded.
To her credit, Moreno refrained from rolling her eyes. “Really? Because I’m pretty sure that between this”—she reached into his jacket to reveal three more baggies, then three more full of pills from the other pocket—“and the heroin you tossed into the bushes there, which I will find with less than five minutes of searching and will have your fingerprints on it, I’ve got enough to call tonight Christmas fucking morning.”
Marcus jerked against Kellan’s grip, radiating the scent of sweat and fear. “Th-this is entrapment!” His voice lifted a register before cracking. “You propositioned me.”
Kellan’s pulse thrummed, but Moreno didn’t budge or back down. “I told you I was looking for some fun. You’re the one who offered me heroin in exchange for sex.”
“Alright, alright,” Marcus said, his demeanor shifting into a nervous smile. “So Danny likes to party a little. It’s Friday night, baby. What’s the harm?”
“The harm is that this is enough heroin and pharmaceuticals for you to ‘party’ with ten of your closest friends.” She lifted the drugs to punctuate her point. “Between the possession and the solicitation, you’re not looking at being bounced after a night in the tank, Danny.”
Marcus froze, his pulse going ballistic against Kellan’s grasp on his wrists. “Oh come on, beautiful. You and your partner here don’t really want to wreck your night bringing me in, do you? Can’t we work something out?”
“Hmm.” Isabella’s shoulder rose and fell. “Like the kind of ‘bargain’ you were just trying to sell me a minute ago? I don’t think so.”
“Wait, wait, wait!” Panic bled through the words, Marcus’s stare wild as he threw it over their out-of-the-way spot on the footpath. “Whatever you need, I’m sure I can get it for you. Cash, party favors. Danny’s good for that.”
Moreno paused. “Now that you mention it, I might be open to taking some information off your hands.”
“Information?” Marcus asked warily, and Isabella tipped her head toward the bench a few paces away.
“Mmm hmm,” she said, waiting until Kellan had not-so-politely guided Marcus over to the bench and zip-tied the guy’s wrist to the arm rest per the plan before continuing. “Word is you’ve been running with a big guy lately. Like a wrestler. He deals in girls and high-end parties. Ring any bells?”
“Nope. No way. Danny Marcus can get you paid or he can get you high, but he doesn’t give up information like a little bitch,” Marcus auto-responded, and screw this. They needed answers before this scenario went tango uniform.
Kellan stepped in, close enough to make Marcus shrink against the back of the bench. “I think you know exactly what we’re talking about, just like I know you aren’t going to get another chance to start sharing before Detective Moreno hauls your sorry ass out of this park with your hands zip tied behind you in front of God and everyone else. Then they’ll all think you’re a little bitch no matter what, and that word’s gonna travel fast. You really like your odds here?”
After a second, Marcus bit out a curse, dropping his voice to a whisper even though the path still remained dark and quiet in either direction. “You don’t get it, man.”
“Explain it to me,” Moreno said, reclaiming Marcus’s attention as she moved back into the halo of golden light being cast down from overhead.
Miraculously, he did. “Operations like the one you’re after are on a whole different food chain than this nickel and dime shit. Guys like Rampage are bad enough. But his boss? That dude is fucking scary, yo. You cross a guy like that, you end up in the dirt.”
Kellan’s heart beat a steady rhythm of bad things against his ribs as Isabella moved within a foot of Marcus’s dance space. “All I need is a little chatter, Danny,” she said, her stare never leaving his. “You and me, we’re just having a conversation. Nobody’s crossing anyone else, and nobody’s going to know we talked. I swear it.”