Skin Deep (Station Seventeen #1)(45)
“Don’t finish that sentence,” she said, stabbing an index finger at him to hammer the point all the way into place. “Because then I will have to harm you, and as much as the idea has its merits on some level, I need you to get me into this party. Speaking of which”—she softened her words, trying on the coy smile from her bag of distraction tricks—“You need to relax. Nothing sends off warning flares like a jumpy drug dealer.”
Marcus jammed his hands into the pockets of his dress pants and sent a withering frown in her direction. “Coulda mentioned that last fucking week before I ended up zip-tied to a park bench.”
“And ruin all the fun? Not a chance. You remember the drill?”
“Yeah,” he mumbled, but they had zero margin for error.
So she said, “Run it through for me one more time, just for grins.”
“Same story you gave Danny last Friday night,” he said, and okay, at least he was relaxing enough to keep with his usual personal quirks. “You moved here from Charlotte and we hooked up in the park a couple of weeks ago. You like to party and you’re looking for a girl to spice things up, so I invited you upstairs to find you a good time.”
Isabella nodded her approval, a wisp of hair breaking free from the loose up-do she’d pinned to the crown of her head. “Once you get me in the door, we can part ways. It’ll be less distracting for both of us, and easier for me to slip out once I get what I’m looking for. But Danny.” She leaned in to look at him. “Don’t do anything you’re going to regret.”
“Danny Marcus ain’t stupid, baby.” He focused his stare on the halo of streetlight at their feet for just a split second before lifting his chin to look Isabella in the eye. “I don’t take you upstairs, you haul me to the clink along with everyone in that penthouse. But if I tell anyone I breathed a word of this to a cop, let alone brought one all the way upstairs with me, Mr. DuPree will lose his shit, and…well, there’s worse things that could happen to Danny Marcus than prison.”
God, he so wasn’t wrong, and wasn’t that all the more reason to get up to that penthouse, stat. “No one’s going to find out I’m a cop, Marcus. This whole thing is going to play out just like we planned. Now let’s go.”
Isabella smoothed a hand over her skirt and crossed the street, making sure Marcus remained relaxed and right by her side as they made their way to the Metropolitan’s front entrance by way of the neatly paved sidewalk. Taking one last deep breath, she smiled at the uniformed doorman as he pulled open the gleaming, brass-handled door leading into the lobby.
And found herself face to stormy blue stare with Kellan Walker.
11
Kellan had known that as soon as Isabella saw him standing there on the Italian marble floor tiles of the Metropolitan’s lushly appointed two-story lobby, she was going to be mad enough to spit fire. What he hadn’t counted on, however, was that she would look so ridiculously hot that he’d lose the element of surprise to the independent thinking of his dick.
Moreno strode over to him, her heels working up a riot of sound that echoed off the frescoed ceilings of the lobby. “What the hell are you doing here?” she hissed, and although she’d dropped the words into the tight sliver of space between their bodies to keep them private, the anger bleeding through her tone hit him like a shout.
Focus. Breathe. “Is that any way to greet your date?” Kellan asked, pairing the question with a smile in an effort to take the edge off her supreme irritation.
If his tactic worked, it was only by the tiniest margin. “Marcus is my date,” Isabella said. Kellan knew she wasn’t going to like what came next, but truly, she’d given him no choice.
“Not anymore.”
Realization had her chocolate-colored eyes springing wide. “Oh my God, you’re serious.”
He nodded, spinning a lightning-fast glance around the lobby to make sure the elegant space was still empty of anyone other than Marcus, who was still a few steps behind them and just out of earshot. “I’m afraid so.”
“You aren’t going upstairs with me, Walker. This isn’t up for debate.” She flashed a quick give-me-a-second look at Marcus—who had remained impressively reaction-free at the obvious monkey wrench Kellan had just tossed into the party-of-two plan—linking her arm through Kellan’s to lead him farther into the lobby. To anyone passing by, they might look like a couple meeting up for a late-night outing to a bar or an upscale club, her game face was that good. But Kellan could feel the tension in Moreno’s body all the way through his suit jacket and shirt sleeve, which meant he had to proceed with extreme caution if he wanted to get anywhere with her.
But he still wasn’t backing down on the truth. She wasn’t going upstairs without someone on her hip.
And if that someone had to be him, then so be it.
“You’re absolutely right,” Kellan said, murmuring quietly in her ear as they pretended to admire an ornately framed painting on the lobby wall. “It’s not up for debate. I’m here, and I want to help you. You’re taking me upstairs as your date.”
“You knew,” she whispered, understanding parting her lips into a tawny O even though her gaze never left the painting. “You knew this whole time that you were going to show up tonight and give me no choice but to take you to this party, didn’t you?”