Skin Deep (Station Seventeen #1)(99)

“Sam,” she said, her brows winging sky-high. “Come on. DuPree has been church-mouse quiet for three days.”

“Yeah, and seventy-two hours ago he was turning your furniture into kindling. I mean it. This guy is unhinged.”

Before Kellan could open his mouth to suggest that Sinclair wasn’t wrong, Hollister beat him to the one-two. “Moreno, he’s kind of got a point. It sounds like DuPree is off the deep end, and he clearly has a hard-on for trying to get to you.”

“Then let him try,” Isabella said, jamming her hands over her hips and planting her boots into the linoleum. “Look, I understand he’s dangerous, and I’m not saying I won’t be careful. I’ll still check in and take extra safety precautions. But if DuPree is antsy enough to make a move, we’ll have him right where we want him. We might not get him any other way.”

Annnnnnd fuck. Now Isabella had a point, too. Kellan didn’t want her in harm’s way—the thought alone made him want to throat-punch someone. But she was a cop, which meant her job came with a certain amount of risk. While he wasn’t on board with her taking unnecessary ones, at some point he had to trust that she’d be both smart and okay.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve got Isabella’s back,” Kellan said. “I know you guys are her team and everything, but when she’s not with you…I promise to keep her safe.”

For a minute, nobody said anything, the silence stretching thinner and thinner. Finally, Sinclair ran a hand over his crew cut and turned back toward Capelli.

“I want something from the profiler by morning, and keep on the hacker. We still might get a nugget on these parties or these murders. Moreno, I’ve never minced words and I’m sure as hell not going to start now. I don’t like this. That said, I have to trust that you’re making the right call. But you will be taking every extra security measure under the sun.”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

“Good. Now let’s get back to work. And Walker?” Sinclair waited for him to make eye contact before adding, “You’d better.”

“I do,” he said, and they were the easiest two words he’d ever spoken.



* * *



Julian DuPree was not a patient man. He stood in the middle of his penthouse, looking down at the city lights signaling a Friday night in full swing, while everything around him was quiet and still.

All because Isabella Moreno had miraculously and unexpectedly grown some fucking restraint.

The silence around Julian grated on his nerves, his anger writhing under his skin. One week ago, everything was normal. He’d stood here in this exact spot, watching every depraved whore he owned getting used and abused just as she should.

No room for filth! screamed the voice in his head, and he slipped his fingers to his temple in order to shut it up.

But still, it came. Filth needs to be punished! I’ll beat it out of you, you vulgar boy!

And the voice had tried. She’d taken the switch from the cupboard in the kitchen, just as she’d done all the times before. The house was far from any neighbors, and no one had visited since the woman from DCFS, who Julian had told about the voice. He’d paid for that, having to take it back and say it was a lie after the voice had given him the scars. But a year had passed by then, on the night the voice got the switch. Julian had been bigger then than when she’d first started raging about the filth. Biding his time since she’d given him the scars. Planning. Waiting for the right time to kill her.

And then he’d beaten her to death in that kitchen, snapping every last one of her bones before dismembering her and burying her bit by bit in their backyard.

Julian exhaled, adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt as he examined the city through the wall of windows. Detective Moreno had led the RPD to his doorstep, a doorstep which he prided himself on keeping covered. He was meticulous, he was smarter than all of them, and therefore he didn’t get caught. But now he was being watched, his parties on hold, and his pent-up need to inflict pain was growing urgent.

He wanted to hurt her. In the worst way possible. He wanted to take everything from her, as she was doing to him.

But the detective wasn’t just staying away from Julian, sending her pig of a boss to try and question him instead. She was well-protected. Walker never left her side, and while the man was the worst sort of brute, he was also highly trained. If Julian tried to take them both, he’d sustain casualties at the very least. Casualties meant mess, and mess meant loose ends that could get him caught. He needed another way.

He needed to separate them. To get Detective Moreno to act brashly, and alone.

It was time to up the stakes and end this game, once and for all.





27





Isabella stood in her freshly cleaned bedroom, tucking the last edge of a light blue sheet beneath the corner of her brand-new mattress.

“You do know that’s probably a waste of time, right?” Kellan’s voice snared her attention from the spot where he’d appeared in the doorway.

“How’s that?” she asked, a flush heating a path over her cheeks at the dark and sexy half-smile riding his mouth in reply.

“Because I’m just going to strip you naked and make you want to tear those sheets right back off.”

The “oh” tumbling from Isabella’s lips was more moan than actual word. “Well, it does make sense to test out the new bed. Quality control, and all that.”