“Okay boss,” Isabella said, double-checking the Glock in her holster before asking, “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to take a field trip to the Metropolitan. Let’s see what our boy DuPree has to say for himself.”
24
Kellan pushed up from his couch, processing the intercom buzz that signaled a visitor with equal parts trepidation and relief. Isabella had called him twenty minutes ago to say she was finally on her way over from the precinct, and he hardly thought anyone wishing him harm would tip him off with a call in advance from downstairs, but still. A guy couldn’t be too careful.
As was evidenced by the hulking Marine who had beat Kellan to the intercom box in the foyer.
“Who is it?” Gamble grated into the speaker by the front door, and whoa, Kellan thought the guy was serious at the firehouse.
“Dude, I’m sure it’s just…”
The intercom crackled to life from four floors down. “It’s Moreno. Jackass,” she added, making Kellan laugh despite the seriousness of the situation.
Gamble raised one black brow, wordlessly pressing the button to release the security lock on the building’s main door. After a handful of minutes and a brisk knock at the door, Isabella was safely in his apartment, and Jesus, she was the only woman alive who looked even hotter after a day’s worth of work than she had when she’d left.
“Hey.” She shrugged out of her jacket, then the shoulder holster holding her SIG before lifting her hands as she smiled at Gamble. “Did you want to frisk me, too, or are we good?”
Kellan couldn’t help it. His laugh escaped for round two. Not that he wouldn’t be just as cautious if their roles were reversed and Gamble needed the backup, but the look on his lieutenant’s serious, stubbled face? Fucking priceless.
“We’re good,” Gamble said, shocking the crap out of Kellan when one corner of his mouth kicked up into the closest thing the guy had to a smile. “Just stay on your toes and keep it that way, Detective.”
Isabella nodded, her expression going from sassy to soft. “Copy that, Lieutenant. And thanks.”
Gamble skinned into his black leather jacket and palmed his motorcycle helmet from its resting spot in Kellan’s foyer. “We take care of our own.” He turned toward Kellan, lifting his chin as he made his exit. “I’ll see you at roll call tomorrow.”
“Fifty bucks says I’ll see you first,” Kellan said, clapping the guy on the shoulder as he ushered him out. Flipping the deadbolt firmly back into place, he retraced his steps back into the foyer, and Isabella met him halfway across the hardwoods.
“Now there’s a proper greeting,” she said, her fingers sliding with delicious friction against the back of his neck as he pulled her in close to press his mouth over hers.
He knew he shouldn’t mess with her, but, hell, it was too good to pass up. “I don’t know. Maybe I should frisk you, just in case.”
Isabella deepened the kiss, slanting her tongue over his in a dirty suggestion of what she could do with it before she broke their contact with a grin. “Go right ahead. But turnabout is fair play, and I’ve got handcuffs.”
Good Christ, this woman was going to ruin him before they made it to the living room.
Despite the protest from his dick, Kellan pulled back to lead her into the kitchen. As badly as he wanted to get naked with her (damn, he really, really wanted to get naked with her), he also knew Isabella had likely had a hell of a day. Even though she didn’t say so out loud, the vulnerability hiding behind that layer of toughness in her eyes told him in no uncertain terms that she still felt responsible for Angel’s death. Making sure Isabella was okay was his number one priority right now.
“You hungry? I’ve got a lasagna in the oven,” Kellan said, biting back a laugh as her eyes went wide over a hell-yes smile.
“Damn. You made a freaking lasagna? You’ve been holding out on me in the skills department.” She inhaled, the rise of her breasts beneath the V-neck of her dark red top making Kellan second-guess his decision not to strip it off of her.
Focus. “Actually, I can’t take any credit. Kylie made the lasagna. All I did was put it in the oven. Oh, and before I forget”—he broke off just long enough to grab the bags his sister had given him, passing them to Isabella—“she picked up a few things to tide you over until you can get back into your place. She had to guess at the sizes, but she’s pretty good at that sort of thing.”
Isabella blinked twice before staring down at the bags in surprise. “That was really nice of her. CSU is still processing my apartment because there was so much damage to sift through, and to be honest, I had one hell of a long day with this case. I kind of forgot I’d need a few things.”
“She thought you might say that.”