Skin Deep (Station Seventeen #1)

The realization brought him sharply back to the moment. “Why would you go so far above and beyond for a case outside of your jurisdiction?”


“Because I promised I’d keep Kylie safe. I had no reason not to trust Collins, and he had no reason not to trust Burton, but shit still went sideways. Nailing Burton was the only way to make that right.” Isabella lifted her shoulders, and the honesty in her words didn’t lessen their punch to Kellan’s gut. “So that’s what I did.”

“How come you never told me?” he asked. He’d seen her here at the Crooked Angel no less than a dozen times since they’d returned from Chicago, and she clearly knew how to find him at Seventeen easily enough.

Her laughter was self-deprecating enough to put another dent in his armor. “First of all, I didn’t go back to Chicago for the recognition. I’d have worked the investigation that led to Burton’s indictment regardless of whether or not you or Kylie ever found out. Secondly”—the edges of her mouth tipped up just enough to take her smile into smirk territory—“you made your dislike for me pretty clear. To be honest, I didn’t think you’d listen to anything I had to say about your sister’s case, even if the news was good.”

“I don’t dislike you,” Kellan hedged, only to be thwarted again by her soft, throaty laugh.

“Walker, please. You went up one side of me and down the other in the motel parking lot as soon as Kylie got the all-clear, and every time you’ve seen me since, you’ve evil-eyed me into next week. I think it’s safe to say you’re not my biggest fan.”

For a second, then two, nothing but the song and the ambient noise from the bar passed between them. The familiar crossroads was right in front of him, the one with the fork that led to all the boxes where he locked shit away and the fork with the road he couldn’t think about if he wanted to retain his sanity. He had reasons for never taking that path, never digging at anything that would trigger his emotions, and they weren’t shitty. Still, Moreno had been straight with him about Burton when she could’ve just as easily clammed up.

The least he could do was return the favor.

“I was upset that Kylie was in danger three months ago, and yeah, I was pretty pissed at you and Collins over how things shook out. But my sister’s all the family I’ve got. We spent almost seven years apart when I was in the Army, and even though I know she’s tough enough to stand on her own two feet, I still want to look out for her.”

A flicker moved through Moreno’s gaze, coloring it a deep mahogany brown in the low light of the Crooked Angel. “I get that, Walker. I really do, and I’m sorry. I can’t tell you enough how much I hate that Fagan got his hands on her, even for a second.”

He thought of the vow she’d made to find whoever was hurting those girls, and damn, she really was a good cop. “I know. I’m sorry I flew off the handle in Chicago, and that I was rough on you after that. You didn’t have any way of knowing someone on Collins’s team would put Kylie in danger. I see that now.”

Moreno’s lips parted. “You do?”

“Yeah,” he said, and as much as he thought the admission might sting, his words came out with ease. “I do.”

Of course, he should’ve known better than to think Isabella would take them without dishing back. “You sure you’re feeling okay?” she asked, sliding one hand over his forehead. “You don’t have a fever, do you? Should I call a doctor?”

“Funny,” Kellan said. He meant to add on to his sarcasm, after all, Moreno was clearly tough enough to take it. But all at once he realized how close they were, their bodies suddenly flush, her fingers cradling his face with her smart, sinful mouth right there in front of his, and every thought in his brain shorted out to head south.

Her smile slipped, awareness edging over her pretty features as if she’d landed in the same place Kellan had. But rather than pulling away, Isabella stood firm, replacing her arm around his shoulder while they swayed to something far more primal than some pop ballad. She pressed against him, her body moving with slow, hot suggestion, and even though he knew it made him a bastard of the highest order, Kellan didn’t budge. He tested his grasp on her waist, increasing the pressure of his fingers in slow increments. Moreno’s chest melted against his even harder with the weight of her exhale, and a dark thread of satisfaction uncurled in Kellan’s belly, taunting his fingers to dig even harder over her T-shirt.

So he let them. And when Isabella cut out another heady breath that warmed his neck and stirred his cock, curling her fingertips into his shoulders with just as much provocative intention, he realized that if they kept upping the ante, neither one of them would back down.

Which meant that if they weren’t careful, he and Isabella were going to dare each other right past racy flirting and into a quick, hot fuck in the bathroom.

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