Kellan lost the battle with his snort. “Not a chance, sweetheart.” They were smack in the lap of the worst part of the city. No way was he leaving her to her own devices. Not even inside the pizza place. He didn’t care how long she’d been a cop.
“Can’t blame a girl for trying.” The words slid out under her breath, quickly falling prey to the sharp staccato of a woman’s voice filtering into the otherwise empty storefront from somewhere in the half-open kitchen area.
“Jesus H. Christ on a Popsicle stick, Lamar! Are you sleeping back here again? I swear on my mami’s eyes, I’m going to…” A pause in the diatribe said the voice’s owner had registered the electronic door chime. “I’m not through with you, you hear me? Now wake up and start breaking down this kitchen, pendejo. We’re closing in ten minutes. I’ve got a date tonight, and I’m not staying late for your lazy ass.”
Holy shit. This was Isabella’s CI? “Are you serious?” Kellan whispered, and Moreno gave up an I-told-you-so smile.
“As a sledgehammer, sweetheart.”
Even though he’d bought her attitude wholesale when he’d popped off and called her ‘sweetheart’ first, Kellan opened his mouth to dish back. His response, however, was unceremoniously cut short by the appearance of a petite, dark-haired woman behind the counter who looked none too pleased to catch sight of them standing there.
“Oh, no.” The woman, who couldn’t be more than five-foot-zip on her best day, jabbed an inch-long lime green fingernail in Isabella’s direction. “Turn back around, pendeja. We’re locking it up for the night, and we don’t got what you want in here anyway. Mmm-mmm.”
“Come on, Carmen. I just want to order dinner,” Moreno said, pointing to the pair of pizzas sitting under the grease-smudged heat lamps over Carmen’s shoulder. “I’ll take a slice of pepperoni. For here.”
The woman’s black-coffee eyes flashed beneath a heavy layer of makeup, her lashes so long and thickly fringed that Kellan wondered how she kept them open beneath the weight. “You want pizza,” she said, although she didn’t move a muscle.
“For starters.” Isabella reached into the back pocket of her jeans, peeling a twenty-dollar bill from the other four in her hand.
“With you, it’s always for starters,” Carmen grumbled. She turned to slide a piece of pizza onto a paper plate, but clearly, she wasn’t done trying to push Isabella’s buttons. “So, what,” Carmen said in Spanish, suggestion curving around every syllable. “You screwing this one? Because I gotta tell you, I wouldn’t throw his ass out of bed for eating crackers just as long as he was eating everything else, you know what I’m saying?”
Kellan clamped down on the urge to let his surprise show at the same moment Moreno froze into place next to him at the counter. “Yeah, I know what you’re saying, and no. I’m not screwing him,” Isabella answered, also in Spanish.
“But you want to.” Carmen’s eyes glinted, her lips curving into a hard smile as her stare moved from Moreno’s face to his and then back again. “Girl, I can practically smell it on you.”
By the time the second wave of Kellan’s shock registered, Moreno had the twenty tucked safely back in her pocket and a healthy foot added to the dance space between her body and the counter. “Your mouth always gets you into trouble, Carmen.”
The tension between the two women was even easier to translate than the words and shit. Shit. Moreno had made it clear that he was just along for the ride. She didn’t even have a clue he’d understood her conversation. But they’d come for answers, not a pissing contest, and they weren’t going to get anywhere this way. Best case scenario if he butted in was calming Carmen down enough to get her talking. Worst was that Moreno would be pissed that he hadn’t stayed quiet, and fuck it. He was getting pretty good at fielding her irritation anyway.
Kellan leaned one arm over the scuffed red Formica and worked up a smile just shy of cocky. “Isabella and I are only friends,” he said in Spanish. “But thanks for the compliment.”
Although both women gaped at him in clear what-the-fuck surprise, Carmen spoke first, switching back to English. “You’re welcome. I suppose you want pizza for starters too.”
“That would be great. Thank you.”
“You a cop?” Carmen watched Isabella, not Kellan, as she murmured the question softly, and damn, the woman knew exactly what she was doing.
“Nope.” He tiled his gaze downward to look her right in the eye, answering just as quietly even though the restaurant was dead empty. “Like I said, I’m just a friend of Isabella’s.”