Before Marcus could work up a protest or a response of any kind, Isabella said, “But you’re going to start making up for the error of your ways. Right now.”
“How’s that?” Marcus asked, echoing the question in Kellan’s brain. But then the look on her face registered, mouth set and eyes glittering with a brand of determination Kellan was beginning to know all too well, and his blood turned to liquid ice in his veins.
“Because, Danny. I’m going to be your date to the next party Mr. DuPree hosts.”
10
“God dammit, Moreno. Are you out of your fucking mind?”
Isabella scanned the street in front of her, trying like hell and failing just as badly to trap her response between her teeth. “Perfectly sane,” she said, inhaling for a count of three clack-clack-clacks of her boots over the broken pavement of Atlantic Boulevard before adding, “As I’ve told you, what? Four? No, five times now.”
Kellan’s dark and broody scowl marked him as highly doubtful of her self-assessment, not to mention highly pissed off at her new plan. “You can tell me until you’re purple. I’m not going to believe you unless you change your mind about going to this party. How do you even know Marcus will hold up his end of the deal?”
She waited until they’d reached the Mustang and both slid into their respective seats before answering, but somehow, the pause did nothing to slow her irritation. “First of all, I know Marcus will show because I told him that if he doesn’t, I’m going to make an anonymous nine-one-one call that will lead a veritable platoon of law enforcement officials to that penthouse, and I’ll make sure every last one of the people arrested for drug possession knows he was behind the tip-off. A fact you well know because you were standing right next to me when I said it. Secondly”—she paused again, this time to spear him with a don’t-mess-with-my-plan stare—“I’d be out of my fucking mind not to go to this party, Walker. It’s the only way I’m going to be able to prove there’s something illegal going on with these women and get the FBI to open an investigation.”
“It’s also dangerous as hell,” he said, jamming a hand through his hair hard enough to make the dark edges stick up. “Going to this party with Marcus isn’t just doing a little rogue investigating. Shit, fishing for the intel to open a formal investigation practically is its own investigation, only there won’t be any other cops there to back you up. You have to tell Sinclair. Or at least tell Hollister.”
Now they were back at this again. Stellar. “No. There’s no way I can tell either of them. Not when I’m this close.”
“You really are out of your mind! You’re willing to have the cops go in like gangbusters if Marcus doesn’t show, but you won’t tell your partner or your boss about the potential to break this case?”
Isabella swung against the driver’s seat to face him full-on. “I used that threat with Marcus because I know it’ll work, not because I want to actually have to follow through.” It was a calculated risk, to be sure, but with the way the scumbag had responded to the leverage she’d used to get him to talk in the first place, her gut said he was too scared of the consequences to call her bluff.
“Fine,” Kellan said, turning to match her squared shoulders and lifted chin. “Even if Marcus does show, you still need to tell your partner.”
A fresh pulse of frustration heated her veins. Damn it, letting Walker come with her had been a mistake from the get. It was time to end this back and forth, once and for all.
“I can’t. I might have a foot in the door with this party, but everything Marcus gave up is still hearsay from a drug dealer. Unless I’ve got a credible witness, forensic evidence of a crime being committed, or a victim willing to make a statement, there isn’t enough for an investigation. Hollister and Sinclair both know this. Sinclair already flat-out said no, and I can’t risk Hollister going over my head if I confide in him. I can’t go to either of them, no matter how much I want to or how badly they hate guys who do this to women too. Not without one of those three things.”
Walker’s arms knotted over his chest. “And which one are you looking to find at this party, exactly?”
The images from the photographs flashed up from where they’d been burned into her memory, but she kept her voice steady and sure. “A victim.”