Isabella set her sights on the woman in the white dress, one million percent certain that she was the key to breaking this case wide fucking open. Although girl might be a more accurate description—God, she couldn’t be old enough to vote, let alone old enough to legally drink—her eyes told a story Isabella knew all too well.
This girl had seen things. Done things. Knew things. And if Isabella and Kellan played their cards exactly right, she just might be able to get her to talk about them.
She just might be able to keep this girl safe.
“This is going to be a tightrope walk,” Isabella whispered, but Kellan surprised her with a nod.
“Understood. I’ll keep eyes on the room while you talk to her. Looks like her current location is out of earshot of any other guests.”
“Copy that.” Setting her shoulders beneath the spaghetti straps of her halter dress, Isabella pressed her stilettos into the ornate and very expensive-looking area rug at the feet of the armchair she’d been perched on. She linked her arm through Walker’s, trying like hell to blank out the steel of his muscles beneath his shirt and suit jacket as she took slow, precise steps across the penthouse’s main room.
“Hi there.” Isabella stopped four paces shy of the woman, wanting to give her enough space to feel comfortable, but not enough to run. “My name is Isabella.”
The woman looked up, her black-coffee eyes darting from Isabella to Kellan and then back again before lowering back to the white marble floor tiles. “I’m Angel.”
“That’s a very pretty name.”
“Oh. Thank you,” she said, speaking more to her patent leather platform pumps than to anyone else.
Isabella tried again. “I suppose that explains your tattoo.”
Now that she was closer, she realized the ink on the woman’s shoulder depicted a curved line of feathers shaped into an angel’s wing. Not a small victory, since it likely meant Angel was her real name.
The woman nodded, chancing the slightest glance in Isabella’s direction. “Yes.”
Background chatter and pleasured moans from other party-goers filled the quiet between them as Angel fiddled with the silver chain at her throat, and damn, getting this girl to come out of her shell was going to take some doing. Not an easy task in front of all these people, one of whom had to be the man forcing her to be here.
Time to get more private.
Isabella smiled. “Well, Angel, my friend and I were wondering if you’d like to spend a little time with us tonight.”
Angel’s head sprang up. “With both of you? Like, together?”
Shit. “We were just hoping we could get to know you better,” Isabella said. As if to underline her no-pressure request, Kellan let go of her arm to take a step back on the marble floor, putting a nice-and-easy smile on his face.
Thankfully, it seemed to do the trick. At least for now. “I’ve just never done it with a woman before. Not yet, anyway,” Angel said.
Isabella’s heart pumped faster with hope, but she waited out a few beats of the music before taking the opening. “So you’re new to parties like this?”
Please, please, let her not be too far in to try for a way out.
Again, Angel’s eyes went wide, and she swung a look at the man over by the piano before stiffly moving toward Isabella and running an awkward hand over her shoulder. “Yes, but you don’t have to worry. I like to try new things, and I’ll do whatever you want. You wanna get high first? We could shoot a little H before I make you happy. I’m up for anything.”
Isabella shook her head, catching Angel’s hand with her own. The words were intended to be sexy, she knew. But they fell short of their mark like an overly rehearsed line from a B-grade porno, and Isabella felt Walker’s body go tense beside her.
She reached back with her free hand and squeezed his forearm to keep him—and maybe herself—steady. She couldn’t reject Angel outright. With all the cameras in this place, someone was bound to notice.
Isabella moved her hand to the girl’s shoulder, trying to make her touch as comforting as possible while keeping up pretenses. “You don’t look too happy to be here, Angel.”
“I could look happy for you, if that’s what you want.” Panic streaked over Angel’s face, and Isabella scrambled to regain what little ground she’d gained.
“That’s not what I meant.”