Letting Kellan in might be insane, but it also didn’t feel wrong.
“Okay,” she whispered. She turned to her side, and Kellan pulled her close just like he had the other morning on his couch, his body warm and solid behind hers. Although they were way less than fully dressed, the contact felt more comforting than sexual, and her muscles relaxed, breath by breath.
“Moreno?” His voice rumbled at her ear, and whether it was the post-sex endorphins or the pure, shocking goodness she felt at lying wrapped up in Kellan’s arms, she couldn’t be sure.
But something prompted her to say, “Isabella.”
“What?” Confusion crept into his tone, sweet enough to knock her unease down another peg.
“We’ve seen each other naked more than once.” She pressed a smile between her lips at the memory. “I’m pretty sure that means we should be on a strictly first-name basis from now on.”
Kellan’s chuckle was warm in her hair. “Okay, Isabella. Tell me something about you.”
Unable to help it, she matched his laughter with her own. “More pizza toppings? Or did you want to go for favorite flavor of ice cream this time?”
“Not quite,” he said, his voice strong and steady in her ear. “Actually, I was hoping you’d tell me what happened to make you show up on my doorstep. Not that I mind, but—”
“Sinclair benched me.”
Her heart stuttered. She hadn’t meant to blurt the words so gracelessly—God, she wasn’t even sure she’d meant to say them at all. And she really hadn’t expected to feel so relieved now that she’d let them loose.
Kellan’s arm tightened around her waist. “He took you off the case?” At her wordless nod, he continued, indignant. “He can’t do that. You busted your ass to make this case happen.”
“After he told me not to,” Isabella said, trying like hell not to let the bitter taste of the words filter into her tone. She took a deep breath to meter the ache blooming behind her breastbone. “I broke the rules by pursuing DuPree on my own. I had my reasons, but Sinclair thinks I don’t trust him or my team, so…”
“Do you?”
Now it was Isabella’s turn to stiffen against Kellan’s chest. “Are you out of your mind?”
“No. I’m just asking a question,” he said, so matter-of-fact that she answered without thinking.
“We work together in literal life or death situations. Of course I trust my team.”
For a minute, Kellan said nothing. Then, “But you didn’t for this. Your partner.”
He paused, and she filled in the blank. “Hollister. Liam.”
“Right. Hollister. He seems like a decent guy. He wouldn’t have backed you up? At least on the walk and talk with Carmen?”
Isabella bit her lip, the ache of her sadness growing more insistent between her ribs. Confiding what had happened with Sinclair was one thing. But she couldn’t tell Kellan this part. She couldn’t tell him why she kept her distance from her team, hell, from everyone.
She couldn’t tell him that her cousin—the very best friend she’d ever known—had been murdered eleven years ago, and it was her fault. That when people trusted her, they died.
She couldn’t let Kellan get that close. So she said, “He might have backed me up. I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter. I still screwed up in the end.”
“Sorry, I don’t follow. You got Sinclair to open a case, right?”
Isabella laughed, hating the harshness in the sound, and every emotion she’d been trying to keep at bay pushed forward all at once. “What good does that do Angel now? I promised…I promised her she’d be safe. I promised, but still she’s…he still…”
Kellan wrapped his arm around her tighter, saving her from having to speak the one word that would wreck her right now.
Dead. Angel was dead. Just like Marisol.
And just like Marisol, it was her fault.
“Okay. Okay,” Kellan said softly, but her anger welled up, driving her to fight his embrace.
“It’s not okay!” she snapped, unable to stop her emotions from clawing their way out. “Angel is dead, Kellan. DuPree killed her because she was coming to talk to me. Not the FBI or Sinclair or anyone on my team. I’m the one who promised to keep her safe. Sinclair was right to take me off this case! I did this. It’s my fault.”
“No.” Kellan pulled back, closing both palms over her shoulders. Turning her so they were face to face, he pinned her with a scalpel-sharp stare. “Think about the conversation you had with this mystery guy who called when you were in the diner. He said ‘now that I know you’re a cop’, right?”
Isabella blinked, the question stealing just enough of her fight for her to actually answer. “Yeah. So?”
“So, DuPree didn’t know you were a cop until after we left.”