Read Online Skin Deep by Kimberly Kincaid - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kimberly Kincaid
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actually disappointed not to offer one up. But it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that any evidence that might’ve been up there was long gone now, and anyway… “I’m determined, Walker, not stupid. Just give me a second to look through the main level here and then we can head downstairs.”
His silence held as much surprise as irritation. “Suit yourself. But I’m coming with you.”
Great . Isabella moved from the foyer to the living room, taking in what little was left in the fire-damaged space. The flames had eaten away at what looked to have once been a couch, although the jury was still out on what color the thing might’ve been in its former life, and the patches of wallpaper that had managed to survive curled away from the water-stained drywall in floral-patterned chunks. Every ounce of her gut told her she had a snowball’s chance of finding anything salvageable up here, much less anything salvageable that might also be a lead. But Isabella had never let a little thing like shitty odds stop her before. She wasn’t about to start today. The silence pressed against her ears, making her hyper-aware of Kellan’s eyes on her as she checked out the room, watching in that quiet, cautious way that told her he saw nine times as much as he said.
“So how’s your sister doing?” she heard herself ask. God, it was the last thing she’d meant to bring up, which must be a true testament to her pure idiocy right now. But if the mention had thrown Walker for a loop, he didn’t show it. In fact, his expression was pretty much carved out of granite, strong and cold and completely unmoving.
“Fine.” His arms re-knotted over his chest, the inky edge of a tattoo peeking out from beneath the dark blue sleeve of his T-shirt.
Isabella bit her tongue hard enough to feel the sting. She should just shut up and do the job she’d come here to do. But she’d lifted the lid on the topic. Trying to tap dance around it now seemed stupid. Or worse yet, cowardly. “Kylie moved to Remington, right? From Montana?”
“Yes.”
Jeez, he was the high lord of the monosyllable. She moved across the living room, the sunlight filtering in from the few unbroken windows showing her a whole lot of ash and empty space. “It must be nice that she’s close by now.”
“You think that just because everything turned out okay in Chicago by the grace of God and my buddy Devon’s quick thinking, you get to talk about my sister like she’s the weather?”
The musty scent of ashes and old smoke filled Isabella’s nose as she sucked in a breath of pure shock. “What?”
Walker pinned her with an icy stare from halfway across the burned and broken room. “You compromised Kylie’s safety by trusting Collins. She was nearly killed, and you’re treating her like casual conversation.”
“I’m not. I’m—” Isabella stopped short, the slam of her heartbeat warning that he wasn’t going to believe her no matter how genuine her remorse really was. But she hadn’t knowingly put Kylie’s life in danger. He had to know that. “We were racing against the clock to keep Kylie safe, Walker. Collins had worked with his team for three years. None of them had ever had so much as an overdue credit card bill. What was I supposed to do?”
“Better,” he said, the word hitting her ears like a shout even though he’d barely breathed it. “You were supposed to do better. You have no idea what I had on the line.”
“You have no idea what I know.”
For a breath, then another, Isabella stood on the ruined floorboards with her throat in a knot and her chest full of thorns. But she wasn’t here to argue with him. She was here to help the women in those pictures. Period.
No matter what Walker thought about her abilities as a cop.
Isabella took in the rest of the first floor in silence. Not that there was much to see, but the few pieces of ruined furniture in the living room coupled with the remnants of trash in the kitchen
His silence held as much surprise as irritation. “Suit yourself. But I’m coming with you.”
Great . Isabella moved from the foyer to the living room, taking in what little was left in the fire-damaged space. The flames had eaten away at what looked to have once been a couch, although the jury was still out on what color the thing might’ve been in its former life, and the patches of wallpaper that had managed to survive curled away from the water-stained drywall in floral-patterned chunks. Every ounce of her gut told her she had a snowball’s chance of finding anything salvageable up here, much less anything salvageable that might also be a lead. But Isabella had never let a little thing like shitty odds stop her before. She wasn’t about to start today. The silence pressed against her ears, making her hyper-aware of Kellan’s eyes on her as she checked out the room, watching in that quiet, cautious way that told her he saw nine times as much as he said.
“So how’s your sister doing?” she heard herself ask. God, it was the last thing she’d meant to bring up, which must be a true testament to her pure idiocy right now. But if the mention had thrown Walker for a loop, he didn’t show it. In fact, his expression was pretty much carved out of granite, strong and cold and completely unmoving.
“Fine.” His arms re-knotted over his chest, the inky edge of a tattoo peeking out from beneath the dark blue sleeve of his T-shirt.
Isabella bit her tongue hard enough to feel the sting. She should just shut up and do the job she’d come here to do. But she’d lifted the lid on the topic. Trying to tap dance around it now seemed stupid. Or worse yet, cowardly. “Kylie moved to Remington, right? From Montana?”
“Yes.”
Jeez, he was the high lord of the monosyllable. She moved across the living room, the sunlight filtering in from the few unbroken windows showing her a whole lot of ash and empty space. “It must be nice that she’s close by now.”
“You think that just because everything turned out okay in Chicago by the grace of God and my buddy Devon’s quick thinking, you get to talk about my sister like she’s the weather?”
The musty scent of ashes and old smoke filled Isabella’s nose as she sucked in a breath of pure shock. “What?”
Walker pinned her with an icy stare from halfway across the burned and broken room. “You compromised Kylie’s safety by trusting Collins. She was nearly killed, and you’re treating her like casual conversation.”
“I’m not. I’m—” Isabella stopped short, the slam of her heartbeat warning that he wasn’t going to believe her no matter how genuine her remorse really was. But she hadn’t knowingly put Kylie’s life in danger. He had to know that. “We were racing against the clock to keep Kylie safe, Walker. Collins had worked with his team for three years. None of them had ever had so much as an overdue credit card bill. What was I supposed to do?”
“Better,” he said, the word hitting her ears like a shout even though he’d barely breathed it. “You were supposed to do better. You have no idea what I had on the line.”
“You have no idea what I know.”
For a breath, then another, Isabella stood on the ruined floorboards with her throat in a knot and her chest full of thorns. But she wasn’t here to argue with him. She was here to help the women in those pictures. Period.
No matter what Walker thought about her abilities as a cop.
Isabella took in the rest of the first floor in silence. Not that there was much to see, but the few pieces of ruined furniture in the living room coupled with the remnants of trash in the kitchen
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