Shut Up and Kiss Me (11 page)

She stopped so fast that her shoes probably left skid marks. She swung around to face him. Her arms remained locked around her middle, which had to hurt, considering the stitches in her hand, but maybe the tight grip held her together. If she stopped hugging herself, she might fall apart.

“Look,” he said.

“No, you look. It’s two in the morning. Today, I’ve been stalked, robbed of my camera, vandalized, almost killed, twirled around a dance floor in an establishment named the Fucky Chicken by someone who thinks he’s Travolta,
and—oh, yes—I’ve been leg-humped by the very same dog who stole my hamburger.”

She drew in a deep breath. “In case you don’t get what that means, my point is, I’ve had it! I’m not dealing with this right now. Tomorrow, when you give me my camera back—which you
will
do—I’ll fill out a report or sign a statement or whatever it is that I need to do to have this bastard put away for life. But right now…right now I’m going to bed.”

She turned on her heel and stormed up the stairs. Sky watched her go, and while he saw the fury in her, he also didn’t miss the vulnerable little girl who needed someone. And damn if he didn’t want to be that someone. Not forever, he amended. He simply wasn’t the forever kind, but maybe for longer than usual.

He walked back to Sal, but before he could ask questions, his friend started in. “See, that’s what I saw this afternoon! Seriously, man, you give that woman even a mild case of PMS and she’s Lorena Bobbitt.”

“Give her a freaking break,” Sky snapped. “She’s had a hard day. As hard as they come.”

Sal studied his expression. “Well, I’ll be damned. Redfoot’s right. You’re already in love with her.”

“God damn it, Sal!” Sky growled. “Stop it”

His friend shook his head. “Don’t worry, I’m shutting up now. Everyone knows that once two people have been selected as soul mates, God forbid the poor sap who tries to come between them. Forget I said anything bad about her. Go for it. Like I said earlier, she’s hot—even if she’s a real handful.”

“Would you please—?”

Sal belted out laughter. “If there’s anyone who can handle her, though, it’s a man who’s always locked and loaded. That’s you, man. Just don’t expect us to have you guys over for Sunday dinner.”

Sky clenched his jaw. “Shut. Up.”

“I’m just sayin’, if you love her like I love Jessie, then I get it, man. You got my blessings.”

Sky shook his head to clear it. “What happened here? Did you even see the guy who did this?” He’d almost asked what kind of a joint his friend was running, but he knew the answer. Sal and Jessie ran a small-time hotel that barely paid their electric bills, and Sal also ran housecleaning and eBay businesses on the side.

“It’s just like I told you on the phone.”

“You didn’t make a damn lick of sense on the phone,” Sky growled.

“Okay, I may have been shaken up. That asshole nearly killed me.” Sal paused. “I got this call from some guy wanting Shala Winters’s room number.”

“Tell me you didn’t give it to him.”

“No. I never give out room numbers unless…well, let’s just say I don’t do it. Anyway, I heard the train rolling by, and that’s when I realized that I could hear the train on the phone, too. Don’t ask how I knew, but I got a feeling the guy was calling from
here.
I stepped out of the hotel and saw this man on the phone standing next to your chick’s car. And I could see the broken glass. I yelled and started walking over. He jumped into a running car and—”

“What kind of car?” Sky asked, though could have guessed.

“A dark sedan. I hoped to get the license plate, but damn if he didn’t aim right at me, full throttle and everything. I swear, his bumper was kissing my ass when I climbed up that there tree.” He pointed to an oak with low-hanging limbs. “We really must be related to chimpanzees, because I instinctively knew how to climb, and I never did that as a kid.” Sal leaned close and added, “Don’t tell a soul, but I had to change my shorts.”

Sky glanced up at Shala’s hotel room. The lights were still on. He doubted she’d let him in this time. Not that that was going to stop him. Whoever was after her camera
had gone to extreme measures, and Sky doubted he would stop now. He wasn’t about to let the asshole get close to Shala again.

“Do me a favor, Sal. Give me her room key and bring me her camera.”

“Room key? You sure you want to do that?” Sal asked. “With her talking about castration? I’d let her cool off.”

“Just do it!”

Maria paced from one side of the living room to the other, questions, concerns, and emotions doing somersaults in her chest.

“Calm down,” Matt said.

“Calm down?” Maria snapped. “My house smells like skunk and he’s being impossible. He needs to be seen by a doctor. He looks as bad as Redfoot. You saw his black eyes!”

“I wish that was all I saw.” Matt laughed.

“This isn’t funny!”

Matt wiped his smile off his face. “Maria, you can’t force him to see a doctor.”

“He’s just like Redfoot: stubborn, hardheaded, and—”

“Is this normal for him?” Matt asked.

“Is what normal?” Maria’s head and heart swam.

“The drinking,” Matt explained.

“What? Because he’s Native American, you just assume—”

“No.” Matt held up his hands and stepped back. “I didn’t say that, Maria.”

“You implied it,” she accused.

“No, I didn’t imply it. I’m asking because he’s obviously drunk off his ass right now.” Matt shook his head and studied her. “What’s wrong? You’re supersensitive and acting crazy.”

She shook her head, torn in so many ways. She could still remember her talk with Redfoot. She could still remember admitting she needed to ask Matt about his weekends in Dallas. She remembered how good it had felt when he wrapped his arms around her at the hospital. But on top of that, she had to deal with Jose. About Jose not knowing about her pregnancy or the miscarriage. About Matt not knowing about Jose. About Matt not knowing that she might be infertile. “You know, I think it might be best if you left.”

“Left?” His eyebrows shot together. “You asked me to stay.”

“It’s just…awkward.”

He stared at her. “Why is it that I get a feeling that when you say awkward, you mean more than just your brother smelling like a skunk, being drunk and naked in your bathroom, and bathing with your douche?”

The denial lay on her tongue but she couldn’t lie. Not when she knew sooner or later she would have to tell him. But not tonight. Not when she couldn’t understand whatever her heart was telling her. She needed to think before she spoke. She needed Jose far away when she came clean.

“What is it you’re not saying?” Matt asked.

“I’m saying we need to talk. I…need to tell you things, but not now.”

“What things? What are you saying?” He glanced down the hall toward her bedroom. “You know, I really wish you would explain, because my head is coming up with things that I don’t like.”

“Please, let’s talk later.”

He raked a hand through his hair. “I drove like an
idiot to get back to you, and now you send me off as if…That isn’t your brother, is it? Who’s in your bedroom, Maria?”

Her patience snapped. “What did you leave in Dallas? Or who?
Who
did you leave?”

He stood stunned. Emotion played on his face—oh God, was it guilt? His expression echoed what she felt inside.

Tears came to her eyes. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you’re suggesting,” he said, but his voice was fraught with meaning.

“I’m suggesting the same thing you are.”

Matt shook his head. “Who is he?”

“It’s Jose. There is no blood between us. But he is Redfoot’s son.”

“So what you’re saying is—”

“Go!” she ordered.

He did.

Although she’d asked him to go—
insisted
he go—when the front door slammed behind him, Maria felt her heart crash against her breastbone. Pain exploded in her chest and she felt certain her heart curled up in a mangled mess and died. Oh, God, what had she done?

“I think I love you,” she said to the slammed door.

She moved to stop him, but before she even got to the door his tires were spitting gravel out in the drive.

She ran to the phone, ready to call him to come back. Then she remembered Dallas. Walking to the sofa, she dropped down and let herself just sit there. The emotional pain was almost too much, pain like on her fifteenth birthday, as she’d watched her mother pack her bags to go to Vegas with her new boyfriend with no intention of coming back.

She recalled that look in Matt’s eyes when she’d asked about Dallas…Oh, God, did it have to hurt this much? Of course it did. Didn’t it always? Hadn’t it when her
mother walked out? When Jose walked out? Why would Matt’s leaving be easy? And why the hell had she expected it to end any differently?

Because you believe in the fantasy.

No more. That was it. She was throwing away every romance novel she had.

“You don’t look too good,” said a deep voice.

Maria looked up. Jose stood before her, whiskey still in hand. “Neither do you. You’re drunk off your ass.”

“Nah, I’m not drunk. I’m working on getting that way, but I’m not there yet.”

“Really? Then why in the hell are you wearing my robe?”

He looked down at the pink terry cloth and laughed. “Maybe I am drunk.” His gaze shifted around the room and he whispered, “Is Monsieur Le Tickler still here?”

She frowned. “You need to be seen by a doctor.”

“Not happening,” he said with defiance. Then he gave her that bad-boy grin Maria remembered so well. The one she’d watched him offer to other beautiful women when she was young. The one she’d swooned over when he finally offered it to her. Of course, with his beat-up face, it didn’t have quite the same appeal.

He took a step closer. She took one back. He still smelled of skunk—which meant so did her robe.

He waggled his brows. “Why don’t you just take care of me?”

“Why don’t you go to hell!” She shot up from the sofa.

“I already have,” she heard him say as she walked away. “I’m in Precious. And the only thing precious about this place is you.”

Maria slammed her bedroom door.

“Shala?”

She heard Sky at her door and rolled her eyes. Slipping her pajama top on over her head, she frowned when saw
blood on it and went to grab a clean set from her suitcase. “Go away!” She got dressed.

“I can’t.”

Maybe if she just ignored him, he’d leave. She went to the bed. But just as she had the covers pulled back, she heard her door opening. She swung around, seeing the chain dangling on the door, which she hadn’t locked. Duh! She had a crazed stalker after her and she hadn’t even taken precautions. Not smart. So not smart.

Sky stepped into the room. She got over being angry with herself and focused on him. “You can’t just walk into my hotel room!”

“I think I should stay here, in case this guy comes back.”

Shala shook her head. “I’m dead tired. I’m going to sleep. You can’t stay here.”

He looked around the room. “The chair looks comfortable. You won’t even know I’m here.”

She closed her eyes for a second. God, she was so tired. Probably, it was the pill the doctor had given her. Opening her eyes, she studied him. “I can take care of myself.”

“You didn’t even have the door bolted.”

“I’ll do it right when you leave. You can stand out there and listen,” she offered.

“That wouldn’t stop someone who
really
wanted to get in.”

“So why did you chastise me for not bolting it?” she snapped.

“Because it should be a clue that you’re in no shape to take care of yourself.”

She knew he was right, but…“Can’t you stay in the room next door?”

“I’ll feel better in here.”

“But I won’t. If this were any other town, I could call 911 and have you arrested.”

“You already tried that, remember?”

She dropped back on the bed and pressed her hands into the mattress. Pain flared in her stitched palm.

Sky sat in a chair and pulled another close to put his legs up. “I will ask for a pillow, though.”

She turned her head so she could see him. “You’re serious?”

“One hundred percent.” He paused. “Just go to sleep. But don’t snore.”

Even in her exhaustion she noted the way he looked at her—with heat—and she felt the stirrings of desire. She tossed him a pillow.

He caught it and stuffed it behind his head but didn’t stop looking at her, and she didn’t stop feeling looked at. His gaze dropped to her feet. She recalled him complimenting her feet earlier. She stared down at her toes and found herself happy she’d gotten a pedicure before coming to Precious.

Realizing what she was thinking, she spotted her purse beside the bed and rolled over to pick it up. She dug into the bag with her left hand, grabbed something, and held it out for him to see. “I swear to God, if you try anything, I’ll Mace you.” Then she set the can and her purse on the nightstand.

“I’ll remember that.” He adjusted himself in the chair, tilted back his head, and stared at the ceiling.

She reached over and turned out the light. Then she rolled all the way to the edge of the bed, as far away from him as possible. Closing her eyes, she heard him shuffling around, standing up, and unloading his pockets. The chair creaked as he sat back down.

Staring at the ceiling, she just listened to him breathe. She had to admit she felt better not being alone. The day’s events were rolling through her head, her heart beating like the drums at the day’s powwow. She recalled seeing Sky for the first time, the way he’d moved to the beat of the music. Then she recalled the way Sky had held her hand as the doctor stitched her up.

“Thank you,” she said into the darkness.

“You’re welcome.”

“I mean for holding my hand at the hospital.”

“I know.” His voice was soft. A minute later he said, “Shala?”

Her eyes fluttered open. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry about your parents.”

Yours, too,
she almost said. But she wasn’t supposed to know that. “Thanks.”

Sky continued to stare at the ceiling, his mind flipping through the images he’d seen on her camera earlier. She’d done an excellent job of capturing the town. Blue Eyes was a damn good photographer. Of course, he’d known that from her website.

He hadn’t seen one image someone would be willing to kill for. And yet, his gut told him that it was there. Tomorrow he’d retrieve the camera from the safe where he’d had Sal store it again, and he’d comb through the images. He also needed to get that gun from Lucas, run a check on its serial number, and dust for prints.

He heard the bed shift. He sat up, leaned his elbows on his knees, and studied Shala. She wore a different pair of pajamas, but the same style. Her blonde hair lay scattered on the pillow. She rested on her side, and the soft curve of her waist made him yearn to run his hands over her.

She was asleep; he could tell by the way she breathed. Leaning back, he turned away and tried to reposition his pillow behind his neck. Christ, he must be getting old—there had been a time he could sleep standing up. Or maybe it wasn’t his position keeping him awake. He took another deep breath. The soft feminine scent of lotion filled his lungs.

He turned his head and eyed her again. She looked so small in that bed, he couldn’t help but imagine her against him. Under him. On top of him. His body responded, the
crotch of his jeans felt like it shrunk, and damn if his balls didn’t feel cramped. He pulled at the inseams of his jeans and loosened another button on his shirt. Cursing under his breath, he stood up and removed it. Before he realized, his habit of stripping naked to sleep had taken over and he’d unzipped his jeans. He stopped, glanced at her, and remembered her feeling comfortable in her boxer pj’s. Oh, hell, he could at least lose his jeans. She probably wouldn’t even know. He’d set his phone’s alarm to go off at six. He’d be up and decent before she ever rolled over.

But then what? Would she be okay here by herself? Would the asshole who tried to run down Sal and who’d hurt Redfoot come back?

Dropping his jeans beside his chair, he recalled he had to pick up Jose at the airport. How easy would it be to convince Shala to go with him? And how hard would it be to convince her to stay in Precious while he tracked down the culprit? He recalled her saying something about leaving in the morning with her camera.

Would she leave without the Nikon? If keeping her camera meant she’d stay, that’s what he’d do. But what if she decided to go back without it? And what if whoever was after the camera followed her home? He recalled how lonely she’d looked walking into that hospital last night and walking up to this room afterward. Alone, she’d be easy prey. Somehow he had to keep her close to protect her.

He sat back down and closed his eyes, intending to sleep, but his body longed to be horizontal. Almost an hour later, he turned his head again and studied her unconscious form. She was only taking up only a few inches of that king-size bed. But damn, he needed some rest.

He saw the fancy tubelike pillows she’d tossed from the bed against the wall. Picking them up, he lined them down the middle of the bed, creating a barrier.

If she got mad, he’d deal with it in the morning. After he’d had a couple hours of sleep.