Shut Up and Kiss Me (13 page)

Maria sat on the bed, tapping her foot on the carpet and waiting. She wanted out of the house before she had to face Jose again, before she lost her temper and did things she had no right to do—such as blaming him for the death of a child he knew nothing about.

Realistically, she knew Jose held no responsibility for the baby’s death, but a part of her dealt in feelings, not facts, a part which believed that if Jose hadn’t left for New York, she wouldn’t have miscarried. But she couldn’t just trust feelings. Take Matt for example. Her feelings swore they had something special, yet last night he’d walked out on her. He hadn’t offered any excuse for his long stays in Dallas—probably because his reasons weren’t excusable.

He’d wanted her to explain Jose, of course, but she hadn’t done that only because it felt wrong to talk about Jose while he was there. And while Matt might have assumed the worst, he would have been wrong. Although…he would have been only a shade off. The truth was, at
one time she had indeed been having an affair with him. But that didn’t mean she didn’t care for Matt, and it didn’t mean she was cheating on him.

Instantly, she questioned if her own assumptions about Matt were faulty. Could he have a reason for staying in Dallas that might not include a lurid affair? Her heart said yes, and she let the possibility take a few laps around her head, but then she reminded herself that she was at it again. She was letting her feelings guide her.

Her cell phone rang. Hoping it was Sky, she checked the caller ID and almost didn’t answer. She wasn’t in the mood for one of Jessie’s gossip sessions. Then again, sitting around thinking about Matt held zero appeal as well.

“Hello,” she said.

“You are never going to believe this,” Jessie began, giggling.

“What?” Maria asked.

She really didn’t have to; Jessie would have told her either way. Jessie loved telling things. The only way the woman wouldn’t blab something to hell and back was if she pinky-promised not to. Not that Maria asked for any pinky-promises from Jessie. Not lately. Not since the miscarriage and her secret affair with Jose. Her relationship with Matt had never been a secret. She hadn’t cared if the whole world knew they were together.

“He stayed the night with her at the hotel,” Jessie said.

Maria’s heart clutched. “Matt stayed at your hotel with some woman?”

“Matt?” Jessie repeated. “No, not Matt.
Sky
stayed at the hotel with…Ah,
Dios.
Something happened between you and Matt.”

Maria let out a deep breath. “I’m not ready to talk about this.” But the words came out anyway. “Jose came home.”

Jessie gulped. “Does he know about the baby?”

“No,” Maria said. “It’s just…It was unbelievably crazy and I must have been acting guilty, because Matt somehow knew Jose is more than just my foster brother.”

“You need to tell him,” Jessie announced.

“Tell who?”

“Both,
chica.
Tell Jose so you can move past this. Tell Matt so you can stop feeling as if you are lying to him.”

Maria closed her eyes. “You know you can’t repeat this, right?”

“I promise on my pinky,” Jessie said. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay,” Maria growled, and tears filled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure it’s over.”

“But you told me yesterday that you thought he was the one! If he loves you, he—”

“I guess I thought wrong.” Maria wiped her eyes and tried to pull herself together. “Really, I’m not ready to talk about it yet.”

“Okay, but you know that when you are, I’m here for you.”

“You always are,” Maria said. “And I love you for it.”

There was a pause. “Now, do you want to hear about Sky’s shenanigans?”

“Sure,” Maria said. “What did he do?”

Jessie began with the whole hotel break-in and her husband’s near-death experience with the black sedan. She ended with something about Sky having erectile dysfunction. Maria didn’t believe it, but the delivery was funny and she found herself pushing her own problems aside to laugh with her best friend.

“I’m cleaning their room now. The bed is messy—”

“Sky left?” Maria asked.

“Just a few minutes ago.”

Maria breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. But you have to let me go so I can get Redfoot’s things together.”

After a few more words, the two women hung up. Maria tiptoed down the hall to Redfoot’s bedroom. With luck, Jose would stay incapacitated until she left for the hospital.

Sky hadn’t explained where they were going or what “family issue” he needed to fix, and Shala didn’t ask. She wanted to, but those caution flags kept waving in her head. Sky Gomez, with his mouth-watering body and wit, his bedroom smile, and his caring approach to life had her working overtime at putting up barriers.

Oddly, she hadn’t worried about barriers before. She hadn’t needed them. It wasn’t as if the men weren’t knocking on her door. They were, but sending them packing had been a piece of cake. She hadn’t even needed barriers. Until now.

“You okay?” Sky asked.

She cut her gaze toward him. “Fine.”

“You got quiet,” he said. “Where did you go?”

“I have a lot to think about,” she answered vaguely.

“Your hand’s not hurting, is it?”

“It’s sore is all.” She looked at her bandaged palm, remembering the fear she’d experienced while huddled on the floor at Sky’s house. “What’s the chance of this freak just giving up?”

Sky’s right eyebrow rose. “Not knowing exactly what it’s about, it’s hard to guess. But my instinct says that he’s gone to too much trouble to just throw in the towel.”

Her stomach gurgled with frustration. “What the hell could I have photographed that’s worth hurting people over?”

“I don’t know,” Sky said, “but we’ll go over your pictures and maybe find something.”

“And if we don’t?”

He frowned. “Then we catch him when he tries his next move.” His gaze softened, and he reached over and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Shala. I promise.”

His words rang so sincere, his touch was so tender, but as she felt herself warming to him, common sense kicked in and immediately she went back to barrier-building.

They drove past the arena where the powwow was held, onto the Chitiwa reservation. Shala had driven around here yesterday while trying to get a feel for the place. It mostly consisted of well-kept middle-class homes, although she’d spotted a share of empty or rundown buildings, early signs of a town’s downhill slide. According to the mayor, more and more of the younger Native Americans were moving away. The bad economy was blamed for the tribe’s losing its sense of community and culture. Shala figured it was the way of the world for the youth to move on, but a bad financial situation was hardly enticement to stay.

Yet with just a little cooperation from the locals, Precious could really turn its economy around. The town had so much to offer vacationers. With several lakes and a river, the town center’s quaintness, the historical buildings, Precious had so much promise. Add the appeal of tribal history, and with just a little work, she really could see the town becoming a weekend vacation spot as popular as Fredericksburg.

She remembered one of the questions she’d wanted to ask the mayor, and it slipped out of her mouth. “Does Precious have an art community?”

“Community?” Sky echoed.

“Local artists, galleries, studios?”

“We have lots of artists. No galleries. As for studios…it depends on what you mean. Most of the locals work out of their homes. Estella, Redfoot’s wife, was well-known
for her pottery before she passed away. She had shows everywhere, including New York. She even had exhibits in Paris. She used to teach classes at the lodge. Maria still does a class every summer.”

Shala heard the hint of grief in his voice. “How long ago did Estella pass away?”

“Ten years ago.” He paused. “But it seems like yesterday. She was one hell of a lady. Redfoot knew how to pick them.”

Shala smiled. “Precious should promote this, maybe open up a few studios for tourists. Offer weekend art classes. Make it a memorial to her.”

He glanced over, and a satisfied smile tickled his lips. “That’s a wonderful idea. Maria still does some pieces, and she paints. I personally think she’s as good as Estella, but she hasn’t tried to sell anything. Do you want me to tell Maria to get a meeting of the local artists together, so you can speak with them?”

The question reminded Shala that she’d told him she was quitting. She’d been serious about that, hadn’t she?

“Who’s Maria?” A Maria had called Sky last night when Redfoot was hurt. Was the woman Sky’s girlfriend? The thought stung, but only because he’d been flirting with her. Not because she was interested.

Keep telling yourself that,
a voice whispered in her head.

“She came to live with Redfoot and Estella when she was sixteen, as a foster child. She still lives with Redfoot.”

Shala nodded, relieved if not wanting to admit it. Then other questions formed. Personal questions. Yet if she asked too much, Sky might question the source of the information she’d obtained while snooping through his house. Then she remembered, “The nurse at the hospital last night called Redfoot your foster father. Is—?”

“Yes.” Sky looked out the side window, as if to escape any more questions. A minute later, he parked in front of
a white brick home. “Actually, you can ask Maria about the art community yourself.”

“Maria?” Sky called out as he and Shala stepped into Redfoot’s entryway. It smelled strongly of air freshener and scented candles.

“In Redfoot’s room, gathering a few of his things,” came a very quiet reply from down the hall. “I’ll be ready in a snap.”

Sky’s gaze went to the huge mirror in the hall and studied his reflection. Shala stood next to him. Damn, if she didn’t look good there. He was dark; she, light. His solid frame contrasted with her curvier one. And while he had a good ten inches on her—the top of her head only came to his shoulders—something about her size felt perfect, as if she’d been molded to fit his body. He’d never been particular about a woman’s size before, but suddenly he wondered if he’d overlooked a fetish for petite girls.

Her gaze locked with his in the mirror. He recalled how quickly she’d shut down when he’d complimented her in the truck. Right then, he knew there was more than just her camera standing in the way of them getting close. Or getting naked.

His gaze lowered to the cotton-covered breasts filling her pink T-shirt. There was nothing petite about those. Looking back at her eyes, he saw their warning:
Don’t come any closer.
But while Shala Winters kept herself locked away, he was good at picking locks.

Their staring had reached the awkward stage, so he looked away from the mirror and directly at her. Their gazes met and locked again.

“Why don’t you wait in the living room while I speak to Maria,” he suggested, motioning to a room down the hall. “On the shelves are some of Estella’s and Maria’s pieces. Feel free to check them out.”

Nodding, Shala walked away.

He enjoyed the view of that perky ass. Her shorts hugged all the right places. But when he felt his body responding, he forced himself to move down the hall. When had he reverted to instant hard-ons?
Since you haven’t had sex in a month of Sundays,
he told himself, not wanting to think it had everything to do with Shala herself.

Moving down the hall, he found Maria gathering a clean change of clothes into a bag. “Hey,” he said.

His foster sister turned, and the moment he saw her face, he sensed that whatever was going on was more serious than he’d feared.

“You didn’t wake him up, did you?” she asked.

“Wake who up?”

She rolled her eyes. “Jose.”

“No.” Sky took a few more steps. “What’s going on, Maria?”

“He still stinks,” she replied.

Right then, another smell, one that lingered beneath the air freshener, penetrated Sky’s senses. “Is that skunk?”

“Lovely, isn’t it?” Maria snapped. “You’re going to have to deal with him, because I just can’t.”

“What the hell happened?”

“Leave it to Jose to come back and screw everything up.”

“Screw what up?” Sky had never really seen Jose as a troublemaker.

“Everything.” Tears filled Maria’s eyes. “He screwed up everything.”

She came barreling at him, Redfoot’s underwear clutched in her hand, and wrapped her arms around him. When Maria needed a hug, she didn’t ask, she took. When she thought you needed a hug, she gave without permission, too. Fighting it was like fighting Mother Nature. So Sky just endured.

“I can’t stay here while he’s home,” she sniffled. “Please tell me I can hang out at your place.”

“Of course you can.” Visions of Shala danced in his head, but he simply couldn’t tell Maria no.

Of course, an idiot with a gun had gone to his place. His home might not be safe for Maria or Shala. But he also had a lot of stuff to work through, and he really didn’t have to time to stand here hugging his sister in a skunked-up room.

He’d just opened his mouth to speak again when a scream from the other room split the air.

Shala had been admiring the pottery on the entire wall when her foot bumped into something, but she was so awed by the glazed pottery that she ignored it. These were gorgeous pieces with smooth rising lines. Sky’s foster mother had indeed been an amazing artist. Or were some of them Maria’s? But then that something her foot had struck—or rather, that someone—wrapped a hand around her ankle. It was a dark-haired man, eyes closed and stretched out on the floor. He wore only a woman’s pink bathrobe. And—

“Holy moly!”

For the second time that morning, she found herself staring at an erection. And while Shala had no problem with male anatomy, having gone visually penis-free for so long, the sudden wealth of phalluses was a shock to her system.

She jerked her leg, but the grip tightened. The man
opened his eyes and glared up at her. She loosed a scream and took off in a dead run—not an easy task when someone has a death grip on your ankle. Before she knew it, she found herself facedown on the carpet. The man still held her ankle, so she kicked, hard. Her foot made contact.

The hold on her ankle fell away. A few choice words sputtered out behind her, but she didn’t look back. On her hands and knees, Shala crawled like a baby on speed across the living-room floor. She moved at such amazing velocity that she plowed right into another pair of jeans-clad legs. She didn’t even bother looking up, but barreled right between the knees and took a sharp left into the hall.

The front door was now in view, so she lunged to her feet and took off. But she didn’t make it. Someone snagged her arm.

“What’s wrong?”

Sky.
Her heart hammered in her throat, and she couldn’t answer. Swinging around, she pointed to the living room.

“What?” Sky asked. The near-naked, cross-dressing ankle-grabber lay hidden behind the sofa.

“Oh this is freaking great!” said a dark-haired woman behind Sky—Maria, Shala assumed. She stood with her hands on her hips, frowning toward the living room. Something about her expression said she knew what had Shala so panicky.

“Please, stop yelling.” The ankle-grabber stood up, holding both his palms over his ears. Blood was running from his nose. Unfortunately, with both his hands being used as earmuffs, he couldn’t hold the ill-fitting pink robe over his privates. At least the thing wasn’t still standing at attention.

“For Christ’s sake, Jose!” moaned Sky. “Cover yourself.”

The man flinched, then lowered one hand to pull some
pink material over his crotch. “Just stop yelling and”—he pointed at Shala—“keep her away from me.” He wiped his other hand under his nose. Slowly, bloodily, he moved past them down the hall.

It couldn’t exactly be called a graceful exit. Not just because each step appeared to pain him, but because with the robe pulled tight in front, the back of the pink robe rode up above his naked buttocks. And right before he stepped out of view he muttered, “Welcome to fucking Precious.”

Sky frowned at Shala, who quickly explained. “He grabbed my ankle and wouldn’t let go. I was trying to get away. I didn’t mean—”

“Stop,” Sky said. “I’m not blaming you.” He placed an arm around her shoulder. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” She noted the easy manner with which he touched her, and questioned if she should step away. “I wasn’t the one bleeding.”

“Yeah, but he scared the crap out of you.” Sky stared down the hall. “What’s he thinking, running around like that?”

Shala shot him an accusing look. “
Now
nudity is a crime?”

“Yes. Indecent exposure. But I’m talking about that pink robe.” Then, as if just realizing her meaning, he added, “This isn’t the same thing as the hotel.” He raked a hand over his face and looked at his foster sister. “What the hell is going on, Maria?”

“You tell me, then we’ll both know. He’s pretty much been like this since I found him in my tub, bathing in douche.”

“Douche?” Shala gasped, certain she’d misunderstood.

“Yes. I’m sorry. My name is Maria, and I swear my house isn’t normally occupied by hungover, nearly naked men giving peep shows. And it doesn’t always stink like a skunk, either.”

“Skunk,” Shala repeated. She caught herself inhaling,
and past the air-freshened scent she picked up a hint of stink. “Oh, my!”

“Terrible, isn’t it.” Tears filled Maria’s eyes. “It’s been a hard night.”

Shala nodded. Awkward silence filled the room, and then Maria offered, “Have you guys heard that mustard is great for burns?”

“Yellow mustard?” Shala asked, not knowing what else to say.

“Yes. I read it in the paper a few days ago.”

“What the hell does mustard have to do with this?” Sky asked.

“Nothing,” Maria snapped. “I was just hoping to break the awkward silence.”

Shala grinned. “You didn’t get that?”

“No, I didn’t, but I’ll let you guys discuss mustard on your own.” Sky moved around the two women. “Excuse me just a minute.” He walked down the hall and disappeared into the same room as the ankle-grabber.

Jose heard someone moving down the hall, and his head pounded in unison. Those footsteps sounded like a jackhammer striking concrete. He just managed to pull the front of the robe over his dick before the door swung open.

He blinked, causing extreme pain to his eyeballs—who knew eyeballs could hurt?—and stared at Sky in the doorway. “I’ll give you twenty bucks if you don’t slam the door,” he begged.

His foster brother apparently wasn’t in the same financial straits as during his teen years, because he slammed the door and yelled, “What the hell is going on?”

Jose held up a hand. “I think I drank too much.”

“You think you drank too much? What was your first fucking clue—your headache, smelling like the bottom of a whiskey barrel, or waking up wearing pink lingerie and attacking an innocent woman?”

“I didn’t attack her. I thought she was Maria and I was just going to…I wanted…Oh, hell, I had a wreck and then there were fire ants, and thorns, and then that skunk came out of nowhere. Then I found out Maria is sleeping with some white boy with a big dick. Then the dick and Maria came in, and I was naked and almost drunk. I guess I didn’t see the point in stopping then.”

Sky just stared. Jose didn’t blame him. If he hadn’t experienced it all, he’d think the whole story was a crock.

He scowled. “Hell, I’ve still got the ant bites on my balls, if you care to check. I’ll bet you can still find a few thorns in my nose, and the damn house still smells like skunk. And don’t forget the car. You’ll find it over by Old Man Jacobs’s place, wrapped around a tree.”

“You were driving drunk?”

Jose ground his teeth. Sky looked ready to pull out a pair of handcuffs and drag his ass to jail, and that pissed him off. Sure, he didn’t carry a badge and protect the good people of Precious, he hadn’t stayed behind to be the son of Redfoot, but he designed friggin’ buildings that each alone could house more people than populated this town. Didn’t that count for anything? Why did Jose always feel as if he stood in Sky’s shadow?

“I wasn’t drunk when I hit the tree,” Jose said. “I was rushing home to check on my father.”

Sky shook his head. “Well, if you plan on seeing Redfoot this morning, you’d better clean up your act and fast. Even suffering from a concussion, he sees you wearing that pink robe and he’s likely to kick your ass and ask questions later.”

Jose clenched his fist. Maybe it was still the whiskey, but damn if he didn’t want to pound Sky Gomez’s face in. How dare his foster brother come in here and explain his father? Just because Jose and Redfoot were nothing alike didn’t mean Jose didn’t know his old man.

“Just leave,” Jose snapped, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

The tension faded from Sky’s expression. “I don’t mean to start shit, Jose, but damn it, you…” He raked a hand down his face. “Don’t you want a ride to the hospital? I think Maria said Redfoot has the only keys to his car.”

“I’ll find my own way.”

Sky stood there as if intending to argue, but his cell phone rang and he pulled it from its case and checked the caller ID. A worried expression crossed his face as he answered. “What is it now, Martha?” he asked.

The tension in Sky’s posture had Jose listening.

“No!” Sky bit out and turned around and leaned against the wall. “How serious is it?” Sky paused. “Damn it, this is my fault!” He leaned against the wall. “I’m on my way. Call Pete and Ricardo and get them over there.” He pulled his phone from his ear.

Jose’s heart leaped in his chest. “What is it? Dad?”

Sky turned, and the look on his face was grim. “Not Redfoot,” he said. “It’s Jessie.”

“Jessie Lopez, Maria’s friend?” Jose asked.

Sky nodded, turning toward the door.

“What happened?”

Sky glanced back. “She was shot. And it’s my damn fault. I should have never left the camera there.”

Shala sat between Sky and Maria, both of whom were giving off so much tension and fierce concern that it filled every nook and cranny of the truck, making it hard to breathe. Jessie had been shot.

She didn’t really know Jessie, and the few encounters the two had shared were short, but Shala could still recall the smile the woman had worn this morning when Sky made his ED comment. She recalled Sky’s frustration about her being a gossip, but even then, Shala had heard genuine affection in his voice, as if Jessie were a family member who drove him crazy but he tolerated because, deep down, he cared.

Yup, Shala had heard that in his voice. She’d almost
envied it, too. It had been a long time since she’d had a circle of family and friends. She accepted that her solitary lifestyle was her choice. After the divorce, most of her friends had pulled away—some because they were more Brian’s friends, and others because…well, because they were married and having a single friend, bitter about men, wasn’t good for their own relationships. Then came Nana’s death, and after that the new business. It had just seemed easier to focus on work than on outside relationships. Easier, but lonely.

Glancing from Sky’s scowl to Maria’s soulful expression, she felt the guilt blossom twofold in her chest. People Sky cared about were getting hurt. Was it her fault?

“I’m so sorry,” she muttered. “I swear I have no idea why this is happening.”

“This isn’t you,” Sky said, and continued to make his way through the traffic, doing about seventy miles per hour. “If anyone is to blame, it’s me. I should never have left that camera at the hotel.”

“No one is guilty but the person who shot her,” Maria said. Sky had given her a short synopsis of everything they knew. “We just have to believe that everything is going to be okay. Jessie is going to be fine.” She cupped her hands together, and her eyes grew moist.

Shala turned from Maria to look at Sky, and what he said suddenly sank in. “My camera was at the hotel?”

“In Sal’s safe.”

She felt terrible asking, but the camera did hold an emotional connection to her Nana. “Does this mean it was stolen? I mean, I know it’s not really important now, but—”

“I don’t know,” Sky said. “From what Martha told me, Jessie was shot while cleaning your room. So I don’t think so.”

“My room…” Shala stared at her lap. Deep down she’d been hoping this would turn out to be about something else. Such hope was shattered. “God, first Redfoot
and now this.” She closed her eyes. “I should just take the camera and go back to Houston. Let the police there try to sort this out.”

“Like hell,” Sky said.

“I don’t want anyone else hurt!”

“So you’re going to go off and get yourself killed?” he asked.

“I won’t get hurt. I’ll go straight to—”

“Damn right you won’t get hurt, because you’re not leaving.”

The mixed emotions in her chest found a leader: anger. Anger at Sky. “You can’t force me—”

“The hell I can’t. I told you earlier, you’re being detained. If you try to leave, I’ll arrest your ass.”

Shala scowled right back at him and then looked at Maria. “Is he always so downright, frustratingly, overwhelmingly, pigheadedly difficult?”

“Gosh, could you have thrown in a couple more adverbs?” he asked.

Maria raised her eyebrows, glancing at Sky and then Shala as if making an assessment. “No, he’s not always that way. Only with people he really cares about.”

They drove the next five minutes in silence. Sky chewed on everything he knew about the shooting, and on everything he didn’t know. He needed more information and to make some decisions.

Maria leaned forward to look at him. “I thought we were going to the hospital.”

Sky parked in front of Sal’s hotel. When he saw both the black-and-white cruiser and Ricardo’s red Chevy, he found he could at least breathe a little better.

He glanced at Maria, saw the worry in her eyes. Damn, if he didn’t know just how she felt. The weight of the world was on his chest right now, a big part of it guilt. He’d totally screwed up by leaving Shala’s camera.

“I need to stop by for just a few minutes. Can you two wait here?” He wanted to be able to keep them in sight. God forbid, the asshole who’d shot Jessie was still around. His gut said that was next: if the perp couldn’t find the camera, he’d go after the photographer.

“Can’t you drop me off at the hospital?” Maria asked.

“I need to do this, Maria. I won’t be—”

“Nothing you can do here is more important than Jessie.” Tears filled his sister’s eyes.

“I’ll only be a few minutes.”

“Why now?”

“It’s my job,” he explained, careful to stay patient. He’d already lost his cool with Shala. Later, when some of the pressure had eased, he’d apologize for sounding harsh about her wanting to leave. But protecting her was his job, damn it!

“Promise me you two will stay right here,” he demanded.

Maria and Shala both nodded. Maria’s sorrow cut deep, but he didn’t have time or the words to console her. As he got out of his truck, however, he saw Shala reach over and take Maria’s hand. He stood beside the window and stared, unprepared for the emotion swirling in his chest. He wouldn’t let this nutjob get to her.

“Sky?” called Pete, one of the state troopers. Sky headed across the parking lot toward him.