Shut Up and Kiss Me (15 page)

She didn’t listen but went right back to jabbering. When she mentioned her ex again, which he had no desire to hear about, he noticed two things. First, the elevator wasn’t moving. They obviously hadn’t hit a button. Not that he minded. He could and would use it to his advantage. Second, while she worked awfully hard telling him they shouldn’t kiss, her eyes told him just the opposite. Added was the fact that her sweet palm remained against his chest.

“Shala?” He tapped his finger on her ever-moving lips.

“What?” she asked again, but didn’t wait for him to answer before starting another sequence of jabbering.

“Would you please? Just…shut up and kiss me.” He leaned down and claimed her mouth again. He could taste the toothpaste she’d used this morning. And he tasted more: he tasted
her.
Intoxicating. Like good wine or ripe, exotic fruit. Something to be savored.

She didn’t resist this time. The kiss wasn’t meant to be pure lust, and it wasn’t. It was soft. It was giving. And it was more intimate than he wanted to admit.

Not that lust didn’t enter into it.

He slipped his tongue into her mouth and she moaned. Her breasts, soft mounds of flesh, pushed against his chest right above where she kept her hand. Her nipples were
hard, begging for attention. He felt himself thickening. Yet lust still placed second in what was happening here. Sky didn’t even completely understand it, but the experience had something to do with wanting to help her, to soothe her, to chase away the nightmare he knew existed in her head about her parents and about hospitals.

A deep clearing of a throat sounded. Since Shala’s lips were occupied, as were as his own, it had to be from someone else. How he’d missed the sound of the elevator door opening, he didn’t know. Yet now they had company, so he had to pull away. And he would. In just…one…more…second.

Okay, two seconds.

Pulling back, he was rewarded by Shala’s sweet weight falling against him. He smiled. There was nothing like knowing you’d turned a woman’s knees to jelly. He took her by the shoulders to steady her before focusing on the uninvited guest.

It was the frowning, stern face of a balding man that watched them through the open elevator doors. Shocked but refusing to be intimidated, Sky nodded. “Mayor Johnson.”

Shala didn’t bounce back as quickly. Her eyes widened with panic. Her mouth, swollen from his kiss, opened, but when no words came out, she closed it. Then she opened it again. Then she closed it.

Words finally spilled out, not that they made much sense. “Hi…I was…Sky and I were…I mean, Mr. Gomez and I were…We were—”

Knowing Shala could go on babbling for a good ten minutes, and God only knew what excuse she might produce for them kissing, Sky intervened. “Have you and Ms. Winters been officially introduced yet?”

The mayor glared at Sky before seeming to come to his senses. “Only on the phone.”

Sky watched Shala and the mayor shake hands. Then the mayor’s all-consuming frown was again aimed at
him. “Can I have a minute of your time, Chief Gomez?” he asked.

“Just one,” Sky insisted.

“What the hell are you doing?” the mayor seethed in the first second of his minute. He had only a minute—Sky was timing him.

Sky glanced from his watch to Shala, who was standing beside the elevators a good thirty feet behind him, looking as if she wished to fade into the hospital’s white walls. He needed to get her out of here. Or kiss her again. Then she’d forget her embarrassment. The second option was more appealing.

Sure, kissing her might appear inappropriate to some, but he’d kissed her for the same reason he’d hugged Maria: to give comfort.

“Do you have something to say, Mayor? Because your time is running out.” Sky tapped his watch. Phillip would be calling soon.

“Do I have something to say?” he bellowed, then lowered his voice. “You have an attempted murder, three breaking-and-enterings, one attempted burglary, one attempted vehicular homicide, an important tourism specialist—who is our last chance at saving this town—and what are you doing? Playing kissy-kissy with her in the elevator.”

Sky frowned. “As I already told you on the phone, I have Pete and Ricardo standing guard at the crime scene. The Texas Rangers are on their way. I have the gun that was found last night waiting to be checked for prints.” He motioned down the hall toward the waiting room. “The woman in that operating room is my friend, and as soon as I get the update on her condition, I’m going to be combing though Shala’s images again, trying to figure out why this is happening.”

The mayor started to bluster, but Sky checked his watch again and kept talking. “I’ve secured a place for Shala to
stay in case this asshole comes after her again. I’ve spent the last twelve hours running around town dealing with all the crap that you just pointed out, while also trying to keep her safe. Unlike you, I haven’t been playing golf with a bunch of buddies, claiming to have a family emergency while you’re supposed to be working. Still, if you have comments about how I do my job, I’ll be happy to listen to them later. But my personal life is…personal.”

“You can’t be…seeing a victim. It’s against policy.”

“Thing is, I was seeing her before she became a victim. Now, if you want me to resign…?”

“Seeing her
before?
She’s only been here two days.”

“I work fast,” he said. “But as I said, if you want—”

“No.” The mayor groaned, but Sky knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t back down completely. “You’re good at your job—that’s why I hired you. But Ms. Winters is…Damn it, Sky, you’re going to mess this up for us. Your ‘love ’em and leave ’em’ ways are going turn us into a ghost town. We don’t need you breaking her heart and then—”

“Your minute’s up. I’m taking her out for fresh air. I’ll be right outside the hospital if you need me.”

He started back toward Shala with the mayor’s warning, along with a few of his own, echoing inside his head. However, one look at Shala and the warning faded. They were adults, damn it!

“Am I fired?” she asked as they stepped back into the elevator.

“Hell, no.” Sky pushed the down button. “He’s just jealous that it wasn’t him in the elevator. He’s been drooling over that photograph of you in your bathing suit with your essay on kayaking since he hired you.”

“You’re joking.” She looked appalled.

“Nope,” Sky answered truthfully. “He even printed it out. Not that I blame him. My printer is broken or I’d have done the same.” Smiling, Sky brushed a strand of hair from her cheek.

She caught his hand. “Don’t even think about kissing me again.”

The elevator doors opened. With a hand on her back, he ushered her out. “I don’t think either of us can forget about it.”

“Watch me,” she said.

“I will.” He fitted his palm to the soft curve of her waist. “Watching you is one of my favorite pastimes.”

Her pace slowed. He gave her a little nudge, leading her outside through the hospital’s automatic doors. While it was only nine in the morning, the heat radiating from the pavement promised the day would see record highs. Sky gave the parking lot a once-over, looking for black sedans. There weren’t any.

His cell rang, and he checked the number, worried it was the mayor. “It’s Maria,” he told Shala, and his gut tightened. Keeping one arm around her, he answered the call. “Please tell me it’s good news.”

“She’s out of surgery. The doctor said it looks good.”

“Thank God!” The weight in his chest faded. He smiled at Shala, who smiled back. “I’m going to grab a breakfast sandwich from the deli,” he told Maria. “See if anyone else needs anything and I’ll bring it up.”

“Why don’t you bring a dozen doughnuts?” Maria said. “Oh. Have you told Redfoot about Jessie yet?”

“No. Didn’t want to worry him. But speaking of Redfoot, I’m going to have to meet someone in a little while, so can you get him home?”

“You bet. See you in a few minutes.”

“So, Jessie’s going to be okay?” Shala asked when Sky hung up.

“Doctor said it looks good.” He nudged her forward again. “Come on, there’s a diner across the street that sells breakfast sandwiches. You hardly ate yesterday; I’m sure you’re starved.” He glanced at his watch. “Unfortunately, we’re going to have to wolf them down. I need to get you situated and going through those images while I meet
the Texas Rangers at the crime scene. They’re going to want to take the camera, so I need copies on my computer before they get here.”

“Get me situated where?” she asked.

“A friend of mine, military and an ex-cop, lives a couple miles from my place. He’ll be keeping an eye on you while I work.”

She frowned. “Do you really think that’s necessary?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Don’t start.” Although she continued to frown, he saw her mentally throw in the towel, so he promised, “He’s a good guy.”

At the sidewalk, and between the sounds of birds and chatting people, he heard a car’s engine revving. Turning, he saw a silver SUV barreling right at them.

Shala saw Sky turn, and then she felt him swing around, hard and fast. His forearm, thick and corded with muscle, smacked right across her abdomen. It knocked the air from her lungs and hurled her several feet off the ground and across the sidewalk. Her back slammed against the ground before she felt another blow—something heavy smacked on top of her, then rolled off. Wait. Not an it—a he. Sky rolled off of her.

The roar of an engine rang in her ears, followed by the squeal of tires. The smell of exhaust made her aware of how close the car had come to hitting her. She gasped for air, but the oxygen wouldn’t travel down her throat.

Sky was scrambling to his feet and pulling something from inside his shirt. A gun. He pointed but didn’t shoot. “God damn son of a bitch!”

Sky’s words bounced around inside her head. Then the realization hit: someone had tried to make roadkill out of her. Still gasping like a fish out of water, she saw Sky towering over her. At last her lungs cooperated, and she sucked in much-needed oxygen. She probably sounded like a strangled elephant.

“You okay? NJ6328. NJ6328…”

Breathing got easier, but talking was not yet feasible, so she just nodded.

“NJ6328,” he repeated. “The tag number was NJ6328. Can you stand up?” He knelt down, concern flickering in his eyes.

“I think so,” she managed to say.

He helped her up and pulled her against him. Tight. She sensed people milling around. She didn’t care, only wanted to stand there and absorb Sky’s strength.

“It’s okay,” he said.

“I know,” she whispered, then realized he wasn’t talking to her.

“I’ve got it handled,” he told the gathering crowd. “Move away. It’s handled.”

He appeared calm. She knew better; she felt the tension in his body. His heart thudded in his chest, right where her cheek rested. He continued to hold her, and she continued to let him. She felt him shifting one arm and heard him pushing a number into his phone.

“Martha, it’s Sky. I need a license number pulled. NJ6328. Call me as soon as you have it. Just do it! And call Ricardo and Pete and have one of them head out toward the hospital looking for a silver SUV with that plate. Just do it!” he repeated.

Hanging up, he gently raised her face from his chest. A huge scowl beetled his eyebrows. “Christ. You’re bleeding.”

A coppery taste filled her mouth and she remembered. “I bit my lip when I landed.”

“Come on, let’s have a doctor look at you.” He had his overbearing, in-charge voice going.

She stepped out of his embrace. “I’m fine. Look.” She pulled her lip out to let him see. He pushed a hand down his face, then started moving her toward the hospital.

“I hit you hard, Shala.” He wore guilt like a cloak again.

“You knocked me out of the way of a speeding car. Having a bleeding lip is a small price to pay. And it does not warrant being seen by a doctor.”

He didn’t stop moving until the hospital doors swished closed behind them. “You swear you don’t hurt anywhere else?”

“I swear.”

He looked back out the doors.

“Do you need to go after him?” she asked.

“No, he’s gone by now. And I got a trooper out looking for him.”

“That’s disappointing,” she said, hoping a bit of humor would help the tension.

“What is?”

She grinned. “It’s just that the cops in the movies—you know, Hollywood cops—would chase them down on foot, commandeer a motorcycle or a Porsche, and after an exciting high-speed chase, they’d jump on top of the moving vehicle and get their guy.”

Humor flashed in his eyes. “Yeah, I was going to do that, but I didn’t want to show off. We just started dating.”

“Funny,” she said. But just as suddenly, her amusement faded. As he moved her to the elevator his words replayed in her ears, the feel of his hand on her waist tingled down her body, and the memory of their kiss played like slow music in her brain.

The music came to a screeching halt as she heard another of her emotional barriers crash to the ground. She couldn’t do this. She pulled away from his touch. “What’s really funny is the lie about us dating.”

“Why is it a lie?” he asked.

“I told you why.” She stared at the closing elevator doors, attempting to close the doors to her heart.

“I must have missed that. Was it right before you kissed me?”

She stared at him, her emotions running amok. “
You
kissed
me.
I didn’t kiss you.”

“Semantics.” He moved closer, and his arm brushed hers. Leaning down, he touched his lips to her temple. “Because you enjoyed it as much as I did.”

“Says who?” she snipped. He was right, but she’d never admit it to him. Or to herself. Yup, lying to oneself was often recommended by the surgeon general. Or at least it was favored over cigarette smoking.

“Me. I say so.” Sky laughed. “And I’ll bet if you ask the mayor, he’ll agree.”

“See, is this so hard, woman?” Redfoot asked Veronica, craning his neck to lock eyes with her. It had taken almost an hour to talk her into his bed.

“For one minute only. I swear, if someone catches us I’ll say you forced me.”

“You would not.” He smiled and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss lingered, the kind that told a man a woman wanted him. That she cared.

He moved his hand up to her breasts. Her lips tasted sweet, like a woman should. He moved his mouth to her neck. And damn if he didn’t feel things moving down south in an appropriate way. Maybe he didn’t need the pills anymore. Maybe with his feelings growing into something more than lust, his body would cooperate.

As his fingers began to toy with her nipple, she removed his hand from her breast. “I think your minute is up,
viejo
.”

He laughed and gave her cleavage a kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed him tightly to her breasts.

“You are such a bad man, but you make me feel young and daring.”

“We
are
young and daring.” He went to pull back, but his hair had gotten tangled in the tiny buttons on her blouse.

“Redfoot, I should get up before someone comes in.”

“I would let you, but I think you have my young and daring hair caught in your buttons.”

She pushed him up, but the hair tore at his scalp. “Wait,” he said. “Let me get on top and then you can see to pull it free.”

He rolled on top of her, and the cool air of the room bathed his bare buttocks as the covers slipped off.

“Raise your head,” Veronica said, and giggled.

“I’m showing my ass,” he complained with a laugh.

“It’s not a bad ass,” she teased. “Raise your head a bit.”

He tried, but the hair was too tangled. He dropped his face back to her breasts, then tried again.

“Not yet.” Her fingers worked in his hair. “Now try.”

She gently pushed him up, but the pain quickly brought his nose back to her cleavage. She tugged him up; he pushed back down. If he didn’t feel certain that the game would leave him bald, he would have enjoyed it. And that’s the position they were in—ass showing, pushing up and down, both of them muttering and giggling and occasionally groaning—when the door swept open behind them.

Redfoot reached to conceal his posterior with a blanket. Unfortunately, this brought his head up, tearing hair from his scalp, and he immediately pushed back down. Veronica tried to wriggle away from him, but with half his hair attached to her bosom, there was no escape.

“Mom?” A voice echoed in the room. Veronica froze, and Redfoot heard words he’d never heard her say before.

“Dad?” Another voice sounded, and Redfoot recognized his own son.

“Leave!” Redfoot bellowed out. He heard a scramble of retreating footsteps.

Veronica, using what only could be described as maternal force, pushed him off her, removing a good portion of his scalp. She lunged out of bed. “My son!” she accused. “You said he would not be at the hospital! Now he sees me and…he knows. Oh, my. What have you done to me, Redfoot?”

Jose looked at Ramon, who was standing stunned outside Redfoot’s hospital room. “Tell me we didn’t just see that. Tell me it didn’t happen.”

Ramon had his hands over his eyes like a child forced to watch a scary movie. “I don’t know what I saw. But I swear I didn’t see
that
.”

Jose closed his eyes, hoping it might help. But the vision of his old man’s ass moving up and down like a bad porn flick played in his head. Then the humor of the situation bubbled up inside him. He opened his eyes. “I’ll make you a deal. You poke my eyes out and I’ll poke yours.”

Ramon looked up. “Poke my eyes out? I’m blind. I’ll never see again.”

Jose laughed. “I tell you…it’s good to know that we can still do that at that age. Did you see them going at it!”

“Not funny,” Ramon said.

“Yes, it is,” Jose crowed. “They were going at it like rabbits!” Only then did he note what little humor had existed on Ramon’s face was gone.

“That’s my mother, damn it! I’m going to kill your father.” His friend took a step toward the door.

“No. Leave them be.” Jose grabbed him by the arm. Ramon turned, and his expression was ugly.

Sky had just hung up with Lucas, who was waiting for them at the emergency-room exit, when Martha called. The silver SUV belonged to Dr. Henry Michaels. Sky didn’t for one moment believe the doctor was behind this.

“That asshole must have stolen Henry’s car.”

“I don’t want to sound un-Christian,” Martha said,
“but if he touches my Cadillac, I’m personally sending him to Jesus to have a talk.”

Dropping Shala off with Lucas, Sky combed the hospital parking lot. There he found a black sedan. The rundown on that vehicle told him the car was stolen yesterday right outside of San Antonio. While that gave him nothing further on the perp’s identity, it did give him a time frame. The man couldn’t have gotten into town until midmorning yesterday. So if it was a picture taken by Shala that had caused all this mess, it had to have been taken after that—unless this guy wasn’t the one in the photograph, but hired by the one who was. Shit, this wasn’t doing him any good. Sky just prayed the vehicle had a fingerprint that would lead somewhere.

He called Ramon next. The mechanic was somewhere in the hospital, because his wrecker was parked not two cars away from the black sedan, with what Sky assumed was Jose’s smashed rental car.

Ramon didn’t answer, but Sky ran right into him as he walked back into the hospital.

“Hey, I just tried to call you.”

“And I didn’t answer for a reason.” Ramon kept walking.

Sky followed him back into the parking lot. “What’s up?”

“Your fucking dad’s up, that’s what. And I’m telling you right now, if that old man thinks he’s gonna do wrong by my mother, he’s got another think coming.”

Sky started to speak but didn’t have a friggin’ clue what to say. “I…What?”

“Your ol’ man is banging my mom, that’s what, and Jose and I just got to witness it!”

“Whoa.” Sky held up a hand. His mind didn’t want to wrap around those words, or the visual they created.
“What?”

“You heard me. He’s banging my mom in his hospital bed! While you might not be able to get it up, your old man doesn’t seem to have a problem.”

“What? I don’t have a probl—” The rest of what had been said filtered through his brain. “Redfoot would never…” Words failed Sky again, though he continued to walk beside Ramon.

“Look, I’m sure there’s been some mistake, and right now I need you to do something for me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not feeling very cooperative right now,” Ramon snapped. He pulled his keys from his pocket. “Just ask Jose.”

“No,” Sky said. “I need you to drop the car you’re carrying and take that one”—he pointed to the black sedan—“down to police headquarters. You can come back for this one later.”

“Like I said, I’m not feeling very cooperative,” Ramon repeated.

“It’s important,” Sky said. “It’s about Jessie’s shooter.”

The fury faded from Ramon’s expression. “Fine. But I swear to God, Sky, the next time I see your ol’ man, I’m belting him.”

“We’ll work that out later,” Sky said. He’d knock the shit out of anyone who touched Redfoot, Ramon included. But he couldn’t help but assume some huge misunderstanding had taken place.

Sky suddenly remembered the pills Redfoot had passed off to him last night. Well, maybe Redfoot and Ramon’s mother
were
sharing company. But no way would Redfoot be having sex in a hospital room where anyone could walk in. The man was too private.

Ramon started his wrecker and set the release on the car. When he got out to unhook the Mustang, Sky asked, “Is this Jose’s rental?”

“Yeah, and when you see him, tell him I’m sorry for punching him. He’s not responsible for Redfoot.”

Sky shook his head. Jose was having a hell of a bad day.