Shut Up and Kiss Me (7 page)

“Sky?”

Sky turned to see Ms. Gibson, a nurse and a friend of his secretary, walking out of the back. “How is he?” he and Maria asked at the same time.

“Doctor just got to him. But he keeps fading in and out of consciousness.”

“Oh,
Dios
.”

Maria reached out and clutched Sky’s arm. Sky didn’t blame her. He didn’t care for the nurse’s tone, either.

Air caught in Shala’s throat. She hated jumping to conclusions, but for the life of her, she couldn’t think of one damn good reason anyone would be wearing a ski mask when just a few hours ago you could smoke a roast on the pavement. Okay, she could think of
one
reason, but she didn’t like it one iota! The reason being, the man didn’t want anyone to recognize him because he was about to do something bad. Something illegal.

The dogs’ growls grew louder. She could hear footsteps moving up the walkway and slapped a hand over her mouth to stop a scream from spilling out. Her gaze cut to the door, which was unlocked. Dropping on her hands and knees, she crawled forward and turned the latch. The sound seemed to clatter through the silence, and she prayed the stranger hadn’t heard.

“Oh, shit,” she muttered under her breath. Breathing wasn’t coming easy. “Think,” she added. She remembered her cell was in her bag. Her bag was on the chair in the living room. But if she ran now, he might see her through the window. For some reason, staying hidden felt safer. Of course, if he decided to break a window or kick the door down, her little hiding place wouldn’t be so safe.

The dogs’ growls intensified. Shala’s gaze shot to the purse in the living room, which held her phone and her Mace. She remembered Sky’s phone on the counter beside the pantry. That was closer. Every instinct in her five-foot-three frame screamed for her to run to Sky’s phone and call 911, to insist once again that this was a Precious emergency.

Footsteps thudded onto the porch.

Along with a couple other people, Sky and Maria sat in the ER lobby and stared at the TV. It had only been ten minutes, but it seemed longer. Sky studied the door leading into the back and fought the urge to storm back there. He could tell Maria felt the same way.

“If they’re going to put a TV in a waiting room, why don’t they give us a remote control to change the channels?” his foster sister fumed.

Sky eyed the screen—the
Tonight Show
played—then Maria’s worried face. “Isn’t that the senator who they say is going to announce his candidacy for the next presidency?” he asked, hoping conversation would help ease the wait.

“Yeah, I think so,” Maria replied. “But I don’t like the looks of him.”

Sky glanced back at the screen. “I’ve read some good things,” he offered, not caring particularly but glad for the distraction. When he wasn’t thinking about Redfoot, he was thinking about the woman he’d left at his place.

“I’ve heard ‘good things’ about Hitler, too,” Maria said. “He’s got one of those faces. Reminds me of the guys my mom used to date. All talk, no substance.” Maria glanced back at the ER door. Sky reached over and squeezed her hand.

“I agree,” offered the woman sitting across room. “He has one of those faces. I could swear I saw that same weaselly face on a man pumping gas today.”

Maria offered the woman a smile, and then said to Sky, “What’s taking them so long? Maybe we should go check.”

Right then, the door into the back swung open and Dr. Henry Michaels walked through. Sky and Jose had gone to high school with him, and Sky liked knowing Henry was looking after Redfoot.

Both he and Maria jumped up, and Maria clutched Sky’s arm.

“Relax.” The doctor seemed to read their faces. “He’s fine for now.”

Maria let go of Sky’s arm, and Sky had to remind himself to breathe. They sat.

“I’m not going to lie to you. It could still be serious,” Henry amended. “His blood pressure’s low. We know he has a concussion. I’m going to get some CT scans to make sure there’s no bleeding in his brain. Whoever hit him wasn’t playing around. It could have killed him.”

Sky felt his own blood pressure rise.

“Redfoot’s no spring chicken.” Henry hesitated, then offered them a smile. “Then again, I thought he was going to kick my ass when I told him that.”

“Stubborn ol’ coot,” Maria snapped.

Sky grinned. “I think he did that once, didn’t he?”

Henry laughed. “You mean the time he caught Jose and me getting into his whiskey? He didn’t lay a hand on me, but I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared.” The doctor paused. “Anyway, once we have the results from the scan, I’ll know more.” He stood. “Oh, he’s asking for you, Sky. He won’t let the nurse undress him, and he says he’s not getting the test done until he sees you.”

“What about me?” Maria asked.

Henry offered her a sympathetic gaze. “He said just Sky.”

The sound of the dogs’ snarling seeped through the door.

“Motherfucker!” a deep voice rumbled. “You bite my ass, I’ll kill you, too!”

Too?

A large popping noise sounded. Shala jumped. Oh, God, had the man shot one of Sky’s dogs? It could have been a car backfiring, she told herself. She forced herself to shift ever so slightly, to look out the window. The man, dressed all in black with his matching ski mask, stood staring at Sky’s two dogs, and in his hand was a…Well, it sure as hell wasn’t a backfiring car. But both dogs were still snarling.

The larger beast glanced in the window at her. Shala slammed back against the wall and heard her heart thump in her ears. In all her twenty-eight years, she’d never danced once with the grim reaper. To whom, she wondered, did she owe the pleasure of this dance? The mayor’s warning rang in her ears:
Some people in town, especially the Natives, don’t want us turning to tourism. So don’t be surprised if you run into some…unfriendly folks.
Did trying to kill you fall under the “unfriendly” umbrella? Her knees gave way and she slid down the wall like a scoop of flung ice cream.

The growls grew closer as the dogs got between the door and the man. Was this really happening because she was trying to bring a little tourist economy to Precious?
Was that really worth killing someone over? Was it worth dying over? No! It didn’t matter that she needed the money. She’d eat beans and rice for the next six months if she lived through this. She would renege on her contract. She’d send it and the fat little check back to the mayor wrapped up pretty in a pink bow. If she lived through this.

If!

Redfoot lifted his head off the narrow hospital bed as Sky walked into the room.

“Let’s get your clothes changed,” Sky said. “Then you’re going to let the doctors do their tests. You got that?”

Redfoot leaned on one elbow. “Come closer.” The old man dropped something in Sky’s hands. “Take this stuff home.”

Sky stared at the bottle of pills. “What’s this?”

“Medicine I had on me. Just put it away,” Redfoot insisted. “Take it to my place. Don’t want it mixed up with what they give me here.”

“They may want a list of medications.” Sky turned the bottle over in his hands.

“Put that damn medicine away and help me change my clothes! The nurses keep coming for me.”

Sky saw the seriousness in the old man’s eyes, so he stuffed the pills in his jeans pockets and then helped Redfoot sit up and remove his shirt. A few minutes later, Sky was tying the back of Redfoot’s gown. His foster father reached over and squeezed Sky’s arm. “Now, go find Blue Eyes. I saw her again when they were bringing me here. She’s in trouble. Your woman needs you.”

Shala refused to die.

She needed a weapon. She thought of the gun she’d seen in Sky’s closet, but was it loaded? Remembering the knife Sky had left in the sink, she crawled to the kitchen
counter. Behind her, she heard someone trying to open the door.

She rose to her knees and reached into the sink. Something heavy hit the front door, like a big shoulder or foot. Panicking, she felt her hand close around what felt like a knife, and the blade sliced into her palm. Well, it passed the slice-through-human-skin test. Ignoring the pain, she pulled it toward her.

“God damn!”

Screams came from the porch, along with a loud thud like something heavy falling. Something heavy, as in a big man wearing a ski mask. Feeling brave—or maybe just stupid—Shala stood and ran to the window. The intruder lay on his back, kicking violently at Sky’s dogs. Finally, he rolled. The dogs moved after him, growling, their lips curled and their teeth bared. Shala saw what looked like the gun lying behind them. The man rolled off the porch. One of the dogs followed. The man scrambled to his feet and took off back to his car. Shala stood frozen, holding her breath, the knife still gripped in her hand. The car fishtailed off the curb and sped away down the dirt road.

Collapsing against the wall, Shala kept her eyes on the porch, where the second dog joined the first. Both beasts turned around. Two pairs of eyes met hers, two pairs of bright gold eyes. Shala had never come face-to-face with a wolf, but she’d seen enough pictures to recognize one. These animals on Sky Gomez’s front porch were more wolf than dog. They’d saved her life, but she wasn’t eager to confront them. Not after seeing them in action.

A question derailed those thoughts: how had this hardened criminal learned where she was? He hadn’t followed her here tonight; she’d been looking out for him. She remembered Sky Gomez’s sudden supposed emergency that had left her here alone. Sure, he’d said he was on the pro-Winters side, but hadn’t Mayor Johnson
claimed most of the Natives were against her? If he was on her side, why was he taking her camera?

Something wet and warm oozed down her palm. Blood spattered the wood floor.

Sky bit back the retort that Blue Eyes wasn’t his woman. Arguing with the old man now would be futile. Then they took Redfoot away, and it was almost an hour before Henry came back and informed Sky that his scan was clear. But to be safe, they were keeping Redfoot overnight.

“He’s sleeping now,” Henry explained to both Sky and Maria. “But there’s a cot in his room if someone wants to stay with him.”

“Since you’re picking up Jose, I’ll stay here,” Maria offered. Jose had called right after Redfoot was carted off to be tested. He’d be flying in at nine
A
.
M.

While his foster sister stepped off to call her boyfriend, Sky peeked in on Redfoot. The old man was asleep. Sky eased toward the bed, remembering his thoughts when the old man had passed out in his arms.

“Love you,” he whispered.

He was a step out the door when he heard, “Me, too. Now find Blue Eyes.”

Shaking his head, Sky started out to his truck. Emotion filled his chest, but when he climbed into his cab, he leaned his head back and relaxed for the first time since he’d received the call.

Now find Blue Eyes.

He remembered leaving Shala at his place. Remembered wanting to kiss her. Remembered wanting to do more than kiss her. Then his mind hit instant replay, and he recalled something she asked:
Did you check? Did you even look at the shots?

He’d been damn sure at first that she was the one to take the picture, but he hadn’t seen her take the shot. Then, three minutes after she insisted on her innocence, he’d
believed her. Reaching down to the floorboard of the passenger seat, Sky lifted Shala’s camera. It took him a few minutes to figure out how to see the images. He didn’t find any shots of the powwow. It felt good to be right.

Not that this made her entirely innocent. She’d still broken a rule. Of course, looking at the expensive Nikon, he could almost understand why. Especially since someone had broken into the lodge to steal it.

Maybe he should bend the rule for her.
Maybe.
He’d see if she played nice tomorrow—real nice, not the fake approach she’d tried before he left. Yeah, he’d make his decision tomorrow when he saw her.

Anticipation stirred in his chest. But would he have time to see her? Between investigating an attempted robbery, picking up Jose, and checking in on Redfoot, could he fit her in?

I’m not leaving. I’m staying here until you hand over my camera.

He hoped she hadn’t been lying. A vision flashed through his mind, of finding her naked in his bed, warm, willing. It was a very nice vision. His body reacted, but shouldering back in his seat he gave his libido the soul-crushing news that it wasn’t happening. If by some farfetched chance she was still at his place, she’d probably be sleeping on his sofa—if she was sleeping and not waiting for him with murder and her camera on her mind. He headed home to see.

He hadn’t gotten down the block before his cell phone rang. “Hello,” he answered, his head and heart already back on Redfoot.

“Sky, it’s me.”

Sky recognized his friend Sal’s voice, the owner of the one and only hotel in Precious. It should have put him at ease, but it was after midnight. Since Sal had married Jessie, late-night calls weren’t his thing.

“What’s up, Sal?”

“There’s trouble. That Winters chick stormed into the
office and woke me up squawking about how someone broke into her hotel room. I checked, and they really did a job on it.”

“Damn it!”

“She said she found her room like that, but she was bleeding pretty bad and I’m not sure if she’s telling me everything. Maybe she caught whoever was breaking in.”

“How bad is she hurt?” Sky couldn’t help but remember Redfoot’s warning.

“I don’t know. She wouldn’t let me touch her. I think it’s just her hand, but she left a trail of blood in and out of my office. I gave her another room.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Uhh…” Sal sounded nervous. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Sky asked.

“Because when I said I was calling the police, she went wonky on me and said if you showed up without her camera, your ass was hers. She said all she wanted was a different hotel room and her freaking camera back by morning. As she left she said that Precious could ‘freaking figure out how to bring tourists here on its own.’ And while she did say ‘freaking,’ she looked mad enough to eat her young.”

It hit Sky that whoever had gone after Shala was the same asshole who’d broken into the lodge and hurt Redfoot. He made a quick turn toward the hotel, glancing at the camera on the seat next to him. The thing was expensive, but was it worth this much effort? He didn’t think so.

Sal continued. “I’m guessing her camera was stolen in the break-in…? Not that she was making sense, but she muttered something about being trapped by a pack of wolves and ‘I’m not finding Precious so precious.’”