Shut Up and Kiss Me (8 page)

Wolves? Redfoot’s vision? Damn, he didn’t believe in all that shit. Unless…His dogs. Had Shala had a run-in with Butch and Sundance?

“I gave her the key to a different room, and she shot out
of here like a chicken with its feathers on fire and a stick of dynamite up its butt. I hope like hell the mayor hasn’t given her a check yet, ‘cause I’m thinking, when she’s out of Precious, she’s not coming back.”

Sky didn’t want to think about her leaving. He looked at her camera. Suddenly, handing it over to her didn’t seem like a good idea.

“I’m on my way,” he said. “Just do me a favor and keep an eye on her room. Make sure no one gets to her.”

“Shit, man. You think someone is
after
her? I mean, I was thinking this was just a random break-in. Kids or something. Hey, maybe it’s someone who signed the petition. Or even Charlie, the guy who’s heading the whole campaign. He showed up here six times trying to convince me to sign the damn thing. He’s got a temper on him, too.”

Sky snapped, “Just watch her, okay? I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He had a sudden thought. “Sal, do you think she’s hurt bad enough to need an ambulance?”

“Ambulance? No. But with that much blood, I’d be surprised if she doesn’t need stitches. I offered once to take her to the hospital, but the look she gave me…Well, I didn’t offer again.”

When he reached the hotel, Sky circled until he spotted Sal leaning against a light post. He grabbed Shala’s camera and his Glock from the glove compartment, and parked.

“Which room is she in?”

“Thirteen.” Sal motioned a couple doors down and studied the camera in Sky’s hands. “Is that hers?”

“It’s hers. I’ll explain later, but for now do me a favor and put this in your safe.” He passed Sal the Nikon, tucked his gun into the the back of his pants, and pulled his shirt out to cover it.

“Wait,” Sal said, as if he’d just figured something out. “This is the camera you confiscated tonight, isn’t it? I didn’t see who you snagged it from.”

“Yeah.” Sky walked toward Shala’s hotel room. Sal followed.

“But why did someone break into—?”

“Maybe they thought we gave it back to her. I don’t know.” Sky needed a couple of hours to mentally go through everything.

“No wonder she went wonky when I mentioned you.” Sal chuckled and elbowed him. “You know this isn’t any way to treat your future wife and mother of your kids.”

Sky scowled. Damn it, he’d known that sooner or later that whole soul-mate thing would leak out. If Sal’s wife had the word, the whole friggin’ town would be talking about it by noon tomorrow. “I’m armed,” Sky muttered. “Don’t piss me off.”

Sal’s grin widened. “Okay, pretend I didn’t say anything. I just thought you should know what’s blowin’ in wind.”

“So Jessie knows, huh? Where’d she get her information?”

Sal shrugged. “She and Maria had lunch yesterday. But don’t blame my woman. Gossiping is her only sin.”

Sky shook his head. Damn it, Maria knew better. Sure, she and Jessie were friends, had been since high school, but one word spoken to Jessie and even the Pope in the Vatican would know it in less than an hour.

“But just for the record,” Sal added, “you could do worse. She’s
hot.
Then again, after seeing her all worked up…she might be a handful.”

When Sky stopped at the door to Shala’s room, Sal said, “Let me know if you need anything.” Then he stepped a few feet away and waited.

The first thing Sky noticed was the bloody handprint on the outside of the door. His gut clenched as he envisioned Shala bleeding, and he hoped like hell she was okay. Leaning forward, he knocked. “Shala? It’s Sky. Can you open the door?” When he didn’t hear anything, he knocked again. “Shala?”

“Do you have my camera?” came the reply from the other side.

Sky looked back at Sal, who moved her camera behind his back. “No, I don’t have your camera. But I need to talk to you.”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow when you give me my camera. It’s late. I’m tired and I’m already dressed for bed.”

Sky leaned his head against the door. “Shala, there’s blood out here and Sal, the hotel manager, said you were bleeding. Please open the door so I can check on you.”

“I’m fine!” came her sharp reply.

“You’re not fine. Open the door.”

“Okay, let me put it this way. I don’t trust you. I don’t know who is behind this…this attempt to get me to leave Precious, but it’s working. I’m leaving tomorrow. But I swear to God, you are going to give me my camera back or I’ll get a lawyer and bring the wrath of God down on you.”

Sky closed his eyes in frustration, then walked over to Sal.

“And here I thought you could talk your way into any woman’s hotel room,” his friend joked.

Sky wasn’t laughing. “Get me the key.”

“Really?” Sal asked.

“Just do it!”

Sal headed for the office, and Sky edged back toward Shala’s door. “Listen to me, lady. I’m the chief of police. It’s my job to make sure you’re okay. I’m not ‘behind’ anything. Let me in so that I find out what happened.” When she didn’t answer, he frowned. “Shala, you were at my place tonight. If I was behind this, wouldn’t I have done something then?”

“Yeah, but it happened at your place. Who else knew I was there?”

“What happened at my place?” he asked, confused but desperate to make sure she was okay. “Shala, seriously, I need you to open the door.”

“He didn’t follow me to your place, because I was looking. So someone had to have told him I was there.”

Sky ground his teeth. “Who didn’t follow you?” He put a few of the pieces together, but…“If you think just because something happened at my place that I’m behind it, you’re wrong. And let me remind you, you told half the town that you were looking for me.” When he didn’t hear anything, he added, “Come on. Open the door. Do you really think I’m behind this?”

Sal’s footsteps sounded at the same time Sky heard Shala releasing the lock. He thrust out his hand to keep Sal away.

The door inched open. Shala’s eyes were puffy and wet. She’d been crying. Damn, if that didn’t send tremors right to Sky’s gut.

“Can I come in?” he asked, respecting the fact that while her suspicions made as much sense as fat-free butter, to her they made sense.

She hesitated, then eased back. Sky stepped into the room and shut the door.

She wore boxer-bottom sleepwear with pink hearts and a matching tank top. They weren’t indecent or overtly sexy, but they made his knees weak. The cotton material fit her curves to a T, and the thigh-length boxers gave him his first peek at her shapely legs. Then he spotted the bloodstain on her shirt and, rightfully so, his libido was sent packing. She had a washcloth wrapped around her right palm.

“Can I see your hand?” he asked.

“It’s fine,” she replied.

“Please let me look at your hand.”

She extended her arm, and he carefully removed the washcloth. He saw a two-inch slice across her palm.

“How did this happen?”

“A knife,” she said. His gut went hard again.

“Someone came at you with a knife?”

“No. I cut it going for a knife to protect myself.”

“To protect yourself from who?”

“Well, darn.” Some sassiness returned to her tone. “I didn’t introduce myself, and neither did he. But it obviously has to be someone who doesn’t want me working for Precious.”

Sky would deal with that accusation later. Meeting her eyes, he brushed his thumb over the back of her injured hand. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No.”

Okay. He believed her. “What happened?”

“A guy with a ski mask and gun tried to break into your place.”

A ski mask. So it was definitely the same guy who’d attacked Redfoot. But what exactly did that mean?

He looked back at her hand and pulled carefully at the cut to see how deep it went. The deep gash oozed blood. Frowning, Sky wrapped the washcloth back around her hand and commanded, “Get dressed. I’ll take you for stitches. You can tell me everything on the way to the hospital.”

She pulled her hand back. “It’s not that bad.”

“It needs stitches.”

“I don’t think so. It’s a straight cut. It will heal.”

“It’s on your
hand.
Every time you move, that cut will open up.” He looked around and spotted her jeans on the back of a chair. Picking them up, he handed them to her. She tossed them on the bed.

“I don’t think I need stitches.”

He let go of a deep breath. “Shala, change your clothes. I’m taking you to get your hand sewn up. This is not a debate.”

“But—”

“Fine. You want to go in your pajamas.” He put his hand on her back and nudged her toward the door. “They actually look rather nice.”

She put on the brakes, digging her heels into the tan carpet. Sky’s gaze flew to her feet, which were bare, petite, feminine. Her toenails were painted a soft pink and the big ones had daisies. “You have pretty feet.” He wasn’t sure why he said it, but he did.

She looked down at her toes. After a pause she asked, “Do you really think it needs—?”

“Yes.” He ran a finger along her chin and raised her gaze back to his. “You need stitches.”

She sighed. “But it’s so late, and I’m so tired and hungry, and all I want to do is go to sleep.” She paused. “I’m sounding pretty pathetic, aren’t I?”

He chuckled. “Terribly so.” Food sounded damn good. And a bed—not necessarily to sleep. Inhaling, he got a whiff of clean woman, kept his two fingers under her chin, and grinned. “Don’t make me toss you over my shoulder and drag you in.”

“You’d do that?” A hint of tease touched her tone.

He winked. “I’d probably enjoy it.” He sure as hell enjoyed touching her right now. Deep down he knew he should be thinking about getting information about the attack and not about how soft she felt. He should be mentally trying to solve this mystery, not measuring how his hand would fit the curve of her waist. He should be pondering why all this went down, not wondering how she would taste if he slipped his tongue inside her mouth. And Heaven knew he shouldn’t be thinking about those sexy naked feet running up his bare leg.

She rolled her eyes and she gave the tiniest of smiles.
“Well, we certainly wouldn’t want you to enjoy anything, now, would we? Let me change clothes.”

He gave her cheek one more brush with his index finger, then pushed a couple wispy strands of hair behind her ear. Maybe because she was tired or scared, he didn’t know which, she’d let her guard slip. He wasn’t above taking advantage of it just a little. Something told him it wasn’t going to be easy to get this close again. He stared at her mouth and considered…

That would be pushing it. Wouldn’t it?

Maria eased open the door to Redfoot’s hospital room, careful not to wake him up. She still couldn’t reach Matt. When she’d first found her foster father, in a state of panic she’d told Matt she would call him back, but now his phone kept going to voice mail.

“He’s still not answering your calls, is he?” Redfoot asked.

His tone implied more, but Maria refused to let the old man make her start doubting. Matt cared about her. She believed that. Okay, she’d admit his frequent business trips often left her wondering, but she trusted him.

She moved to the edge of Redfoot’s bed. “You should be asleep.”

“I would be if I was home. I’ve slept on rocks more comfortable than this bed. Tell you what: you go see if you can find out where that nurse hid my underwear, and you and I—”

“You’re staying,
viejo
.”

“Come tomorrow, woman, I’m going home. I don’t care if I have to walk out of here and cross the town square with my bare ass winking at the entire Precious community.”

Maria grinned. “And risk sending what little population we have left for the hills?”

“My ass won’t run anyone out of town. It might convince a couple to stay.”

Maria chuckled and rested her palm on his hand, which was gripping the bed rail. “Get some sleep.” She leaned down and kissed his forehead.

“He’s not good for you, daughter.”

Maria hesitated. “He makes me happy.”

“Is that happiness making that wrinkle in your forehead?”

Maria sighed. “I’m just worried because I can’t reach him.”

Redfoot sighed. “I know what you worry about. And I believe your worries have merit. You should listen to your heart.”

“My heart says you should be sleeping,” she said.

“You and Sky both fight this devil, but in different ways. Sky runs from things because of his past. You run
to
things.”

She sighed. Was Redfoot right? Did she rush into things? Was she pushing the relationship with Matt? As much as she wanted to deny it, his words hit home. Hadn’t she run too fast to Jose? She sure as hell had jumped in his bed the first time she saw him look at her differently.

For some reason, she’d assumed sleeping with him would change things. It hadn’t. When the job offer from New York came, he’d jumped on it like a hungry kid on ice cream. The day she realized she’d missed her period and went to tell him her concerns, she’d found him packing his bags. He’d said he intended to tell her before he left, but tell her what—good-bye?

She gazed at Redfoot. “Okay, wise one, tell me: what do your dreams say I should do?”

He reached up and touched her cheek. “I have had no dreams of you. It is—”

“Ah, but you’ve had visions of Sky,” she teased, hoping to escape the subject of Matt. “I always knew you loved him more.”

Redfoot frowned. “I have no control over my dreams.
It is with my heart that I know you are on the wrong path.”

“And is your heart as reliable as your dreams?”

“No,” he admitted. “But
your
heart should be. Listen to it.”

“Go to sleep now.” She moved to the cot and sat down. Her cell phone was still in her hand.

What was her heart saying about Matt? She closed her eyes and remembered him walking her past the jewelry-store window.
Which one would you pick for yourself?
he’d asked her. She could still remember how solid he’d felt standing behind her, solid like someone she could always lean on or count on, someone unlike her own parents. But was he? Or was she just rushing into things again, feeling things she wanted to feel?

Was reading romance novels filling her head with silly dreams, blinding her to the truth and maybe Matt’s flaws? If she’d had her eyes open with Jose, she wouldn’t have made the mistakes she’d made. Maybe it was time to take a new look at Matt.

“Change your clothes, Blue Eyes.”

Shala blinked those sky-colored orbs at him, which were full of concern. She reached for the jeans on the bed. “I’m so sorry. With everything that happened I forgot to ask, how is Redfoot?”

“He has a concussion but is going to be okay. They’re keeping him overnight at the hospital. Maybe we can peek in on him while we’re there.”

“How did he hurt himself? Did he fall or something?”

That reminded Sky of his need for answers. “I’ll explain on the way.” He motioned her to the bathroom. “Go.”

When she emerged a few minutes later, Sky realized how right he’d been about her guard being down only temporarily. One look showed her emotional barriers had been reerected. He had his own, so hers shouldn’t have bothered him. But they did.

She glanced at the door, then him. “It just occurred to me how silly this is. There’s no earthly reason why you should have to take me. It’s late. I can drive.”

“Your hand is cut,” he pointed out.

“I drove back from your place. I can make it to the hospital. Seriously, I’m fine by myself. I can—”

“Shala,” he interrupted.

“There’s no reason why…”

She didn’t stop talking as he snagged her purse, pushed her out the door and all the way to his truck. Half of what she said didn’t even make sense. Jabbering was either naturally part of her personality, or she was extra tired or nervous. He hoped it was the latter. Sky would walk uphill naked and barefoot through the snow and a bed of porcupine needles to avoid a jabbering woman.

As he crawled behind the wheel, she lapsed into silence. He glanced over and saw she had tears in her eyes. Real tears. Those beautiful baby blues of hers were glassy and sad.

He leaned over and put his arm against the back of the seat. “You okay?”

She shook her head, blinked, bit her lip as if fighting a battle over tears, and then nodded yes. He didn’t like tears, but he could handle those a hell of a lot better than jabbering.

It hit him then. The woman had been attacked tonight. If jabbering made her feel better, he could endure it. He’d be an asshole not to. “Can you talk about it?”

She shook her head again. “No.”

She’d gone from jabbering to silence, and he needed her to talk. “I have to know what happened tonight. You’re going to have to tell me.”

“Oh.” She blinked a few more times. “I can talk about
that
.”

What? If tonight’s events weren’t what had her in tears, what the hell had? He almost asked but stopped himself. “So, what happened?”

She pulled her purse into her lap. “The dogs started barking. I heard a car pull up. When I looked out the window, I saw that black sedan that’s been following me.”

He recalled her mentioning the sedan and realized he should have asked about it. But he’d followed her most of the day and hadn’t noticed anyone. “When did you first see it?”

“When I left the railroad museum.”

That had been after Sky left to get ready for the powwow.

“And again when I was driving to the Funky Chicken.”

He had to tell her she probably shouldn’t go there. It was a rough place. “What time was it when the car showed up tonight?”

She bit down on her lip, and her brow crinkled. “After you left.”

He sighed. “I know it was after I left. How much after?”

“I don’t know exactly.”

Why was he suddenly getting the feeling she was fudging the truth? “How soon after I left did you leave?”

Something close to guilt flashed in her eyes, and just like that, he figured things out. “You went looking for your camera, didn’t you?”

She nodded. “I was just going to take the memory card!”

Sky started his truck and pointed it toward the hospital for the second time that night, not sure how he felt about her searching his place. But he needed to get the facts about the attack. He’d chew on the other details later.

After several blocks of listening to the sound of the wheels against the pavement and watching her squirm, he asked, “So was it maybe an hour after I left?”

“Around that,” she agreed.

“After you heard the car pull up, what happened?”

She went through her story while he drove. Sky’s heart raced, realizing how close she and Redfoot might have
come to dying. But why? Apparently, someone wanted Shala’s camera. But again, why? It wouldn’t bring
that
much money at a pawnshop. Could it be someone wanted to stop her from doing her job? Yes. But Redfoot hadn’t recognized the man. Granted, Redfoot didn’t know everyone in town. And why, then, would the guy be set on getting Shala’s Nikon?

When she paused, he asked, “Do you know of anyone who might have a vendetta against you?”

She snorted. “Half of Precious, from what Mayor Johnson said.”

“No, I mean someone personal,” Sky explained.

“No.”

“What about a boyfriend?”

“No.”

He smiled. “No, you don’t have one, or no you don’t think he’d try to take your camera?”

“No to both.”

Something akin to relief stirred in his chest.

A new thought occurred to him, though it was kind of crazy. Could Shala have taken a picture of something or someone, and that was why someone wanted the camera? It didn’t seem likely. Precious wasn’t without crime, but in the three years he’d been chief, he’d had one accidental shooting, a dozen break-ins, and his all-time least favorite, a rash of domestic-violence cases. Ninety percent of his workload involved dealing with DUIs or fights at the Funky Chicken.

“So, back to tonight,” he said, realizing he’d lapsed into silence. “What happened after you heard that gunshot?” She must have been terrified.