Snow Blind-J Collins 4 (21 page)

The chill of the night air slapped my cheeks and quickened my pace. I tightened the belt on my coat and lowered my face into the lapels.

Screw this. Too damn cold to stay out here and fight with Martinez.

I spun around, a little unsteadily, to see Dumbo storming outside the exit, glaring. I figured she didn’t really want to engage me. She’d act tough, keep a safe distance, and taunt me. I’d let her. But if she opened her trap and yapped insults, I
would
take a shot at her.

The reality was, few women went beyond nasty words to deliver a nasty uppercut.

Reality check: she barreled toward me like a Sherman tank.

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I braced myself as best as I could, considering my balance was slightly off. When she reached me, I stepped sideways and rammed my elbow in her chest.

She didn’t see that one coming.
Wham
. She hit the ground like a brick.

I gloated above her. “Enough? Or do you want more?”

“Fuck you,” she wheezed and grabbed my ankle, knocking me on my butt.

Even in my bleary-eyed state, I managed to make a safe fall. Hadn’t injured anything but my pride.

Before I’d recovered my wits, she rose to her knees and took a swing at me.

I ducked, but not fast enough; her row of Black Hills Gold rings caught me in the right eyebrow like trailer park brass knuckles. Sharp, stinging pain galvanized me into 211

action. I rolled and wobbled to my feet.

“Yeah, run,” she jeered. “Just like she said. You ain’t so tough. You know I’ll kick your ass.”

I ignored the weird “she” comment and repeated,

“Run?”

“That was a lucky shot, and you know it.”

“Bring it, Dumbo.” I planted my feet in a right-side fighting stance. Resisted the urge to give her the “come on” signal Neo used in
The Matrix
before he fought Agent Smith. That’d be over the top, even for me.

The alcohol veil lifted. Why was I standing there like a cheesy movie hero giving her a second chance to rush me?

Fuck that.

I should’ve punched her in the nose since it was such an easy target. Instead, I pounced on her and gave her a dirt facial. Her head bounced. Her cutesy pink hair ribbon dropped to the ground. Grabbing her right arm, I jerked it straight up and put my foot on her lower back.

“Let go of me!”

“Still think I’m gonna run?”

“I said, let go!”

“Little hard for me to run with my boot on your ass, isn’t it?”

She squirmed. Muttered insults. But I had her locked down and she knew it.

With my senses dulled by tequila, the noise behind me didn’t register until it was too late.

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A brawny arm wrapped around my throat and jerked me back. Unfortunately for Dumbo, I didn’t release her arm, and the sickening sound of cartilage popping echoed before she screamed.

“Let go of her!” the baritone demanded. “Now!”

Aw. Her old man rode to her rescue. How sweet.

On pure instinct I swung around, using the foot I’d jammed in her back to catch her white knight in the knee with my boot heel.

He grunted and stumbled, loosening his grip on me. I went limp as a wet noodle and slithered out of his hold.

When he bent down to rub his kneecap, I clocked him in the jaw. Followed through with a snap-kick to his groin. But I missed and connected with his hip.

He staggered anyway.

My knuckles stung. Goddamn. No matter how many times I punched someone, I never seemed to remember how bad it hurt.

Feet scuffled in the gravel. I glanced up. We had an audience.

“Hit her again,” some guy shouted.

“Rack him,” a woman suggested.

The beaten pair looked at me.

“Are we done? Or should I take more suggestions?”

Dumbo scrambled to her feet and cradled her arm, cowering by the chubby man who was now rubbing his jaw
and
his knee.

Served them both right.

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I stepped forward.

As one, they moved back.

Cool. This intimidation shit was heady stuff.

Between the adrenaline rush and the booze, I was ten feet tall and bulletproof. As I started to charge, two bands of steel pinned my arms to my sides and my feet dangled in the air.

“Three against one? That sucks!” Outraged, I thrashed. None of my dirty tricks worked on this moose. In fact, he’d completely immobilized me so I couldn’t use a reverse head butt. I tried the limp noodle trick again.

He didn’t fall for it.

I was tired. My head spun like a baton. I chanced a short breather while I figured out a way to take this guy down.

“Relax. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

I recognized the voice and froze. “Big Mike?”

He chuckled. “Yep.”

I was not amused.

“Leave. The show is over,” he barked at the half-dozen people who were still gawking. Disappointed by the lack of real bloodshed, they trudged back into Dusty’s.

“Let go of me.”

“Not until they’re gone.”

“This doesn’t concern you, so butt out.”

He didn’t say a word.

“And I was doing fine on my own before you 214

showed up. I sure as hell don’t need your protection now.”

“I’m holding you for
their
protection, not yours.”

“Oh.”

The couple didn’t return to the bar. They sent me a fiery look of hatred, climbed into a turd brown Dodge minivan, and sped off. Probably to the hospital.

I told myself it was wrong to feel smug.

Big Mike released me.

I rolled my shoulders. The outer bar door flew open and Kevin stormed in my direction.

Crap.

I stood my ground, shakily, but stood it nonetheless.

He got right in my face. “I leave you alone for five fucking minutes and you’re in a goddamn
bar
fight?”

“She started it.”

“But you finished it, didn’t you?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

Kevin’s gaze moved to my cheekbone. “For Christsake, Julie, you’re bleeding.”

“I am?” My fingers touched my eyebrow. Came away sticky. Eww. “Huh. Doesn’t even hurt.”

Big Mike snorted.

“You are not a superhero, despite your continual stupid actions to the contrary.” Kevin lifted his arm and blotted the blood with his shirtsleeve. “Where else did she hit you?”

He thought the elephant woman bested me?

Indignant, I said, “Nowhere. For your information,
I
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won. And I’m fine.”

“Shut up.”

“Really, Kev, I’m f-
fuck
, that hurts!” I jerked from his poking fingers. “Quit it!”

“Quit being such a baby. You’ve had worse. Hold still.”

Great. The adrenaline buzz started to wear off and now I was whining. So much for my superhero status. Definitely time to climb in the Batmobile and return to the cave.

“Come on, Kev. Take me home.”

“No.
I’m
taking you home.” Martinez materialized from the shadows.

A yelp escaped me. “Have you been here spying on me the whole time?”

Arms crossed over his chest, he stayed mute.

“See? That I-don’t-have-to-tell-you-anything bullshit attitude is why you piss me off, Martinez. That’s why I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Wrong. Give me your keys.”

Wisely, Kevin and Big Mike retreated from the line of fire.

Another pause. Neither of us budged.

“Losing my patience with you, blondie.”

I stomped toward him. “So fucking what? I don’t even know why the fuck you’re here. I told Big Mike I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“No, you told him I could kiss your ass.”

“You’re a bright guy; I figured you could read 216

between the lines.”

He laughed softly. “You mean read between the cracks?”

“That wasn’t supposed to be funny!” Yelling at him made my head throb. Made me feel like an ass, too. I said to Kevin, “Take me home.”

Big Mike and Kevin exchanged a look.

Fine. Let Martinez dictate to them—he didn’t dictate to me. I’d made it about ten steps when Martinez stopped me.

“Go away. I’m not talking to you.”

His gaze flicked to the cut on my temple. “You’re bleeding.”

“Like you care.”

Martinez stared at me. Through me. If I hoped he’d dispute my statement, lovingly assure me I was in error, that he cared about me deeply, then I was bound to be disappointed.

He leaned close enough to whisper, “Don’t. Go.

There.”

Yikes. But he wasn’t done.

“I’m so fucking mad at you right now that if you don’t hand over your keys I will take them by force, tie you up with your purse straps, and dump your smart-ass in the back of your truck bed to see if a ride in the cold night air will cool off your goddamn hothead.”

That was almost a soliloquy coming from Martinez.

It was also scary as hell because he wasn’t joking.

“Fine.” I drew back, unzipped my purse, and 217

slapped my keys in his palm. “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic.”

He sauntered over to Kevin and Big Mike. Said something to them I couldn’t hear. They both nodded.

Kevin broke from their little he-man group and trotted back to me. “You okay with Martinez taking you home?”

“Like I have a choice.”

“You do. Say the word and I’ll call Jimmer. Or Kim. Or a cab.”

I glanced at Tony studying me like a mountain lion eyes a lame fawn. “Maybe drunk and pissed off isn’t the best way for me to deal with him.”

Kevin pecked me on the forehead. “My money’s on you.”

Big Mike and Kevin climbed into a silver Cadillac Escalade and disappeared down the dusty road.

It was pitch-black in the far back corner of Dusty’s parking lot. As I passed by empty vehicles, I wondered if Martinez’s other bodyguards were out here watching us. Felt like someone was. I hated that feeling. Made me shiver.

I lost my footing on the running board on the passenger side of my truck.

Martinez caught me. “You okay?”

“No. My head hurts.”

“I’ll bet. Let me see.” His gaze never made it past my mouth. He said, “Fuck it,” pushing me against the truck to kiss the shit out of me.

218

I let him.

His lips broke from mine after about a year.

“I’m still mad at you,” I said, fighting to catch my breath as he used his teeth on my throat.

“Same goes.” He dove in for another openmouthed kiss that left my brain muddled, and the rest of my body hot and tingly.

In about two seconds my jeans would be around my knees and my bare ass would be pressing cold metal as he pressed inside me. I pushed him back.

“Stop. I’m not talking to you.”

“We haven’t been talking.”

I mimed zipping my lip.

He sighed. “You drive me absolutely crazy.”

“Me? What did
I
do?”

“Hung up on me for starters.”

“So? Your phone manners suck every goddamn day.”

“You refused to talk to me when I drove out here.”

“I don’t like being summoned, Martinez.”

“I know. Why do you think I do it?” He used the back of his rough-skinned hand to trace my jawline.

A quiver rippled down the center of my body. Talk about easy. “Why am I letting you paw me when I’m mad at you?”

“Too much tequila. I’m a total bastard who has no problem taking advantage of the situation.”

“Are we fighting again for the hot makeup sex?”

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“Not entirely. I’m trying to distract you so you’ll tell me what happened to you today.”

Damn. The booze had worked for a little while and made me forget about my dad. I averted my gaze.

He tipped my chin up. “Fine. We’ll deal with that later. Tell me how you ended up in another bar fight.”

“I don’t know. First she shoved me inside, then she was talking trash. I was content to let it go. She wasn’t.” I studied him. “How much did you see?”

Martinez grinned. “All of it.”

“I won.”

“I noticed.”

Then I noticed his attentions had become obvious.

I bumped my hips into his. “Jesus. Are you hard?”

“As a rock.”

“Why?”

“Evidently seeing you drunk and kicking ass turns my crank.”

“Eww. It’s not a girl-on-girl thing, is it?”

“No.” He swept my hair over my shoulder, letting it spill over his fingers like a waterfall. “Must just be a you thing, blondie.”

Here was my chance to change this shit day into something meaningful. Something important. Something good. “Tony, do you love me?”

His eyes never moved from mine. “What do you think?”

“I think I’d like to hear you say the actual words.”

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“Same goes.” His focus shifted to my cut. “I’ll take you home and patch you up.”

“I thought you were mad at me.”

“I am.”

“Then why are you going all Dr. Quinn?”

No answer.

“Is this where you tell me you’ll kiss it and make it all better?”

“If you’re lucky.” His lips brushed mine.

My belly jumped. “That mean you’re staying over?”

He opened the passenger door for me. “Do you want me to?”