Shut Up and Kiss Me

by Christie Craig

  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 l
et this nutjob get to her.

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

  He didn’t waste time on idle chitchat. “You got it closed off? Where’s Ricardo?”

  “He’s up there checking out the crime scene. It’s ugly. Lots of blood. But yeah, we got it shut off.”

  That was Jessie’s blood all over the hotel room. Sky’s gut clenched. He let out a deep breath and said, “Do me a favor. Keep your eye on this truck. Shala Winters is in there with Maria. If this creep is still around, he might go after her.”

  “You got it.” As Sky started to turn away, Pete added, “Hey, you think this is going to end up a murder case?” He actually sounded excited.

  Sky clenched his fist. It would have felt damn good to let loose on Pete, but deep down he knew the person who deserved to be on the receiving end of his fury was the guy who pulled the trigger. Besides, Pete lived in the next town over. He didn’t know Jessie. To him, this was just another case. “I don’t know.”

  “You calling the rangers to do the crime scene?”

  “Yes.” He didn’t like the idea, not even when the ranger he’d call was a friend, but Sky knew his limitations. He couldn’t do around-the-clock protection of Shala and also work this case correctly. And this creep needed to get caught. Not that he planned to stop working the case.

  “Hey,” Pete said, motioning. “Is it true that Shala Winters is a sight to behold?”

  “Just watch the friggin’ truck!” And Sky left before the man earned himself a black eye.

  As he walked up to the hotel room, he pulled out his phone and called Lucas. “Hey, I need you to come over to the hotel,” he said when his neighbor answered. “Like, now.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I need you to keep something safe for me.” He gave Lucas the lowdown on the camera and on Jessie’s getting shot, then he hung up and made his next call. Part of him hated doing it, knowing he’d lose most of his control on the case, but damn it, a smart man knew when he needed a hand. Sky needed help.

  Phillip Freeman, senior captain for the San Antonio department of the Texas Rangers, answered on the third ring. “It’s good to see your number on my phone. You planning another poker game?” he asked.

  “This is business.”

  “Damn. You know I hate business.”

  “We got trouble in town.”

  “Someone run your traffic light?” he teased.

  “There’s been a shooting,” Sky replied in total seriousness.

  “Okay, let me make it easy for you. If the person is married, look at the spouse. Marriage makes people want to kill each other. If I thought I could get away with it, I’d kill my ex-wife.”

  “It’s not like that.” Sky bypassed Ricardo and entered Shala’s hotel room. The blood on the wall had his gut in knots. “And it’s someone I know.”

  “Sorry. Was it a murder?”

  Sky closed his eyes. “The victim is in the operating room. From what I heard, it could go either way.” From all the blood, Sky was afraid to hope.

  “Do you have a suspect?”

  “This is where it gets weird.” Sky filled him in on Shala and the camera.

  “Damn, you got a mystery on your hands!” Philip sounded glad to help. “Just tell me what you need, and you got it.”

  “For starters, I need someone to do the crime scene.”

  “It will take me a few hours to get the van and my people there. I’ll give you a call when I get close. You can meet me.”

  “Yeah. I’ll be at the hospital.”

  “Sky,” Philip said, “be careful. If this guy’s shot one person, he won’t hesitate to shoot another.” His big-city friend sounded worried.

  “Believe it or not, Phil,” Sky said, “I figured that one out myself.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Open your eyes and tell me you’re okay, you stubborn old Indian.”

  Redfoot felt a soft, feminine palm against his face, and his first thought was of Estella. When he opened his eyes, he found Veronica.

  “Oh, my. Your eyes are both black.”

  Redfoot’s pride cried out, You should see the other guy! But that was a lie, so instead he said nothing and just looked at her. He took in her soft brown eyes, concern swirling in their watery sheen, and right then he knew that although Veronica would never take Estella’s place, somehow his heart had grown her a separate location. She belonged there. She belonged with him. Now, if he could just convince her of that.

  He understood that her husband had been gone only two years, but two years was a long time to be lonely. And while Veronica swore that her reservations were because of her children, sometimes Redfoot wondered. If rumors were true, she had reasons not ever to commit herself fully to another man. But for several months now, she had given him her body. Now he wanted more. He wanted her to stand beside him, not just lie with him a few nights a week. He wanted her heart. And he was tired of keeping their relationship secret from his family and friends.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “I’m not okay,” Redfoot answered. “I had plans last night to be with a beautiful woman, and instead I had to sleep alone in a cold hospital bed.”

  She grinned, but it faded. “I didn’t hear until this morning. I waited for you last night.”

  But she hadn’t called. He knew, because after Maria left last night he’d checked his messages. The reason she hadn’t called was probably because she was afraid Maria would answer. Afraid someone would discover they were seeing each other.

  He patted the bed. “Lie beside me and remind me what I missed.” He gave her hand a tug, but she resisted.

  “There’s not enough room.”

  “I’ll make room.”

  She grinned like a schoolgirl. The bright blue of her blouse made her look young, as did the scoop neck that hinted at her figure. For a woman her age, she had beautiful breasts. Redfoot stared at the tiny buttons—at least ten—that held the blouse together. His mind created the image of her taking it off.

  “You are a crazy man. What if someone comes in and catches me in bed with you?”

  “Then I’ll smile really big and pretend we were just resting.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You know I can’t.”

  He frowned. “If you’re not careful, I’m going to think you are ashamed to be seen with me.”

  “I’m not ashamed!”

  “Then why don’t you want anyone to know about us?”

  She took a step away. “We’ve discussed this, Redfoot. I just…I can’t.”

  “I mean so little to you.”

  She moved back toward the bed. “No. I care for you. More than I should. It’s my children.”

  “Your children are not in this hospital, Veronica,” he pointed out. “As a matter of fact, when I look around, I see only us.”

  He patted the bed again.

  Shala sat in the waiting room, her hands in her lap, watching everyone pace. Over a dozen individuals had shown up, a mix of family and friends. Jessie, obviously loved by many, was in surgery. Shala had heard someone say it was touch-and-go. Tears filled everyone’s eyes. Even Shala’s eyes burned.

  Having fought off the sorrow, Shala now tried to breathe through her mouth so that the hospital smell wouldn’t get inside her senses and start messing with her head, wouldn’t take her back to the past. Whenever she felt panic inch closer, she told herself to grow up. This wasn’t about her; this was about a woman who’d been shot in part because of something Shala had done—even if that something was taking an unintentionally wrong picture. It was still her fault.

  She also knew that if it had been her in that hotel room, it would have been her in that operating room. This waiting room would be empty—no friends, no family close enough to show up. Her gaze moved around the crowd and she wondered what it would feel like to have so many people in her life.

  She heard her name. When she looked up, Maria waved. Someone m
ust have asked who she was. Suddenly Shala felt as if she didn’t belong here. She was a stranger, the outsider to everyone but Sky. Closing her eyes, she recalled arguing with him about staying at the hotel. His pigheaded demand had probably saved her life.

  Opening her eyes, Shala looked for him. When he’d returned from the crime scene, he hadn’t said a word. Shala surmised it had been emotionally difficult. Coming here wasn’t an easy feat, either.

  She’d watched him flutter from person to person. He’d approached the most anxious people, touching them, offering words of comfort. Whenever anyone extended him the same courtesy, he pulled away. No, Chief Sky Gomez could give comfort, but he couldn’t accept it. Was it just for professional appearances, or was there something more?

  She remembered how Sky had approached Sal when they’d first come into the hospital. Sky had worn guilt like a second skin. Sal, with tears in his eyes, had shaken his head, and while Shala couldn’t be sure, she felt certain no blame had been assigned. Remembering Sky’s past, the newspaper article in that box at his house, that ten-year-old Sky struggling against the firefighter’s hold, it somehow made sense that Sky would want to save other people because he hadn’t been able to save his parents. She wondered if he somehow blamed himself for their deaths.

  While her own past had left Shala with a boatload of emotional issues, guilt wasn’t one of them. The fault lay in the hands of a drunk driver. Nana had made sure Shala and her brother understood. Shala could still remember how, less than a week after her parents’ funeral, her grandmother had marched her and her brother into a courtroom. They’d faced the drunk driver and the judge, and guilt had been clear. If not for Nana, there was no telling how much more of a basket case she and her brother would have been.

  It occurred to Shala that Sky had gone into the foster program, which meant Sky hadn’t had a grandmother. He hadn’t had anyone to ease the transition from loved child to orphan. She couldn’t fathom dealing with her parents’ deaths and also a relocation to a home with strangers at the same time. Empathy for Sky filled her chest as she searched the crowd again, wanting to make sure he was okay. He wasn’t there. Had probably stepped outside to take another call. She’d heard his cell ring at least four times since they arrived.