Shut Up and Kiss Me

by Christie Craig

  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.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Son of a bitch!” Jose muttered, eyeing himself in the hospital bathroom mirror. His forehead sported a gash and a goose egg, and he had two black eyes. His nose still exhibited splinters from the thorn bush and was bruised from the blonde’s Reebok. Now he had a swollen lip. And the vision of his dad humping his neighbor. He splashed some water on his face. “Welcome to fucking Precious.”

  After drying off with paper towels, he stepped out of the bathroom and eyed his father’s room down the hall. Not knowing if Ramon’s mother was gone, he decided to shoot back up to surgery to check on Jessie and see if he could find Sky. He sure couldn’t face his old man now. The only positive side to this was that they’d have something to talk about other than his moving back to Precious.

  So Dad, how’s sex in a hospital bed with ol’ lady Cloud?

  In the surgery waiting room, he didn’t see Sky or Maria, but he got some strange looks. He knew by name most of the people he saw, though others he just recognized. Growing up in the same small town, he’d seen them dozens of times at the grocery store or diner.

  Spotting Cheryl, another friend of Maria’s and Jessie’s from high school, he asked about Maria.

  “I think she said she was going to the café on the third floor to grab something to eat,” Cheryl said, staring at his face. “What happened to you?”

  “Just bumped into something,” he said.

  She grinned. “It looks as if you bumped into a lot of somethings.” She motioned at the blood on his shirt.

  Ignoring her, he headed for the cafeteria. When he stepped out of the elevator on the third floor, he saw Maria standing in front of a window, her nose pressed to the glass like a kid looking into a candy store.

  Wanting to get past the awkwardness, he went and stood beside her. She didn’t even turn to look at him, just stared at the baby sleeping in the bassinet. “Is that the kid of someone we know?” he asked.

  She jumped and faced him. He saw the emotion in her eyes. Having already heard that Jessie was okay, he knew something else had made Maria so sad.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Fine.” She swiped at her cheeks. Her gaze shot to the blood on his shirt. “What happened to you?”

  He shrugged, not sure he could say it aloud. “You wouldn’t believe it.”

  A crease appeared between her eyes. “I don’t know. After what I witnessed last night and this morning, I’m not sure it would take a stretch.”

  Okay, he deserved that.

  Sighing, he shoved a hand into one of his pockets and started fingering his keys. “I guess I owe you an apology.”

  “You think?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Her gaze shot back to the nursery window and more tears filled her eyes. “For what, Jose? What are you apologizing for? For last night, or for two years ago?”

  He held his breath, not sure he was ready to have this conversation. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say. Should he ask for a second chance? Or was he kidding himself that he had any chance at all? If one thing had been made clear in the past twelve hours, it was that he and Precious didn’t mix. Still, he knew this was a necessary conversation.

  “Would you have come with me if I’d asked?” he blurted.

  She stood quiet, as if the question didn’t make sense. Finally, she answered. “I don’t know. But I guess what you’re saying is that your job was more important than me.”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t say that.”

  “But it’s true, isn’t it? You chose New York over me.”

  “I c
hose New York over Precious. It’s more than the job, Maria. It’s this place. I hate Precious. I hate its smallness, I hate its heat. I hate being expected to be a carbon copy of my old man—that I need to put on a costume and perform stupid rituals that I don’t believe in. I hate disappointing my father while watching you and Sky do everything right.”

  A tear rolled down her cheek. “Don’t you dare blame us for your relationship with your dad.”

  When she turned to walk away, he grabbed her. “Stop. I didn’t mean…I don’t blame you and Sky. I blame myself, and being here just reminds me of it.” He pulled her into his arms and held her. Damn, if it didn’t feel a hundred different kinds of right. He buried his nose in her soft black hair.

  “Maria, you have no idea how many times I picked up the phone to call you and ask you to join me. But I didn’t think it was fair. To ask you to give up this place when I know how much it means to you. So I waited to see if you would come on your own.”

  She answered without pulling away. “You were the one to leave. Why should I come after you?”

  He swallowed down the knot in his throat while the answer vibrated in his head. Because then I would have known that I meant more to you than Precious. But he couldn’t say that. He pressed his hand to the back of her hair. He didn’t have an answer he could tell her, but one thing he knew: she felt good in his arms. He heard the ringing of the elevator opening its door. Footsteps sounded, but he wasn’t ready to let her go.

  She pulled out of his embrace. Jose looked up and saw the man at the same time he heard Maria’s breath catch. It took him a second, but then he realized that the sandy-haired guy staring daggers at him was the same one who’d caught him naked, drunk, and bathing in Summer’s Eve last night.

  Without saying a word, the man turned to walk away. Maria watched him take a few steps. Jose’s heart rejoiced that she didn’t go after him, but he rejoiced too soon, because seconds later she took off.

  “Matt?” she called.

  You were the one to leave. Why should I come after you? Jose remembered what Maria had just told him. That rule must not apply to Matt, because Maria chose to give chase.