“You didn’t even have the door bolted.”
“I’ll do it right when you leave. You can stand out there and listen,” she offered.
“That wouldn’t stop someone who really wanted to get in.”
“So why did you chastise me for not bolting it?” she snapped.
“Because it should be a clue that you’re in no shape to take care of yourself.”
She knew he was right, but…“Can’t you stay in the room next door?”
“I’ll feel better in here.”
“But I won’t. If this were any other town, I could call 911 and have you arrested.”
“You already tried that, remember?”
She dropped back on the bed and pressed her hands into the mattress. Pain flared in her stitched palm.
Sky sat in a chair and pulled another close to put his legs up. “I will ask for a pillow, though.”
She turned her head so she could see him. “You’re serious?”
“One hundred percent.” He paused. “Just go to sleep. But don’t snore.”
Even in her exhaustion she noted the way he looked at her—with heat—and she felt the stirrings of desire. She tossed him a pillow.
He caught it and stuffed it behind his head but didn’t stop looking at her, and she didn’t stop feeling looked at. His gaze dropped to her feet. She recalled him complimenting her feet earlier. She stared down at her toes and found herself happy she’d gotten a pedicure before coming to Precious.
Realizing what she was thinking, she spotted her purse beside the bed and rolled over to pick it up. She dug into the bag with her left hand, grabbed something, and held it out for him to see. “I swear to God, if you try anything, I’ll Mace you.” Then she set the can and her purse on the nightstand.
“I’ll remember that.” He adjusted himself in the chair, tilted back his head, and stared at the ceiling.
She reached over and turned out the light. Then she rolled all the way to the edge of the bed, as far away from him as possible. Closing her eyes, she heard him shuffling around, standing up, and unloading his pockets. The chair creaked as he sat back down.
Staring at the ceiling, she just listened to him breathe. She had to admit she felt better not being alone. The day’s events were rolling through her head, her heart beating like the drums at the day’s powwow. She recalled seeing Sky for the first time, the way he’d moved to the beat of the music. Then she recalled the way Sky had held her hand as the doctor stitched her up.
“Thank you,” she said into the darkness.
“You’re welcome.”
“I mean for holding my hand at the hospital.”
“I know.” His voice was soft. A minute later he said, “Shala?”
Her eyes fluttered open. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry about your parents.”
Yours, too, she almost said. But she wasn’t supposed to know that. “Thanks.”
Sky continued to stare at the ceiling, his mind flipping through the images he’d seen on her camera earlier. She’d done an excellent job of capturing the town. Blue Eyes was a damn good photographer. Of course, he’d known that from her website.
He hadn’t seen one image someone would be willing to kill for. And yet, his gut told him that it was there. Tomorrow he’d retrieve the camera from the safe where he’d had Sal store it again, and he’d comb through the images. He also needed to get that gun from Lucas, run a check on its serial number, and dust for prints.
He heard the bed shift. He sat up, leaned his elbows on his knees, and studied Shala. She wore a different pair of pajamas, but the same style. Her blonde hair lay scattered on the pillow. She rested on her side, and the soft curve of her waist made him yearn to run his hands over her.
She was asleep; he could tell by the way she breathed. Leaning back, he turned away and tried to reposition his pillow behind his neck. Christ, he must be getting old—there had been a time he could sleep standing up. Or maybe it wasn’t his position keeping him awake. He took another deep breath. The soft feminine scent of lotion filled his lungs.
He turned his head and eyed her again. She looked so small in that bed, he couldn’t help but imagine her against him. Under him. On top of him. His body responded, the crotch of his jeans felt like it shrunk, and damn if his balls didn’t feel cramped. He pulled at the inseams of his jeans and loosened another button on his shirt. Cursing under his breath, he stood up and removed it. Before he realized, his habit of stripping naked to sleep had taken over and he’d unzipped his jeans. He stopped, glanced at her, and remembered her feeling comfortable in her boxer pj’s. Oh, hell, he could at least lose his jeans. She probably wouldn’t even know. He’d set his phone’s alarm to go off at six. He’d be up and decent before she ever rolled over.
But then what? Would she be okay here by herself? Would the asshole who tried to run down Sal and who’d hurt Redfoot come back?
Dropping his jeans beside his chair, he recalled he had to pick up Jose at the airport. How easy would it be to convince Shala to go with him? And how hard would it be to convince her to stay in Precious while he tracked down the culprit? He recalled her saying something about leaving in the morning with her camera.
Would she leave without the Nikon? If keeping her camera meant she’d stay, that’s what he’d do. But what if she decided to go back without it? And what if whoever was after the camera followed her home? He recalled how lonely she’d looked walking into that hospital last night and walking up to this room afterward. Alone, she’d be easy prey. Somehow he had to keep her close to protect her.
He sat back down and closed his eyes, intending to sleep, but his body longed to be horizontal. Almost an hour later, he turned his head again and studied her unconscious form. She was only taking up only a few inches of that king-size bed. But damn, he needed some rest.
He saw the fancy tubelike pillows she’d tossed from the bed against the wall. Picking them up, he lined them down the middle of the bed, creating a barrier.
If she got mad, he’d deal with it in the morning. After he’d had a couple hours of sleep.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
An odd sensitivity tickled Shala’s mind, while something else tickled her backside. A warm body lured her closer, seeking safety and comfort. The back of her arm found skin. A slight movement against her hip brought a new thought wiggling into her half-slumbering brain: it felt like…She hadn’t felt one of those in a long, long time.
“Get that thing away from me!”
She bolted straight up, standing on top of the mattress. Sky Gomez, shirtless, jerked into a sitting position, uncovered, staring at her with unfocused eyes. His gaze shot to the door as if someone had broken in.
“What is it?” He wiped his palm across his face.
That’s when she noted that in addition to being shirtless, he was also without pants, wearing only boxers. And poking out of the slit was his bald-headed hermit! The dang thing had decided to come out to play and was standing at attention. It had been knocking on her shorts, no doubt thinking Shala’s boxers might be his ideal playground.
“What is it?” he asked again, dazedly.
“That!” She pointed to his crotch.
His gaze shot down. While he grabbed for the covers, she sprinted across the bed, jumped to the floor with a loud thump, and attempted to arm herself with her Mace. Unfortunately, she bumped the nightstand. The Mace, a gun, and some other stuff all went tumbling to the floor. Dropping to her knees, she latched her injured hand around the Mace and pointed it up at him.
“Whoa!” He held up one hand and shifted to the other side of the bed, making sure to keep himself covered. He peered down at her. “I wasn’t trying anything. I swear to God.”
“You got in the bed!”
“Yeah…well, the chair wasn’t as comfortable as it looked.” He motioned to the mattress. “It’s a king-size bed, and you didn’t take up a fifth of it.”
She frowned harder.
“And…look,” he searched
the mattress and held up one of the oblong bed pillows up. I even put up a barrier.” When she held the Mace higher, he frowned and said, “If you’ll notice, I was still on my side. You broke over the barricade.”
“You didn’t have a side!”
“My point is that I wasn’t…uh, wasn’t trying anything. So just put that down.”
She nervously shifted the can.
“Shit, Shala, can you at least let me have a cup of coffee before I get Maced? Come on, put it down. Please.”
“You took off your pants.”
“I couldn’t sleep with them on. But I wasn’t trying anything.”
“That’s not how it appears.” She motioned to the tented blanket over his crotch.
He brought his knee up to hide the evidence. “It’s morning. That happens. Besides, I’m wearing the same thing you are. Minus the shirt.”
“Well, I manage to keep my body parts inside my clothes.” The shock of waking up to…that was beginning to wane. She recalled drifting off to sleep last night actually thinking he was a decent guy. She also recalled shifting closer to him when she first woke up.
As more of her early-morning fog cleared off, she saw he was telling the truth. He hadn’t been trying anything. Which meant she didn’t have a good reason to Mace him. Not that she had to admit that. Not yet.
“Are you giving me my camera back?” she asked.
“We need to discuss that.”
She raised the Mace higher.
“Damn it, put that down,” he growled.
“Promise me you’ll give me my camera back.”
“I don’t make promises I can’t keep. But if you spray me, I swear I’ll—”
“You’ll do what? Bring out your bald-headed hermit again?”
His eyes widened. “Put it down.”
She shifted, and her knee hit something that rolled across the floor. She looked down and saw a pill bottle. Her eyes widened. She snatched it up and…Yup, it read just what she’d thought it read.
She pointed to the covers. “If you’ve had that problem for over four hours, you need to call a doctor.” She threw the bottle at him.
“What do you mean…?” He looked at the pills and went pale. “Oh, hell no!” he said as she retreated into the bathroom. “These aren’t mine!”
She slammed the door and locked it. Standing frozen, she stared at herself in the mirror. Her face was bright red, her pupils dilated. She recalled with clarity that brief, half-asleep moment when she’d felt him against her and she’d wanted to give in to her body’s desire, to answer the tapping on her boxer shorts and let him play all he wanted.
Her gaze shot to her cell phone, which was on the bathroom counter. Picking it up, she saw she had a voice mail message. Lillian, her neighbor. Why would Lillian be calling her now?
Calling her voice mail she heard, “Hi, Shala. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but when I walked by your house tonight I saw your front window was broken. I called the police. They said it must have been a burglar, but something must have scared them away, because the only thing it looked as if they got was your computer.”
Shala gritted her teeth. “Only my computer?” She had homeowner’s insurance, but what was this, Crap on Shala Week? Was the universe trying to do her in? What had she done to it?
Remembering her reason for storming into the bathroom, she pushed down her pajama shorts and dropped onto the toilet. Only the seat wasn’t down. She dropped her ass right into the toilet bowl of cold water. If it was just cold water. Who the hell knew if he’d even flushed?
Seething, she stood. “I should have Maced you!” she yelled at the door. “I really, really should have Maced you!”
“They’re not my pills!” he yelled back.
Sky grabbed his pants, poking his legs inside them as fast as he could. “They aren’t mine!” he said again.
He heard the shower start and frowned. As luck would have it, he had to piss like a racehorse. Hence the hard-on that persisted even after she threatened to Mace him. Right then his phone rang, and the damn thing was somewhere on the floor with all the stuff Shala had sent flying as she went for her Mace—a huge overreaction, if you asked him. It wasn’t as if she’d never seen a penis before, right?
“Bald-headed hermit, my ass!” he muttered.
He moved the clock radio and saw the time. Five forty-five. Who the hell would be calling at this ungodly hour? Snatching up his phone, he answered before even looking at the number.
“Sky, you need to do something.”
He recognized Maria’s voice, and his thoughts shot to Redfoot. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s passed out on the floor wearing my robe, which isn’t tied securely, thank you very much, and he still stinks.”
“Say what?”
“You heard me,” Maria snapped.
Sky dragged a hand down his face. “I’m sure I didn’t. Redfoot’s in the hospital. Aren’t you at the hospital?”
“Not Redfoot. Jose! Redfoot made me leave last night. And I was going to go back to the hospital, but my car’s there because Matt drove me and was going to take me back this morning, but then we found Jose in the bathtub and then Matt left.”
Sky tried to make sense of it all, but nothing computed. He heard sniffling. Was Maria crying? He shook his head. “Maria, Jose’s flight doesn’t come in until nine.”
“Well, then, he just had Scotty beam him down, because he was here when I came home last night. Actually, he had Scotty beam him into my bathtub with V8 juice, a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, and my douche.” She took a few deep breaths and sniffled. “Oh, and he said he hit a tree.”
“He hit a tree while being beamed down?” Sky scrubbed his palm over his face to make sure this wasn’t one of those crazy dreams that didn’t make an iota of sense.
“I need my suitcase,” Shala yelled through the bathroom door.
“Who’s that?” Maria asked.
“Nobody.” Sky looked around the room. He spotted the suitcase beside the closet and grabbed it just as Shala yelled again.
“Either get out of my room or pass me the suitcase. And for God’s sake, get your clothes on!”
“‘Nobody’ sounds pissed,” Maria remarked.
Frowning, Sky set Shala’s bag beside the bathroom door and covered his phone’s mike with a finger. “Here’s the suitcase. By the way, those aren’t my pills,” he said one last time, just in case she’d missed it. When Shala didn’t answer, he backed away from the door and moved his finger. “So, Jose’s there?”
“What pills aren’t yours?” Maria asked.
His finger must have been in the wrong place. Sky groaned and watched Shala’s hand creep out to snag the bag. “Is Jose really there?”
“Yes. So, can I stay at your place for a few days?”
Sky had entertained the notion of Shala staying there, but Maria was family. “Look, I’ll be there in—” His mind wrapped around something else she’d said. “He’s wearing your robe?”
“Yeah. Probably because his clothes are ruined. But now my robe is ruined.”
“Why are his…? Never mind. I’ll be there shortly.”
He hung up and called the hospital to check on Redfoot. The news was good. He’d just gotten off when Shala came out of the bathroom and tossed her suitcase onto the bed. Unable to wait any longer, he darted into the bathroom.
Shala was stuffing her pajamas into her suitcase with her injured hand as he came out, putting her shoes on with the other. She looked great. The shorts she wore fit her backside like a glove, and her sandals showed off her painted toenails.
She caught him staring and frowned. “Bet you didn’t lower the seat this time, either,” she muttered.
He shook his head. “Don’t tell me. You’re definitely a morning person.”
“Bite me,” she growled.
Sky considered doing just that, studying the back of her neck where she’d pulled her hair up into a ponytail. Realizing that his thoughts would get him nowhe
re, he asked, “What are you doing?”
“I’m packing.”
He had to stall, had to think up something fast. “Why?”
“Why? Because I’m getting the heck out of town. But don’t think for one minute that I’m not coming back for my camera. As God is my witness, if you don’t give it to me, I’ll—”
“I have a problem with that.” His mind reeled.
“It’s my camera!” she almost shrieked.
“No, I don’t have a problem with that,” he explained.
“Good, then you can give it back now.”
He shook his head. “No. I mean, I can’t let you leave just yet.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”
Why? That was an excellent question. “Because…because you haven’t filled out any reports about what happened.” That had some truth to it.
“I told you what happened.”
“But it needs to be official.”
“And what makes it official?”
“A report signed at the station, and probably more questions. And—”
“You already asked me questions.”
“I’m sure I’m going to have more.”
She was shaking her head. “Then let’s go to the police station and you can ask your questions. Since my car window is broken and it’s going to get hot, I’d like to do most of my driving before noon.” She did up the latches on her suitcase.
Sky let out a deep breath. “Somebody tried to kill you,” he reminded her.
“Yeah. That’s why I’m getting the hell out of Dodge. You don’t want me here.”
“Yes, I do.” The moment he said it, he knew it was true.
“Not you. The town, or whoever, doesn’t want me bringing in tourism.”
“I don’t think that’s what this is about,” he remarked.
“Then what is it about?”
“If I had to guess, I’d say it’s about your camera.”
“My camera? It’s not worth killing for. It’s not that expensive.”
“Which is why I think that it’s something you have in it.”
“In it?”
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