Snow Blind-J Collins 4 (6 page)

Kevin hadn’t taken his eyes off Amery. “You do that.”

I gathered my coat and purse from my office and booked it downstairs.

The hair salon was as dead as every other business this time of year. Jenny—a ditz with a bra size bigger than her IQ—deigned to glance up from the fashion magazines spread across the check-in counter. The wad of purple gum she chomped matched the gloss on her collagen-enhanced lips.

“Is Kim around?”

“Nopers. She went home early.”

“When?”

“About two hours ago.”

“Was everything all right?”

“Yeppers.”

Jesus. I hated her cutesy answers. “She still having 48

problems with heartburn?”

“Yeppers.”

I left before she subjected me to more of her creative vernacular and I subjected her to what constitutes proper professional etiquette.

Dammit. I missed Kim. As much as I wanted to check on her, I knew she’d suffered with trouble sleeping and she deserved a quiet, uninterrupted afternoon nap.

So, what now?

Home. I bundled up and reached in my coat pocket for my gloves, only to come up empty-handed.

Great. I’d set them on my desk and they were my spare pair. My favorite leather gloves were in Martinez’s Escalade.

Back upstairs. I’d cleared the reception area when I noticed the door to the conference room was cracked open. “Oh, Kevin. Yes. Yes. Right there,” wafted out on a seductive sigh.

I froze. I heard Kevin’s low voice but couldn’t make out his exact response. But Amery’s next phrase rang out loud and clear:

“Harder. Oh. Just like that. God. That is so good.”

No. It couldn’t be. They were
not
doing it on the conference table. Maybe Kevin was giving her a neck rub or something.

Then a rhythmic thumping started.

So much for my back rub theory.

My feet shuffled forward even when my brain attempted to superglue them to the carpet.

49

Don’t look. You don’t want to see this.

But I did. Some perverse part of me for sure. I tiptoed across the room. My heart raced; my blood pounded a countertempo to the steady noises echoing back to me. One more step and I’d be at the door.

Don’t do it. Walk away.
Run
away.

Ignoring the warning, I placed my cheek against the wooden door trim and peeked inside.

Holy shit.

Amery was splayed on the conference table, à la 1950s-pinup-girl-style; back and neck arched provocatively, her blouse undone, lacy bra cups dangling by her armpits, her skirt shoved up past her hips, her legs clad in sheer black thigh-highs were wrapped around Kevin’s waist. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the sight of her shiny black boots contrasting with the white skin of Kevin’s naked ass.

“Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop,” she wailed.

Theatrics? Or was Kevin really that good?

Kevin’s pants were around his ankles. Besides that he was fully clothed. He’d pinned Amery’s arms above her head as his lower body thrust against hers, rocking the table.

My cheeks flamed. While I understood Kev taking a little afternoon delight when it was offered, he should’ve locked the goddamn door—any door. He’d left the office wide open. Anyone could’ve waltzed in and seen the up-close, personal service we offered while he was servicing our client.

50

Fucking idiot. When had he become so . . . reckless? Kevin was supposed to be the responsible one in this partnership.

It’d serve him right if I yelled, “Eww! I have to eat on that table!” or “Quit fucking around and get back to work.” But I wouldn’t.

Still, I didn’t bother to slink away like some guilt-ridden Peeping Tom. I slammed the door before I locked it from the outside and reset the alarm.

When my cold fingers connected with the

ice-covered handle on my truck, I realized I’d forgotten the reason I’d gone back to the office in the first place.

Screw that. I’d rather freeze my fingers off than have more images of Kevin and Amery going at it burned into my brain.

51

Martinez showed up earlier than I expected.

More pissed off than I’d expected.

His door slamming brought me into the living room PDQ and I jumped at his angry manner.

“Glad to see you’re not half-dead in some goddamn river bottom, blondie.”

I flinched.

Martinez didn’t care; he wasn’t done chewing my ass. He threw the gloves I’d left in his SUV on the coffee table. “I’ve been trying to call you for four hours.

Where the hell’s your cell phone?”

“In my purse.”

He paused, trying to melt my surliness under the full weight of his tough guy glare. “So you turned it off.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

52

I shrugged.

“Christ. Because I wouldn’t have phone sex with you?”

“No, I turned it off because I was working.”

“Why didn’t you turn it back on when you were done working?”

“What is your problem? I just forgot, okay?”

“No, it’s not okay. Especially after what happened with Leticia. You know it drives me crazy when I can’t get a hold of you for hours on end.” He heaved his leather jacket on the recliner. “You weren’t here and nobody answered the phone at your office.”

“That’s because Kevin was too busy fucking our client on the conference table to bother with anything trivial like locking the goddamn doors or answering the goddamn telephone.”

Martinez lifted a brow. “Run that by me again?”

“You heard right.” I rubbed the sharp pain between my eyes with my thumb, attempting to stave off a headache. “Look. I’ve had a shit day. Not only did I spend hours dealing with cranky old people, I had a front row seat to Kevin nailing our very young, and as I discovered, very vocal client. I’m not up to dealing with your pissy mood. So if you can’t be nice to me, go away.”

I pushed my body from the doorjamb and returned to the kitchen. I craved a warm drink, something sugary and soothing. Coffee was out. Ditto for the perfumy tea Brittney had passed off as my Christmas 53

gift. My fingers curled around the box of instant cocoa and my belly muscles tightened. It was impossible not to dwell on the last time I’d made hot chocolate in this kitchen—for my nephew, Jericho, who’d since disappeared from my life, probably forever. No, hot chocolate wouldn’t be soothing at all.

The floor creaked. I looked up. Martinez shut the cupboard door, coiled his fingers in my hair, and pressed his mouth to mine.

It was a surprisingly sweet, but extensive kiss. He mollified me in a way nothing else—not even chocolate—ever had or ever would.

He tipped my face back to meet his dark eyes.

“See? I can be nice.”

“You can do better.”

“Yeah? Maybe I’ll give it a shot if you do something nice for me.”

“Which would be?”

“Don’t turn off your phone. Put it on vibrate, but I need to know I can get in touch with you at all times.”

Not a casual request, and my warning bells jangled. “Tony, what’s going on?”

He sighed. “Some Hombres shit.”

I treated him to the narrow-eyed stare he usually leveled on me. “Not a good enough answer. Try again.”

“Until I know more that’s all I can tell you.”

Or all he would tell me. “Is that why you barged in here? To put the fear of Verizon in me?”

“If that’ll work.”

54

“Fine. I’ll sleep with the goddamn thing if you’ll stop nagging me about it. Seems I could use a bad dream talisman anyway.” I sidestepped him and opened the refrigerator. “Am I cooking dinner for two? Or did you just show up here to piss me off before you leave me to my own devices again?”

Martinez didn’t move. I felt his searing gaze on my neck as I studied the humble contents inside the fridge.

“Why didn’t you call me last night after it happened?”

“You’d’ve driven out here at two in the morning to hold my hand?”

“I’d’ve been here in a fucking heartbeat, Julie, and you damn well know it.” He paused and asked, “Who?”

The unwanted images slammed into my head. I couldn’t pretend the horror in my dreams was a freakish one-time-only nightmare. The faces might change, but the truth didn’t: I’d killed someone. My subconscious decided I needed to pay for that. Repeatedly.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

“It was you this time, okay? So you understand why I didn’t rush to the phone to spill my guts that we were in a shoot-out and you killed me.”

“Fuck.”

I swung the door shut. “Yeah. Forget it.”

“No.”

“Tony—”

He spun me and clamped his hands around my biceps. “You don’t have these goddamn nightmares when I’m in bed with you.”

55

“No shit.”

“When are you gonna admit . . .”

His shrewd gaze lingered on the dark circles under my eyes that makeup couldn’t hide. I stayed mum and stared back defiantly.

“I will hammer away at you until you talk to me about this.”

How well I knew that. “Fine. Everything was in bloody extreme slow-mo. A light flashed and we were blowing chunks out of each other. When I inhaled, my lungs hurt so fucking bad it was like I was breathing lead, which made it worse because everything smelled like you, then rot and death. And I was crying except when a bullet hit you, I’d laugh.
Laugh
, like she did after she shot me, and then I woke up alone.”

Screaming. I didn’t tell him that part, but I suspected he knew anyway.

Martinez didn’t haul me into his arms for a hug.

His hands dropped like I’d become radioactive.

Great.

I fled to my bedroom to avoid the argument.

Martinez’s solution to my nightmares was simple: sleep with him every night, wherever that might be. It wouldn’t be an issue if it meant crashing at his house regularly. But we spent less time at his hilltop for-tress than any other place. I didn’t mind spending the night in his private rooms at Fat Bob’s, the biker bar he owned, or at Bare Assets, the strip club he owned

. . . once in a while. Problem was, even he didn’t know 56

where he’d end up after last call, and I didn’t enjoy playing musical beds.

Consequently, we weren’t together every night—a situation he blamed on me. And it drove him insane he wasn’t around to protect me from myself, which was sweet, if an unrealistic expectation on his part.

I pressed my hot forehead to the window, welcoming the cool sting of icy glass. Would he leave or stay?

After a time, footsteps stopped behind me and I was surrounded by the familiar scent of leather. Of him.

His heavy sigh stirred my hair. “I’m late for a meeting.”

“So go.”

“Jesus, Julie. Don’t.” Warm lips brushed the back of my head. “I know you want me to stay, and I wouldn’t leave if I had a choice. I hate that I don’t have a fucking choice tonight. There’s some shit I can’t . . .”

His fingers swept my hair behind my ear and he leaned in to whisper, “Keep your cell phone on, blondie.”

“Fine.”

“Promise me.”

“Okay, okay. I promise. Since I’ll be sleeping alone again tonight, maybe I
will
keep it very close . . . and on vibrate.”

Martinez’s soft laughter sent a hot burst of longing through me. I missed him. I missed us. He kissed the spot below my ear and left without another word.

With half a dozen shots of Don Julio as a sleep aid, 57

not only didn’t I hear the phone ring, I didn’t dream at all.

The next morning it was snowing and blowing. I was half-tempted to call Luella and cancel our appointment. But I’d have to let Kevin know the change in plans and, frankly, I’d rather deal with a ground blizzard than with my randy partner.

I resembled a hockey player when I crawled in my truck; warmth won out over fashion for me every time.

Visibility on I-90 East into Rapid City was better than I’d expected.

Luella paced by the side door at Prairie Gardens and flung it open at my approach. “Kate! I was afraid you weren’t coming.”

Kate
. Right. I’d forgotten my cover. “It’s not as bad out there as it looks.” I stamped the snow from my boots on the rubber floor mat. “Cold though.”

“Then I won’t offer to take your coat.”

We wound through the tables of a mostly empty common room and stopped at a metal counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of the space.

“Coffee?”

“Please. Black is fine.” This was the part I hated, making small talk. I preferred to get down to business.

58

We sipped our coffee in silence broken by the distant buzz of a TV.

I smiled. “Is this the only food service area?”

“No. The main cafeteria is in the long-term care wing. This”—she gestured around us—“is used for snacks, parties, family gatherings, and such.”

“It’s very nice. Handy.” My gaze swept the walls as I searched for polite chitchat topics. “What are those plaques for?”

“Oh. Memorial contributions.”

“From . . . deceased residents? Like a wall of death?”

She studied the configuration from afar. “I never thought of it that way. Not very appetizing, is it?”