Snow Blind - Lori G. Armstrong [122]
An illusion.
I moved and they jangled. Hah. Not an illusion. Somehow I made my fingers bend. Somehow I
hooked the key ring on my index finger. After dropping the keys to the floor mat four times, I started my truck, cranked the heat, and passed out to the strains of It Won’t Hurt.
433
The aroma of leather roused me.
My voice scratched out, “Tony?”
“I’m here.”
“I know. I smelled you.”
“You saying I smell bad? No. Don’t answer that, blondie, just hang on.”
The music faded as my body was lifted from the bench seat. Icy wind swept over me. I was so cold. I shivered. The arms around me tightened. Doors slammed. Then softness and heat. Leather. Sweat. Him. Spanish gibberish filled my ear.
Everything went dark again. I didn’t mind. Better than being lost in the white void.
434
I was hot. Too hot. I attempted to sit up but couldn’t with a thousand blankets piled on top of me. I focused on the male voices by my feet.
“Frostbite. Dehydration. Exhaustion.”
“Which means?”
“She oughta go to the hospital and get checked out.”
“No fucking way. I can’t protect her there.”
“Thought you might say that.” A sigh. “Truth is, she should be fine if you keep her warm. Keep her hydrated. Make her rest. And, for Christsake, feed her. She’s goddamn lucky you saved her.”
“I didn’t save her,” Martinez snapped. “She saved herself.”
Ooh, and didn’t he just sound plumb tickled about that?
I tried to roll my shoulders and couldn’t. Had I been mummified? Jesus. Was I wearing a fucking hat? I wanted to scream but I couldn’t breathe. I settled for kicking my feet, which were trapped in four hundred pairs of wool socks.
“She’s awake. Call me if you need anything.”
I heard the door click as the Hombres’ doctor left. Then the cotton sheet was removed from my face. I stared into Tony’s eyes.
He said, “Don’t talk.”
“Bet you’d like that.” Whispering was as close as I’d get to talking after screaming like a banshee in the snowstorm. “Take off this goddamn hat. I’m thirsty. Help me up.”
435
“Hang on, blondie. One thing at a time.”
The layers of covers were peeled back. Once my hands were freed I realized I was wearing gloves. Two pairs. I whipped them off and saw I had on my favorite flannel pajamas. No wonder I’d been so toasty. I scooted into the pillows piled on my side of the bed. Martinez opened the bottled water before handing it to me. I drank the whole thing.
“You want another?”
I shook my head, letting it fall back, hoping I wouldn’t barf up the liquid sloshing in my stomach. He didn’t speak. Even though I’d closed my eyes, I felt him watching me. Worrying. Feeling guilty. Feeling relieved. Probably feeling déjà vu. I didn’t know what to say to offer him solace. So I merely held out my hand to where he’d perched on a folding chair. The second that warm, rough palm covered mine, I sighed.
All the encouragement he needed. He crawled next to me, pulled me into his arms, and became my comfort, my pillow, my blanket, my heat, my light . . . my everything. And I wouldn’t be scared to admit it to him or anyone else. Not ever again.
He whispered, “Jesus, Julie. I’m so sorry.”
“I know.” I repositioned my sore cheek so I could hear his heart beating. “How did you find me?”
No answer.
“Divine intervention?”
“No. GPS.”
436
“What?”
“I put a tracker on your truck.”
I lifted my head. “When?”
“Right after the blizzard when you were missing for two days. Drove me insane. Jackal was on the loose and I figured it’d piss you off if you knew I knew where you were at all times so I didn’t tell you.”
“That’s how you knew I was at Dusty’s? And
at the Road Kill Café? And out in the middle of nowhere?” I couldn’t exactly be indignant about it so I didn’t pretend to be.
“Yeah. You made it clear you hated my security team following you. I had to do something.”
“But you still had your goons following me after that.”
“Better safe than sorry. You have no idea how fucking sorry I am.”
I wondered if he knew . . .
“If you hadn’t convinced Big Mike to call off your tail without my permission, I would’ve been there sooner.