Snow Blind - Lori G. Armstrong [16]
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 guiltridden 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