Snow Blind - Lori G. Armstrong [62]
Arms crossed over his chest, he stayed mute.
“See? That I-don’t-have-to-tell-you-anything bullshit attitude is why you piss me off, Martinez. That’s why I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Wrong. Give me your keys.”
Wisely, Kevin and Big Mike retreated from the line of fire.
Another pause. Neither of us budged.
“Losing my patience with you, blondie.”
I stomped toward him. “So fucking what? I don’t even know why the fuck you’re here. I told Big Mike I didn’t want to talk to you.”
“No, you told him I could kiss your ass.”
“You’re a bright guy; I figured you could read 216
between the lines.”
He laughed softly. “You mean read between the cracks?”
“That wasn’t supposed to be funny!” Yelling at him made my head throb. Made me feel like an ass, too. I said to Kevin, “Take me home.”
Big Mike and Kevin exchanged a look.
Fine. Let Martinez dictate to them—he didn’t dictate to me. I’d made it about ten steps when Martinez stopped me.
“Go away. I’m not talking to you.”
His gaze flicked to the cut on my temple. “You’re bleeding.”
“Like you care.”
Martinez stared at me. Through me. If I hoped he’d dispute my statement, lovingly assure me I was in error, that he cared about me deeply, then I was bound to be disappointed.
He leaned close enough to whisper, “Don’t. Go. There.”
Yikes. But he wasn’t done.
“I’m so fucking mad at you right now that if you don’t hand over your keys I will take them by force, tie you up with your purse straps, and dump your smartass in the back of your truck bed to see if a ride in the cold night air will cool off your goddamn hothead.”
That was almost a soliloquy coming from Martinez. It was also scary as hell because he wasn’t joking.
“Fine.” I drew back, unzipped my purse, and 217
slapped my keys in his palm. “Happy now?”
“Ecstatic.”
He sauntered over to Kevin and Big Mike. Said something to them I couldn’t hear. They both nodded. Kevin broke from their little he-man group and trotted back to me. “You okay with Martinez taking you home?”
“Like I have a choice.”
“You do. Say the word and I’ll call Jimmer. Or Kim. Or a cab.”
I glanced at Tony studying me like a mountain lion eyes a lame fawn. “Maybe drunk and pissed off isn’t the best way for me to deal with him.”
Kevin pecked me on the forehead. “My money’s on you.”
Big Mike and Kevin climbed into a silver Cadillac Escalade and disappeared down the dusty road. It was pitch-black in the far back corner of Dusty’s parking lot. As I passed by empty vehicles, I wondered if Martinez’s other bodyguards were out here watching us. Felt like someone was. I hated that feeling. Made me shiver.
I lost my footing on the running board on the passenger side of my truck. Martinez caught me. “You okay?”
“No. My head hurts.”
“I’ll bet. Let me see.” His gaze never made it past my mouth. He said, “Fuck it,” pushing me against the truck to kiss the shit out of me.
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I let him.
His lips broke from mine after about a year.
“I’m still mad at you,” I said, fighting to catch my breath as he used his teeth on my throat.
“Same goes.” He dove in for another openmouthed kiss that left my brain muddled, and the rest of my body hot and tingly.
In about two seconds my jeans would be around my knees and my bare ass would be pressing cold metal as he pressed inside me. I pushed him back.
“Stop. I’m not talking to you.”
“We haven’t been talking.”
I mimed zipping my lip.
He sighed. “You drive me absolutely crazy.”
“Me? What did I do?”
“Hung up on me for starters.”
“So? Your phone manners suck every goddamn
day.”
“You refused to talk to me when I drove out
here.”
“I don’t like being summoned, Martinez.”
“I know. Why do you think I do it?” He used the back of his rough-skinned hand to trace my jawline. A quiver rippled down the center of my body. Talk about easy. “Why am I letting you paw me when I’m mad at you?”
“Too much tequila. I’m a total bastard who has no problem taking advantage of the situation.”
“Are we fighting again