Hallowed Ground (38 page)

“Yeah.”

“Pity. I think Sheriff Richards had always hoped you’d take the test and become one of us.” He didn’t sip his coffee, he drained it. I’d never met a cop who didn’t live on caffeine. “Do you remember what happened today?”

“I thought you were here to tell me.”

“I can tell you one thing: Your car looks like a crumpled pie tin. Wrecker service hauled it to a garage in Sturgis. Probably pointless. It’s totaled.”

I reclined my head back in the pillows. “My purse?”

“Undamaged, surprisingly. Cell phone made it through too.”

“Thanks.”

“I gotta admire your driving skills. Few people could’ve come out of that crash still breathing.”

“Glad I paid attention during Driver’s Ed,” I said dryly.

“You remember how fast were you going when you hit?”

“Somewhere between the speed of light and a dead-stop. Everything was in slow-mo until the last second.” I inhaled to calm the sudden spike in my breathing. “Probably twenty-five.”

He nodded. “Why were you in Deadwood?”

“Following a lead for a case. I got in my car and started down the big hill. When I hit the brakes nothing happened.”

“Had any mechanical problems with your car recently?”

“I sure wouldn’t have driven up here if I had.”

“No problems on the way up?”

“Nope. My brakes worked just fine.”

He sighed. “Unfortunately, going up isn’t the problem. Coming down is the tricky part. You might not have noticed if they were acting strange.”

“True.”

“Well. That’s it. I don’t have anything else to add except you oughta buy a lottery ticket today, Ms. Collins.”

I fidgeted. It hurt. I didn’t move. It hurt. More than anything I wanted to hurt in my own damn bed. “Any chance I can get you to spring me from this joint, now that I’ve been officially cleared of any wrongdoing?”

Another broad smile. “I’ll send in Nurse Ratchet. She handles the discharge papers.”

I glared at him. “How can you compare that sweet little thing—”

“That ‘sweet little thing’ can bench press 200 pounds and bring a man to tears with her razor sharp tongue.” He tossed the cup in the garbage. “I oughta know. She’s my wife.”

Wife? Candy-striper cutie? No way.

She materialized by his side. She only reached his armpit. “Bad mouthing me again, sweetheart?”

“Never.”

The look he gave her made me want to cry. No man had ever looked at me like that. No man probably ever
would
look at me like that. Add in the fact she looked back at him the same way made me feel like my life was complete shit.

Jesus Christ. Had they given me painkillers or hormones? I never had this overwhelming urge to weep. I certainly never gave into it when I did.

Maybe I did have brain damage.

After he’d left and they quit making goo-goo eyes at each other, I said, “Can you bring me the discharge papers so I can go home now?”

“I don’t know. You’re pretty banged up.”

“Is ‘banged up’ an official diagnosis, nurse?”

Her kind eyes hardened. “No. But my recommendation to the doctor is to keep you here overnight, and he listens to me even if you won’t.”

“But I can discharge myself, right?”

“Only if you’ve got someone who can sign you out and take you home.” She checked the bandage on my head. “
Matrix
driving maneuvers aside, this isn’t an injury to be taken lightly. No matter how tough you think are, your body
will
need time to recover.”

“I know. I’ll take it easy.”

She studied me. Knew I was lying through my teeth. “Is there someone you can call?”

And again, there was that temptation to bawl my eyes out.

No. And thanks for pointing out the sucky emptiness of my life.

I couldn’t call Kevin.

I refused to call my father.

Jimmer? Maybe.

Martinez? No. Wouldn’t want him to think I was stalking him after last night.

I picked Kim.

But what if she said no?

Then I’d toss a chair through the window and make my own escape. I couldn’t stand another fucking hour in this damn hospital.

I gave Nurse Tschetter a charming smile, though it stung like a son of a bitch. “Would you hand me the phone?”

Two hours later I held the discharge papers in my lap as I sat in Kim’s Volvo. I went comatose and didn’t stir until she woke me in my driveway.

“Come on, sugar. Even though your ass is skinny, I ain’t hauling it up the stairs. You gotta walk.

That’s it. Slowly.”

I hurt everywhere. I barely made it to the couch before I collapsed.

“I shouldn’t have let you talk me into this. You should be in the hospital, Jules.”

“I’m fine.”

She harrumphed and her footsteps faded. A minute later she said, “Lift your head,” and tucked a cool pillow beneath my neck.

I exhaled a bliss filled sigh.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Painkillers. And tequila.”

“You wish.” She handed me two pills and a lukewarm glass of water to wash them down.

I closed my eyes and willed the damn drugs to kick in.

Kim pressed her soft hip on the couch beside mine. Didn’t say anything for a time. Her fingers gently pushed my matted hair away from the bandage.

“How many stitches they have to put in this hard head of yours?”

“Ten. Give or take.”

She sniffled and I opened my eyes.

“What?”

Tears dripped, leaving black smears down her cheeks. “I’m just happy you’re not dead.”

“Kim, I’m fine.”

“Oh shut up. Let me fuss over you a little, will you?”

I smiled. It didn’t hurt at all. “Okay.”

Then once again everything went gray.

I woke with a hellacious headache.

From a wild night?

No. From my wild ride yesterday.

The voices arguing in the kitchen added another layer to the constant throbbing. I listened but couldn’t decipher specifics. Hearing loss? Or that pesky brain damage issue again?

I struggled to sit up. Mouth dry, I grabbed the glass of water. After a tiny sip, I reached for the Excedrin, knocked the bottle over, and it crashed to the carpet.

The arguing stopped.

Kim scurried into the living room, Martinez hot on her purple heels.

Great.

Kim said something; Tony said something back.

No wonder I hadn’t understood. They’d been speaking Spanish.

“Julie, sugar, how do you feel?” Kim cooed.

“Like shit.”

Nasty, pregnant pause.

“You didn’t call me.” This from Martinez.

I took another drink.

“Don’t give me that bullshit about you not running to your
clients
for protection.”

Meaning: We’d gone beyond client relations. I glanced at Kim to see if she’d caught the gist.

But she was too busy snapping, “What part of ‘she had a head injury’ don’t you understand?”

He rattled off a phrase in Spanish.

She snarled one in return.

“English, please. Makes me paranoid that you’re talking about me.”

“Well, we are.”

I looked at Martinez.

Kim pleaded, “Tony. Wait. Please. Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” I said.

He got right in my face.

I shuddered at the cold fury in his eyes.

“Don’t ask you why in the hell someone tried to kill you yesterday.”

I SLURPED ANOTHER MOUTHFUL OF STALE WATER.

“Kill me? Jesus, Martinez. Paranoid much? My brakes failed. That’s it. No one tried to kill me except the damn Nissan Corporation and their cheap ass braking system.”

He leveled me with that, “I’d-like-to-strangle-you-with-your-own-intestines” look.

“Wrong. After I found out, from someone besides
you
, that your car had been totaled in Boulder Canyon, I sent a mechanic up to Sturgis this morning to check it out. Know what he found?”

He paused for effect.

“Someone had sawed through your back brake cable and snipped the hose to both of the front brakes. You didn’t have a chance.”

The liquid in my stomach churned.

I dropped my head between my knees to fight off the dizziness, but the only thing that action did was drive a spear of pain further into my skull.

“Jesus, that fucking hurts,” I said, wincing.

“I can’t believe you told her like that! You are so heartless.”

Martinez knelt in front of me. Strong hands cradled my head and lifted my chin slightly so he could peer into my eyes. “You all right?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Kim stamped within my line of vision. “This is how you help? By making her feel like crap? I wouldn’t have let you in here if I had any idea you had such a lousy bedside manner.”

Martinez completely ignored her tirade. His thumbs glided back and forth across my cheekbones.

His intent gaze searched my face, my swollen nose, flicked to the bandage on my head, then back to my eyes.

The distress in his rocked me to my core.

Kim had it wrong. He was ruthless, not heartless.

Big difference.

My thoughts flashed to my time in the hospital. How alone I’d felt. How I’d wanted someone to count on, someone to lean on, even for a little while.

He was here. He
wanted
to be here, apparently, no matter how hard I tried to push him away.

So, I caved.

He knew the nanosecond it happened.

“Leave us,” Martinez demanded.

“But—”

“It’s okay, Kim, I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be right in the kitchen if you need anything.”

“Bring us some coffee in a bit,” he suggested.

She spun on her heel and rattled off something in Spanish that made him smile.

With his left hand he tenderly brushed my hair back over my shoulder. Twined a few pale strands around his dark fingers. His right hand slid carefully down my face. His palm was warm against my jaw. Solid. The pad of his thumb swept across my bottom lip in an erotic arc.

My breath caught.

In one smooth move he replaced his thumb with his mouth.

He tasted like sweet coffee. And he filled me with those sweet, sweet drugging kisses until I felt like my lungs might burst. I pulled back. But not too far back.

“Martinez—”

“Ssh,” he whispered against my lips. “Just let me.”

“This has to stop.”

“In a minute.” He kept the kisses gentle and comforting, never veering toward the demanding, hungry ones I’d remembered from the other night.

Finally, he broke the kiss and pressed his damp lips to my ear. “Not one word. But we
will
deal with this very soon, understand?”

I swallowed and nodded.

Martinez angled back. Stood. “Right now, we’re going to talk about the car accident. Start with when you left Fat Bob’s yesterday morning.”

Kim bobbled the tray of cups she carried when she heard that tidbit.

Annoyed, I rattled off everything, not caring that Kim soaked in every word.

“Where did you park yesterday when you were in Deadwood?”

“On the back side of Main Street by The Golden Boot.”

“Why? The parking garage is safer.”

“But it’s not free.”

“Didn’t I agree to pay your expenses?”

“You want to argue about money, Martinez?”

He hunkered down and said very softly, “You really don’t want to push me right now, blondie.”

Shit.

“You remember anybody hanging around in the alley yesterday?”

I glared at him. “Get real. It’d be too risky for someone to sneak under my car and tamper with the brakes in broad daylight.”

“Not necessarily. They’d just lie if someone caught them and claim they were fixing mechanical problems.”

Seemed like he had firsthand info on the best way to handle that specific situation. I didn’t want to know how. “Could someone have messed with it while it was parked overnight at Fat Bob’s?

Or even at the Bear Butte Casino site? What about Linderman? Doesn’t he own a couple of car dealerships?”

“Yeah, he does. But the point is, why?” His eyes bored into me. “Is there something else going on with this case you haven’t told me about?”

I shook my head. Winced because it hurt.

“Enough,” Kim said. “She needs to rest.”

“I agree.” Martinez stood and headed toward the door. He turned back. “If anything else happens, I want to know. Immediately. From you. Is that clear?”