Free Shut Up and Kiss Me by Christie Craig

looking after Redfoot.
    Both he and Maria jumped up, and Maria clutched Sky’s arm.
    “Relax.” The doctor seemed to read their faces. “He’s fine for now.”
    Maria let go of Sky’s arm, and Sky had to remind himself to breathe. They sat.
    “I’m not going to lie to you. It could still be serious,” Henry amended. “His blood pressure’s low. We know he has a concussion. I’m going to get some CT scans to make sure there’s no bleeding in his brain. Whoever hit him wasn’t playing around. It could have killed him.”
    Sky felt his own blood pressure rise.
    “Redfoot’s no spring chicken.” Henry hesitated, then offered them a smile. “Then again, I thought he was going to kick my ass when I told him that.”
    “Stubborn ol’ coot,” Maria snapped.
    Sky grinned. “I think he did that once, didn’t he?”
    Henry laughed. “You mean the time he caught Jose and me getting into his whiskey? He didn’t lay a hand on me, but I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared.” The doctor paused. “Anyway, once we have the results from the scan, I’ll know more.” He stood. “Oh, he’s asking for you, Sky. He won’t let the nurse undress him, and he says he’s not getting the test done until he sees you.”
    “What about me?” Maria asked.
    Henry offered her a sympathetic gaze. “He said just Sky.”
    The sound of the dogs’ snarling seeped through the door.
    “Motherfucker!” a deep voice rumbled. “You bite my ass, I’ll kill you, too!”
    Too?
    A large popping noise sounded. Shala jumped. Oh, God, had the man shot one of Sky’s dogs? It could have been a car backfiring, she told herself. She forced herself to shift ever so slightly, to look out the window. The man, dressed all in black with his matching ski mask, stood staring at Sky’s two dogs, and in his hand was a…Well, it sure as hell wasn’t a backfiring car. But both dogs were still snarling.
    The larger beast glanced in the window at her. Shala slammed back against the wall and heard her heart thump in her ears. In all her twenty-eight years, she’d never danced once with the grim reaper. To whom, she wondered, did she owe the pleasure of this dance? The mayor’s warning rang in her ears: Some people in town, especially the Natives, don’t want us turning to tourism. So don’t be surprised if you run into some…unfriendly folks. Did trying to kill you fall under the “unfriendly” umbrella? Her knees gave way and she slid down the wall like a scoop of flung ice cream.
    The growls grew closer as the dogs got between the door and the man. Was this really happening because she was trying to bring a little tourist economy to Precious?Was that really worth killing someone over? Was it worth dying over? No! It didn’t matter that she needed the money. She’d eat beans and rice for the next six months if she lived through this. She would renege on her contract. She’d send it and the fat little check back to the mayor wrapped up pretty in a pink bow. If she lived through this.
    If!
    Redfoot lifted his head off the narrow hospital bed as Sky walked into the room.
    “Let’s get your clothes changed,” Sky said. “Then you’re going to let the doctors do their tests. You got that?”
    Redfoot leaned on one elbow. “Come closer.” The old man dropped something in Sky’s hands. “Take this stuff home.”
    Sky stared at the bottle of pills. “What’s this?”
    “Medicine I had on me. Just put it away,” Redfoot insisted. “Take it to my place. Don’t want it mixed up with what they give me here.”
    “They may want a list of medications.” Sky turned the bottle over in his hands.
    “Put that damn medicine away and help me change my clothes! The nurses keep coming for me.”
    Sky saw the seriousness in the old man’s eyes, so he stuffed the pills in his jeans pockets and then helped Redfoot sit up and remove his shirt. A few minutes later, Sky was tying the back of Redfoot’s gown. His foster father reached over and