Shot Girl by Karen E. Olson Page B

shut and put his hand on the back of my neck, pulling my face to his and kissing me.
    The heat I was feeling now had nothing to do with the air.
    But just as quickly as he’d started, he stopped, staring into my eyes before moving away, pacing across my living room.
    Something was wrong.
    I let my eyes move around the room, taking in my space, the space I’d called home now for ten years. The Japanese print of Mount Fuji was on the wall behind the rocking chair. Ralph had given it to me as a wedding present. It was the only thing I had from him that I’d kept.
    Vinny suddenly stopped pacing. He took my hand and led me to the rocking chair. I sat, and although I couldn’t see the Mount Fuji print anymore, I could feel it behind me.
    Vinny knelt down in front of me and took my hands in his.
    "I was in the bar last night when I heard the shots. I didn’t want to go through the front, but went out the side door, the one the deliveries come through. That’s where I went after I saw him kissing you." He paused. This wasn’t easy for him. I willed myself not to show any emotion. "I had a good view of the parking lot." His voice wavered slightly, and I’d never seen him like this before. My chest constricted, and I swallowed hard.
    "I saw you leaning into the car, the gun in your hand. You put the gun under the seat."

Chapter 14
    This wasn’t going the way I expected.
    "You’re not going to deny it?" Vinny asked incredulously.
    I shrugged. "What can I say? You’ve convicted me already."
    "I waited all evening for you to say something, to tell me about last night, but you didn’t say a damn thing," he said.
    "So you automatically think I’m guilty of something?" I glared at him. "We talked about last night. I told you he kissed me, that I kicked him."
    I couldn’t look at him anymore, so I took a deep breath, reached back, pulled my hair up, and stretched my neck hard enough I heard it crack as I looked at the ceiling.
    It was a light touch at first. The thin scars on his palms tickled my skin as his hands slid up my calves and under the skirt to my thighs. I shifted instinctively toward him as his fingers hooked around my underpants and tugged them down. My breath came faster; I could hear my heart pounding in my ears.
    I had no idea that thinking I could shoot at my ex-husband would elicit this sort of a response, but my brain shut down as I felt his mouth on me.
    Suddenly, he reached underneath me, yanking me closer to the edge of the chair. My head fell back as the chair rocked forward, slamming it against the rails, but I barely felt it. The wood was smooth under my ass. His hands slipped up under my shirt and unhooked my bra; my legs straddled his hips, grinding against the stiff cloth. His tongue teased my neck before his face shadowed mine, his eyes dark and smoky, a question in them.
    He kissed me long and deep, stopping abruptly. I lifted my head slightly to meet his lips again, but he put a hand on my cheek, forcing me back. When he finally spoke, after a long moment, his eyes locked with mine, he said huskily, "Tell me you didn’t shoot at him."
    I shook my head, uncertain if I could even speak—it was as if my body had completely taken over and there was no room for words anymore.
    "Tell me," he said, not willing to let me out of it. "Why did you have your gun?"
    I didn’t want to tell him. I sorted through the chaos in my head and finally said, "I’ve been getting phone calls."
    Talk about killing a mood. He sat up—when did he have time to take off his shirt?—and I realized our moment was over, hooked my bra, and pulled my shirt back down. My skirt was still hitched up over my thighs, and I left it that way. Wishful thinking. Maybe this wouldn’t take too long.
    "Phone calls from whom?" Vinny asked.
    I shook my head. "I don’t know. The phone rings in the middle of the night, I answer, but no one’s there. Whoever it is hangs up."
    Vinny frowned. "Not when I’m here."
    "You’re not always