Blood and Fire (McClouds & Friends #8)(37)

Bruno wiped the water off his face with his hands. “That annoys the living shit out of me. That you’ve been observing me. Like some entomologist, studying a f*cking bug under glass. Judging me.”

“I haven’t been judging you.” At least, not in a bad way, she wanted to add, but the words were pinned down by his accusing glare.

He opened his jacket and ripped off the bottom strip of his T-shirt. It yielded him a long, limp strip of fabric. He pressed against the still oozing wound at his hairline, wincing.

She couldn’t help noticing, in the unwholesome glare of the fluorescent bulb, how the shortened T-shirt with its dangling threads showed off his tight abs, the glossy dark hair arrowing into his low-slung jeans. He had an innie. One of those taut, stretched ones like an eyelid, the kind you mostly saw on ripped models for men’s health magazines. She’d missed a lot of juicy little details in the dark.

He looked her over, seized his T-shirt again, and ripped off still another strip, which left the garment barely covering his ribcage. He moistened it under the faucet. “Come here.”

She shrank back. “I’m all right.”

“No, you’re not. You look like something out of a splatter film.” He jerked her toward him and started to swipe at her face with the rag.

Huh. It actually felt kind of good to be groomed like a kitten.

“This is my blood, mostly,” he told her. “But I’ve got no diseases.”

“Me, neither,” she offered. The wad in his hand was pinkish gray from blood and makeup. A glance in the mirror showed that she looked only shockingly bad, rather than like out-and-out road-kill.

“And besides, you’re a fine one to talk,” he said, still daubing.

She was so distracted by his scorching male vibes, she’d lost the thread of the conversation. “Huh? Talk about what?”

“Not drawing attention to yourself.” He jerked her coat open, dabbing at the blood on her chest. “Look at your outfit. Every man who looks at you will look again, and then stare. Why the f*ck not? You invited him to. And he will remember every last detail of your face and body. I guarantee it. If you don’t want attention, dress down! Go drab!”

“But I did want you to notice me,” she blurted.

His hand stilled, and he stared at her with a small, puzzled frown. “Yeah. Ah. About that. We need to talk about—”

“No, we don’t. It’s not the time or place,” she said hastily. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I don’t mean to pick a fight with you.”

He grunted. “Yeah, right. You’re always on the offensive, Lily. Every damn thing that comes out of your mouth is provocative.”

She kept her gaze locked on the ragged edge of his T-shirt, staring at the threads dangling over his naked belly. “I guess so,” she said. “I’m just made that way. That’s probably why I’m single.”

“Ah. Could that have anything to do with all these people who are trying to kill you, by any chance?”

She jerked away from him, stung. “No! It does not! I may be a mouthy bitch, but those scumbags have never even given me a chance to insult them properly! I have no idea why they’re doing this!”

“Calm down,” he said. “Don’t yell. We’ll draw attention.”

She closed her scuffed, bloody coat with a jerk, belting it with numb, trembling hands. “Look, I understand your urge to scold me,” she said. “I get that a lot from guys. But could we do it outside? I’d prefer a drive-by shooting at this point than another noseful of this air.”

He got out of her way. “It’s not necessary, you know.”

“What?” She pushed out the door and inhaled the relatively sweet perfume of car exhaust and gasoline gratefully. “What’s not necessary?”

“Being on the offensive,” he said, following close behind. “You don’t have to be. Not with me. I’m actually a pretty decent guy.”

“I noticed that,” she said tartly. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have jumped your bones. I do have some standards, you know.”

He stopped at the pay phone, dug in his pocket. “That’s nice.”

“It’s just hard for me to switch out of offense mode. So don’t take it personally. In fact, I might never be able to switch out of it again, in this lifetime.” Not that she expected to live that long.

“That’s a grim estimate,” he said, counting quarters. “Good thing I got some tips tonight. I don’t usually have this much change.”

Lily charged on. “I’m going to piss you off again, probably soon,” she told him. “So I’ll just apologize in advance, for the next, oh, say, five times. After that, we’ll renegotiate. OK?”

His mouth twitched, wryly. “You are a piece of work.”

“That’s why I—”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s why you’re still alive, and all that doom and gloom shit. Now be quiet, and let me make this call.”

“What call? To who?” she demanded.

He rolled his eyes. “Remember what I said about trusting me?”

“You’re not calling Zia Rosa, are you? Or your employees at the diner? Or your toy business? Or Kev McCloud, or his brothers?”

Bruno set the receiver back on the hook, his face hardening. “How do you know about the McClouds?”