Branded as Trouble (Rough Riders #6)(22)

“Put your money away.”


“I won’t be beholden to you for anything.”


“Too f*ckin’ late and you’re treading on thin ice, India.”


She got right in his face. “So? I feel like stomping all over that ice, Colt, with sharp, pointy crampons to see who falls through the cracks first.”


“It looks like you’re the one who’s cracking up.”


“It’s your fault.”


“My fault? How do you figure?”


India smacked him in the chest with her wallet. “Because I’ve been trying to get in touch with you all week.”


“Why?”


Because I missed you, you clueless jerk. “Because you missed Tuesday night’s meeting.”


Colt stared at her with belligerence. “So? I’ve been busy.”


“You were too busy to come to a meeting?”


“Cut me some slack. I’ve missed one meeting in two and a half years.”


“I left you a bajillion messages.”


“I particularly liked the one where you called me a dickhead.”


That brought a small smile. “If the shitkicker fits…”


“Don’t f*ck with me, India. I’m not in the mood.”


“Well, gee, I wouldn’t want anything to ruin your ‘mood’, especially since you have a hot date.” India bit her cheek to keep from lashing out further. “You know what? Forget it. All of it. Have a lovely evening with your horse-faced honey.”


Colt laughed and said, “Oh, no you don’t,” as he snatched her elbow. “We ain’t close to done with this conversation.”


“We are. Just leave me alone.”


“Like hell.”


Stupid tears flooded her eyes. She couldn’t blink them away fast enough and the stupid jerk saw she was about to bawl like a stupid baby.


“Sweet Jesus, are you cryin’?”


“No.” She jammed her wallet in her back pocket and attempted to flee.


“Dammit. Don’t you walk away like this.”


“Haven’t you humiliated me enough tonight?” India dodged people congregating in the hallways, fully aware they were gawking at her. And him. And them.


“Come back here.”


Burning gazes of strangers raked her inked skin as deeply as if they were wielding tattoo needles. Disgusted glances at her piercings pricked her as sharply as if they were holding a piercing gun. Normally she could give a rip about the stares, but tonight she had a hard time holding her head up, which pissed her off.


She didn’t get far before Colt clamped his fingers around her biceps. “Let me go.”


“Not a chance.”


“Where’s your date?”


“Shut up, Indy.”


“I hate you.”


“No, sugar, you don’t.”


More tears surfaced.


He dragged her downstairs. Smart people scattered at seeing the intent on Colt’s face and the fury in his every movement.


Taking a quick look around, he pulled her into a closet in the middle of the hallway. Then he stepped in front of the door, blocking her exit. “Start talkin’.”


India mimed zipping her lip and tossing away the key.