Page 57 of Cocky Jerk

Before Marco or I can respond, Cash walks up to my father.

“His nose is broken, boss. We gotta get Doc on the horn,” he tells him.

“He’s lucky that’s all that’s broke,” Marco snarls.

I tear my gaze away from my father as Marco moves to stand next to me. Rubbing his bloody knuckles on the front of his tee, he pierces me with a look. As angry as he is, there is nothing but concern flashing in his eyes. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

He assesses me for a moment before turning his attention to my dad.

“Marco…” I murmur.

Ignoring me, he shakes out his swollen fist and steps toward my dad.

“You her father?”

“You going to pretend like you don’t know who I am?”

“I know if I had a daughter, and a man disrespected her the way your pal just did, I’d be shaking the hand of the man who rearranged his face and getting a few punches in myself.”

Dad laughs.

“That so?”

“Yeah, it is,” Marco says, confidently. “You want to call 9-1-1 and tell them I assaulted that piece of shit, go ahead. Tell dispatch I say hello. But do it before you lose your shot because in five minutes, I’m taking your daughter out of here and I’m going to spend the rest of the night erasing that fool from her mind.”

“You hear him, Cash? This guy is trying to tell me how to handle my daughter.”

“With all due respect, sir, your daughter is a grown woman and in case you haven’t noticed, she can handle herself just fine. However, she doesn’t have to handle shit because so long as she’s with me I’ll happily take the trash out where she’s concerned.”

Oh, wow.

It’s probably not a good time to ask Marco if he wants to get married and have babies, right?

No man has ever defended my honor or stood up to my father before.

Instead of proposing, I move to his side and loop my arm through his. He turns his head slightly and gives me a wink.

Yeah, I’m totally marrying this one.

“You’re fucking dead,” Hound hisses.

We both turn at the sound of his voice and find Mouse and Ritmo holding him up. His face is a mess, and there is blood dripping from his chin.

“You hear me, motherfucker, I said you’re dead.”

“Careful,” Dad warns.

“Fuck that! He broke my nose.”

“It was an ugly nose anyway,” I point out.

Deciding he’s not worth my time, I look back at Marco.

“You ready to get out of here?” he questions.

I give him a quick nod before looking back at my dad. His expression is blank and to my surprise, he doesn’t say a word. The silent treatment is new for us and I don’t know what to make of it. If I’m being honest, I’m not even sure I care. I’m more concerned with what Marco is thinking and feeling.

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