Page 61 of Dealing Dirty
“Who’s making you smile, beautiful?”
I gasp, spinning toward the voice to find a familiar man looming over me. My hand flies to my chest to calm my galloping heart.
“You scared me,” I say, a little shaky.
His eyes are pinned to something over my head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
Who knew the man could speak? Each time I’ve seen him, he’s kept to himself. I’m not sure we’ve ever been properly introduced.
“You’re Ethan’s friend, right?” I ask, sliding my palms over my waist.
Dark eyes slink down my body, and for the first time since I started here, I feel uncomfortable in my uniform. I trace a finger along the inside seam of the bottom of my shorts and yank them down.
Damn thighs, they’re always trying to gobble them up.
Ethan’s friend watches my every move, and a sheen of unease skitters down my arms.
“Do… you have a name?”
“Alfonzo,” he drawls, backing me up with two delicate steps. My spine flattens against the cool brick wall where a good portion of the bar and POS unit block us from view.
“O-okay,” I stutter. “Nice to meet you.”
A smattering of scars covers the left side of his mouth, like maybe he tried to eat a knife. Or someone tried to make him. His skin is tanned like mine, but bumpy and littered with dark pores.
Sinister glee bleeds his pupils as wide as a shark’s while his clammy palm caresses the outside of my thigh.
“Don’t touch me,” I say too quietly. Now would be a great time to scream, but the words are trapped inside my swelling throat as panic bridges its way across my mind.
“It’s okay,chiquita,” he says, crowding me. “No one needs to know that you want me as badly as I want you.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t even know you.”
He snatches my wrists and pins them between our bodies. “You’re going to get to know me very well in just a moment.”
“Are you insane?” My panic subsides as blind rage blisters my veins.
He’s about to learn the hard way that I’m not some plaything made for his entertainment.
Searching for any sort of weakness or opening, my focus lasers in on the spot between his legs. Déjà vu strikes, reminding me of the night I first met Jackie. I’m about to nail the idiot with my knee when a blast of cool air rushes between us.
I’m too stunned to shout, watching in horror as Derrick picks Alfonzo up by the front of his shirt and drags the man toward the bar. I don’t have a single second to process what’s going on. One minute I’m about to knee the guy in the balls, and the next, Derrick is swooping in and beating the shit out of him.
Glasses shatter as he lifts him higher and repeatedly slams him over the edge of the bar. Alfonzo thrashes about, tearing the front of his shirt, but Derrick’s grip is unforgiving.
Several men rush the bar while shattered glass continues to cascade onto the floor. I frantically attempt to get closer, but the crowd of onlookers shoves me backward. At this rate, he’s going to break the guy in half.
“Derrick, stop!” I finally yell, squeezing through the bodies that block me.
Alfonzo’s fists fly wildly, landing several blows on Derrick’s side and chest. The thudding sound each hit creates makes my stomach turn, but Derrick matches him with equal force.
I scan the room for one of the guys.
“Somebody help!” I yell before finally spotting Jack barreling past a group of people who are blocking the hallway. He points and whistles at Micah over the melee.
Jack reaches Derrick in record time. Braving a few punches himself, he grabs Derrick by the shoulders and yanks him off Alfonzo. Micah clasps a hand over his opposite shoulder while Jack assesses the damage.
Tears threaten when I see them both bloody from the shards still scattered over the counter. Someone steps over the field of glass to help Alfonzo, and I’m surprised to see him standing after the brutal way Derrick handled him.
