Page 62 of Dealing Dirty
Blood trickles down their arms in rivulets. Cassidy’s reappeared, throwing some towels at them from the safety of the main bar. By the time they’re separated from each other, the chatter around the bar has quieted to a dull whisper. Jack smacks Derrick between his shoulders and scolds him quietly, but his eyes are trained on the threat in front of him.
“Don’t look at her,” Derrick growls through his teeth. My eyes cling to the white towel that’s soaked with blood, but the tiny cuts seem to have stopped flowing.
The person closest to me slowly backs away, and then the next, until I’m standing in the center of a semi-circle with dozens of prying eyes. Their judging stares flick between Derrick and Alfonzo before settling on me.
Heat floods my cheeks.
Damn him.
This is all wrong. I had the situation under control. I’m not the harlot they think I am.
Alfonzo’s heavy breaths saw in and out of his chest.
“Derrick,” I plead faintly.
Jack glares between the three of us with his classic scowl, and I suddenly want to vomit. This is my job, and bar or not, I’m responsible for the way I present myself.
Micah’s grimace is apologetic as realization blazes behind Jack’s observing eyes. I may as well have a big red stamp on my forehead that says ‘We’re Sleeping Together!’
“Christ, D,” he says on a sigh.
“Did you touch her, you piece of shit?” Derrick asks Alfonzo.
Our flushed faces match, but where mine is fed by embarrassment, Derrick’s is pure rage. If he could kill this man without repercussions, I know he would, and that thought terrifies me to the depths of my soul.
“Oh, I touched her,” Alfonzo sneers, wetting his marred lips. “And the bitch begged for more.”
Jack and Micah have Derrick’s arms in a tight grip before he can even take a step, but for a single heart-breaking moment, Derrick hesitates.
The blood in my body crashes down in a heavy rush at his questioning gaze.
Is he truly second guessing this asshole? Does he think so little of me?
What a perfect reminder that this ridiculous deal we made was temporary. Just a means to scratch an itch that at this moment, I’m considering a job well done.
The crowd around us gawks, and I’m fuming that we’ve turned into the entertainment for the evening. My nails nearly pierce my palms.
Derrick, Jackie, Alfonzo. These men think it’s their right to touch me. They have the audacity to evoke responsestheywant from me to feed their toxic masculinity, but I’m done. I’m tired of being a helpless doll.
They want to own and use me, but I won’t be caged.
Tank’s thick body slides between us to wrap his meaty hand around the back of Alfonzo’s neck. He meets my eyes for a heartbeat, silently checking that I’m alright before dragging the asshole toward the exit.
Now that the excitement is over, people spread out in a rush as if what just transpired was nothing out of the norm. I wrap my arms around myself, shivering under a blanket of hurt and disappointment.
I welcome Hazel’s gentle touch between my shoulder blades. “I’m here, Jules. It’s okay.”
Her comfort is a salve to my anger, but not enough to rid my body of it.
Jack and Micah exchange a wary glance when Derrick combs a shaky hand through his hair.
I take a step away from him when he gets too close.
“Shit, Juliana,” he breathes. “Are you alright?”
My arms wind tighter across my middle. “How could you?”
His brows raise over widened eyes, and I notice several tiny cuts above the left side. “Did you actually want that creep hitting on you?”
