Page 120 of One Good Puck
“That’s why you’re so pissed, isn’t it, Porter? You know that the second she rides my cock, she’d pick me over you.”
My blood boils at the disgusting way he speaks to her.
“I could even take a few photos when I’m fucking her,” McCoy taunts. “I could share them with you—with everyone. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? The whole world seeing your girl’s tits and pussy.”
He laughs. That rage I’ve been shoving down explodes. It’s like a nuclear bomb going off inside of me. Every muscle in my body is aching to rip this piece of shit to shreds. Fine if he wants to shit talk me. I don’t care. But the second he brings up Abby, it’s game fucking over.
No one threatens her. No one disrespects her. Ever.
I turn around, walk up to him, and punch him in the face.
There’s a loud crunching noise, and his head flies back. He groans and mutters a curse, cupping his face in his hands as he falls against the bar top. Blood drips from his hands.
I grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him up to me. His face is twisted in pain and covered in blood. Whenhe looks up at me, his eyes widen the slightest bit. Probably out of surprise. I don’t think he was expecting me, a guy pushing fifty, to break his nose.
“What the fuck did you just say?” I bite out through gritted teeth. He glares at me.
“Say it again, motherfucker. Mention my girlfriend again. I fucking dare you.”
When he blinks, there’s a flash of terror in his eyes.
He swallows hard, then shakes his head slightly.
“If you ever talk about her again, I’ll kill you.”
I let go of his shirt, and he falls to the ground. And that’s when I finally notice that the entire bar has gone quiet. I look around and see every single person in this place staring at me.
Awareness hits. I just punched McCoy in front of a crowded bar. I’m probably going to get kicked out. And arrested.
A tough-looking woman in her sixties frowns at me. I remember the guys saying hi to her earlier. She’s the owner of this bar. Darlene is her name, I think.
I brace myself for her to tell me that she’s going to call the police, but then she looks at McCoy.
“Get the hell out of my bar,” she says to him.
He frowns like he’s never been more confused. “You’re kicking me out? I’m the one who got punched!”
“Yeah. Because you were groping and threatening this poor woman.” She nods to Abby, who’s standing off to the side, watching this all go down, her eyes wide as she watches us.
Darlene drops a washcloth on McCoy. “Clean yourself up and leave.”
He pulls himself up by the edge of the bar. “I’ll call the police on you.” He turns to me. “And you.”
“Do it. I’ll tell them that you were harassing and groping her and threatening her, and that’s why you got hit,” Darlene says. “This whole bar will say you got hit in self-defense. Go ahead and try it.”
McCoy scans the bar, glaring. Everyone is glaring back at him.
“This is such bullshit,” he mutters before stomping out of the bar.
I look at Darlene. “Thank you.”
She shrugs. “Thank you for knocking him out. I was tempted to smash a beer bottle over his head. Little prick.” She turns to Abby. “You alright, hun?”
Abby nods and offers a small smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Sorry about everything,” I say to Darlene. I grab my wallet and hand her a bunch of cash. “I don’t think he paid his tab.”
She lets out a hoarse chuckle. “You pay other people’s tabs, and you punch out creeps. You’re always welcome in my bar.”
