Page 28 of Paco
The man glanced at him, then turned to Misty. “Do you know him?” Paco was sure that the yellow-bellied fucker decided he was no match for him.
Misty shook her head. “No, Bobby. He was out here smoking a joint when I came outside.”
So that’s her fucking pimp. I want to pulverize him.
“You work here?” Bobby asked him.
“You ask me one more question and I’m gonna make sure it’ll be your last.” He took another step toward him. Twitching legs and erratic breathing told Paco the pussy was scared.
Turning to Misty, Bobby said, “Get your ass back inside.”
Without a glance, she went back into the club. Before Bobby could follow her, Paco stepped in front of him, blocking his way.
“I don’t want any trouble,” he said, trying to walk around Paco.
“That’s too fucking bad, ’cause you’re gonna get it.” With one swift movement, he buried his fist in Bobby’s stomach. The man bent over, gulping for air. “Don’t ever question me again.” His knee made contact with the wheezing man’s face, and the crunch of bones was music to Paco’s ears.
“Fuck! I think my nose is broken.” He looked up, blood streaming over his lips and dripping down his chin.
“You’re fucking lucky that’s the only thing I broke. Asshole.” He went inside, hoping to see Misty again, but she was nowhere around.
“Where’s Misty?” he asked one of the women.
“Who? Look, honey, I’m about ready to go on. After I get finished, I’ll show you a better time than this Misty chick. I’ll give you a lap dance you’ll never forget.” She winked, then brushed past him as she headed for the stage.
He ran his fingers through his hair while scanning the room. His gaze landed on Diablo’s. “What the fuck are you doing back here?” Diablo asked.
“I’m looking for someone.”
“There’re plenty of women out there. Roughneck doesn’t want any unnecessary attention, dude.”
A door slammed behind him and he whirled around. Bobby leaned against it, his eyes flashing, a wad of red-stained tissues in his hand. Not wanting to jeopardize anything, Paco followed Diablo back into the main room and ordered a double Jack at the bar. As he drank, he kept his gaze glued to the curtain, but Misty never came out; she never even peeked from behind the black drapes.
What the fuck’s wrong with me? I don’t even know her.
By the time last call rolled around, Paco was ready to jump on his Harley, haul ass back to Alina, and forget all about strippers, lot lizards, and Misty. He was done thinking about her. He’d helped her out when she’d been sick and down. End of story.
Finished.
Done.
