Chapter 5
FIVE
Dutch
“You okay?” James smacks my shoulder in brotherly camaraderie. There’s NASCAR on all the TVs and everyone’s mesmerized. But the only thing that’s mesmerizing me are the way Daphne’s lashes flutter with every blink.
“Yeah. Just. Crowds. Not used to it yet.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t have come.” Daphne gives me a concerned look. I hate that she’s worried about me. I can see it in the furrow of her brow, the way she’s darting her eyes from me to anyone that comes close.
The need she’s ignited inside me is fierce. As much as she seems to be looking out for me, I’m giving hell-fire looks to any guy that’s even glancing her way. If any of these motherfuckers so much as buy her a drink, I’ll be back in jail for manslaughter.
I’ve never felt this sort of protective force before. It’s like a switch has been flipped inside me. I don’t ever want to be away from her again.
I can’t be away from her again.
“It’s fine.” James nods, looking over the crowd. “Hey!” He holds up a hand to someone standing against the far wall. “I’ll be back. It’s Jerry Maples. I’ve been talking to him about expanding the garage into custom hot rod and bike work. He has a shop over in Eastwood doing really well.” He stands and snakes through the sea of people in the small, packed bar, filled with the tinny sounds of roaring engines coming through flat-screened TVs.
“I don’t give a fuck who Jerry Maples is,” I tell Daphne. “I’m just glad I get you all to myself. Finally.”
She smiles at me, eyes sparkling. Her dark hair shines in the dim lights, curls loose around her face, and the memory of how it felt in my hand earlier makes me ache deep down. That same feeling of wanting to kiss her at the dining room table comes back. I need to let the whole world know she belongs to me.
“So,” I start, scooting my chair closer to her as the waitress sets down the Cokes we ordered, Daphne’s with a maraschino cherry on top, and the waitress gives me a wink and a flirty smile. I glare back and she turns away, not bothering to have us pay as she retreats into the crowd.
I don’t want anyone winking at me unless it’s Daphne.
“So…” Daphne repeats, watching the waitress go. “Are we having an uncomfortable silence? Because about earlier, Dutch, I never intended…” She stammers. “If I went too far or too fast…”
I cut her off. “Nothing is uncomfortable about you baby. Nothing was too far or too fast. I would have fucked your slippery little cunt if I could have.”
She bites her upper lip. “You would have?”
I nod, lost in the golden flecks in her beautiful irises. “I will. I want all of you, Daphne. This is it for me. I knew you were beautiful on the inside from your letters, but fuck.” I shake my head on a deep breath. “I’ve never imagined someone would light me up the way you do. I feel like I won the fucking lottery.”
Her hand slips onto my knee under the table and my dick practically flips it over, turning to a lead pipe in my jeans.
“It’s just hard to think we really know each other from a bunch of letters.”
“Then don’t think so hard.” I put my hand on hers and place it on my dick. “Plenty of other, better things that are hard.”
I lean in and catch a hit of her soft perfume, making my chest tight as she starts to move her hand up and down over my cock, pulling the denim tight
“Big and hard,” she says on a coy smile, showing off that dimple. Fuck. Fuck.
My muscles all feel as hard as my cock as I lean close, her lips right there, so close. So easy.
Just as I’m about to kiss her, a waterfall of stinking cold beer rains down, ruining the moment. The piss-colored liquid soaks the front of Daphne’s dress, and splashes into her face as she pops up from her chair with a shocked yelp.
“Jesus!” She tosses her hands up, turning toward the guy who is to blame. And she’s got to look up to see his face because the motherfucker is huge.
He’s huge and unsteady. A leather-vested three-hundred-pound ZZ Top impersonator with a beer belly the size of a sheep hanging over the front of his belt.
“What the fuck, man?” I’m on my feet, stepping into his space as he stares at Daphne, licking his lips.
“Nice nips,” he slurs, ogling her chest.
Here we fucking go.
I glance her way and see what he’s seeing, the soaking fabric clinging to her skin and turning translucent.
Nah, man, nah. Nobody drenches my girl without paying for it. Without even thinking, I go for him. In an instant, I’ve got him by the throat, my grip solid around his windpipe as I shove him against the nearest wall. His empty glass falls from his hand, shattering on the floor as people scream and move away, finally more interested in something besides the dizzying cars going around the track.
“You don’t fucking look at my girl. You got that?”
Rage clouds my vision as I cock my arm back, fingers clenched into a fist, ready for the blow that will more than likely explode his nose in a spray of blood.
“Fuck you. I’ll look at any hot piece of ass I want to. Nothing illegal about looking, dipshit.”
This guy. This fucking guy. I jerk him forward by the esophagus, then slam his head against the wall, tensing my other arm, ready to end his fucking life right here on this shitty sticky floor.
I get in close to his face. He smells like stale dip and onions. “Don’t give a shit about illegal. She’s mine, so it’s my law you need to worry about.”
“Dutch! Don’t!” Daphne’s voice comes from next to me, her hands on my bicep, tugging as I growl and battle the urge to tear out the asshole’s trachea. “Please.” Her voice is the only thing I hear besides the thumping of my pulse in my ears. “They won’t listen to your side. They’ll take you back…take you away from me.”
I inhale a shaking breath, enough of a pause for the guy to throw his arms up and break my grip on his throat.
Daphne puts herself between ZZ Top and me. She knots her hands into fists at her hips. Then winds up and connects with his bearded cheek with a slap. “You’re an asshole! And you owe me dry cleaning for my dress, too. Twenty bucks.” She holds out her hand, glaring at him as his eyes flick from Daphne then back to me. I’m standing behind her, almost fucking growling like a rabid dog.
But she’s got this. She’s fucking on it. Dress soaked, dripping with beer, and nothing but fury. “I said twenty bucks!” she shouts. “Or are you deaf and drunk?”
The gathered crowed oohs its appreciation. Everybody loves an underdog.
She makes a move to slap him a second time and he winces, bracing for impact. But she doesn’t. Instead, she takes one step back. The big fucker looks genuinely relieved. He grumbles as he digs in his front pocket, produces a wad of bills. She snatches a twenty, then spins on her heel and turns to me with a satisfied grin.
ZZ Top is still standing there, and now he’s looking at her ass. I snarl at him, daring him to say something, but his IQ must suddenly have jumped a few points because he turns and walks away.
Daphne takes my hands. Her fingers are warm and tight, clearing my tunnel vision. Suddenly her eyes, her presence, her beauty—it’s my whole world again.
“Come with me.”
I turn, dragging her through the gawking crowd. We move down a hallway as my head pounds, wondering if someone has already called the cops.
They’ll take you back…take you away from me.
I slam my shoulder into a metal door, pulling Daphne back with me into the dark space, feeling on the wall inside the door for a switch.
I flick it upward with my palm, shove the door shut, closing us into the small supply closet, my heart racing as I pray that I haven’t fucked up on my first day of freedom.
“Shit,” I grit out, running my hand through my hair as Daphne opens her eyes wide, as if finally taking in what just happened.
“Yeah, shit,” she says, sounding mad. “I can take care of myself, Dutch. I have for a long time.”
“Sure you can. But you don’t need to anymore. I’m here to do it.”
“Oh, is that so, mister?” She crosses her arms over her tits, the soaking fabric showing off her pebbled nipples. “And how are you going to do that if you’re back in prison? Huh? Think you can protect me with letters, Dutch? Think you can keep me safe through the US freaking Postal Service?”
The anger in her eyes turns to fear as her chin quivers. Her eyes sheen over with a layer of tears. And my heart fucking breaks.
Shit. Shit. Shit. It wasn’t just hard for me; it was hard for her, too. Being apart, it almost fucking killed me. And it hurt her just as much. I reach out and pull her into my chest, the feel of her softness against me clearing my rage.
“I’m not going anywhere, baby. You’re stuck with me. You hear me? I’m not going anywhere.”
She pushes me back, shaking her head. She’s not ready to give in to me, not yet. “We need to get out of here, Dutch. I don’t want to take a chance someone will call the cops. Let’s get James and go home.”
She reaches over and grabs the knob with one hand. Then two. Then tugs harder. The sound of metal rattling against metal fills the closet, but the door doesn’t swing open. “Wait, are you telling me…”
She struggles, twisting and pulling, finally slapping her hand against the metal door.
She turns to me, all fire and heat in her eyes. And then she smiles. “Did you just pull me into a locked closet?”
I give the handle a rattle. Well, shit. If there’s one thing I know about, it’s locked doors. So I snap my tongue in my cheek. “Yep. I did, baby.”
She gives the door another try, bursting into giggles as she struggles against the metal, making her cleavage jiggle and bounce.
Life is fucking amazing. Two minutes ago, I was this close to going back to jail. Now I’m locked in a closet with her. And everything is perfect.