“I was worried,” she murmurs.
I have a feeling nothing gets past Dallas. Lying to her isn’t something I want to make a habit out of, but this feels necessary for her safety. The coming weeks aren’t going to be easy when her ex’s family realizes he’s missing.
“I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.” I press a kiss to her temple.
“Come hold me. Please,” she begs.
“Gladly.”
Three days later, Dallas is working, which means I’m sitting at Lucky’s Pub at her bar, warding off any potential suitors. If they look like respectful heavy tippers, I let them slide.
Holden let Matt go. He said we scared him shitless, and after hanging for forty-eight hours from the ropes around his arms, he was dangerously close to suffocating and dying.
He still might not make it. If we’re lucky, he never woke up after my brother dumped him in the bed of his truck.
Or he’s at the police station right now. And I might be going to jail.
But I don’t think he’d tell the cops about what we did because if he did, he knows I’d tell them he was trying to meet up with a minor. So, hopefully, he keeps his mouth shut and does what I told him, which is to sign over his parental rights and never see or speak to Dallas again.
After a few hours, I’m nursing my second beer when the owner of the pub, Lucky, stands in front of the mic and taps on it. He has two long white braids hanging over his shoulders.
“Hey, y’all. We got a new promotion going tonight. Our hurricane shot is usually fifty dollars, but we’re giving it away to oneluckywinner. Check the bracelet you got when you came in. It should have a number on the side. If you have the number 1-7-8-3, you’re the lucky winner! Go see the pretty blond bartender Dallas here in the center of the bar to collect your winnings. And if you see how she does it and it looks like something your lonely ass would like to experience, let her or one of the other bartenders know pronto.”
He grins with his tobacco-stained teeth and steps off thestage. I groan, checking my bracelet. A man with a beer belly comes barreling toward the bar.
“It’s me! I got the number! I win!”
He’s grinning from ear to ear, as if he just won the lottery.
I guess he fucking did.
I step up to him, and he stands an inch taller than me with at least fifty pounds on me.
“I think you have something of mine.”
He blinks at me, confused. “Huh?”
I smirk at him. “That bracelet. I think it’s mine.”
The unhinged side of me has lost all sense of boundaries when it comes to Dallas Hayes.
The man’s eyes darken. “The hell it is, boy. It’s yours if you can take it.”
“Deal.”
I clench my fist and plunge it into his chubby face. He rears back from the surprise of the impact, his body jolting back. My fist comes down on his face again as mayhem ensues around us.
A man, probably one of his friends, tries to hit me, but I dodge it. He ends up punching the guy behind me on accident.
The guy is enraged at the intrusion on his night from our bullshit.
There’s so much happening that I can’t keep up. All I know is, I’m hitting the winner of the contest as hard as I can repeatedly until he stops fighting back. I slide the switchblade out of my pocket and cut the bracelet with the winning number off of his wrist.
I step over his body and the unknown knocked-out man behind him. I step up to the bar where Dallas is waiting, her jaw hanging open.
She’s clutching a bottle of tequila in her left hand with a cup of water in her right.
I lift up the bracelet. “Hey there, darlin’. I think I won the contest. Can I get my prize?”
