Chapter Twenty-Five
Paco leaned against the counter in the enclosed porch, watching Peter grill the steaks in the backyard. Something about the big guy rubbed Paco the wrong way. Chelsea had told him he kept asking her about what she had to do to the men she’d been forced to be with, and the way he kept staring at her made Paco want to smash his fist into his face. He held back out of respect for Chelsea, but he was itching to rough up the asshole.
“I brought you another beer.” Chelsea’s uncle Dave handed him a Budweiser. Paco lifted his chin and took the can. “How long are you staying in Findlay?”
“Why?” Paco popped the top and took a long drink.
“Just wondering. It seems like you’re watching over Chelsea. Do you think she’s still in danger?” Paco took another sip and looked over at Peter, who waved. Paco turned back to Dave.
Her uncle scratched and rubbed his nose, laughing nervously. “I’m not trying to pry or anything. I think it’s nice of you to stay. It’s just that you’re a long way from southern Colorado. Your family must miss you.” Paco’s gaze penetrated his. He laughed and wiped his hands on his jeans. “But you never know if those horrible men will come back. Chelsea told us there was more than one guy involved with all this.”
Paco took another gulp of his beer.
“There you are,” Sandy said as she came over and curled her arm around Dave. “Are you two getting to know each other?” Her gaze slid up and down Paco’s body. “I can see why Chelsea’s crazy about you.” Her laugh was too shrill, grating on his nerves.
“Paco’s not much of a talker,” Dave said, his gaze darting away from the biker’s.
Paco crushed the can and tossed it in the trash can. “Later.”
As he walked out of the room, their voices grew hushed. When he entered the kitchen, Chelsea was pouring 7-Up into a large punch bowl, her nose wrinkled in a funny little way as her face tightened with concentration. She’s so damn adorable. Her long hair draped around her, and her tight jeans showed off her curves just right. His dick twitched and he adjusted his pants. She set down the two-liter bottle and closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, and then a smile spread over her soft, glossy lips.
“Paco,” she murmured as she turned toward him.
“Hey, beautiful. What’re you making?”
“Punch. Where have you been hiding?” She padded over to him.
“Been having a smoke and a beer on the back porch. Your aunt and uncle came out to chat.” He slinked an arm around her waist and drew her to him.
She chuckled. “And how did the chatting go?”
“What do you think?” He nuzzled the soft spot on her neck right below her ear.
“Oh, Paco,” she moaned, running her nails up and down his back. “I miss you… miss us.”
“I miss your warm body next to mine when I wake up. I got a burning for you real bad, baby,” he whispered in her ear before gently sucking her earlobe between his lips.
“Chelsea?” Sandy said as she and Dave came into the kitchen.
Paco pulled back but kept his arm around her waist.
Chelsea blushed. “I made some more punch. Can you take it out to the dining room, Aunt Sandy?”
“Since we already set up this whole homecoming party, I think you could help out and do it yourself,” Dave said, a frown deepening the lines around his brows and mouth.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” She tried to tug away from Paco but he held her firmly.
“Why don’t you be a nice auntie and take the fucking punch to the dining room? I’m talking to Chelsea right now.”
His hard scowl didn’t go unnoticed, and Sandy’s eyes widened while Dave picked up the punch bowl and walked out of the kitchen with his wife following.
After they were out of earshot, Chelsea kissed Paco. “You’re such a badass,” she said against his mouth.
“I’ve missed your lips,” he murmured, his hand pressing against the small of her back.
She looked over his shoulder. “Peter’s going to be coming in. I see him putting the steaks on the platter.”
“Give me your lips.” He crushed his mouth on hers and kissed her deeply. She melded into him, and he dropped his hands lower and placed them on her ass.
She pulled away, straightening her hair and smoothing down her top. “I don’t want Peter to see us kissing. He’s weird enough as it is, and he’s had too much to drink.”
“You didn’t care about your aunt and uncle.”
“Aunt Sandy’s cool, and so is Uncle Dave. They’re more modern. They’re just a couple of years older than you.”
“Does your uncle snort coke?” he asked.
“What made you ask that?”
“Just the way his eyes looked and how he kept rubbing his nose.”
Looking around, she said in a low voice, “Yeah, and so does Aunt Sandy, but my mom and Peter don’t know. I’m not sure if Kate knows about it now. They’ve been doing it since I was in middle school.”
“Did you tell anyone about the money?”
“No. I’ve decided to donate it to Street’s Hope. It’s a nonprofit that helps women who are victims of sex trafficking.”
A crazy mix of emotions tore through him and, in a single flashing moment, he wanted nothing else but to spend his life with her. She was like the sun giving him heat and light when for years he’d only had cold and darkness. His feelings for her were an alchemy of possessiveness, tenderness, and something else that made him uncomfortable, but at the same time made him feel alive.
“What? Do you think it’s a bad idea?” Her soft voice washed over him.
Pressing her to him, he cupped her chin and tilted her head back. “I think you’re wonderful.” He crushed his lips to hers, ignoring Peter’s loud footsteps and the floating laughter and conversation from the dining room. Everything was suspended—it was just him and Chelsea and their passion for each other. It was a heady mix, and he wanted it to go on forever.
“What the hell’s going on here?” Peter stormed in, anger molding his features.
Paco winked at Chelsea, then glanced over at her stepdad’s blotchy red face. “We’re kissing.”
“Are you lovers?”
Paco sneered. “That’s none of your fucking business.”
Peter slammed down the platter of steaks. “Let go of my daughter and get out of my house. Now. You’re just as bad as all the men who abused her. You’re nothing but—”
Paco had him flat against the wall, his hand tight around his neck, his face barely a breath away from the shocked man’s. “Don’t you ever compare me to those fuckers again.” He squeezed tighter, and Peter’s eyes bulged as he choked and sputtered. “And no one tells me what the fuck to do.”
“Paco, please.” Chelsea’s small voice and soft hands on his arm focused him.
With one last squeeze, he let go and backed away. Peter stood against the wall, coughing and gulping for air. His gaze fell on Chelsea’s. “He’s crazy,” he stammered.
“You disrespected him. He’s nothing like those horrible men. How could you have said that? If it weren’t for Paco, I don’t know where I’d be.”
“What’s all the yelling about?” Chelsea’s mother asked as she stood in the doorway looking at all of them.
Peter pointed at Paco. “He tried to kill me. He’s crazy. He was kissing Chelsea.”
Linda stared at Paco. “Is this true?”
With narrowed eyes, he zipped up his leather jacket. “I didn’t try to kill him.”
“Yes you did. I’m going to call the police.”
“If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead.”
Linda gasped and ran over to Peter, running her hand over his forehead. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.
“No, I’m not.” He pushed her hand away from him.
“Mom, Peter accused Paco of being like the men who kidnapped me.”
Linda clutched the top button of her red blouse. “Why would you ever say such a thing to the man who helped Chelsea?”
“He was kissing her.”
Linda shook her head. “They like each other. He’s been the only bright spot in Chelsea’s life. I’m grateful to him for bringing her back home, and for making her glow with happiness amid all the horror she’s had to endure. Leave them alone. You always did this when she was a teenager and I never said anything, but I will now. Leave her alone. I mean it.” Linda walked away and went over to the sink. “And stop drinking so much,” she added in a low voice.
“Is everything okay in here?” Sandy asked as she came into the room and went over to Linda.
Pushing her shoulders back, her chin lifted, Linda grabbed her sister’s hand. “Everything’s perfect. Peter’s finished with the steaks and it’s time to eat.” Glancing at Peter, she pointed to the platter. “Bring those to the dining room. Chelsea, Paco, come on. The food’s going to get cold.” She waited until Peter left, and then she and Sandy followed him out.
For several seconds, silence descended on them. Then Paco hugged her close to him. “I can see where you get your strength from, babe.” He kissed her quickly. “Let’s get some food.”
* * *
Paco sat in the SUV across the street at the end of the block, watching Chelsea’s house. Ever since Bull Dog and Jacko had told him they saw a man matching Bobby’s description lurking around the house and neighborhood a few days before he and Chelsea had arrived in Findlay, he’d been living on adrenaline. The night before, when Bull Dog had come over to the motel for Chains to relieve him, he’d told Paco that he hadn’t seen the Bobby guy in a couple of days. The news hadn’t comforted Paco, it just lit up all his red flags. And so he sat watching her house.
Several of Chelsea’s cousins filed out the door, waving their goodbyes. Sandy and Dave left next along with a few friends. Soon everyone was gone. The sky had turned from gray to black, and the stars twinkled and shone in the frigid night air. Opening a thermos, he poured a cup of coffee and sipped it slowly; he was there for the night.
I’d rather be in your warm bed with you in my arms. I gotta find Bobby and Victor and get rid of them. How can I go back to Alina with them still out there? He took another sip of hot coffee. How can I go back without Chelsea? Fuck. She got to him. The way she smiled, talked, smelled, and felt in his arms had seriously melted the steel surrounding his heart.
Her shadowed outline danced from behind the curtain, and he watched her while his body heated from want.
The light went off and Chelsea’s house was encased in darkness. He leaned back and kept his gaze steady.