Read Yesterday's Gone (Season 5): Episodes 25-30 for Free Online Page A

think you know.” Boricio climbed her body, using his eyes to fill every hole. 
    “I’m with someone,” she said, smiling coyly.
    “Yeah, I saw. But we both know he ain’t doin’ you like you need to get done. Am I right?” Boricio arched an eyebrow and grinned, feeling the liquor swimming inside him. 
    She stood by the sink and said nothing. Boricio stepped closer. Inches away, he looked down at her swollen tits, beaded with sweat, skin flushing for his touch. Her breath was rapid, and her eyes said she was as starving as him, and for the exact same thing. Hell, he could close his eyes and smell her.
    Boricio put his hands on the blonde’s hips and pulled her against him. 
    She leaned in, kissing him hard on the lips like she had cancer and his saliva was her cure.
    He wanted to fuck her into a pile right there in the filthy bathroom, make her scream his name and leave her with cum on her tongue when she went to French Grizzly. 
    But Baby Boricio wasn’t cooperating. It wasn’t often that he got a case of drunk dick, but he knew not to force shit when it did. 
    He considered taking her back to his motel and saving her for morning, but the room was maybe six shit stains better than the bathroom, and something told Boricio that the blonde would never taste better than now. 
    The blonde, realizing Boricio’s loss of interest, pulled away.
    “What’s wrong?” 
    “Nothin’ — just realized I got somewhere to be.”
    She wrinkled her nose, pushed him away, and clomped out of the bathroom. 
    Boricio followed, pausing on the sawdust-covered floor as Grizzly passed, likely on his way to the men’s room.
    He looked at his woman, then at Boricio, slowly adding up two and two in his tiny noggin. He finally got four and yelled at the blonde. 
    “What the fuck you doin’ in there with this pile of shit?” 
    “He followed me.” She pointed an accusing finger at Boricio.
    Right, like you didn’t want me making cherries jubilee.
    “Why the fuck you following my girl?” Grizzly shoved Boricio hard. 
    He fell back, then paused to size up his enemy. 
    Boricio was better drunk than most were sober, but that didn’t diminish how fuckered he was. Clearly this asshole, and his Neanderthal friends, could kick his dick ass six ways to Sunday. But at the same time, bitches clucked and Boricio didn’t. Weren’t no way, no how he was backing down now.  
    Boricio had been on the run for three weeks since The Darkness stole Rose from his soul. Three weeks of getting as far the fuck away from her as possible before this world went to hell like the other one. Three weeks of searching for Mary and Paola, three weeks of failing to find them. Three weeks of nights like this — losing himself down the twin holes of hell — liquor to poison his blood and disposable pussy to help him forget.
    Three weeks without the violence Boricio needed. Three weeks without losing himself to the rampage, killing a fucker, especially one who deserved it, and making him choke to death on Boricio’s rage. 
    He met Grizzly’s eyes and smiled. 
    “Bitch was begging, said you’re nothing but hair, gut, and stub, and that even with that you only slam her a minute before stubby gets to spittin'—” 
    Grizzly swung, his ham-sized fist finding Boricio’s jaw before he could duck or counter.
    A detonation of pain boomed through his jaw. 
    Boricio stumbled, would’ve fallen to the ground if he hadn’t stumbled back against a wall of tacky framed photos hanging crooked outside the bathrooms.
    Blood flooded his mouth. 
    That fucker better not have knocked out a tooth!
    Boricio felt around with his tongue, but didn’t have time to check both rows of pearly whites before the fucker was charging toward the second round. 
    Boricio dropped to the ground, and managed to scramble away just as Grizzly barreled straight into the wall.
    Boricio bounced up, looked back at Blondie, who was staring at the two men with a look so jaded she almost