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“C’mon, Natalie,” one of the women said. “Let’s get Em out of here. She’s not looking so good. I think we need to get her to the hospital.”

“Because of this asshole and his friends!”

Marco could already see Natalie wasn’t willing to let things go. The woman’s voice kept rising every time she screamed. And if Marco wasn’t mistaken, he was pretty sure she was holdingsomethingin her hand.

It was then the woman who was hunched against her friend bowed forward and, with a gurgling heave, spewed the contents of her stomach onto the curb. Her friend kept hold of her, though she twisted to get away from the sick as it spattered onto the concrete.

“Seriously,” she told Natalie. “She’s not right. We have to go, Natalie,now.”

Marco had seen his fair share of alcohol poisoning. And though he couldn’t necessarily attest that Em wasn’t just overly drunk, he knew throwing up was not a good sign.

He cleared his throat as he approached, staying a few yards away. Everyone, except the man, whirled around to find him standing under the streetlight.

“Who the fuck are you?” Natalie hissed, raising her hand in warning. It was then Marco saw a can of what he was sure was mace.

Marco held up his hands in surrender, jerking his head toward the sick woman. “Your friend’s right. If she’s like that, she was either given something or had way too much. Either way, she needs medical help, or she’s?—”

“What, trying to save your buddy?” Natalie demanded.

Despite the harshness of her words, Marco could see the wide-eyed fear on her face. The slur to her words probably wasn’t helping, the alcohol driving her emotions. Marco knew a scared person was a dangerous person, and he tried to tread carefully.

“I’ve seen what happens when someone in her state doesn’t get help,” Marco told her gravely. “It’s not pretty. And her life might be in danger.”

As if on cue, the sick woman gave another wet heave. The splatter this time wasn’t nearly as thick, but Marco was sure there wasn’t much left in her stomach to throw up.

“Natalie,” the woman beside her said, touching Natalie’s arm. “He’s right. She shouldn’t be puking like that. Leave him. It’s not like he’s going anywhere anytime soon.”

“He should go tojail,” Natalie hissed, but her arm dropped to her side, grip still tight on the can.

“I want Emily alive more than I want him in jail,” her friend said, pulling her away.

Natalie sneered at Marco as she was dragged away with her friends. “Go take care of your friend. It looks like your other buddies worked him over good. Hope you liked the spray to the face, asshole.”

“Fucking idiot,” the man huffed, sliding further down the wall.

Marco kept his face neutral, though he flinched inwardly, expecting the woman to start another round of shrieking while her friend puked her guts out. Thankfully, it seemed Natalie’s friend had a good hold on her arm and led her away, even as the woman swore vehemently.

When the women were out of sight, Marco turned to the stranger, who was now sitting on the dirty sidewalk, back to the wall. One arm was wrapped around his midsection tightly, his head bowed forward.

“Were they right?” Marco asked carefully.

“Jesus,” the man growled. “Doesn’t anyone listen to a fucking thing I say? No, I didn’t fucking do it.”

Marco remembered the car full of men driving off moments before. They had been in rough shape, worse than the man he was looking at. While he could understand where Natalie had thought this stranger was responsible, something nagged at the back of Marco’s head.

Why leave someone behind if they were all friends?

And knowing he might be making a grave mistake, Marco believed him.

Marco crouched before him, looking him over. “Looks like you need some ER time yourself.”

The man shook his head, then stopped with a grunt. “No. No hospitals. I’m not getting that put on my record.”

“Uh, if you mean the base,” Marco said, raising a brow. “I think they’re going to understand if you got into a street fight to stop a rape.”

The man looked up, face thrown into sharp relief by the streetlight. It was a hard face, rough edges, and hard lines. It was made even harder by the blossom of bruises on his cheek, jaw, and around one eye. Clearly, the fight hadn’t gone well for anyone, yet Marco thought this stranger looked like he’d fared better than the others. And if it weren’t for all the bruises and blood, he would go so far as to call the man handsome in a rugged and slightly scary sort of way.

“You believe me?” he asked.