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Marco sighed. “I mean, it doesn’t look too good for you, but...yeah, I do.”

“Why?”

Marco shrugged. “Because you look way too guilty.”

“That’s some shitty logic.”

“Eh, if there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that the more obvious the guilt, the less likelihood ofbeingguilty.”

“You have shit judgment.”

Marco laughed. “Then I probably shouldn’t tell you I want to believe there are people like you in the world, and that’s going a long way toward convincing me.”

The man’s brow furrowed. “People like me?”

“People who step up and try to do the right thing, even if it means getting into a fight with two guys and mace to the face,” Marco told him.

A snort. “Three.”

“Three?”

“Three guys. Fuckers. I’m either drunker than I thought or getting sloppy. Three drunk assholes shouldn’t have been able to get the better of me.”

Three-on-one shouldn’t have been enough? Just what sort of person was Marco willingly putting himself in front of?

“Okay,” Marco said slowly. “People willing to fightthreeguys and take mace to the face to help someone else.”

“Shit logic all around then,” the man snorted. “You really do have a death wish.”

“Something like that,” Marco said, looking him over.

It was hard to see the extent of the man’s injuries. Hunched over, all Marco could see was that he was favoring his side, and apparently, his face had taken a beating.

“You really don’t want to go to the ER?” Marco asked.

“Fuck that. I’m not giving them any excuse to throw my ass into a hole.”

He had no idea who ‘them’ was, but Marco wasn’t going to argue with a drunk, injured man who had held his own against three opponents. “Okay, well, you need to get your wounds looked at.”

“I’ll get back to where I’m staying and dig up a first aid kit. Don’t have my doc around anymore, but I can patch this up.”

Marco sighed, looking up toward the sky as if the answer would descend from the clouds and present itself. He genuinely did not want to leave this man, who he believed had been trying to be a good, if somewhat cranky, Samaritan, to bleed out on the streets. There wasn’t any blood pooling, but Marco wouldn’t know until he’d seen the rest of his injuries.

Hearing repeated words of caution echo in his head, Marco sighed. “What’s your name?”

“What?”

“Your name. What is it?”

A pause, followed by a grunt. “Carter.”

“Alright, Carter, well, I’m Marco. And I have a first aid kit with some pretty nice stuff at my house. If you won’t go to a realdoctor, you’re welcome to come get some clumsy treatment from me.”

Carter squinted at him. “You’re serious.”

It wasn’t a question, but Marco nodded anyway. “Dead serious.”

“You really do have a death wish.”