Page 98 of Men of Fort Dale: The Complete Series

Music pulsed through his body, vibrating down to his feet. Lights flashed a kaleidoscope of color and piercing white light. The smell of alcohol and cologne assaulted his nostrils. Most prominent was the sharp tang of spicy cologne belonging to the lithe blond practically hanging off him.

“I swear I’m not that drunk,” Kevin muttered, laughing softly.

That earned him a smile. “Now, that sounds real good to me. I know a place a couple of blocks over. Not the best neighborhood, but ooh, the pizza is amazing.”

They had left Pulse before the crowds, keeping the foot traffic minimal. It didn’t take long before Kevin stopped, squinting and pointing down another street.

He hadn’t been kidding when he said the neighborhood wasn’t the greatest. Only glancing at some of the buildings was enough for Marco to know they needed to be cautious. The fact that the sidewalk was cracked and littered with trash and the dim quality of the streetlights didn’t help.

“There it is!” Kevin said proudly, pointing to a small shop between two grim-looking apartment buildings.

Marco opened his mouth, snapping it shut when he heard a cry from around the next corner. “Did you hear that?”

Kevin, who was focused on their destination, looked around. “Hear what?”

Marco let go of the man, stepping away. “Someone just screamed.”

Kevin warned, “You probably shouldn’t get in the middle of stuff around here. That’s asking for trouble.”

Probably. His instincts told him to follow Kevin to the pizza place or turn around and find somewhere better to eat.

“I’ll meet you there,” Marco told him, making his decision instantly.

Kevin raised a brow. “You’re serious? You’re going to get mugged.”

Raised voices came from around the corner, and Marco winced. “Maybe, but I have to go see.”

His mother would never have forgiven him if he let someone in trouble go without help. Hell, he wouldn’t have been able to forgive himself.

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Fine, but I’m only waiting for a couple of slices. If you’re not there before I’m done eating, I’m going home.”

“Sounds fair,” Marco said, watching him walk off, still muttering.

He reached the corner in time to hear the screech of tires and the roar of an engine.

Marco stopped as a car gunned toward the intersection, turning hard.

The windows were down, and he saw the guys in the front seat.

Marco couldn’t help but stare at the brief image of their blood-smeared, battered faces before the car was out of sight.

A sharp voice shouted, “You motherfucker.”

Followed by a gruff, masculine voice. “Get off me, bitch, I didn’t do anything!”

“Fuck you,” another female voice shrieked. “We caught you and your buddies red-handed. I’m calling the fucking cops!”

Marco stepped around the corner to see the source of the argument. It was hard to make out distinct features, but he could see what looked like a tall man hunched against a wall with two women in front of him. Another two stood by a lamppost, one holding up the other.

“If I was with them,” the bowed man growled, “why the fuck would I have been fighting them?”

“Figuring out what piece of her you were going to take? I don’t know, and I don’t fucking care. Don’t you fucking move,” the first woman shouted.

“I was the one who stopped them ,” he snarled. “Jesus, are you fucking stupid as well as drunk?”

The woman chose that moment to slap him, the sound sharp and cutting. Marco winced, stomach twisting when the man’s head barely moved, but he didn’t retaliate.

“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 holding something in 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 to jail ,” 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.

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 of being guilty.”

“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 fight three guys 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 real doctor, 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.”

Marco shrugged. “Does that mean you’re accepting my offer?”

Carter sighed, bowing his head and shaking it. For a moment, Marco thought the guy was going to tell him to fuck off and leave him be. He would have been well within his rights, considering he hadn’t exactly had a good streak of luck with strangers lately.

Instead, Carter gave another heavy sigh. “Sure. Fine, what the fuck ever. Why not?”

Marco smiled. “Then let’s get us a ride.”