Page 99 of Men of Fort Dale: The Complete Series

His lip curled as he faced the window, watching the buildings pass by as the driver took them to Marco’s address.

He should have been thankful for the shrieking women as they found their friend huddled against a car while four men fought on the nearby sidewalk.

The fight could have been even nastier if not for all the noise they’d been making, sending the trio of attempted rapists stumbling for their car to escape.

“Still conscious over there?” Marco asked softly.

“If I wasn’t worried about you, I would have left you on the sidewalk to fend for yourself.”

Which, again, was a weird thought.

Carter glanced over at him, narrowing his eyes. “Are you trying to lure me back to your apartment so you can drug me and cut me up?”

Marco returned his gaze, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Really? That’s what you’re going to lead with?”

“Cannibalize me?”

“I don’t like pork.”

Carter blinked, holding on to his self-control so he didn’t give the man the laugh he so richly deserved. “Is this how you get your kicks?”

“My kicks?” Marco asked, amusement leaking into his voice.

“Yeah, like, is this how you pick up guys?”

“What makes you think I’m into guys?”

“Nothing...yet. But I know some guys around here get off on danger.”

Marco tilted his head. “You know that, huh?”

“Rough trade,” Carter informed him. “I’d be pretty much catnip to a guy like that.”

“A guy like that,” Marco repeated. “And you know this how?”

Carter hesitated, suddenly realizing the trap he’d set himself before growing quiet. He should have known better than to try to talk circles around someone. It had never been his strong suit, and despite his comments about Marco’s lack of sense, the guy clearly had a functioning brain.

“Here we are,” Marco said as they stopped again. “Need some help?”

Carter shot him a dirty look. “I’m hurt, not crippled.”

The man chuckled as he slipped out of the car. “God. Dean wasn’t kidding when he said soldiers make bad patients.”

“That your boyfriend?” Carter asked, not knowing why he kept making gay comments.

“An ex, actually,” Marco answered honestly, surprising Carter. “Due to conflicting interests, we decided to settle on being friends. He’s a medic and deals with difficult patients all the time.”

“I’m not being difficult,” Carter grumbled as he mounted the stairs behind Marco.

“Of course you’re not,” Marco said patiently, though Carter would swear he was being indulged. “But I’m sure you’ll be glad to know I have a first-floor apartment.”

He was, but Carter wasn’t going to admit it.

Trying to mount more than a half-dozen steps sounded like a lot of work.

He followed Marco down the carpeted hallway, which he noticed looked fairly new and well-maintained.

He also noticed the doors to the apartments on the first floor were evenly spread out, all four of them.

“Someone does well for themselves,” Carter muttered as Marco unlocked the door.

Marco chuckled, pushing open the door. “I do alright.”

Carter thought the man was a liar as they entered the apartment. It was a huge space, the ceiling at least twice as high as Carter thought the average ceiling was. A kitchen was immediately to his right, separated from the rest of the space by an opening and a half-wall on two sides.

The rest of the apartment was entirely open-plan.

At the far back left, stairs led up to what looked like a loft, and even that wasn’t completely closed off from the rest of the space, being lined by more half-walls.

The only closed place was the door at the back near the stairs, which Carter guessed was the bathroom.

“Yeah,” he said dryly, closing the door behind him. “Alright. You do a hell of a lot better than just alright.”

“Took me forever to find this place,” Marco said, ignoring Carter’s tone. “I grew up in this little town out in the Rockies. I never realized how attached to big, open spaces I was until I left home. No place I looked at felt right, but this felt perfect. Been here a while now.”

“And you dragged in a stray,” Carter said, eyeing the furniture apprehensively.

Marco snorted. “Sit wherever you want. Blood washes off leather easy.”

That was true, and he walked toward the living room area. It required him to step down into a sunken area stuffed with a plush couch, an equally soft-looking loveseat, and?—

“Is that a bean bag chair?” Carter asked with a laugh as he sat on the couch.

Marco’s voice echoed from somewhere behind him, apparently in the bathroom. “Absolutely. I had to look all over for one that didn’t stick out like a sore thumb.”

Carter looked around the space, seeing earth tones. His eyes returned to the bright pink bean bag chair between the brown and black furniture.

“I see you weren’t successful.”

“I was not, no. But that thing is comfortable as hell, and I don’t regret it for a second.”

Carter had to admit it did look pretty comfortable.

The thing was big enough that even his bulk would have been comfortably wrapped up in it if he’d chosen to sit there.

But considering he wanted to get up on his own at some point, he decided on the still comfortable but far more maneuverable couch instead.

Marco reappeared, dragging a footstool from somewhere.

It was the first time Carter had seen the man in full light.

He had the darkest eyes, narrowed in concentration, as he set a box on the floor between them and sat down.

His hair caught the light, the brown turning almost copper from the streaks of dark red laced through the strands.

Marco clearly took care of himself, his broad shoulders carrying some muscle, though not nearly as much as Carter.

Long fingers moved expertly to open the first aid box with a flick.

His skin practically glowed in the light he’d switched on when entering the apartment, and Carter noticed him sucking in his bottom lip as he sifted through the contents of the box.

“I don’t have anything for a broken rib in here,” Marco said, pulling things out. “Just so you know.”

Carter glanced back at Marco’s eyes, finding his attention had been on the rest of the man. It didn’t appear like Marco had noticed, which Carter was grateful for. The guy was trying to do him a favor, and Carter didn’t need to return it by ogling.

Even if he was worth ogling.

“I don’t think anything’s broken,” Carter admitted, pulling his hand away. “Since the pain doesn’t...hurt as much, I think it’s just bruised. Maybe cracked at worst.”

“Boy, you sure know how to comfort someone,” Marco muttered, pulling out a swab. “Now, lean back and let me see your face.”

Carter grunted and did as he was told. He knew his face probably looked a hell of a lot worse than it felt, and it already felt pretty bad.

“Couple of cuts on the left side and some bruising. Not much I can do about that,” Marco said. “And I’m guessing the right is where you took the mace.”

“Didn’t get my eyes,” Carter muttered.

“Yeah, well,” Marco poured something pink on a cloth and wiped it across Carter’s right side. “This should help.”

“Oh, shit, that does feel better,” Carter admitted as the cool liquid was smeared across the right side of his face.

“I may not be a medic, but I know a few tricks,” Marco chuckled.

“And where did you learn how to treat mace?”

“College.”

“The fuck college did you go to?”

Marco chuckled, bringing another wad of cotton up. “A fun one. Or rather, I hung out with a lot of interesting people.”

Carter winced as the wad pressed against the cut on his brow, drawing a sharp hiss of pain. “I hate iodine.”

“Funny, isn’t it? I always hated it as a kid, and still do. I’d rather deal with the wound. Somehow, iodine always seems worse. Just be glad there’s nothing that looks in need of stitches. My needlework is terrible.”

Carter snorted. “Don’t need to ruin this face any more than it already is.”

Marco pressed another iodine-soaked cotton wad onto the other wound, cocking his head. “I think once you’re not covered in pink goop, bruises, and blood, you’ll actually have a pretty nice face.”

“That’s a word I don’t get to hear used about me, like ever.”

“My mother always told me that if I ever have kids, always try to make them nice. And if you can’t, make them kind.”

“Sounds like the same thing.”

“I thought so too. But I don’t think they are.”

Carter frowned, unable to hide his confusion. “How aren’t they the same thing?”

Marco watched him for a moment, dark eyes growing thoughtful. “You could have been nicer to those women who were only scared of what you could have done to them, of what they thought you’d done to their friend.”

“Not my fault they were too stupid and drunk to know the difference between a threat and someone helping,” Carter mumbled.

Marco pulled out a bandage and tape, ripping off a piece as he leaned forward to apply it.

“But you were kind. You helped their friend without expecting a reward and put yourself in danger to do it. You took their abuse, even though you would have been in the right to defend yourself. Maybe you aren’t nice, but you certainly are kind. ”

For the first time in a long time, Carter could not come up with a retort. Lapsing into silence, he let Marco apply the last bits of medicine and bandages. And Carter couldn’t help but notice the tenderness with which he worked.

Carter couldn’t remember when someone had ever spoken to him candidly and yet gently.

He also couldn’t remember when someone had spoken of something he’d said and done in a strictly positive light.

Sure, his teammates appreciated, verbally at times, his fierceness in battle, his loyalty, and his willingness to put himself on the line if it came down to it.

But as far as Carter could remember, no one had ever referred to him as kind.

After a few more minutes, Marco pulled back and looked Carter over. “It won’t help your ribs, but at least you’ve got something for the other wounds. It’s the best I can do. I still say you should see someone.”

“Thank you,” Carter managed to get out, hating how quiet he sounded but having no other way to speak.

“How are the mace burns?”

“Better.”

And they were. Whatever Marco had done had taken the edge off, though he was sure they would bother him for at least the rest of the night.

Marco looked him over one last time with a frown, and for a brief moment, Carter felt the urge to reach out and run a finger over the crease in the man’s brow to smooth it out.

“Right, well, that’ll have to do then,” Marco said, and Carter could hear the edge of something in his voice.

“I’m not going to the hospital,” Carter informed him, guessing what Marco was thinking.

“Yeah, didn’t think you were,” Marco grunted, putting everything back in the box.

“Glad we got that settled,” Carter huffed.

Marco chuckled, standing up to put the box back. “Stubborn kind of man, eh? That’s alright. I’ve known a few of those in my life.”

Carter glanced around to make sure he had everything. Now Marco had dragged him into his house and played nursemaid, there was no point lingering. He was sure Marco didn’t want some roughed-up asshole sitting around his apartment now he’d done his good deed. He knew not to overstay his?—

“Do you like Thai food?” Marco asked from the bathroom, voice echoing.

“What?” Carter asked, jerking his head up.

“Thai food. There’s a place a couple of blocks over that’ll still deliver if I call them.”

“At this time of night?”

“I might have a slight addiction and probably make up like...half their monthly sales. So yeah, they’ll deliver to me.”

Carter blinked, cocking his head. “Um, sure. Thai is fine.”

Marco smiled, pulling his phone out and heading to the kitchen. “Make yourself comfortable. No point in staggering around.”

“You want me to stay?” Carter asked, bewildered.

“You don’t have to,” Marco said quickly, bending down to dig through his fridge.

“But I’d feel better if you hung around for the night, just to make sure your injuries aren’t that bad.

I don’t mind giving up my bed if you don’t want the couch.

God knows I’ve napped on that thing more times than I can count. ”

“You’re a very strange man,” Carter told him, frowning deeply.

Marco laughed, the sound loose and carefree. “You wouldn’t be the first person to tell me that, and I bet you won’t be the last.”

Carter shook his head, turning his attention away from Marco before he got accused of staring. “Fine. I’ll stick around for food.”

What a weird night.