I turned to him, still in shock over what had just transpired, and embarrassed to be in the middle of it.

“I caught this asshole tryin’ to force himself on Carly,” Wyatt growled. Then he turned his murderous gaze on Marco. “Where the hell were you?”

“Me?” Marco shot back, his anger rising.

“Stop it!” I protested.

“I could have you arrested,” Blake shouted, unsuccessfully trying to get to his feet.

“You’re the one about to be arrested,” Wyatt shot back. “For attempted rape.”

Was he out of his mind? The last thing I wanted was to attract attention. I’d gotten lucky several months back, after the whole Carson Purdy debacle.

“Rape?” Blake shouted in indignation. “I wasn’t tryin’ to rape her! I was trying to show her the pictures of the bones on my phone!” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it up as proof.

“You expect me to believe that cockamamie bullshit?” Wyatt sneered.

“Wyatt,” I said in an exhausted sigh, “just let it go.”

“Let it go?” he demanded.

I held his gaze, shocked to see the fury on his face. “Let it go,” I repeated, quieter this time.

“Come on, Carly.” Marco reached out to me and I took his hand, on the verge of breaking down. “Let’s go out back and get some air.”

I nodded as his fingers wrapped around mine and he tugged me to the back door. He shot a look to Wyatt. “Shouldn’t you be gettin’ back to the bar?”

I didn’t get a chance to see Wyatt’s face, but he stormed off to the dining area while Marco led me out back.

The cool air hit my skin and I pulled my hand from Marco’s. He started to give me a hug, but I pushed him back. “I can’t have anyone touchin’ me right now.”

He slowly lifted his hands. “Okay,” he said softly. “Tell me what you need.”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” he said, walking over to my car. “How about we just sit for a moment?”

“Okay.” I felt foolish over being this shaken up. I was used to dealing with a rough crowd and I rarely got upset, but this one clung to me.

Marco sat on the lid of my trunk, and I leaned my butt against it, staring at the brick wall of the rear of Max’s Tavern.

“What did Wyatt walk in on?” Marco asked. “What made him think you were about to be raped?”

I brushed stray hairs from my forehead, glad my back was to him. “I think it looked pretty bad. I wasn’t sure of his intentions, so Wyatt’s accusation didn’t come out of left field. Blake had me pinned to the wall with his arm across my chest, his body leaning into mine, and he was fumbling with his pants.”

“Jesus, Carly…” Marco said in horror and disgust. “Do you really believe he was trying to show you some photos?”

“Maybe,” I said. “He’s been talkin’ about those damn bones all night, and he’s had more drinks than I could count, which might be why he was leaning into me. He could barely stand upright.”

“Why’d you keep servin’ him?” he asked with a hint of reprimand.

“Hey!” I glanced over my shoulder at him. “I wasn’t the one servin’ him. He was in Ruth’s section, but truth be told, all his friends kept buyin’ him drinks, so she probably had no idea how many he’d had.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

I gave him a sharp nod and turned back to face the wall. We were quiet for a few moments, the world completely silent. That was one of the things I loved about Drum, the quiet. It gave me room to think, although sometimes that was as much a curse as a blessing.

“You know what’s funny?” I asked softly. “How everyone scrambles to find an excuse to take the burden of guilt off the person accused of rape. What was she wearing? Was she comin’ on to him? Was he drunk?”

“Jesus, Carly,” Marco protested. “That’s not what I meant.”

I turned back to face him. “Are you sure about that?”

He stared at me, his eyes wide and his mouth open, but I was done with this discussion. I’d gotten what I needed out here.

My fear was gone. I’d replaced it with anger.

Wyatt was behind the bar when I walked back in. He shot me a worried look, but I ignored him.

Blake’s friend was helping him stagger out the front door.

“What in the hell happened?” Ruth asked, her gaze darting from Wyatt to Blake. “That customer came out sporting a black eye, and Wyatt’s icing his hand. The guy was mumbling something about suing for false accusations of rape, and you and Marco were nowhere to be seen.” She sounded pissed, but I could hear the razor’s edge of anxiety in her voice.

I shook my head. “I’m fine. I think it was a huge misunderstanding.”

“So he wasn’t tryin’ to rape you?” Worry filled her eyes as she looked me up and down.

I gave her a tight smile. I could brush this off, but she deserved to know the truth, so I gave her the fifteen-second version of what had happened, including Wyatt punching him and Marco taking me out back to catch my breath.

“So you’re not sure whether he was plannin’ to rape you or not?”

“I’m not sure enough to press charges.”

“Like you would even if he’d completed the evil deed,” she said in disgust, but it was directed at the door Blake had just walked through. “Asshole.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant (about me—the asshole remark was pretty clear), but it could have been any number of things. That a waitress pressing charges against a customer could be bad for business. That men got away with things like this all the time. Or that we’d follow the unspoken creed of the townsfolk of Drum—they took care of their own, which Max always took one step further with the employees of the tavern. He called us family and he didn’t tolerate people hurting his family.

Oh, Lord. Would they seek their own vigilante justice?

“Ruth. For all I know he was reaching for his phone. You have to let this go.”

She simply lifted her brow, her mouth pinched into a tight line, a look my mother used to give me when I was in trouble and she wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. The thought filled me with an unexpected melancholy.

Eye on the prize, Carly. Take down Bart Drummond, then move on to your father, the bastard who killed your mother and plans to kill you.

My concern about Max and Ruth grabbing pitchforks and running out the door was unwarranted since there wasn’t much either of them could do at the moment. Blake was gone, and we were all too busy working for anyone to go after him. His sorry hide would be safe enough until closing time.

Marco entered through the back, taking his seat at the bar, and I kept my head down, trying to get through the rest of the night.

Around eleven, Marco was still sitting at the bar, so I sidled up to him after I dropped off a drink order. “What are you still doin’ here? It’s past your bedtime.”

He gave me an incredulous look. “You really think I’m gonna just go home after the way we left things out back?”