Marco developed tunnel vision as his hand cranked down on the guy's shoulder and whipped him around. His right fist cocked back and exploded forward, busting open the man's cheekbone on impact. The scumbag stumbled before crashing onto his back.

Marco was on him in an instant. Voices sounded in the distance as he wailed on the asshole who had dared touch the woman he loved. Jesus, what would've happened if he'd come out five or ten minutes later?

"Marco! Stop! Come on, Marco!" A thick arm wrapped around his neck and jerked him back. Marco swung. "He's down, man. He's down," said the voice.

Marco's heart was a wild thing in his chest. His gaze scanned for Alyssa, but he couldn't find her in the crowd of spectators. When had all these people gotten here? "He...he...Alyssa."

"She's here. She's okay." Marco pulled free and whirled to find Van holding his hands out. He pointed. "She's right there."

Marco's gaze followed the man's hand.

Alyssa.

She was sitting sideways in the backseat of her car, her legs pulled up, her face ashen and drawn.

Marco went to his knees in front of her, his hands cupping her trembling face. "Hey. Shh. It's okay. It's over." Shit, had his heart ever beat this fast?

She nodded and pressed her hand over her mouth like she was trying to hold in her emotions, then she dropped it and released a halting breath. "N-not...help...l-less...," she stuttered, and then she lost the battle against restraint. A sob ripped out of her. She curled forward and buried her face in her knees.

Her words tore into Marco's heart.

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her face into the crook of his neck. "I know you're not. Not at all. Shh. I'm so sorry." He whispered the words into her ear over and over as guilt squeezed his gut and his imagination ran rabid with thoughts of what had happened before he'd gotten there. He hugged Alyssa tighter and fought the urge to look over every inch of her skin to prove she was all right.

She sat back and scrubbed at her cheeks. Long strands of her hair hung loose around her face, like it had been pulled free of her ponytail. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Marco's hands slid to her thighs and he frowned. "What for?"

"Your shirt." Her breath hitched. "I got makeup on it."

He shook his head and looked her over. "Did he hurt you?"

Her gaze dropped to her lap. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

Marco's chest went tight. He knew how goddamned much she could take-he'd seen that firsthand when they were kids. "Alyssa, don't do that-"

"Just my wrists and neck," she whispered.

Pete leaned in over Marco's shoulder. "Hey, kid. How you doing?"

"I'm okay."

"Cops and ambulance are on their way, okay? Sit tight. We'll get this taken care of." Pete released a long breath. "I'm sorry, Alyssa."

Her eyes went wide. "I don't need an ambulance." She turned to Marco. "I...I can't..."

He grasped her hand. "We'll work it all out. Just let them look you over, okay? Just start there."

She glanced between them. "I don't want to cause trouble for you, Pete."

"Now, stop right there, young lady. This place is like my home. And you guys are all my kids-no matter how old you are. No one comes into my house and hurts my family. I don't care who they are. You understand?"

Alyssa's breath shuddered and she nodded, her whole body trembling under Marco's touch. His own adrenaline letdown wasn't as marked, but it was still there. Jesus. He just wanted to wrap her in his arms and never let go.

Pete patted Marco on his shoulder and leaned down to his ear. "You did good, son. Thank you for getting here in time."

Marco's throat went tight. He gave a single nod but kept his eyes on Alyssa.

When Pete walked away, Marco pushed up onto his knees, bringing his gaze level with hers. He slid his hands behind her neck and massaged.

She winced and groaned.

"Dammit, sorry." He jerked away, rage boiling the blood in his veins.

She caught him by the wrists. "It's okay." Her eyes went glassy again. "I...I need you."

The words wrapped around Marco's heart and made it expand inside his chest. He knew what it cost her to say that, especially after what he'd said last week. And he didn't think his self-loathing could get any worse. Marco leaned his forehead against hers and stroked her hair. "You have me. God, Alyssa. I thought..." He swallowed hard, unable to give voice to the scenarios creating the stuff of new nightmares in his mind.

Her hands fisted in his shirt, dragging him closer. She didn't cry; she simply leaned into him, on him, and it felt so goddamn right. Somehow, all the things that had seemed so complicated between them faded away in the shadow of the night's events.

Red lights flashed against the trees. A single warning siren sounded as the ambulance came down the side driveway to the back lot. Blue lights followed. The emergency vehicles stopped close to where roughly fifteen people stood in clusters around Alyssa's car.

Marco glanced over his shoulder to see Pete approach the first responders. Several car lengths away, the band manager paced and talked furiously on his phone, every once in a while barking something at the piece of shit who had assaulted Alyssa. The rest of the band huddled nearby.

Alyssa released a deep breath, reclaiming Marco's attention. He leaned in. "You did nothing wrong here. Okay? The cops are going to want you to tell them what happened. Just be straightforward. And the EMTs just want to make sure you're all right."

"Okay," she whispered.

Marco stood and held out a hand to her. "You good to stand up?"

She grasped his hand and rose.

Marco pulled her into his arms and closed his eyes when she melted into him.

"Sir? Ma'am?"

Marco hated to let go of her for even an instant, but he stepped back and made room for the EMTs. "I'll be right here."

She followed the medics to the back of their rig.

Someone stepped up beside him. "Sir, I need to ask you a few questions."