The bartender brought May a cup of strong, black coffee. She sipped it and scowled at the bitter taste.

“I called my wife,” he said. “We live a mile from here. She said she’d drive you home.”

“What time do you close?” May asked.

“Midnight,” he replied.

“I don’t want to go home,” she said. “I want to sit here and feel sorry for myself. Keep the coffee coming. I’ll sober up in a couple of hours and get out of your hair.”

The bartender shrugged, “Ok. The place is getting busy, though. I have to go take care of the customers. Will you be ok?”

She pushed the empty coffee cup toward him, “Fill it up and go take care of business. I’ll be fine.”

The bartender was right, May noticed. Customers steadily trickled in.

Twenty minutes later May had just finished her second cup of coffee when a young man in his early-forties sat down on the stool to her right. She heard him order a Red Hook beer. He was pleasant-looking, slim but solidly built, dark hair, green eyes and a three-day-old scruff that looked great on him.

“I haven’t seen you in here before,” the man said after taking his first sip of beer. “I’m Stan.”

May was no stranger to having men hit on her in bars. She and a group of friends went to a bar once a week after work in Seattle. Men approached them regularly, though she had to admit to herself, few were as cute as Stan.

“Hi Stan,” May replied with a half-smile. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m just having a little coffee before heading home. You’re cute and all, but I’ve had a tough day. I’m just gonna finish this and leave.”

Stan smiled and raised his hands as if in surrender, “That’s ok, May. It’s cool.”

Her ears perked, “What did you say?”

“I said, ‘it’s cool.’”

“No, you said my name. How did you know my name was May?”

Stan smiled, realizing she had busted him, “Ok, you got me.”

“What do you want?”

“I need you to sign those proxy papers.”

May felt a light buzz from the first drink but Stan’s question shocked her into momentary sobriety, “Do you work for Marbury?”

A second man, this one older and larger, sat on the stool to her left.

“Who’s your pet gorilla?” she asked. “Does he work for Marbury, too?”

“Who we work for is of no concern,” Stan said. “We aren’t here to cause trouble, May. We need you to sign the proxy and deliver it to the offices first thing tomorrow.”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” she barked, drawing the attention of the bartender.

“Everything ok down here?” the bartender asked.

“Everything is fine,” the second man growled. He stood and shot the bartender a menacing gaze. “Why don’t you go on down to the other end of the bar and mind your business. You have customers who need tending. Go tend.”

The bartender swallowed hard and did as instructed.

“I can’t believe this,” May snapped. “You’re trying to intimidate me?”

“Call it what you want,” Stan said. “You will sign those papers.”

“I told Marbury before I left, I’d consider it and talk with him tomorrow,” she reported. “He said it was fine.”

“Things have changed,” came the reply. “No more talk. Sign the papers or…”

“Or what?” a male voice called out. May turned toward the sound of the voice. It was Jessup.

“Who the hell are you?” Stan’s larger, meaner friend asked.

“I’m a friend of the lady and someone you don’t want to mess with,” Jessup said. “You're bothering her. I don’t like it.”

The big man looked at Jessup and chuckled, “Go home, old man. It’s past your bedtime.”

“This is not your concern, friend,” Stan added. “It’s best you move on.”

Jessup sized up the bigger man. He was as tall as he but at least fifty pounds heavier.

“Look friend,” Jessup said to Stan. “You came here; you found her; you delivered your message. It’s time to leave.”

“Actually, you’re the one who’ll leave,” the bigger man said.

“I don’t think so,” Jessup replied.

“Get the hell out… now!” the big man demanded. He poked Jessup hard on the chest with his right index finger. “Or I’ll…”

Jessup grabbed the big man’s finger and twisted hard. May grimaced when she heard the audible crunch of his index finger breaking. People sitting close by stood and left the area quickly.

The big man howled in pain and tried to hit Jessup with his left fist. The former SEAL blocked the punch, grabbed his wrist and twisted hard, spinning the larger man around. He then pushed the big guy to the ground.

People in the bar gasped. The patrons scattered. Some headed to the exit. Others took a safe position away from the altercation to watch. One woman screamed for someone to call nine-one-one.

Jessup glanced at May. Her eyes were as wide as saucers.

“Nice going,” she said.

Stan jumped up and lunged at Jessup.

“Watch out!” May screamed.

The younger man took a swing. The former SEAL caught his fist mid-flight and head-butted him in the nose with his forehead. Stan cried out in agony and grabbed his own nose, trying vainly to slow the flow of blood now gushing from his nostrils.

The bartender had a phone in his hand, calling the police.

The big man had gotten to his feet and prepared to charge Jessup, but Stan stopped him. “The police have been called,” he said, still trying to stop the flow of blood from his nostrils. “Let’s get out of here.”

The big man took one last look at Jessup.

“This isn’t over old man,” he said. “We’ll meet again to finish this.”

“I have my dancing shoes all picked out,” Jessup responded.

The two men quickly left the bar.

The bartender rushed to May’s side, “I called the police. Are you both all right?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m shaken is all.”

“I gonna run out the door as see if I can get a license plate,” the bartender said.

May fell into Jessup’s arms. He embraced her, “Thank you. Thank you,” she said. “I was so scared.  What made you come back?”

“I left in a huff,” Jessup said. “I got a few blocks away before I cooled down and realized I’d just left a drunk woman stranded in a bar with no way home, so…”

“You came back for me?”

“Yeah,” he said. A smile formed on his face.

“I’m so glad you did. I was so scared. Who knows what they would have done.”

Through the corner of his eye Jessup saw the red and blue lights of a patrol car. Two officers walked into the bar. One cop, Officer Singer, took May’s and Jessup’s statements. The other officer interviewed the bartender and other witnesses.

After the questioning concluded, Officer Singer closed his book.

“Will you arrest them?” May asked.

“If we can find them,” Officer Singer replied. “You never saw them before and could tell us very little. One man called himself Stan. The bartender tried to get a license plate but didn’t. All he saw was a dark-colored SUV. It’s not a lot to go on.”

“Will you arrest Preston Marbury?” she asked.

“We will interview him,” Officer Singer said, “but by your own admission, these men never admitted Mr. Marbury hired them to do anything. They never even mentioned his name. Only you did.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Jessup interjected. “Who else would try to force her to sign papers?”

“I’m separating what we think from what we know,” Officer Singer said. “And you, sir, tread lightly. From your own description of things, this big man may have provoked you, but it sounds like you drew first blood when you broke his finger.”

“If he hadn’t come along, I don’t know what those men would have done,” May argued.

“Ms. Major, I’m on your side,” Officer Singer said. “We’ll check the hospitals to see if anyone came into the emergency room with a broken nose or a broken finger. There are no street cameras close by but the bartender said they headed north. We’ll see if we can pick up a dark SUV up the road.  And we’ll interview Preston Marbury tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Officer,” May said.

“Do you need a lift home, ma’am?” Officer Singer asked. “You said you had quite a few drinks. I can’t let you drive.”

“I’ll drive her home,” Jessup said, glancing at May, “if that’s ok with you, I mean.”

May nodded with a soft smile, “I’d like that, yes.”