Marshall shoved Zach back while leaning away, breaking his hold.
Josh was up and out of the booth so fast, Zach didn’t see him move. The former SEAL might not have done anything more threatening than block Marshall’s path to the door, but there was no mistaking the go-ahead-make-my-day vibes pouring off Josh.
Marshall held his hands up. “Okay, okay, back off. Jesus. I was just trying to help you. I knew she was a fake. She came in
, gave me the sob story, said she wanted to contact you. I told her you were unreachable, which you just confirmed.”
Fire flowed through Zach’s chest. It was true. Tessa had been telling the truth. Sophia was more than likely his.
Everything inside Zach shifted on a dime. His entire outlook on life, his plans for his immediate future, his short- and long-term goals, his outlook on relationships and family—everything.
He had a kid.
A daughter.
Holy motherfucking shit.
“Look, I’ve been through this before,” Marshall was saying. “When your face starts showing up in magazines, the broads come out of the woodwork with every accusation known to man, and guys get fucked over. When I offered her money, she took it and never showed up again, which is proof I was right. You should be thanking me. Hell, I even used my own money. I saw it as an investment. And look, it’s paying off. This role is your dream, Zach. You’ve been working toward this for years. No more worries about aging out of the scene or where your next gig is coming from. And it’s a springboard to more. We’re talking prime-time movies, Zach—”
He gripped Marshall’s shirt again. But this time, he couldn’t check his anger. He hauled Marshall to his feet, then shoved him with all his strength. The other man stumbled out of the booth, tripped backward, hit the bar, and dropped to the floor.
A sudden silence seeped into Zach’s consciousness. Everyone in the small bar stopped talking and turned their attention on the trouble spot.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Marshall groaned and rolled to his side. “You’re going to be the one in jail—for assault—”
Before Zach could lash out again, Josh pinned Marshall’s forearm to the floor with the sole of his boot. “I’d rethink that if I were you.”
The male bartender came out from the back. “Take it outside.”
“Everything’s under control,” Josh told him and pressed a folded bill into the bartender’s hand.
“I still want all of you outside,” he said, but pocketed the cash and returned to his job.
Zach bent down and hauled Marshall up by the arm, dragging him outside while Josh grabbed the briefcase and followed.
Zach shoved Marshall against the hood of his Lexus and pinned him there. “If you don’t want to see your blood on this rental, you’ll tell me everything that happened.”
“You already know everything. She was going to milk you. She even put your name on the birth certificate, which—in case you didn’t know,” he said, throwing Zach’s own words back at him, “is enough presumptive evidence to nail you as the father, whether you are or not. And that obligates you to mandatory child support. The only way out is to petition for a paternity test, which you couldn’t do when you were in bumfuck nowhere with no cell service.”
“Why didn’t you tell me when I got back?”
“Because she was gone. I paid her, she got what she wanted, and she didn’t come back, proving that I saved your ungrateful ass in half a dozen different ways.”
Zach pulled him up and slammed him against the hood so hard, Marshall’s skull dented the metal.
“Easy there, Tonto,” Josh murmured.
Zach got in Marshall’s face again. “She never came back because she had cancer, you fucking idiot.”
He released Marshall with one more shove.
Wincing, Marshall put a hand against the back of his head. “She never said anything about cancer. I swear.”
Zach spun toward him again, but Josh stepped between them. “Time to back off. We’re getting rubberneckers.”
Zach still stabbed a finger at Marshall’s chest. “You’re fucking fired, asshole.”
“If you fire me, you’re throwing away your dream role. I’m the reason they want you. I’m the guy with the contract.”