Keep your head, Lou, she thought, as she squirmed and clawed at the thick arms around her chest. Her heels wouldn’t allow her to get her feet under her, so she kicked them off. It would be easier to run without them, too. Her purse was trapped behind her, between her and her assailant, so Bruno would be of no help until he released her.

But he didn’t release her, he spun her and slammed her into the brick wall and put his forearm under her chin. Her head connected with the bricks and pain sliced through her skull as she fought to bring her knee up to kick him in the balls. This evidently wasn’t his first assault, though, because he stayed just far enough away to prevent it.

He grabbed the strap of her purse and stripped it away just before she got her hand inside. When the pressure on her throat eased, Lou screamed as loud as she could as she grabbed the strap and played tug-of-war with him.

She knew if he got his hands on Bruno, she was a dead woman. Even if she ran away, he would find her pistol fast and shoot her in the back. Screaming again, she grabbed higher on the strap and yanked as hard as she could.

With a grunt, he let go of the strap and she staggered back, but not before his fist connected hard with the side of her jaw. Her lower jaw seesawed in her mouth as her head took another whack against the brick wall before she crumpled.

Jaw throbbing and tasting blood, Lou Ellen knew she had to get to her feet. She scrambled on the nasty concrete, her coat flapped open and cold air rushed under her skirt, which had shimmied up to her hips. In two steps, the big, bulky bastard towered above her. He put his boot into her chest and shoved her backwards then glowered down at her like an angry, salivating dog.

“Give me the goddamned purse, woman!” he growled, and sickness filled her when his eyes landed on the crotch of her panties and he licked his lips. “You’ll be giving me something else for my trouble too, before I kill you.”

Bile lunged up to choke Lou Ellen at the thought of him touching her as she clamped her knees together. She’d rather die, she thought, her whole body shaking. Her head felt like it might explode along with her pounding heart, as she found her purse beside her and shoved her hand inside. Not without a bullet in your ass for my trouble, you rangy sonofabitch.

A long shadow suddenly fell over her from behind as her sweating palm closed around the butt of her pistol. God, please don’t let that be his helper. The shadow moved to her left, and dirty combat boots appeared beside her, but the owner of the boots said not a word.

Lou Ellen took the chance to glance sideways and let her eyes travel up long camo-covered legs to clenched fists, but quickly swung her gaze back to her assailant. He wasn’t smirking or salivating anymore, he looked scared as he took a step back from her and reached behind him.

An olive green and tan blur flashed past her before the man slammed into the bum. They landed hard and rolled. The bum sat up and raised his fist over the other man’s face. Lou Ellen slid her pistol from her purse and aimed at the center of her attacker’s back, but before she could pull the trigger, he flew through the air and crashed loudly into the dumpster behind them.

Her silent knight sprang to his feet, pounced on the bum again and in a flurry of motion, pounded his fists into the man’s face. When he finally stopped, his back tensed and he growled as his arms bent at the elbow then jerked. Breathing hard, he pushed up to his feet and stared down at the guy, who wasn’t moving now.

Lou Ellen covertly put the pistol away, then placed her hand on the wall to get her shaky legs under her. She straightened her suit, pulled her coat closed then leaned on the wall as the man turned back toward her, his eyes wild.

“Are you okay?” he croaked, his voice sounding like he didn’t use it much.

“Other than scraped knees and a knot on my hard head, I think I’m fine,” she replied, her voice trembling. “But I could use a drink, because my nerves are shot.”

“This is not a neighborhood a lady should be strolling in alone,” he grated, a muscle working near his right eye. “Especially one dressed like you are. That fur-trimmed coat is a neon sign saying, please rob me.”

“Well, I stroll here every year to volunteer at the Veteran’s Center, dressed just like I am now, and haven’t had a problem before,” she replied, getting a little miffed at his superior tone. She bent and looked around for her shoes.

“When slumming, you should really try to look the part, Queenie, but I’m sure it would be difficult for you to hide that silver spoon.” His condescending tone was punctuated with a dark, raw laugh.

Lou Ellen spun to glare at him. “You don’t know me, so don’t pretend to,” she snarled, stiffening her spine. “Thank you for your help, but keep your opinions to yourself. I’m fifty-five years old and have been taking care of myself for a long time without your guidance.”

Lou Ellen hadn’t always worn fur-trimmed coats, or wore business suits. She’d had her taste of the hard life, enough to be determined she wasn’t ever going to live that way again. And she wasn’t going to let this man, or the bum he just pummeled, intimidate her.

“So, what are you doing here?” he asked, one wild gray eyebrow raised over his piercing blue eyes. “Trying to pretend you give a shit about the have nots? Salving your guilty conscience for living well when others are living like this?”

She took back her earlier thought that he didn’t talk much—this man had plenty to say and hero or not, he was pissing her off.

“For your information, I’m not slumming, I’m paying my blessings forward by helping heroes like my father and first husband,” Lou Ellen replied, lifting her chin and holding his gaze.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, upping her anger.

She glanced around him at the man laying by the dumpster, who still wasn’t moving, and didn’t appear to be breathing either. Her knight’s lack of urgency told her he knew the bum wouldn’t be getting up.

Lou Ellen recognized a trained fighter when she saw one. This man was like those she worked with—former military men who were taught those survival skills. And like them, he had the superior attitude that came with those skills, which needed to be taken down a notch.

“Thank you for your help and your service, sir, but I don’t need your bullshit.” She pushed away from the wall to balance on shaky legs. “Go find someone else to judge who gives a shit what you think of them.”

Stiffening her back and her knees, Lou Ellen bent to pick up her shoes, but didn’t put them on when she found one of her heels was broken. As regally as she could, she walked to the end of the alley barefoot.

“Where are you going and who’s going to save you when you get jerked into the next alley, Queenie?” he asked, and she stopped.

“I’m getting the hell out of here before the cops find out you tossed that troll back over the sewage ditch into the great beyond. I suggest you do the same.”

She took a step then stopped again to look back at him, pausing a second to wonder what he looked like under all that dirty hair, and stringy salt-and-pepper beard. “And you might want to stop back by the church for a confession on your way back to the bridge you live under.”