Over her fifty-five years of life, Lou Ellen Wells had received many blessings. To pay them forward and honor the men in her life who served her country, both living and dead, she cooked Thanksgiving Dinner at the Dallas Veteran’s Services Center every year. It was located in a bad part of town, but she’d never had a problem, until this year when she’s brutally attacked and can’t get to her gun. A bedraggled man with piercing blue eyes jumps to her rescue and saves her with moves out of an action movie. She gives him her card and offers him help, but he tells her doesn’t need saving and takes off like his tail is on fire.
A couple of weeks later, Lou is surprised when the man calls her asking for help of a different kind. A teenage girl he cares about has gone missing in gang territory. He’s afraid she’ll get killed if he doesn’t find her soon. Lou calls in the team to help him, but her price for that help is finding out why her Silent Knight, who is obviously skilled and educated, chooses to be homeless.
But will satisfying her curiosity about Thomas Griffin put her in the crosshairs of a terrorist group even more dangerous than MS-13?
Check out our exclusive excerpt of SILENT KNIGHT below!
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 clutched 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.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Becky McGraw writes happily-ever-afters with heat, heart and humor. A Jill of many trades, Becky knows just enough about a variety of subjects to make her contemporary cowboy and romantic suspense novels diverse and entertaining. She resides in Florida with her husband of thirty-plus years and is the mother of three and grandmother of one. Becky is a member of the RWA, Sisters in Crime and Novelists, Inc.