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have her,” he said accusingly. 
    “What do you mean?”
    Ignoring her question completely, the man looked around him, wild-eyed, as if certain the person in question was hiding somewhere inside.
    “Sandy! Where are you?” he yelled, the façade of worry in his words unable to hide the harshness of his tone.
    Instantly, the name rang a bell. Sandy Forester was one of their newer clients and was currently staying at the shelter connected to their offices by an entrance at the back. Her story had been all too similar to many of the women who came in seeking refuge from a marriage or relationship gone wrong.
    “I’m sorry, but I don’t know who you’re talking about,” she told him plainly.
    Instantly, his eyes zeroed back on her again, glaring at her accusingly, as if she were the sole person responsible for all his woes in the world.
    “Don’t give me that. I know she’s in here somewhere. An old buddy of mine told me about this place. How you brainwash women into leaving their loving husbands,” he said, his speech slurred as he paced slowly closer toward her.
    She thought about calling for Mark, but she wasn’t sure if that would set the man off more, and she was still fairly sure she could handle it.
    “I don’t know who this friend is, but he’s mistaken. Now I’m going to ask you again. Please leave the premises or I’ll have to call the authorities,” Charlotte said, standing unwavering despite the man’s height and withering malice toward her.
    Men like this were the reason this place even existed. Selfish, abusive bastards that had no right coming in their doors.
    Again ignoring her, the man looked past Char’s shoulder and eyed the doors at the back.
    “Sandy? Can you hear me? Come out, dammit!” he swore angrily, the veneer of control quickly fading as he moved to go around Char.
    Without hesitation, she moved in front of the man to block his path, and for a moment, he backed off, seemingly surprised at the audacity of the woman in front of him for being so bold to bar his way.
    “You’re not allowed back there. Employees only. Now please leave,” she said more firmly. 
    His surprise quickly turned to drunken rage, and Char could see the redness in his eyes grow more intense as he snarled.
    “Now look here. I’m going to take back what’s rightfully mine.” 
    “Even if she were here, I wouldn’t let you within a hundred miles of her,” she said, the bear in her growling protectively for the women who looked to them for help in their most desperate moments. 
    At that, the man reached behind him and withdrew a knife, the blade at least six or so inches long. It gleamed coldly as he waved it around uncoordinatedly.
    Immediately, Char stepped back two paces to create distance between them, still standing between him and the door to the shelter.
    “I don’t know who taught you you could speak back to a man like that, but both you and they need to be taught a lesson,” he threatened, moving slowly toward her.
    Char felt for her purse, then realized it was back at her desk. She cursed herself mentally for not having it nearby, since both her pepper spray and Taser were inside, and either would be helpful right now.
    Charlotte’s body tensed, ready to spring to action if he moved any closer, eyeing a heavy binder on the desk next to her to use as a makeshift weapon.
    “Hey, over here!” Suddenly, a loud, booming voice filled the entire office.
    Both Char and the man looked in the direction of the noise just in time to see a massive blur collide into the armed drunk.
    Char instantly recognized Mark’s shape as he landed on top of the attacker, who yelped in pain as he slammed into the ground. Then, with shocking speed and ferocity, Mark grabbed the man’s wrist that still had the knife in its hand and pounded it into the floor with a powerful thud that made the ground shake beneath Char’s feet. Immediately, the man shrieked and released the knife, which clattered to the floor