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“Can I help?” The man’s voice was a low rumble.

“Yes—” Lane grunted as Blake landed another punch. “You mind⁠—”

The man didn’t hesitate. With a single hand motion, the dog launched. Jaws locked onto Blake’s leg, and he immediately started screaming. He let go of Lane and turned to fight off the dog, but the dog latched onto his wrist instead. Jo heard the bone snap, and Blake screamed for real, then, crying.

The big man crossed the space in long strides and grabbed the dog by the collar. He murmured something to him, and the dog released his bite. While Blake writhed on the ground in pain, flannel guy took the dog back to the truck and loaded him into the cab. The dog was excited, panting happily, tail wagging, and the guy took a moment to praise him before he slammed the door shut. The driver’s side window was down, though, and Jo had a feeling the dog would very happily jump out of it if Blake caused them more problems.

The flannel guy returned to Blake, hauling him up by the collar of his shirt like he was a rag doll. Blake’s right arm hung oddly, and his right leg gave out when he stood. Blake was blubbering, saying he needed an ambulance, and it was almost funny to watch. He’d gone from the stalker to the victim, and I had no sympathy for him. The big guy leaned him against the van and told him to shut up.

“That’s enough,” the man said, his voice quiet but carrying an edge of command that made even Blake pause.

“Who the fuck are you?” Blake demanded, trying to wrench free.

“Someone who really doesn’t like men who put their hands on women.” The guy twisted Blake’s good arm behind his back in one smooth motion, professional and efficient. “You gonna calm down, or do I need to make you calm down?”

Blake struggled, and the rescuer applied more pressure to the arm hold. Not enough to break anything, but enough that Blake yelped and went still.

“Smart choice,” the man said.

“Walker, right?” Lane gasped out.

The flannel guy nodded. “Walker Jones.”

Lane was on his feet now, breathing hard, blood dripping from his split lip and a cut above his eyebrow. He pulled out his cuffs and moved to secure Blake’s wrists while Walker held him. Blake screamed as Lane snapped the cuff over his bloody wrist.

“Blake Paulson, you’re under arrest for assault and battery, violation of a restraining order, and resisting arrest.” Lane’s voice was rough but steady. “You have the right to remain silent⁠—”

“This is bullshit!” Blake shouted, still struggling against the cuffs and Walker’s hold. “Police brutality! I’ll sue⁠—”

“—anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law,” Lane continued, locking the cuffs. “You have the right to an attorney⁠—”

“Deputy.” Walker’s voice was quiet, but urgent. “Your lady’s hurt.”

Lane’s head snapped toward me, and I realized I was still on the ground, cradling my left wrist. There was blood on my palms from where I’d scraped them, and my wrist was starting to stiffen with pain.

“Jo—” Lane started toward me.

“I’m okay,” I said quickly, waving him away, even though my wrist was throbbing and my throat hurt where Blake had grabbed it. “I’m fine. Just finish⁠—”

The sound of sirens cut through the air as two patrol cars screamed into the parking lot. Deputies Sara Henderson and Mike Kaycik jumped out, taking in the scene—Blake in cuffs with Walker holding him, Lane bleeding and breathing hard, me on the ground.

“Jesus, Lane,” Sara said, hurrying over. “What the hell happened?”

“Blake assaulted Ms. Bennelli. I intervened. He resisted arrest.” Lane handed Blake off to Mike. “Special Deputy Walker Jones and his K9…” Lane paused and looked at Walker.

“Grudge,” Walker supplied.

“… Grudge assisted. Paulson has outstanding warrants in Kansas and Nebraska. Run him and start the extradition paperwork.”

“On it,” Mike said, hauling Blake toward his cruiser.

Blake turned back, his face twisted with rage. “This isn’t over! You hear me? This isn’t⁠—”

“Yeah, it is,” Walker said quietly, his voice carrying a weight that made Blake shut up. “You lost. Go sit in your cell and think about what you did.”

After Mike had secured Blake in the back of his cruiser, Lane finally came to me. He dropped to his knees on the pavement, his hands gentle as they cupped my face.

“Are you hurt? Did he—” His voice broke slightly. “Jo, talk to me.”