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they’d all been in business suits, not someone off the streets. Regardless of how they dressed, a drunk was a drunk and you couldn’t reason with them. She’d quickly learned that lesson at the club. A lot of people thought because they had money, it excused them from acting civil when they thought they were in “private.” Not a train of thought she or Jason adhered to, thank goodness. She mentally shook herself. Right now she had more pressing concerns.
    Don’t panic. He’s harmless. Just stay calm and he’ll leave you alone. Please, God, let him leave me alone.
    “Thank you for your assistance, but I’m fine now. You can release me.” The urge to pull out of his grimy grasp and run was overpowering. She stood her ground, though, with a strained grin on her face, trying to look grateful, afraid her expression reflected her fear.
    “Well, now,” he said before he turned his head to the side, then spit on the ground. “Leaz not be too hasty. I don’ mind a bit of compnee’ and I’ll be right proud to share my bottle wi’ a lady like you.”
    “I’m sorry, but I’m late for an appointment and have to leave, so if you’ll just release me, I’ll be going.” This time, she did tug her arm, hoping to get out of his grasp. For a drunk, he had surprising strength.
    “Naw. I don’ think so.” He reached into his back pocket with his left hand and pulled out a bottle, shoving it toward her face.
    Instinctively, she scrunched up her nose and pulled back.
    “Aw, now, don’t be that way, little missy. You think yer too good for the likes of me? Well, ya’ ain’t,” he said as he pressed closer.
    Oh, God, oh, God! Heart pounding a mile a minute, she yanked with all her might, trying to pull away from him—only to find his hold turn into a vice grip. Bile clogged her throat as she realized she was alone in the cemetery with this man. If she screamed, chances were no one would hear her. Cat had taught her how to defend herself, but she couldn’t remember any of it, which added to her panic.
    She continued jerking against him. Stench from his breath gagged her. She tried to knee him in the groin. It was a feeble attempt at best, and she knew she’d made a mistake the minute she did it. His eyes flared as he pitched the still closed bottle to the side and grabbed both her arms, tightening his hold. The half-way smile that had been on his face was replaced by a scowl.
    “You’ll pay for that, bitch.”
    She continued to fight him, tearing her sleeve in the process. But the silk shirt was the least of her worries.
    “Let. Me. Go.” Increasing her attempt to get away, she started kicking him anywhere she could, striking him numerous times in the shin. He howled and hopped around, releasing one of her arms. Sara twisted away from the open hole, slapping and kicking the man as he cussed her.
    Surprisingly, her purse still hung from her shoulder. When he grabbed the handle, Sara lost all self control and immediately latched onto the body of the bag, unwilling to let him have Kaycee’s rabbit. She yanked the handles out of his grip, then holding the purse firmly with both hands, lashed out at him with all the pent up anguish from the last few months. The first frantic swing caught him on the side of the head. He released her and brought both arms up as a shield.
    Ignoring his yelps, she continued to bombard him, causing him to step back with each blow. Sara lost all sense of time and place as she lashed out blindly. All the hurt, the pain, the never ending loneliness from the last six months consumed her. She didn’t know how many times she hit him, when suddenly he stopped. Eyes wide, he looked behind him in disbelief, swinging his arms wildly.
    And fell into the open grave.
    The man’s scream ended with a loud thump. Ashamed and pleased at the same time, Sara hoped she hadn’t killed the wretched beast. Peering over the edge, she saw a slight movement. At least he was alive. But the six foot drop had to