Some men prey on weakness. Some use force to display power. And some will use words to break a soul. But Jacob Schmidt is not one of those men. He’ll take his nicks in order to protect others and stand up against injustice.

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Excerpt

Their food arrived, and Jacob continued to reassure Sarah as they ate. She even opened up a little bit, getting off topic and discussing her two daughters in more detail. It made her happy. Just like Ken meant everything to Jacob, he could tell that Sarah felt the same about her girls.

As they finished their meal, Jacob glimpsed at a booth diagonal from them. A young Hispanic woman sat alone, looking in his vicinity but not directly at him. She had a contusion on one of her cheeks and continuously rubbed the upper part of her left arm. Though cold outside, the woman wore a short-sleeve shirt, and Jacob spotted discoloration around her bicep as she massaged the area.

Her gaze was lost. She appeared nervous and didn’t hold eye contact with anyone or anything. Jacob insisted on paying when the check came and told Sarah he would follow up with her later in the day. When she left, he made his way over to the nearby booth. Jacob would normally second-guess himself in a situation like this, but he knew the signs all too well. Standing at the edge of the table, he leaned over, much to the woman’s surprise.

“I’m sorry if I startled you,” Jacob said. “I was just wondering if you’re Okay.”

Unsure what to do or say, she gawked blankly at him. Like a blood pressure cuff, something tightened around Jacob’s arm. He turned to look.

       “Don’t talk to her,” a man said.

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