Lugenia needed more help, I was finding, than just getting rid of her ex for her. She was bitterly convinced she was useless and worthless. Kanesha had taken her to the community center and I suspected there was punching bag therapy involved.

For that matter, I could use a bit of that myself. Especially as skinny guy was hanging around again.

I caught his gaze with my own, tried to send the firmest go away message I could with my eyes. He ignored it. I was probably going to have to beat him up.

Maybe I should just use him for the punching bag therapy. He deserved it. Beneath her in every way.

I suspected one of those ways was blood. If the gods were nobility, then were there ordinary people in Asgard? Commoners? People who were not mortal but had not earned the title of deity. It made sense, and it made sense that he might have a crush on Thea, princess and valkyrie.

As long as he didn’t transfer it to me. But the only looks he’d given me were faint disgust. Maybe I’d beaten him up before.

Maybe.

Maybe I was an ordinary person too. But that wouldn’t explain how important I was.

Then he made a gun motion at me. I narrowed my eyes. If he had a gun? Well, maybe he wouldn’t know how to shoot it.

I was careful, though. Until I had to head home. The bullet that went past me was so wide I came to the immediate conclusion I would have been in more danger had he been aiming at somebody else.

I whirled, but I still had no weapon. Damn metal detectors. A second shot. Shooting at me. “You know, shooting me will just make her madder with you.”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

My lips quirk. “She likes me, you know. And be lucky I’m not armed.” I ducked around a corner. A third shot passed me, striking an extremely large man in the street. But not well enough to slow him down.

Popcorn? I didn’t have any, but the approach of the big guy to the skinny guy warranted it. He was bleeding from a flesh wound, but he was still twice the other guy’s size.

And, judging by Thea, about half his strength. Time for that punching bag therapy. I let the big guy go past me. If he needed rescuing by a girl, best it be in the alleyway where nobody could see it. Men got dangerous when their pride was threatened.

Another shot. That would be four of six, maybe seven, and it hit nothing. The big guy growled and charged like a linebacker. The skinny guy wasted the rest of his ammunition, even missing at what should have been point blank range.

“It takes talent to be that bad!” I yelled, trying to get his attention. He threw the big guy away from him, into the wall, against which he fell slumped, barely conscious.

Yup. Definitely stronger. As I, for whatever reason, wasn’t. But I knew I could take him. I followed up with my own charge, but relying on a flurry of blows before darting away. And yes, I hit him below the belt.

He tried to hit me back, missed, but on my next approach I claimed the gun, sticking it into my belt. “For my collection. Go home. She’s not interested in you and violence won’t make her like you more.”

“Sure it will,” he said, but then he turned and fled. Approaching sirens probably had something to do with it. Somebody’d called 911 and actually got an answer.

For once.