Shay’s smile widened. “And you’re an excellent student.”
Because I had no choice. I kept my smile pinned in place. I had to know how to defend myself. I wouldn’t be caught out again.
“All right, everyone.” Shay clapped her hands. “We’re done. I’ll see you at the next lesson.”
I nabbed my water bottle and towel. Slinging the towel around my neck, I took a big swig of water.
The sounds of thuds, punches, and grunts echoed around the gym. Hard Burn was one of the most popular gyms in New Orleans. It was located in a large warehouse in the Warehouse District, and most of the space was filled with roped off boxing rings. A glass wall at the end separated the exercise equipment and weights.
I’d heard there was a wait list to get a membership here. Luckily, Hard Burn also ran some self-defense classes, and I’d managed to nab a spot when I moved here. It was perfect because I worked just a few doors down.
The gym was run by one of the notorious Fury brothers. Peoplelovedto talk about the five men. They weren’t brothers by blood, but brothers by choice. I’d heard lots of stories about them, but the most common one was that they’d grown up together in foster care, then banded together to make a good life for themselves.
It probably helped that they were all rich and hot.
One of them also happened to be my boss. He owned the nightclub where I worked, and the bar next door, and two restaurants. In fact, he and his brothers owned the entire block.
Shaking my head, I watched two guys in gloves going at it with each other in one of the boxing rings. I’d gotten a job at the hottest nightclub in New Orleans because I’d heard the Fury brothers were tough. They protected their patch of the city, and stood up to the gangs, cartels, and criminals.
It made it the perfect place to hide under the radar.
“Bye, Shay.” I waved. “I need to get to work.” Glancing at my watch, I saw I had exactly fifteen minutes to shower, dress in my uniform, and hightail it to the club.
“Bye, Mila.”
In the ladies change room, I tapped the code into the locker and pulled out my backpack. The first thing I did was check my laptop was in there. It was a habit now. As I touched the cool metal, the pressure I always seemed to feel eased a little.
I also kept a stash of cash tucked into a pocket I’d sewed in the bottom of the backpack. My emergency fund. It was a little low right now, but I’d build it back up.
It took me two minutes to shower and dress. In the foggy mirror above the row of basins, I caught my reflection. It was still a jolt to see my dark hair. I’d dyed it black after I’d gone on the run, and it was half a step above horrible. I wrinkled my nose. Black didn’t suit me. I missed my caramel-blonde hair. I’d loved it, spent hours styling it.
Now, my harsh, black hair was usually up in a careless bun or ponytail.
Now, all I could do was hide and survive.
I fiddled with the shiny gold halter top. All the bartenders and servers at the club wore black trousers and gold tops. Well, the men got black shirts with gold stitching, but I was just grateful my top wasn’t low cut or strapless. The halter top was actually pretty comfortable.
After stuffing everything in my backpack, I headed out. It was a balmy summer evening in New Orleans. Growing up in Louisiana, I was used to warm temperatures and humidity.
I hurried down the street. I liked the Arts/Warehouse district. There were loads of art galleries and lots of places to eat, but it wasn’t quite as crazy as the French Quarter and Bourbon Street. Most of the old warehouses had been converted into galleries or loft apartments, and I really wished I could afford to live in one.
I walked past Smokehouse. The bar was running a brisk trade. I saw several groups sitting out on the front patio, sharing drinks and laughing. One table had a bunch of helium balloons in the center. Celebrating someone’s birthday. Another table held a couple clearly on a date, and yet another one held a family with teenagers hunched over their cellphones.
All people going about their lives. Enjoying themselves. Doing things that normal people did. I’d been like that once. Just four months ago, actually, although most days it felt like a lifetime ago.
My eyes burned. All things I couldn’t have.
Dammit. I sniffed. Feeling sorry for myself was a waste of energy.
I reached Ember, the name glowing in gold neon above a set of beaten-gold double doors. Reggie stood out front. There was only one bouncer on this early, and another would join later as it got busier, in addition to the security inside.
The handsome black man smiled at me. He was built like a linebacker. “Hey, Mila. Ready for a busy night.”
“Always.”
He waved me through.
It always felt like stepping into sin. Everything was done in luxurious black and gold. The floor was polished black, and one wall held a row of gold urns almost as tall as I was. Lights strobed across the dance floor. The long bar glowed with golden light, and off to one side was the roped-off, VIP area.
