the gym bag that doubled as her bug-out kit. Packed with all the essentials she’d need in an emergency that covered everything from earthquakes to zombie attacks, she never went anywhere without it. “Take a few more of Jacob’s classes and you’ll be up to speed in no time. Have a nice evening.”
“Hey—”
“Bye now.” As she turned away, she winced at the faint wisp of the South rolling through the words, overcoming her carefully crafted Chicago-Midwestern monotone. Not good. Tiny imperfections like that might not mean much in the grand scheme of things, but those little things added up. If she wasn’t careful, she’d find herself having to pull up stakes before someone found her.
* * *
Out of the corner of his eye, Nate watched as the woman made her retreat. She looped her large gym bag’s shoulder strap across her body, all the while talking to the bristle-haired sadist who’d ground his kickboxing class into the dust. She was an animated little thing, gesturing with graceful hands as she offered up what looked to be a heartfelt mea culpa with big, dark puppy eyes.
Pretty eyes, certainly. Too bad they weren’t the color he remembered.
Bent over his own bag, he wrapped his towel around a holstered semi-automatic pistol, usually secured at the small of his back but now hidden in the bottom of his gym bag. But his attention never veered from his target, watching her out of the corner of his eye and cataloguing every detail. Aside from her gender, her height was about the only accurate thing about her—somewhere around five-six or five-seven. Her build was vastly different from the woman he’d met two years ago. This woman was built like a long-distance runner—all long, lean limbs and finely toned muscle covered in form-fitting workout gear. According to his memory, the woman he was looking for had more meat on her bones. That was definitely his personal preference.
And when she’d looked at him, there had been no recognition. He’d done his best to catch her off-guard, but when her gaze had met his there had been no telltale reaction at all. At least, not on her end. He, on the other hand, was still recovering.
Keeping her in his peripheral view, he absently rubbed a hand over his brow. The way she’d nailed him with that unwavering, bring-it-on regard sent an electrical jolt of hot awareness through his system, momentarily short-circuiting his brain. Beauty he could handle—she was a knockout, no doubt about it—but the power to throw him for a loop with a single glance was flat-out stunning. There was nothing about her he didn’t find appealing; he even liked the lyrical way she moved, as though gravity didn’t affect her as much as it did everyone else. The way she wore her hair, boyishly short and asymmetrical, made him want to brush the long black bangs out of her face so he could look into those puppy eyes.
Again, pretty hair. And again, wrong color.
Maybe he was wrong. God knew it wouldn’t be the first time.
The kickboxing instructor and the woman headed toward the heavy double doors that led back to the brightly lit main reception area, the hub of the sprawling fitness center. In unhurried movements he did the same, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he went.
“...never forget, you don’t have to worry about that.”
“Then what was the first lesson I taught you, girl?” The older man’s voice, rough from screaming like a bloodthirsty maniac for the past hour, was now calm enough for Nate to pick up on a faint accent. Something foreign, exotic. “Always be aware of your surroundings. Be an animal. They have better instincts than humans. This is what you must be.”
“I know that.” The woman’s voice came as a surprise—cold and hard as steel. Of all the things that didn’t quite mesh with the woman he was looking for, that deadly tone was the one thing that fit like a glove. “Stupid me, I allowed myself to feel safe in your class.”
“You are safe when I’m around,” came the automatic response. “Naturally, you will be safe here. But this lapse...”
“It’s unacceptable. I agree.” Then she stiffened before she shot a deliberate glance over her shoulder, pinning him to the spot—proof that she was more aware of her surroundings than her companion. “Ah... Sorry. Are we blocking your way from getting out of here?”
Translation—stop lurking behind us, creeper. “Actually, I was hoping I could speak with you. I assume that as