Innocence E-Book

C. Nault

• Herausgeber: Artistic License Publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

Two secret societies, fighting for control of a technology that could alter the fate of the world.
An assassin, bound to protect knowledge left long ago by visitors from another galaxy.
And a woman, caught in the crossfire...

From the first time he meets Rachel, Adam Black can't help being attracted. But he knows the athletic redhead is off-limits. She's a civilian, and he... isn't. He guards secrets with deadly consequences, and letting Rachel into his life would destroy hers. Keeping her at a distance is the only way to protect her, but despite his best efforts, their attraction grows.

From the first time she meets Adam, Rachel Flanagan knows she's in trouble. Arrogant, cocky, and mysterious, the extreme sports instructor both annoys and fascinates her. She realizes she should stay away from him, and yet she keeps coming back for more. Though she's always had rotten luck with bad boys, maybe this time will be different.

If she'd known that finally giving in to their mutual desire would throw her in the middle of a nightmare, she might never have signed up for his class. Now, with killers from Adam's past hot on their heels and no time for explanations, Rachel needs to decide who she can trust before it's too late.

Leseprobe

INNOCENCE

SHADOW WAR

BOOK 1

M FINDLEY

C NAULT

By C. Nault & M. Findley

Published by Artistic License Publishing, LLC

Copyright: 2013, 2020, 2025 by C. Nault and M. Findley. All rights reserved.

First Edition: April 2013

Second Edition: March 2020

Third Edition: January 2025

This ebook is licensed for your enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or gifted to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please buy a copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This novel is a work of fiction. The persons, places, things, and otherwise animate or inanimate objects mentioned in this novel are figments of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to anything or anyone living (or dead) is unintentional.

The copyright laws of the United States of America protect this book. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.

Created with Vellum

CONTENTS

Trigger Warnings / Content Warnings

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Authors

Contact Us

Other Works

TRIGGER WARNINGS / CONTENT WARNINGS

Dear reader,

The following themes are present in this novel. If these subjects are difficult for you, or you are unable to read about them at this time, please skip this book and take care of yourself.

I’ll see you in the next one.

BullyingViolenceBloodGoreHuman DeathLanguageVomitingHomophobiaMental Health Crisis

PROLOGUE

Mark sat at his desk, working on a research and development schedule for his department, when there was a knock at his door.

“Mr. Prescott, sir?”

“Yes?” Mark looked up to find one of his younger lab technicians standing in his doorway.

The younger man faltered for a second, frowning, before forging ahead. “A gentleman rang you. Said his name was John. He demanded I interrupt your work to get you.”

“And you couldn’t have just patched him through?”

The young man shook his head nervously. “No, he said it was urgent and then hung up. There was no call to patch through.”

With a long-suffering sigh, Mark waved him away. Standing, Mark gathered his car keys, mobile, and jacket before leaving the building for his car. If John called and refused to talk to him on the company phone, then Mark wanted to be far from the Luminations staff when he returned the call.

Walking across the car park to his vehicle, Mark dialed John’s number. “Report!” he barked when the call connected.

“Conducting surveillance on a confirmed operative. He’s one of them.” John paused. “And he’s distracted right now.”

Distracted? Those people never let themselves get distracted. “Explain.”

“He is with a woman, sir. They’re in a restaurant, and... he looks like he might be proposing to her.” John snickered.

“Can you confirm if the woman is also one of them?” Mark had no patience for John’s amusement. He had work to do.

“No, sir. Not as far as I can tell.”

Interesting. “Chances of success?”

“Well,” John hesitated. “It looks like she’ll say yes.”

Mark clenched his teeth.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist,” John said with a chuckle. “When they leave, we should be able to isolate them without drawing any undue attention.”

“You know my requirements,” Mark interrupted. “One hundred percent infallibility or you find a new target.”

“One hundred percent, sir,” John confirmed. “He is currently very distracted... Request a contingency, though.”

“What do you propose?”

“Clearance to engage the target and use the inhibitor as needed. I am confident his guard is down. We can bring him in with the inhibitor.”

“Do it,” Mark ordered. “Don’t let yourself be seen, and don’t leave a trail for them to follow. I don’t want the Order sniffing about.”

“Yes, sir!”

As the line went dead, Mark grinned. Finally, he would have the perfect test subject for his machine.

CHAPTERONE

Rachel wrapped her coat tighter around herself and shivered. She hated November, the warm days but frigged nights.

She could move to Florida, but Rachel rejected the idea before that thought had run its course. Her parents lived in Florida, and although technically, she got along just fine with them… Well, she thought wryly. They were more agreeable if they stayed a thousand miles apart.

She sighed.

As she rounded the corner on her way to the closest MetroLink station, her peripheral vision caught the movement of someone walking behind her. Peeking over her shoulder, Rachel saw a man with his head bent and his hoodie hood up. His position behind her seemed suspicious—too close yet far enough away to appear innocent.

Was he following her? Should she run to the Metro station where there were more lights and maybe more people? What if he was headed to the same station as herself? She didn’t want to look foolish or overreact if his presence behind her was because of a shared destination. Rachel also didn’t want to be accosted.

In the end, she chose to keep a wary eye on him. She stayed cognizant of his presence behind her, her ears straining as she listened to his footsteps on the sidewalk. Rachel second-guessed her decision to keep her cell phone in her cavernous bag instead of having it out and ready to dial the police the minute he went from following to rushing up behind her. Despite her mental preparation, she still hesitated, costing her precious seconds of action. Before she could turn and defend herself, he grabbed her around the waist and slid the blunt edge of his blade down her cheek until the sharp edge rested on her neck, right under her chin.

“I want your cash,” her assailant said.

All the self-defense class advice she’d ever heard instantly crossed her mind: Your life is worth more than your purse. You have no idea if they have a gun. The last thought brought up a good point. Who used a knife to mug someone? Firearms were infinitely more practical.

Right?

Grabbing his arm, Rachel hooked her hands under his wrist and pushed, trying to hold the knife away from her neck. When she felt as if she had his arm secured and far enough from her skin, she dropped her weight to her knees and pushed backward. As she did, she spun, putting pressure on his elbow and turning his body away from hers.

It took less time to pin his arm behind him than it had for her to think about doing it. Rachel tossed him away from her and, before he could regain his balance, landed a kick squarely in his ass, sending him into the nearest brick wall.

She didn’t stand around to find out how he fared. Instead, Rachel pivoted and sprinted in the other direction. As she ran, she tried to recall if there’d been an open establishment between herself and the security of her office. Fear spurred her on, and she ran faster in hopes of finding a place of refuge.

Was that light up ahead?

It was!

Rachel launched herself at the glass door, clawing at the handle and yanking with all her might. The door didn’t budge. Locked? She cursed and knocked on the glass with her fists. The light was on. The store had to be open!

Come on, she thought desperately. Let there be someone inside! She knew she couldn’t run another block in her high heels, and Rachel had no idea how far away her attacker happened to be. He could be right behind her this very second, ready to pounce.

“Open up!” she yelled as she pounded on the door one last time. Nothing. She was ready to move on when she saw a shadow at the end of the hallway. A masculine figure walked toward her. His form silhouetted from the backlighting. As soon as he opened the door, she sagged in relief and rushed inside.

“What do you want? What are you doing here?” he asked, his tone clipped with impatience.

What am I doing here? What am I… Rachel panted, “I... Attacked... This... Closest place... Open… Cops…” She paused, gulping for air. “This was the first place I found. Thank you for letting me in. He had a knife to my throat. I... I kicked him against the wall and escaped.”

The man’s eyebrows lifted higher with each word she uttered. Eventually, his expression cleared, and he took some time to look her up and down carefully. His gaze on her body felt warm and tingly, as if he stood too close, yet he was at a respectful distance away. Rachel wished she could see him better. She stepped closer.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

She shook her head. Her skin buzzed as if she held her hand to one of those Tesla static machines. It made her twitchy and hyper-aware of her surroundings. “I’m all right... I think. Just freaked out.”

The man didn’t seem convinced. “You look pale.”

For some reason, that struck Rachel as funny, and she laughed. At least she hadn’t started crying.

When she saw his perplexed expression, she tried to calm herself, but it didn't work, and she laughed harder.

“It’s not like I get attacked all the time,” she said when she could speak again.

He kept watching her as if trying to decide something. In the end, he gestured for her to follow him. As they walked deeper into the building, Rachel spied blue exercise mats at the end of one hallway to her left. The man turned the other way, and they entered a kitchen.

“Sit,” he said, pointing to one of two stools pushed under the outer edge of a c-shaped, high counter. He moved to the inner part of it and grabbed a glass from one of the overhead cupboards mounted to the cinderblock wall. He then walked to the fridge and took out a pitcher of water.

“What is this place?” Rachel asked as she pushed herself up on the stool. The kitchen he’d brought her to was decked out with top-of-the-line sleek stainless-steel appliances, a large, extra-deep sink, and polished to a high-shine marble counter. Rachel traced the golden veining with her finger. Was she in some sort of fancy employee break room? Was he a chef? “Do you work here?” she asked, not looking up.

The man put the glass of water in front of her. “Drink slowly and tell me what happened. In detail.”

That was… odd but surprisingly sweet. Rachel supposed she’d ask the same question if a panicked woman ran into her work demanding help and sanctuary.

She brought her gaze to his. “What’s your name?” Rachel asked.

The man leaned against the counter and shook his head. “Not important. Please tell me what happened.”

Warning bells rang in her ears—or was it some sort of trauma-induced tinnitus?—regardless, Rachel was concerned. Who didn’t give some kind of name when asked? She fidgeted with her water. She’d needed a safe place, but did she need it enough to tell this stranger the details of her ordeal? A stranger who wasn’t a police officer?

Rachel abandoned her water for her bag. “I think I should call the police,” she said as she dug inside. Her fingers shook as she fished for her phone. Giving up, she upended the bag, dumped its contents on the counter, and began shuffling them as she searched for her phone.

Warm, calloused fingers wrapped around her wrist, halting her movements, and Rachel looked up. The most incredible dark brown eyes stared back at her. She blinked. Holy shit, those eyes were captivating. So was the scar that split his left eyebrow and dipped down into his eyelid a bit. He’s lucky he didn’t lose that eye, she thought, wondering how he’d received the injury.

“Adam,” he said.

She hadn’t noticed it before, probably because of her nerves, but his faint accent spoke of warm Mediterranean nights and hot, lazy days in the sun, relaxing on a beach. Rachel nodded, appeased. “I’m Rachel.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He smiled, and Rachel’s heart tried to explode. Damn! Adam was gorgeous already, but that smile paired with that voice! Well, he must have all the ladies lining up to get a taste of his favors.

“Now, Rachel. Please, tell me what happened.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure,” she hedged, returning to her water.

“Rachel, talk to me. It’s important.”

Important, yes, but to him? She sighed, then nodded. She had to tell somebody. “I was on my way to the Metro station when I realized I was being followed⁠—”

“What did your follower look like?” Adam interrupted.

She frowned. “Young guy—early twenties probably—white skin. He had the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up over his head, so I didn’t see the color of his hair. Plus, it was dark. Uh,” she stalled. “Tall. He was tall. Like around six feet six.” She shook her head. “It all happened so fast. He came at me with a knife, so...” She waved her hand dismissively. “I know what they say about the dangers of fighting back, but I had to defend myself. I couldn't let him win.”

Adam seemed to relax as she described her attacker but cocked an eyebrow when she mentioned the knife. “A knife?”

“Yes, a nasty spring-loaded thing.” She shuddered involuntarily but was relieved that her voice was steady, unlike her hands. “I should probably call the cops,” she repeated, glancing at her mess on the counter. Ah, there was her phone.

When she reached for it, Adam stopped her with a question. “Tell me what else happened first.”

Yeah, okay, she mentally agreed, dropping her hands back to her lap. She toyed with her coat’s zipper. Up and down. Up and down. The rasp calmed her frayed nerves. So did talking about the attack with Adam. At the very least, it would make telling the story to the police easier. The chaotic version of events currently rattling around in her skull would solidify as her thoughts ordered in the retelling. The police officer tasked with taking her statement would probably thank Adam for having to listen to her ramble.

Rachel continued, “He grabbed me around the waist. I... I don’t think he expected me to defend myself. I managed to take him by surprise and throw him off me.”

“Throw him off you? How?”

“I used an Aikido move.”

“Aikido?”

“Yeah,” Rachel said.

“Nice,” Adam replied. “What else happened during the attack?”

“Not much,” she said. “I pushed him into a wall, and then—well, then I ran here.” Rachel took another sip from her glass and ran her fingers along her coat sleeve until they encountered a cut in the fabric.

Cut?

Her movement drew Adam’s attention, and his expression darkened.

“You are hurt.”

Sure enough, when she looked, she found her attacker’s knife had sliced through her coat and nicked the skin. Until a minute ago, she hadn’t even realized it, but now, the cut stung. She shrugged. “It’s only a scratch.”

“A scratch that bled quite a bit.” He stood. “Wait here. I’ll get a first aid kit.”

He left her there in the kitchen for an inordinately long time, and for a while, she passively waited. When Adam still hadn’t returned, even after she finished her water and resorted her purse, she indulged her curiosity. Slipping off the stool, Rachel left the kitchen and walked into the hall. Straight ahead was the room with blue mats, and off to the side was a staircase. Assuming Adam had gone to the exercise room to get a first aid kit, Rachel headed that way, intent on saving him the trip back to the kitchen.

Oh, wow, she mouthed after walking into the room and stumbling to a halt. The exercise room appeared to be a converted warehouse nearly a city block long and had everything a human-turned-squirrel could ever want.

Along one wall were faux buildings, complete with roofs, balconies, windows, and doors. Underneath each balcony was a foam pit, obviously placed there for safety, and drain pipes ran up the side of the buildings. Lastly, there were several sets of stairs and some sidewalks. Rachel even saw a few fake trees set into the concrete. The rest of the floor was covered in those blue exercise mats she’d seen from the hallway.

What did this place teach?

Glancing around, Rachel looked for some marker or identifier to let her know what she was looking at, but there wasn’t even a front desk. Turning, she went back the way she came and stopped at the stairs. Adam hadn’t been in the exercise room, so he had to be upstairs. Offices? She took a step, then another, but stopped when she heard his voice.

His agitated voice.

She paused and listened with curiosity to his conversation.

“Dar—No! She’s a random civilian and doesn’t need to come in. She didn’t see anything.”

Was Adam talking about her? And why did it sound like he was getting a dressing down from a superior? It wasn’t as if he’d been rude or anything. Adam had been cordial—if a bit odd—and they’d done nothing, as far as she could tell, that would warrant his defensiveness or a report to a manager, even if her arrival were after hours.

Rachel strained to hear more.

“I am not compromised. She is not one of the Org…” The Org? Okay, Rachel’s weird-o-meter ticked up another notch.

Again, she lost the rest of his sentence as he moved away from her position, and since Rachel didn’t hear anyone else up there with Adam, she concluded he must be pacing while on the phone.

As the silence dragged on, she began to think Adam had finished his call, but then he said, “They are going to find me soon, and I need to get back into the game. I want a target. When will you reinstate me?”

Reinstate? Target? Like the military? Rachel shook her head. I shouldn’t hear any of this, she thought, and her heartbeat chose that moment to ratchet up, making her palms moist with sweat, and it wasn’t only due to the failed attack of earlier. Something was seriously “off” with this Adam guy. Maybe he was a serial killer or some unhinged conspiracy theorist.

Adam’s steps drew closer, and her eyes darted around the hallway; getting caught eavesdropping wasn’t an option. She hadn’t understood half of what she’d overheard, but Rachel knew being caught would be wrong. She felt as if her very life depended on it.

Footsteps at the top of the landing snapped Rachel out of her mental paralysis. She glanced behind her to the kitchen but didn’t have enough time to get there. Fortunately, her gaze landed on the sign for a bathroom. It was closer. Heart hammering in her chest, she hustled toward it and slipped inside.

Sighing with relief, Rachel spied the commode. Might as well, she thought, and after she finished, she made sure to turn the sink’s tap open all the way. The sound of running water was unmistakable, but it at least gave her an excuse for being out of the kitchen. A second later, a knock on the door confirmed that Adam was checking on her.

“Rachel?”

“Yeah,” she replied and winced. Her voice had quivered. She sounded guilty.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

Rachel splashed some water on her cheeks before turning off the faucet and drying her face. She opened the door to find Adam on the other side with a first aid kit.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you told me to stay in the kitchen, but you took a long time, and I needed to use the bathroom.” She gave him a sheepish smile, and she didn’t know if he believed her, but after a moment of intense staring, he nodded slowly.

“I had a call to make,” he said. “It lasted longer than I had planned.” He shook the kit and indicated she should follow him. “Let me patch you up.”

As she followed, Rachel took off her coat and laid it on the counter beside her purse while Adam grabbed a washcloth. He ran it underwater before handing it to her. The warmth of the wet towel soothed the sting of her raw skin.

“How long have you been doing Aikido?” he asked as he checked out her arm.

“Since I was ten. Some bullies attacked me, and my mom thought it would be a good idea for me to be able to deck them and then outrun them,” she said with a chuckle. As Rachel spoke, Adam removed the washcloth and gently rubbed the ointment on her cut before checking the placement of the bandage and taping it down. Her heart fluttered at the contact, and she felt a blush creep up her cheeks. “I’ve been going once a week ever since.”

“You earn your black belt yet?”

“No,” she replied. “It will take many more years to master all the levels.”

“Not an easy discipline,” he remarked.

The way he said it made her curious. It was almost as if he knew that particular martial arts himself. She didn’t think that was what the studio taught, but maybe it did. There was only one way to find out. “So… what do you teach here?” she asked.

Adam opened a drawer and pulled out a piece of paper. Handing it to her, Rachel read Gateway Parkour on the top of a simple pamphlet. “Parkour?” she asked. “Like free-running?”

“Yes.”

Huh. Maybe Rachel would sign up. “Can I keep this?”

“Yes,” he replied, a corner of his lip turned up in a cocky smile. “We’re accepting new students for the upcoming session.”

“Great,” she murmured, tucking the brochure into her purse and grabbing her phone. She swiped the screen to find the time and was surprised to see that less than forty-five minutes had passed since the attack. She wondered if it was too late to call the police.

“At this point, it’ll be futile,” Adam said.

“I’m sorry?”

“Calling the police,” Adam clarified.

How did he know?

“I’m sure your attacker is long gone,” Adam said. “Besides, you didn’t even get a clear look at him. It seems pointless to call them now.”

“But—” she started to protest but then sighed. Filing a report at this point probably wouldn’t yield a positive result. Besides, she didn’t relish the idea of losing the rest of her evening dealing with the police. In the end, she agreed, defeated. “You’re probably right.” Standing, she slipped her coat back on and grabbed her purse. “Thanks for the bandage and your time. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

Adam nodded and followed her to the door. “You okay? Need a ride?”

Rachel waved away his concern. “I’ll be fine. Like you said, that guy’s probably long gone by now, and the MetroLink station’s only a few blocks away from here.”

“Well, if you’re sure.”

“I am,” Rachel reiterated, stepping through the door. “And thank you again,” she said over her shoulder as she resumed her trek home.

CHAPTERTWO

Rachel fumbled with her keys for a second before unlocking the front door. She let herself in and closed it quietly behind her.

“Have a good day at work?”

Rachel squealed, hand to her heart. “I thought you were asleep,” she said to Sarah, her roommate, who stood in the doorway to the kitchen.

Sarah grinned and shrugged. “I have the night off. Want to watch a movie?”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass. I need a shower, and I want to go to bed,” Rachel replied as she hung up her coat and stepped into the family room. Rachel plopped down on the couch next to Buster, Sarah’s cat.

Sarah followed, asking, “What happened? Boss bitch you out?”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” she said. As her tears welled, Rachel averted her eyes to hide them from Sarah.

The tactic didn’t work. “Don’t be like that,” Sarah replied, joining her on the couch opposite Buster before pulling Rachel into a hug. “Tell me what happened.”

Rachel sniffled and said, “I met this hot parkour instructor after almost being mugged.”

“What?!” Sarah exclaimed as she pulled back.

Rachel gave a watery chortle as her friend searched her face, for God only knew what. Unwilling to dwell on the attack, Rachel elaborated on her meeting with Adam. “He’s totally gorgeous, Sarah. You’d love him. Accent. Scars. Warm, calloused hands. A deep voice that makes your ovaries explode.”

“Hon,” Sarah admonished, clearly unwilling to be swayed by the real story.

Rachel sighed. “Fine. I was on my way home, and a guy jumped me. I tossed him into a brick wall and ran to the first open storefront I found. That’s where I met Adam, the incredibly edible instructor—at least, I think he’s an instructor. He saved me from the big bad man and patched me up.”

“Where?”

“Here,” Rachel said, assuming Sarah meant the cut, not the Metro station. While Sarah inspected the bandage, Rachel continued, “It was minor, but it bled a lot.” She shrugged. “He gave me water. We talked about the incident, and then I went home.”

“You call the police?”

“No.”

“Honey!”

“I didn’t see the point. By the time I got to the studio and calmed down, over half an hour had passed. Adam pointed out that I hadn’t seen the guy’s face, so what could the cops really do? I agreed. End of story.”

“Hon…” Sarah sighed and shook her head. “You should have called…”

Rachel shrugged and toyed with her slacks. “Maybe. Probably. But I didn’t.”

The two of them were silent for several beats, but finally, Sarah broke the silence by changing the subject, “Okay. Tell me about this, Adam, then.”

“Like what? I already told you all the pertinent things.”

“What did he look like? You mentioned scars. How old is he?” Sarah wiggled her eyebrows. “Does he have nice... muscles? A brother?”

“Sarah!”

“What,” Sarah said, false innocence dripping from her tone.

Rachel tried to force a frown to her lips, but they twitched upward at the last moment. “Athletic. Well built. Like I said, I think he’s an instructor there.”

“Where again?”

Rachel fished the pamphlet from her pants pocket and handed it to Sarah.

“Gateway Parkour. Huh. Never heard of it.” Sarah handed the brochure back to Rachel. “You’ve yet to tell me why you think he’s hot. What does he look like?”

“He’s probably a few years older than me, early thirties, maybe?” Rachel paused and sighed, “He had the most incredible dark brown eyes. And he’s got a scar splitting his left eyebrow and dipping into his eyelid a bit. No idea what gave him that scar, but he’s lucky he didn’t lose an eye.”

“I love scars. Yum!”

Rachel laughed. “I know you do. That’s why I mentioned it. I think he might be Greek or maybe Pakistani. Hard to say. He had a faint accent, but I couldn’t place it.”

“Double yum.” Sarah sighed.

Sarah pointed to the pamphlet in Rachel’s hand. “Are you going to sign up?” she asked.

“Maybe, but—” Rachel groaned in frustration and shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“He’s weird. Like closet conspiracy theorist or zombie apocalypse prepper, weird.”

“What?! What did he say? How?!”

Rachel leaned forward as if she had to keep from being overheard. “When he went to get the first-aid kit, I followed. He was on a call to someone named Dar, who was reading him the riot act about helping me. Then he said he wanted to be ‘reinstated’ like a military man because the ‘org’ would find him soon.” Rachel sat back. “It was weird. And I can’t help shake the feeling he’s bad news even if he is hotter than the sun.”

“Okay,” Sarah said, then shook her head. “Hon, I hate to tell you this, but none of that sounds creepy. He probably is military. And you know all those guys have code names for their teams and operations. Brotherly love, et Cetera. He’s probably on extended leave and can’t wait to get back to wherever he left. I say, if you want to take a class, you should. And I also say, if you can get into his pants, you ought to. You haven’t had a decent lay in months.”

“Sarah!”

A grin split Sarah’s face, and she snickered.

“I don’t want to have a one-night stand,” Rachel argued. “Besides, with a smile like his, I know women must be throwing themselves at him. How could I compete? And even if I could make my way into his bed... I don’t want to become another notch on his bedpost. You know what happened the last time.”

“Yeah, broken heart, I remember.”

“I cried for, like, two weeks. But it was my own dumb fault I let myself be fooled into it.” Rachel made a face. “He was cute, though, athletic and assertive. You know... my usual type.”

“Yeah, I know. He was also an arrogant asshole.”

“Don’t remind me.”

She fell silent, and Sarah looked at her for a few moments. “Admit it, hon, you’re already imagining what you’d do with that parkour instructor if you got him naked. Bed optional.”

Rachel blushed as Sarah stage-whispered, “You just put your lips together, and you come real close…”

Thinking about putting her lips anywhere near where Flo Rida suggested was a bad idea. Rachel blurted, “I wonder if there’s a website.”

Sarah burst into laughter. “You just hope there’s a picture of the instructor on the ‘About Us’ page!”

“Well, maybe... So, what?” she asked, defensive.

“You’re blushing,” Sarah joked and whistled another bar of the song.

“Sarah!” Rachel exclaimed.

“Ugh, fine! Anyway,” Sarah said, appearing to leave the subject of Rachel’s love life alone for the time being. “If you don’t want a movie, then I’m going to the Loop. I’ll see you later.” She stood and strode toward the front door. “Take the classes. You’ll regret it if you don’t. And who knows, maybe this instructor is single and into you, too. Oh... and happens not to be an asshole or a prepper.”

Rachel threw a couch accent pillow at her. “Go already!”

Sarah laughed as she exited their home, and Rachel could still hear her over the click of the lock engaging as Rachel secured the door.

After locking up, Rachel grabbed her laptop from the floor, popped it open, and did a quick Google search for the studio. She found only one listing. Clicking the link brought up a simple, amateurish-looking page, making Rachel sigh. She was disappointed to see that the website consisted of a home page with stock photos of a typical gymnastics studio and the class schedule printed. There wasn’t even an address for the building, just a phone number for prospective students to call.

Definitely not accessible.

“Well, Buster,” Rachel asked the cat, “should I take a parkour class?” Buster purred in agreement.

* * *

The first thing Rachel heard as she entered the Gateway Parkour studio was the excited chatter of a gaggle of teenagers: four boys and a single girl, from the sound of it.

She groaned silently. Taking a class with several teenagers didn’t strike her as fun, no matter how many times she would be able to see Adam.

Leaning against the wall next to the restroom, Rachel stalled by drinking her water. Should she stay? Should she go? She pushed away from the wall. Rachel had decided. She’d leave and ask for her money back.

“Ah-hem.”

Rachel jerked, splashing herself in the face. The water dripped down her chin, and she swiped at it with her hand.

A skinny young man with short brown hair and dark blue eyes, the color of depression glass, stood before her.

“Ah, are you Rachel…” He hedged as he consulted his clipboard. “Flanagan?”

“Yes,” she answered.

He smiled and noted something on his clipboard, probably her attendance record. “Great. Please find a spot on the mat in there.” He waved his hand toward the room with all the voices. “Adam will be in shortly to start the class.”

“Okay. Yeah,” she said before giving the young man, clearly an employee, a curt nod. That decided it. She’d stay. Rachel entered the room with the city street, found a spot on the mats near the door, and made a promise to herself. If the class sucked, she’d leave.

“Welcome to Gateway,” said a voice behind Rachel.

Turning, she watched Adam enter the room. He winked at her as he passed by. “My name is Adam,” he said, addressing the class. “I’ll be your instructor for this session.”

Adam stopped in the middle of the room and slowly spun in a circle as he caught everyone’s gaze with his. “Parkour is fun,” Adam continued. “but it is also dangerous. If you don’t follow the instructions from me or Zach,” he indicated to the employee who’d asked for her name, “you might end up in the hospital. Or worse.” He looked around the room and frowned slightly as if he didn’t like what he saw.

“For the next eight weeks, you will learn the basics. I highly recommend you do the strength-building exercises at home, but leave the rest for class.” He glared at the teenagers. “That means you!” he barked with a finger point. “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

Rachel snickered at his stern tone. His words weren’t different from those of her sensei, and she took a mental bet on who would come back next week. Half the students would quit after today if this were anything like her martial arts classes. Tuning out the rest of Adam’s greeting, she gave him a thorough once-over.

He was one hundred percent objectifiable! His whole physique was displayed, from his washboard abs under his tight t-shirt to his rock-hard biceps. Adam was delicious.

Then, something on his forearm reflected the light into Rachel’s eye, and she looked closer. A forearm guard? Rachel shook her head, not trusting her eyes. Looking again, she confirmed her first impression that it was a bracer. The device covered his forearm from wrist to two inches below his elbow. Rachel stepped closer. Why would he wear a forearm guard? She didn’t remember seeing it that other night. Perhaps it had been there. Not noticing it wouldn't be too odd in her distraught state.

Adam paused in his speech, catching Rachel’s attention, and she looked up. “In class,” Adam said, “you will learn the correct way to jump, fall, roll, and spend quality time building upper body strength to climb your environment safely.” He indicated the obstacle course behind him. “Today, we will focus on performing a controlled fall. Zach, will you demonstrate the shoulder roll for us?”

Zach nodded and stepped on one of the exercise mats. First, he demonstrated the fall and roll after a jump, then did so again from a kneeling position.

“As you can see, Zach has been doing this for a while. He could accomplish the same move after a second-story fall without hurting himself. Of course, you aren’t at this stage yet, and I wouldn’t like to receive a call from some irate parent because some overeager student tried it too soon.” Adam gave the teens in the class a pointed glare. “Understood?” They nodded without much enthusiasm.

“Thank you, Zach,” Adam said, waving his hand in an “enough” gesture. Turning his attention back to the class, Adam said, “You will practice this until it becomes as natural as breathing.”

After Zach resumed his position on the side of the gym, Adam explained the different steps of the fall and roll. Once everyone understood the instructions, he stood and surveyed the class. “Hopefully, by the end of this class, you’ll all manage to at least not break your necks. Now, I want you to practice on your own. Yes, even you,” Adam snapped at a young woman, who jumped and giggled in embarrassment.

“Each of you will find fifteen feet of free mat space and then practice the roll. Zach and I will come around to give you pointers. And remember, always protect your head!” Adam finished his explanation, and the group dispersed to find some mat space.

Rachel sighed, positioned herself near the other adults, and did the exercise a few times as Adam expected before switching to a standing position. The move was already second nature due to her Aikido, and she hoped the rest of the session wouldn’t be so mundane. She hadn’t paid the exorbitant fee to learn something she already knew.

After a few more minutes of half-heartedly working on the roll, she sensed someone’s eyes on her. Looking up, she caught Adam staring at her, and she winced. Being caught slacking at her dojo was worth fifty push-ups at a minimum. Hopefully, Adam wouldn’t make her do that many. The foam mat dipped as she prepared for another roll, warning her that someone now stood beside her. When Rachel checked, she found Adam looming over her. She mentally cursed. Here came those push-ups.

“It’s good to see you again, Rachel.”

“Likewise,” she said.

“Did your arm heal all right? No permanent injury?”

She nodded her head, surprised.

“Good. I worried about you.”

Rachel’s eyebrows dipped down in a perplexed frown. “You did? Why?”

He grinned. “You were shaken that night. Who knows what might have happened while your attention was compromised? I would have hated to see you hurt again.”

“Well, I was fine,” Rachel grumbled.

“That’s good,” he said, nodding once before he walked away to help some other students.

An hour later, while taking a break and wiping sweat from her eyes with her towel, Adam spoke to the group again. “Good work, everyone. Please take a few moments to do some stretching: your legs, arms, and sides. Some of you may experience sore shoulders tonight and tomorrow. When you get home, ice your muscles and take it easy for a day or two. When you feel up to it, I want everyone to work on some basic resistance training for next week. You will work on push-ups; do as many sets of ten as you can. Also, it would be a good idea to pick up jogging since Parkour needs a lot of leg strength. Thanks. And see you next week.”

Rachel retrieved her bag and water bottle before retreating to the small bathroom in the main hallway. Arriving at the studio in workout gear was okay, but going home on the Metro, sweaty and gross, was not.

As Rachel left the small bathroom, she noted how quickly the studio emptied after Adam dismissed the first class. “Typical. I’m always the last to leave Aikido,” she grumbled as she put on her coat and hefted her bag to her shoulder, but the noise from the main room caught her attention. Since everyone else had left already, she assumed Adam and Zach were practicing.

Curious, she peeked around the corner into the training area. Her eyes widened at the sight of the two men fighting. They both had stripped out of their shirts and had ditched the sweats for athletic shorts.

Even from a distance, Rachel could spot several scars on Adam’s torso. It looked like he’d suffered several severe injuries. Car accident? But then there was a distinctive set of scars across his lower belly. They were perfectly circular and looked like cigar burns. Had he been abused as a kid? She hoped not, but it made the most sense. Now, Rachel’s curiosity was piqued. What had he lived through?

Giving Zach a quick once-over, she was surprised to see well-defined muscles in his chest and arms. He’ll be a looker in another few years, too, she surmised with an appreciative thought.

It wasn’t until she finished admiring Adam’s ass that she noted their sparring style. But once she did, she stood enthralled as they tackled, twirled, and flew at each other. Adam was the most experienced of the two; he had the speed and grace of a seasoned combatant, and Zach, though less skilled, managed to hold his own.

Rachel watched Adam defeat Zach’s defenses with efficient killing blows. Every time one landed, he announced, “You’re dead,” in a monotone voice. Other than that tiny bit of dialogue and the occasional mutter from Zach, they were virtually silent. To her eyes, it seemed more than a simple training exercise. It looked like an intense fight. But why?

I should leave, she thought, her fingers curling around the door frame. Yet she stayed rooted in place as Adam, in a particularly daring move, ran up one of the brick walls, grabbed the edge of a balcony, pivoted as if he were on a pommel horse, and spun back toward Zach. Mid move, his gaze clashed with hers, and she quickly ducked out of sight.

Shit.