Tall Dark Defender. Beth Cornelison

two hundred thousand dollars to repay him, even if she had a year to pay him. Much less a week.

      Her bus rumbled up to the stop just as she reached the street corner. While she waited for an older man with a walker to board, she fished in her pocket for her bus pass.

      Once more her fingers brushed the crumpled paper Jonah had given her.

       “Do it for your kids if not yourself.”

      Guilt and fear squeezed her chest, tangling with irritation over Jonah’s obvious manipulation of her love for her kids. She stared down at the address. What could it hurt just to go and see what Jonah wanted to teach her? He’d already proven he wanted to help, not harm her. And a gym was a public place. She’d be safe there. Right?

      “You coming or not?” the bus driver called, jarring her from her deliberations.

      “I—” Annie exhaled a deep breath of resignation. She had to at least try to protect herself from Hardin and men like the thief who jumped her last night. She was tired of living with this fear. She’d come too far to lose everything because she let a bully like Hardin intimidate her.

      Annie raised her chin and met the bus driver’s gaze. “Not.”

      With a puff of exhaust, the bus chugged away from the curb, and Annie headed toward Jonah’s gym.

      Chapter Four

      The scents of body odor and rubber floor mats greeted Annie as she entered Jonah’s gym minutes later. Wrinkling her nose as the unpleasant smells assailed her, she cast a wary glance around the cavernous warehouse.

      When Jonah had invited her to his gym, she’d pictured an upscale facility where beautiful bodies jogged on treadmills, followed a perky blond instructor in aerobic dance or toned their muscles on expensive weight machines. This gym was a far cry from her vision.

      Dingy and dark with nary a perky blonde in sight, the large room housed four boxing rings and numerous punching bags suspended from the bare rafters by steel chains. A litany of grunts and curses reverberated from the concrete block walls, while burly men in scruffy shorts and sleeveless shirts pounded the weighted bags—or each other.

      Apprehension slithered through Annie as she crept deeper into the room. Like a brewing storm, the raw power and the brute violence on display filled the room with an ominous and suffocating energy. Struggling to pull air into her lungs, Annie scanned the men’s faces for Jonah.

      With every passing minute, she grew more uncomfortable and self-conscious. One by one, sweat-drenched men paused from their training to eye her with curious, even lewd, glances. Her discomfort spiked as a man in the nearest boxing ring caught a bone-jarring blow to the chin that sent him to the mat with a groan.

       “That’ll teach you to talk back to me!”

       She pressed her throbbing cheek to the cool floor, not daring to get up before Walt stalked from the room. Getting up only gave him the opportunity to knock her down again.

      The images before her blurred as tears pricked her eyes.

      She staggered backward, edging toward the door. She shouldn’t have come. Shouldn’t have risked—

      As she passed a different boxing ring where two men sparred while a third coached from the ropes, recognition slammed through her. She squinted at the face barely visible behind the protective headgear, and her heart tapped double time.

       Jonah.

      Stunned, she stared while Jonah exchanged jabs with the other man, shuffling his feet to dodge blows. Sweat glistened on his arms and glued his tank-style T-shirt to the flat plane of his abdomen. Well-defined muscles in his shoulders and chest spoke for the hours of training and conditioning Jonah had put in.

      Annie gawked at his brawny build, and heat prickled her skin. An unfamiliar flutter stirred in her chest, and realization that his size and strength had piqued her feminine interest startled her. Had she learned nothing in her marriage to Walt? She’d been physically attracted to Walt when they married. He’d been especially handsome in his military dress uniform the day they wed. But all the sexual chemistry in the world didn’t outweigh the suffering he’d put her through in later years.

      Yet she couldn’t help but stare at Jonah’s toned and powerful physique, his smooth style as he moved around the ring. With practiced skill, he ducked a swing and landed a solid hook to his opponent’s pad-protected jaw.

      Shocked out of her gawk-fest by his potent punch, Annie gasped.

      Jonah’s gaze darted to her.

      In that split second of his distraction, his opponent struck back with a blow to Jonah’s ribs.

      Annie felt the blow as surely as if she’d taken the hit herself. The air whooshed from her lungs, and tension screwed her muscles tight. Clapping a hand over her mouth, she fell back another step.

      “Devereaux, what the hell are you doing?” the silver-haired man by the ropes shouted. “You gotta keep your eyes in the ring!”

      Grinning through a grimace, Jonah raised his boxing gloves. “Time. I’ve got company.”

      She sidled toward Jonah as he climbed through the ropes and jumped down to meet her.

      “You came.” Equal measures of pleasure and surprise colored his tone.

      She nodded tightly and gave the activity in the room a meaningful glance. “If I’d known what kind of gym you meant, I don’t know that I would have.”

      His dark eyebrows drew together. “Why?”

      Eyeing the muscle-bound giant battering a small punching bag beside her, she inched closer to Jonah. “I’m…rather out of place, wouldn’t you say?”

      A warm grin lifted a corner of his mouth. “Hey, I know these guys look pretty rough, but I assure you, you’re perfectly safe here.”

      He rubbed his ribs and winced.

      “Are you all right?” She knew more than she cared to about the sting of fist-imposed injuries.

      He glanced down at his chest. “It’s nothing. Just a reminder that when you’re in the ring, you gotta stay focused on your opponent, not be distracted by what’s happening outside the ring.”

      The older man who’d been coaching winked at her. “Even if the distraction is mighty pretty.”

      Jonah tossed a towel at the other man. “Down, boy.”

      Annie frowned. “I’m sorry if I—”

      “No, no.” He waved off her apology. “My fault. I’m just glad you came.” To the silver-haired coach, he said, “Frank, I think I’m done for the day. Same time tomorrow?”

      Frank nodded. “Sure.” To the kid in the ring he called, “Okay, Billy. Hit the showers.”

      Jonah bit the lace on one glove and pulled it with his teeth, then moved on to the second.

      Annie fidgeted with her purse strap. “I can’t stay long. My kids—”

      “Pull?” He lifted his hands toward her.

      Annie blinked her surprise.

      “Please,” he added with a lopsided grin.

      Unaccustomed to refusing any man’s request, she awkwardly grasped one bulky glove and tugged. It didn’t budge.

      “Harder. You gotta really muscle ’em off.”

      Annie hesitated, jitters dancing in her gut. She slid her purse from her shoulder and set it on the concrete floor. Grabbing Jonah’s boxing glove with both hands, she pulled. Hard. As he freed each hand, Jonah shook his arms and flexed his fingers.

      “Thanks.” He took the gloves from her and tossed them