Claim (Fury Brothers #5)

I turned and saw Shay standing there. Again, I felt envy for her formidable abs. The instructor drank from a water bottle.

“So, what’s your story, Bell?”

“Um…no story. Beau just offered me a job.”

“Oh, there’s a story. There’s always a story with the people Beau collects. Gio had hit rock bottom, Chris had suffered a traumatic brain injury in the ring, Pedro’s business had gone bankrupt.” Shay paused. “I’d just escaped an abusive relationship.”

I gasped. I couldn’t imagine this fit, strong woman being abused.

“It can happen to anyone,” the other woman murmured. “Now, I help women make themselves safe.” She cocked her head. “I think you know something about that. I know the look.”

I lifted a shoulder. “A little. Beau’s going to teach me to fight.”

Shay’s eyebrows winged up. “Beau’s going to train you?”

I nodded.

“Wow. There are people all around the country who’d kill for that opportunity.” She studied me. “Interesting.”

I fought the urge to fidget.

“Well, good luck, Bell. You ever want to try my class, you’re always welcome.” With a nod, Shay headed for the change rooms.

With the noise of the gym echoing in my ears, I turned and scanned around. Apparently, it was a big deal that Beau had agreed to train me.

He’s just a good guy, Bell.

And it sounded like he had a thing for helping out people in need.

“Hey, you daydreaming?”

I looked up at Gio. The old man had been friendly, in his own gruff sort of way. He’d shown me every part of the gym, including the stairs at the back that led up to Beau’s apartment. He lived above the gym.

“Time for your lesson.” Gio jerked his head toward a ring. “Better get moving.”

“Sorry.” I jolted. When I looked over, I saw Beauden standing in a ring at the back, well away from the others. He was watching me.

“Go.” Gio shooed me away.

I headed over.

“Come on.” Beau held the ropes apart for me to climb in. “How was your first day?”

“Great.” It had been. I’d enjoyed the work. Even the cleaning.

“Good. These are for you.” He held up a set of cloth wrappings and a pair of blue boxing gloves. “Should be the right size.”

They were far smaller than his red ones hanging on the ropes.

I took them and frowned. “These gloves are new.” Having spent some time dusting off the merchandise at the front desk today, I knew exactly what the wraps and gloves cost.

“They’re yours,” Beau said.

“I can’t afford them.”

“Consider them a gift to welcome you to the Hard Burn team.”

I fought the urge to hand them back. I hated being indebted to anyone, or accepting charity.