“Ready? Okay, come at me.” Rory nodded at his brother, as he got into the guard position and prepared.

Kane charged at him, fists up, but Rory ducked down and hooked his arm under Kane’s while pulling him into his body. Kane was knocked off balance by the move and Rory instantly had Kane’s leg and flipped him onto his back. Standing over his brother as Kane tried to find his breath, Rory offered his hand to help him back up. Despite the pain he was in, he knew he was still a pro at fighting.

“Today, I’ll show you half guards, escapes, and single-leg takedowns.”

“Fuck, which one did you just do?” Kane complained, standing and shaking it off.

“All of them.”

—

Clare eagerly opened the door to Woodlawn Rescues, the animal rescue shelter that Casey had mentioned. After that morning’s self-defense class, Clare had asked Patty all about the shelter she ran. Clare couldn’t wait to start volunteering and had headed straight there after class was over.

She had seen Rory practicing with Kane, as he always was at that hour, but hadn’t disturbed him. In truth, she felt a little awkward about having just spent the night with him. It had been a while since she had been with anyone, and she found herself worrying that maybe he hadn’t enjoyed the evening as much as she had. After all, she didn’t really know what she was doing. She hadn’t even known what she wanted when he’d asked her; no one had ever cared to find out what she liked in bed, so she didn’t know, either.

Surprisingly, Rory hadn’t even noticed her at the gym, or maybe he hadn’t been looking for her as he seemed completely caught up in sparring with his brother. She kept getting stuck on the worry that maybe this had just been a one-night stand to him. Maybe he just wanted sex, and that was it—in fact, maybe that’s what she wanted, too. Her cheeks flamed as she pictured the evening, a familiar heat settling in her once more.

“Hi.” Trying to push thoughts of last night away, Clare gave a small wave to the young woman sitting on a tall chair behind the counter in the lobby of Woodlawn Rescues.

She wasn’t paying attention, her nose buried in a thick book. Fresh-faced and innocent, she had to have been only just out of high school. Her hair was unmistakably strawberry blond, billowing down over her shoulders to her waist in large waves. When she raised her head, her light blue eyes were swollen and red, and Clare realized she was sniffling.

“Hi—oh, my gosh, this is so embarrassing.” The young woman smiled sheepishly and placed the book on the counter, reaching for a tissue.

“Oh, no…Are you okay?” Clare frowned, feeling bad for the teary-eyed young woman.

“I’m fine, just really got into that book.” She sniffled and Clare breathed a sigh of relief before joining her in the banter.

“I know how that is. I love a good ugly cry.”

“So I’m an ugly crier?” The girl knitted her brow at Clare.

“Not even a little bit,” Clare swore as she leaned against the counter, blushing at how clueless her comment had just been.

“Just messing with you.” The young woman smiled, a friendly ease passing between them. “What can I do for you?”

“Patty’s in my gym class, and she told me to come on down to fill out a volunteer application. I just moved here and would love to get started again someplace like this. I used to volunteer in a shelter in California when I was younger.” Clare prattled on, a bit nervous that she would be turned down.

She knew she didn’t have any impressive experience, and she hadn’t finished her degree. Hell, she had barely started it. More than that, though, she felt like no one would actually want to work with her.

Travis had told her so many times how incompetent she was, it had become hard to believe she was anything else. She tried to push those thoughts away from her mind, instead telling herself that maybe doing volunteer work would ease some of the guilt she felt about the past.

“Sure! I’ve got a form right here. What kinda volunteer work are you most interested in? Because we could use pretty much anything.” The young woman reached into a filing cabinet behind her and flipped through folders until she found a blank application form that she placed on the counter in front of Clare.

“I’m hoping to be a veterinarian one day. I plan to start classes soon.” Clare frowned, uncertainty passing through her as she wondered if she would ever actually reach her goals.

“That’s awesome. Dr. Prentiss could use the help for sure.”

“Really? That would be amazing. I can do anything else, too. I mean, I love animals—I don’t mind cleaning up or any of the gross stuff.” Clare picked a pen up off the counter and started filling out the form.

“Sounds great—we have plenty of gross stuff,” the girl said with a giggle. “We definitely are short-staffed, too. Me and my mom—you met Patty—generally do everything around here by ourselves. With Dr. Prentiss, of course.”

“Patty’s your mom? She looks so young,” Clare mused.

“Yeah, she had me pretty young. I’m Kiera, by the way. Kiera Finley.” The young woman smiled and extended a hand.

“Clare Ivers.” Clare smiled back, shaking Kiera’s hand.

“It’s good to have you aboard, Clare. I mean, my mom will have to go over your application, just check if you’re a serial killer or something like that, but otherwise, you’re good to go.”

“Shoot, I guess the three people I murdered on the way here might be a problem?” Clare tried not to sound anxious about a potential background check, playing off her nerves with a joke.

“Just don’t write about them on the form—I’m sure she won’t figure it out. She doesn’t usually check half the time anyway, but don’t tell her I told you that.”

“Perfect, then I’m all done. Anything else you need from me, or should I just wait for a call or something?” Clare handed the form back to Kiera, feeling a bit more relieved.

“How about a tour now? Then I’ll have Mom call you about a schedule.” Kiera stepped out from around the counter and pointed toward a swinging door that led to the back.

“That would be amazing!” Clare clasped her hands together in excitement.

Kiera motioned for her to follow and the two went through the back door, leading into a short hallway with four doors, two on each side. The paint was peeling off the walls and one of the hallway lights was out. There were colorful pictures of dogs on the walls, and motivational posters, as if someone was hoping that would distract from the shabby structure of the building.

“On the left here, you’ve got the office door. In there is just a desk and all our files, plus the employee bathroom. The next door after that is the exam room—you’ll probably be in there a lot since Dr. Prentiss does most of his work in there.”

“Here on the right, both doors lead to the dog pens. It’s kind of like a giant half circle—you enter through this door and come back out the other. Let me show you.” Kiera pushed open the first door and ushered Clare through. Metal pens about four feet wide lined each side of the hallway, filled with barking dogs of several different breeds.

“These are all aggressive breeds,” Clare said with surprise, wandering down the aisle and noting that most of the dogs fit into a select few breeds.

“Technically, yes. We specialize in ex-fight dogs and bait dogs, but we strongly believe here that dogs are a product of their environment, not genetics. So, we don’t call them aggressive breeds,” Kiera told her.

“Do you rehabilitate them?”

“We try, but it’s not always easy. Some of the dogs we train are already adopted out, but come here for help learning how to reintegrate into loving homes. However, most of the dogs we get are from busted-up dog-fighting rings, so they don’t know anything else. But we do have a higher success rate than most places.” Kiera sounded sad as she waved a few fingers at a dog in a neighboring cage, smiling affectionately.