I’ve never wanted anything in my life as intensely as I want Harrison, and it scares me how I let that base need cloud my judgment. It’s only as I stand here with my back against the door, breathing hard and throbbing where I shouldn’t be, that my head starts to clear. I need this job. I can’t risk it for a guy from L.A. who I’m never going to see again.

Ben’s voice rings up the hall as his office door cracks open. “. . . and get Devin in here!”

I jump and look up, sure I’m caught.

Marcus steps through the door into the hall, wiping grease off his hands with a towel. When he sees me, he tosses it in the corner. “You okay?” he asks, heading toward me.

“Yeah, thanks.”

He grasps me by the shoulders and looks me over like an overprotective parent, his brow creasing with concern. “You don’t look okay.”

I back out of his grasp, toward the dressing room, and fake a smile. “I’m fine. Really. It’s all good.” But as I push through the dressing room door, I start to shake all over with adrenaline.

Izzy is there, just pulling a white sweater over her flawless black skin. “Hey. You okay?”

“If too-stupid-to-live is your definition of okay, then, yeah.” I breathe a shaky breath. He’s going home to L.A., to an ex-fiancée who he obviously still loves. It’s not like anything could have ever come of this, even without the rules. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t want it to. I’m such an idiot.

“What happened?” Izzy asks.

I shake my head. “Just a guy in the VIP room sort of shook me up.”

She rolls her eyes. “Pete and Nora lay down the rules when they book privates, but the guys still think they’re going to get some. It happens all the time.”

I’m not going to tell her it was me who thought I might get some. “Yeah. Thanks.” I move to the sofa and sit, unlacing my boots.

“You going to be okay?” she asks. “I could stay.”

I look up at her. “No. I’m fine. Really. Just embarrassed.”

She tips her head at me and gives me a sympathetic squint. “Don’t take anything that happens here too personally.”

Including clients. It’s my fault for thinking it could get personal. “That’s good advice.”

She pulls open the door. “Make sure Marcus walks you to your car.”

“I teach self-defense at the women’s shelter in Fremont. I’ll be fine.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously?”

I nod. “I have a brown belt in karate.”

“I’ll have to get in on some of that action,” she says, eyes bright in her dark face.

I pull off my boots and stand. “The classes are open to anyone, so you could definitely come if you wanted.”

“Yeah, definitely.” She steps into the doorway. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

My shaking has slowed and I can breathe again. “Yeah. I’m good. Thanks.”

“ ’Kay. See you tomorrow.” She slips out and I just stand here for a really long time, staring after her.

Harrison is a mistake I’m going to learn from. After tonight, I can forget about him, but I’m not going to let myself forget this happened. If I ever feel myself lusting after a client, I’m going to remember the humiliation of this moment. I’m not going to feel like this ever again.

“YOU HAVE TO remember that most guys are going to be stronger, and they’re going to outweigh you,” I tell the small group of women in the multipurpose room at the women’s shelter. The room is cold and smells like wet cardboard and something sour, but most of the women here have a reason to want to learn to defend themselves, so they don’t seem to mind. “You need to use every advantage you can find. When you’re defending yourself against an attack, anything is fair. There’s no such thing as ‘fighting dirty.’ My job is to teach you an attacker’s weaknesses and how to use them to your fullest advantage.”

Izzy smiles at me from the middle of the group. She’s actually gorgeous, I see now that she’s out from behind her stage makeup. Very Tyra Banks—all big black eyes and high cheekbones. Her eye-catching curves are covered, at the moment, not in her kinky witch costume from the club, but in a sports bra and yoga pants.

“The best approach is going to depend on the proximity of your attacker and where he is in relation to you. You should all consider carrying pepper spray, but if you’re caught without any other means of defending yourself, your hands, knees, elbows, feet, and head are your best weapons.” I wave Izzy over and she steps onto the mat next to me. “So, if Izzy is the attacker, and she’s in front of me, I have a few choices.” I step back from her. “If she’s more than an arm’s length away, I’ve got my feet. I can run. Running is always your best option. Never initiate contact unless you’re absolutely cornered. If you are, scream. Make as much noise as possible even if they warn you not to.” I grab a pad from against the wall behind me and hand it to Izzy. “But if you’re cornered, and you have no choice, you can kick your attacker. You always want to put your whole weight behind it and aim for their most vulnerable spot,” I say, grabbing my crotch.

There are a few snickers from some of the younger girls in the group as I position Izzy so she’s holding the pad in front of her privates.

“I’ll go easy,” I tell her as I step back. “Just hold the pad tight.”

She nods, her eyes bright with excitement.

“You might only get one shot, so you want to make it count. Step into your kick and come up hard from underneath.” I step forward and bring my foot up into the pad at about half speed.

Izzy holds tight.

“I’m coming harder this time,” I tell her. “You got it?”

“Give it your best shot, girlfriend,” she smirks.

I step back, and this time I kick full force, knocking her back a step. “Step into it. Hard, from underneath,” I repeat to the group. “That’s where you’ll do the most damage. All you’re trying to do is buy a split second to run for it.”

Cloistered in the corner at the back of the group, I spy Sabrina. Her long dark hair hangs in her face and she’s doing her best to hide from herself. She’s so petite, she almost could. But her haunted eyes tell me she can’t hide from the memories, no matter how hard she tries.

She came to the shelter a few months ago with bruises everywhere and two black eyes. Every time I look into her terrified eyes, I see her shattered soul, and it makes me want to hurt the person who did this to her.

I break the group into pairs by size and hand out pads to each pair, then go for Sabrina in the corner.

“You ready to try this?” I ask gently.

She peeks at me through her hair for a long moment, and I’m expecting the same shake of her head I always get, so when she nods, I feel my eyes widen.

“Great. That’s great, Sabrina.” What I really want to teach her is how to scream, but she’s yet to open her mouth since she’s been here, as far as I know. I hold my pad up. “Don’t worry about kicking hard for now. Placement is the key.”

She bites her lower lip and just looks at me, unsure.

“Go ahead,” I say with an encouraging nod.

I watch without moving as she takes a deep breath, then tucks her hair behind her ears. She’s pretty, with big brown eyes in a delicate, heart-shaped face, and even the fact that her nose isn’t quite straight anymore doesn’t detract from it.

“Right here,” I say, giving the pad a shake.

She lifts her foot and kicks. In actuality, she moves so slowly all she’d do is give her attacker a chance to grab her leg, but it’s a start.

“Good, Sabrina. Try it again.”

She steps back, and this time when her foot comes up, it makes a solid thud into the pad.

“Great. That’s better. Keep going.”

With each kick, she puts a little more of herself into it. Her face starts to change, becoming more determined as the fear melts way. She wipes away beads of sweat with the sleeve of her ratty sweatshirt, all her focus on the pad I’m holding, then lets loose again. This time, as she kicks, a growl rips out of her. She kicks again, and again, harder each time, her growls becoming louder and more agonized, until she’s wailing and pounding her fists against me, tears streaking down her pale face.