McCrary was still in the hospital, but Nurse Nevin had told me he’d get out tomorrow. His fever had been high, and he’d been seriously dehydrated. So much so that he’d almost passed out, and ended up dialing 911. I wish I’d been there. I could have helped. Yet another reason I could never leave Vegas. Not when I was the only family McCrary had here.

My phone buzzed as I pushed open the door to Eastside Boxing. I glanced at the screen, dreading to see Simon’s name. He’d called three times already today to ask about the Nico/Maggie situation. He wouldn’t get off my back about it.

It wasn’t Simon, it was Annie. I pressed ignore. I hadn’t seen her since the night we’d barely spoken at The Wall, before Lieutenant what’s-his-nuts tried to get me to rat Simon out, but she’d called me a few times since. Not so many that it felt needy, but too many. I’d hoped my silence would be hint enough. I had no clue how to break up with someone I wasn’t even dating.

A few lights were on in the gym, including upstairs. I headed to the front desk when I heard noises. Footsteps, or scuffling, I couldn’t tell. In case it was a break-in, I followed the sound to the back of the gym and up the stairs. If Bronwyn and Nico were going at it outside his apartment, I’d lose it.

I paused near the top of the stairs.

Maggie was dancing—spinning and leaping around the room McCrary had set up for aerobics classes that nobody had wanted to take at a boxing gym. Her body moved in a way I’d never seen before. It was beautiful and strange. Compelling and sexy. There was no music, but earbuds snaked from her ears and into the waist of her skin-tight leggings.

Her movements slowed, she hesitated for a moment, breathing deep without looking my way. Aside from her leggings, she only had on a sports bra, showing off vast amounts of bare skin shining with sweat. Every curve and muscle of her body was visible, and I wanted it all under my hands.

She resumed dancing, swaying to a beat I couldn’t hear, her arms making long lines, one leg reaching for the ceiling. Then she was on the floor, her body almost caressing it as she moved. I’d been to clubs, watching girls dance in far less than Maggie had on, writhing and swaying for money. The way Maggie danced was different, special.

Tension and desire moved through my body. I clenched the railing.

She stopped, freezing her last step for a moment before she pulled the buds from her ears. Wiping sweat from the back of her neck, she turned and finally saw me.

My lips parted.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. She was panting from the exertion, her chest rising and falling. Her face flamed under my stare. “So late, I mean?”

Blood pounded through my veins. I wanted nothing more than to close the distance between us and wrap my hands around her waist, caress her sweat-soaked skin with my fingertips. Taste her with my mouth.

I swallowed. “I had to grab the accounting books for McCrary.”

She slipped her phone from her leggings, avoiding my gaze. “McCrary?”

“Conall McCrary. He owns this place.”

“Oh, right.” She pulled a hoodie over her sports bra, curves and skin disappearing under the bulky fabric.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

She bent down and removed some kind of weird shoes, then stuffed them into her bag. “Nico said I could use this space for practice.”

“Practice?”

“Yeah. I needed some space. He said he’d run it by Old Man…Mr. McCrary.” She slung her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll only come at night, when no one is here. So I don’t interrupt classes or anything.”

“Okay.” It would be exquisite torture, watching her dance again. I already wanted it.

We headed down the stairs together. She smelled faintly of sweat and something sweeter. I moved closer.

“Is this some scheme to come up with the money?” I asked. “Because I don’t know if it’ll work. You’d have to get a lot more naked.”

I’d meant it as a joke, but her face flushed again and her jaw clenched. I was an idiot.

At the bottom of the stairs, the gym was dark except the light over the front desk. Maggie tripped on a mat and I grabbed her arm, steadying her. She jerked away, whipping me in the face with her ponytail.

“My life doesn’t revolve around Officer Ting’s money, you know,” she said.

“It should.”

She stopped walking. We were near the front, close enough to the light that I could see her face, twisted with annoyance. “Would you leave me alone about it?”

My eyebrows lowered. “No.” I would bug her and bug her about that money until the deadline hit, anything to keep me from doing what I had to do if she couldn’t pay up.

“No?” Her hands went to her hips and so did my eyes.

I grabbed the strings of her hoodie and tugged on them, bringing her closer. “I won’t leave you alone until I see all thirteen thousand of those dollars.”

She batted my hand away. “Right. Just doing your job.”

I pulled her into me, our legs entwined. I didn’t let the feel of her distract me. Her hands were on my chest but she didn’t push me away.

“Maggie. This isn’t just about my job. Simon will hurt you.” My grip on her hips tightened, I couldn’t help it. She needed to wake up. She needed to know. “Simon will make me hurt you. Don’t you get it?” He would make me do something I couldn’t do. But I didn’t want to be faced with that choice, or the consequences if I refused.

“It’s all part of the job though, isn’t it? I mean, you must enjoy it. Hurting people. Otherwise you wouldn’t do it.”

Desire turned to anger, and it began to boil under my skin. Of course that’s what she thought. I let her go. “Your life might be black and white. Mine isn’t.”

“God gave us this life,” she said. “It’s up to us what we do with it.”

“Was that on an inspirational poster at Bibles ‘R’ Us?”

She made a face I couldn’t read. “My dad is a preacher.”

She was clueless. If her father was a preacher, her life had probably been all Bible Study and prayer meetings and choir practices. Everything boiled down to a belief in simple moral choices. As if my life, my choices, were so simple.

I crossed my arms. “Maybe some of us are doing the best we can.”

“Maybe your best isn’t good enough,” she said, but her face softened, taking the bite out of her words. She was pitying me now, and that was somehow worse.

“I’m sorry,” she said. My eyebrow twitched in surprise. “If I can’t practice here, I won’t come back again.”

I turned away. “You can practice here.” All the time and never.

She didn’t move. I didn’t move.

“Thank you,” she said.