When Liliana had decided to leave Minnesota, she’d picked Miami because it seemed the farthest away while still in the continental United States. When she first arrived, she’d been hired as a dance instructor for Madame LaVon. She’d still been in shock and recovering from a bullet graze, but dancing had always been her salvation. Madame LaVon had hired her, and she’d begun teaching classes five days a week to young students eager to learn. She’d worked hard doing other odd jobs around the facility to help Madame LaVon keep things running smoothly. Madame LaVon had taken her under her wing, teaching her how to run the studio and handing over several essential tasks to Liliana. Soon, people had started approaching her instead of Madame LaVon with issues. She’d thrived with the work and knew she’d found her calling.
The following semester, Liliana had enrolled at the local university and switched her major to business. She’d immersed herself in classes devoted to developing the skills necessary to operate a successful company.
Many times over the years, Madame LaVon had told Liliana she wanted her to take over once she stepped aside. Madame LaVon had been in her late sixties when Liliana had started working for her. Eight years later, the time had come, and Madame LaVon had announced her intention to retire.
Liliana had immediately begun devising a plan to purchase the studio. Her condo had been bought from a small trust fund left to her by her father. Her savings account was modest, so she’d needed to secure a loan to pay for the business and the upgrades she hoped to implement.
Madame LaVon offered lessons in several disciplines, including contemporary, tap, jazz, and hip-hop. Competition for ballroom styles such as tango, salsa, and cha-cha was intense in the Miami area, so they didn’t offer those. Daytime classes catered to young children, and there were many gaps in facility usage. Liliana had planned on filling the schedule with fitness and martial arts courses.
One afternoon, Liliana had returned from a final meeting with the lenders at the bank, giddy at having secured the loan, when Madame LaVon had called her into her office. It surprised Liliana to see Jazmine, Madame LaVon’s only daughter, inside. Jazmine had never taken an interest in her mother’s business. In fact, she’d rarely stepped foot inside the doors, but now that her mother was retiring, she’d suddenly decided she wanted to take over and run the studio.
Liliana had been devastated, as had Madame LaVon. She had wanted Liliana to continue her legacy—had groomed her for it. But Jazmine was her flesh and blood. Madame LaVon would abide by her daughter’s wishes. Liliana would never step between the two.
Jazmine had always resented Liliana for her relationship with her mother, so Liliana knew she couldn’t stay and work for the woman. She’d returned to the bank, renegotiated the terms of her loan, and set about finding a place to start her own company. Shonda Johns, her best friend and fellow dance instructor, had tendered her resignation to Jazmine at the same time and had thrown in her lot with Liliana.
Having seen his numerous ads on television, Liliana had approached realtor Rex Raines about finding a space. He’d told her about the vacant warehouse he owned adjacent to his office that would be perfect for her needs. He’d even put her in touch with a contractor who had transformed the building into her dream studio.
At first walkthrough, Liliana had thought the interior was way too big. She’d planned on a boutique fitness center offering a few specialized classes. However, when she’d gone over plans with the architect, she’d loved the concept he’d visualized. The design he’d drawn up included six individual workout rooms, men’s and women’s locker rooms, three offices, a storage room with laundry, a reception area, and even a smoothie bar.
Though it had pained her, Liliana had decided not to offer dance lessons that would directly compete with Jazmine. She only kept two contemporary/jazz classes: one that she taught twice a week and one Shonda taught. Instead, she’d hired yoga, Pilates, martial arts, and fitness instructors to cater to adults. Two of the most popular classes were spinning and bungee fitness, which was exactly how it sounded: exercise moves while attached to a bungee cord anchored in the ceiling.
Other sessions included ones for pregnant women, new moms, people with physical limitations, boot camps, as well as other specialties like core, low impact, and high-intensity interval training or HIIT. Her most important classes were for self-defense, held three nights a week—up from one when she’d first offered it. They were so popular that she had needed to add more to the schedule.
There was never a lull, and the rooms were continually in use. Liliana’s business had become a success and increasingly more profitable. She employed over two dozen instructors, an assistant, two masseuses, four people who rotated working at the refreshment bar, and a membership and marketing coordinator. Three office managers also served as receptionists: one during the day, another at night, and one on the weekend, since business hours were from eight in the morning until nine in the evening, seven days a week. Initially, she had closed at noon on Saturday and all day Sunday, but the demand for classes had forced her to remain open all week. Her instructors had pushed as hard as the clients, so she had acquiesced, though she took the weekends off most of the time.
If business continued, she’d have to look for a bigger place. She was considering adding fitness equipment, CrossFit, and a spa. She’d turned one space into a massage room for athletes after they worked out, and it was so popular there was never an opening on the schedule.
Suddenly, two powerful arms wrapped around Liliana from behind, immobilizing her. Her training kicked in, and she reacted without thought. She grabbed the forearms so the attacker wouldn’t get her in a headlock. Next, she immediately turned her chin to her left shoulder, threw out her right hip, and raised her right elbow to step back and counterattack. She’d practiced the moves hundreds of times, and they’d never failed her. They certainly didn’t now.
“Damn,” Rutger Villanueva muttered as he stepped back. “You are so good, Lil. I can never get the jump on you.”
“You should be proud instead of upset,” Liliana told him as she adjusted her tank top embroidered with the logo she’d had professionally designed. “You trained me.”
“Best student ever,” Rutger praised, sending a rush of warmth through her system. She’d practiced long and hard to master the moves. It gave her a feeling of accomplishment and immense pride that she could protect herself. It was a far cry from the frightened young woman who had been afraid of her own shadow ten years ago.
Liliana spent the day working in her office, which featured a glass wall overlooking the atrium, as she liked to call it. It was the common area in front of the workout rooms featuring several trees and plants, a fountain, and seating for people waiting for classes to begin. Tucked in the corner was the smoothie bar, with additional seating and a display case of merchandise, ranging from T-shirts and shorts to yoga mats and water bottles. Her sales had been through the roof. She could also see the entry and reception desk, where members scanned their cards. Men’s locker rooms were to the left, women’s to the right.
Her office was roomy and included a private bathroom, a conference table seating eight, and a couch in case she wanted to crash instead of driving home. That part of the suite was out of direct view of the glass window, so it provided privacy if she had a meeting. Another cool feature was a button she could push to make the glass opaque to block all visuals.
Shonda’s office was next door and also sported a glass wall with the same button. The membership and marketing manager’s space was located down the hall, across from the storage and laundry room. There was a back exit leading to an alley running behind the buildings.
People constantly strolled by her window, but she rarely paid attention to them, like today when she was engrossed in work. A knock sounded on her door, and then Shonda stuck her head inside. Her curly brown hair sported a blonde streak that looked hip and fun, much like the woman herself.
“Hey, I’m going to grab a sandwich from the deli around the corner. Can I get you anything?”
Liliana’s office included a kitchenette with a mini fridge, sink, and microwave. She usually brought her lunch or made do with a healthy smoothie. Today, however, she was hungry. “I’ll take a turkey club on whole wheat.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be back soon.”
Later that day, Liliana decided to take a bungee fitness class to burn off the calories from the bacon, bread, and mayonnaise. The instructor, Sonia, had worked the participants hard, and Liliana felt it. Her muscles were pleasantly sore.
As she headed to her office to shower and change, two beefy arms banded around her from behind again. Why was Rutger doing this twice in one day? Liliana would have to have a talk with him. She’d asked him to test her occasionally, but this was overkill. Before she could implement her counterattack, three words stopped her dead in her tracks.
“Be very quiet.”
Chapter Two
Luca Russo never saw the attack coming. One minute he was headed to his vehicle after work, the next, something substantial had slammed into his skull with the force of a battering ram. Instant lights out. When he woke, his hands were secured behind his back, and something was strapped around his neck. Once his eyes fully opened, he found himself in an abandoned warehouse. The vast space was drafty and empty save for broken pallets, overturned barrels, and garbage. It reeked of mold and mildew and something rotten. Windows up high on the walls were stained or cracked or missing altogether. Dust motes danced in the air.