“I’ve never felt so embarrassed.” I pick at a thread on the seat cushion. “I practically threw myself at him and he turned me down. I’ve never thrown myself at a man before. The whole panicking-because-he-pinned-my-arms thing was humiliating beyond belief, and just underscored the fact that I am not normal and never will be. My biggest fantasy is a damn trigger, and as expected, he went running in the opposite direction. Plus there’s a boxing match on TV after this. Good wholesome entertainment.”

The survival show finishes and the boxing match starts. Tag joins us in the living room, his phone in his hand. “You going out tonight?”

Jess and I share a glance. He must be on the promoter’s list as well, although I’ve never seen him at a fight except to drive me home, and he would never step into the ring. Still…

“Uh…no. We’re watching boxing with Dad.”

Tag shakes his head. “Torment wants to see us at Redemption.”

“Now?”

“You know Torment. He has a proposition for you, and he’s not a man you keep waiting.”

* * *

An hour later, Tag, Jess, and I are having a drink in Torment’s office at Redemption. Despite the hour, the gym is still busy and the steady whir of cardio machines is interrupted by the occasional clang of weights and the thud of flesh hitting flesh. Of course, Jess insisted on coming with us. Although she claimed it was to give me moral support, I know she just wanted to spend more time with Tag.

Torment leans back in his chair and strokes his chin. Even such an innocuous gesture is threatening when Torment does it, and I shiver and dig my nails into my palm.

“I heard about your studio.”

Is this Torment making small talk? I glance over at Tag, but he is lost in thought.

“Uh…yeah. It needs to be totally renovated. Slim’s fighting with his insurance company, but he figures we’ll be back in operation soon.”

Tapping his fingers on the desk, he says, “What are you doing for work in the meantime?”

“We’ve been looking for somewhere temporary to set up shop so we don’t lose our clients. Hasn’t been going so good. Rent is expensive and no one wants to give us a short-term lease given the kind of work we do. We’re thinking of splitting up and taking chairs with other shops until Slim has things sorted out.”

Torment sniffs. “No one will find you if you split up. You’re a team. Teams stick together. Isn’t that right, Fuzz?”

Tag’s head jerks up, and from his vacant expression, I can tell he didn’t hear what Torment said. “Yeah…sure.”

Torment scowls and Jess sucks in a sharp breath. What does Makayla do when Torment is angry with her? I’d probably run screaming in the other direction.

“Come.” Torment stands so quickly, I almost fall out of my chair in my haste to join him. He stalks out of the room, and Jess and I scurry after him, trying to keep up with his long strides.

“What’s with Tag?” She keeps her voice low. “He’s not himself.”

“I told you. I think it’s his new case. I told Mom and Dad, and they tried to get him to talk about it, but he clammed right up. I don’t know what to do.”

We pass Rampage outside the snack shop and he gives us a big wave. “Hey, girls. You didn’t miss anything at the fight tonight. Headline match got canceled. The Predator didn’t show.”

Jess and I exchange a puzzled look and then I pull to a halt. “He didn’t show? When has he ever not shown?”

Rampage shrugs. “Never happened before. Misery’s saying he was too chicken to face him. Called for a rematch next week even though he could have just claimed the no-show as a win on the underground circuit and moved up the ranks. He’s desperate to fight the Predator.”

“Rampage.” Torment’s voice booms down the corridor as he closes in on us. “I hope you’re not discussing any illegal, unsanctioned fights in our licensed facility. You should also hope that I never catch you at an unsanctioned fight.”

Rampage pales. “I thought the threat was from the CSAC.”

Torment stops in front of us and folds his arms across his massive chest. “If I ever catch you putting your license at risk, you’ll be begging the CSAC to take you in by the time I’m finished with you.”

“He’s one damn scary dude,” Jess whispers after Torment stalks away. “It’s like they’ve taken all alpha male-dom, rolled it up in one mouthwatering package, and called it Torment.”

We break into a light jog to catch up to Torment, now on the threshold of the new addition to the warehouse. The plastic is gone and the corridor is bright and newly finished. Walls gleam and a warm, hardwood floor has been installed over the concrete. The sharp scent of fresh paint lingers in the air, and bright track lighting gives the hall a soft glow.

“What are you adding in this wing?”

Torment stops in front of a double glass door and pulls out a set of keys. “Newest thing. All the major MMA gyms have one.” He pushes open the door and gestures for us to follow him. “All my boys get tats. Why not offer them a safe, clean, convenient place to get them done?” He flicks on the lights, and I behold my dream studio.

Spacious, light, and sophisticated, it is the opposite of Slim’s cozy, stereotypically cramped and slightly garish shop. From the exposed beams in the ceilings to the angled alcoves, and from the gleaming hardwood floor to the polished oak reception desk, Torment’s tattoo studio leaves nothing to be desired.