“You ever see Shilla fight?” Jake casually shoves a spectator out of my way, glaring the innocent six-foot leviathan into submission when he dares open his mouth to protest. “She’s got real talent. I’m pretty sure she has a good shot at the state championship.”

He twists a strand of my hair around his finger, but I don’t have time for him. I’ve never watched female MMA fighters before. And although Sandy was a ring girl when I last saw her, she is now holding her own against Shayla.

A crowd gathers as they circle the ring. Although physically not as strong as most of the male fighters I’ve seen, they are no less violent, no less skilled, and no less fierce. They kick and punch and spin and tackle. Sandy is clearly on the back foot. Blood drips from her nose but she doesn’t back down.

“Earth to Amanda.” Jake waves his hand in front of my face, breaking my concentration.

“Shhh. I’m watching the fight.” I swat his hand away and focus on the ring. Shayla pulls off some impressive moves, rolling with Sandy trapped between her thighs and then locking Sandy’s head between her legs and pinning her to the ground in an impressive submission.

Damn, that Shayla can fight. Probably better than some of the guys I’ve seen at the club. I can’t imagine anyone throwing her against a Dumpster. She would have had Bob and his bouncer groaning on the pavement in thirty seconds flat.

“I have to go and get ready for the cage,” Jake murmurs in my ear.

“Sure.” I give him an absent wave.

“Amanda.” His sharp rebuke yanks me out of the fight, and I look up at his furrowed brow.

“I want you to be there.”

“I’ll be there, Jake.”

“Don’t be late.”

“It’s only fifty feet away. I’m sure I’ll make it in time.”

Still, he doesn’t move. Instead he shuffles his feet and sighs. Finally, I turn and give him my full attention. “Anything else?”

“The ring name.” His voice drops to a low whisper. “It’s important. If I ever did get free of the company and go pro, I would need a good ring name. Something tough. Something that will make people afraid. You can hold your own in an argument, and you’re damn good at convincing people to do what they don’t want to do. Maybe you could convince the guys. I just…”

The little hint of vulnerability warms me, as does his faith in my legal skills. “I’ll do my best, Jake. I promise.”

Chapter 5

RAGE IN THE CAGE

“Cage fight.”

The words whisper through the gym and people drift toward the octagon like kids to an ice cream truck. Although it isn’t a sanctioned match, a cage fight, even when the fighters are just sparring, is always good entertainment, and a nameless fighter in the cage, apparently even more so.

After a quick glance around the gym, I spot the experienced fighters huddled near the weight equipment, no doubt discussing possible ring names for Jake.

Showtime.

Stiffening my spine, I saunter over to the huddle and they break for a moment and let me join the circle. The gang is all here: Homicide Hank, Blade Saw, Obsidian, Hammer Fist, Rampage, Torment, Drake, aka Doctor Death at Redemption, and Fuzzy. Only Makayla is missing and she had better stay missing. If she dares show her face, I’ll let her know exactly what I think of the backpack setup.

Drake gives me a wink and waggles his finger, motioning for me to stand beside him, but with Jake over by the cage, I deem it not worth the risk. I don’t know if they’ve sorted their issues or whether Jake still wants to rip out Drake’s throat.

I glance quickly over my shoulder. Jake is stretching on the mats while his opponent, Master Mayhem, a bald bulldog of a fighter, is joking with a few ring girls. Jake has changed into a pair of fight shorts, navy blue with teal Chinese characters down the sides, and what looks to be bike shorts underneath. The color combination reminds me of Farnsworth & Tillman, and I shudder.

“Don’t like that name?” Blade Saw lifts an eyebrow.

“What name?”

“The Wolf.”

My nose wrinkles. “Not really him. If you want to name him after an animal, I would go with the cat family. I mean, look at his hair; it looks like a mane.”

“I f**king hate animal names,” Hammer Fist grumbles. “The lists are full of grizzlies, wolves, bears, lions, and tigers.”

“Cougar?” I give a little shrug.

“That would be you.” Rampage gives me a grin.

My hands find my hips. “I am not that old. I just turned twenty-seven. I have a good twenty years before I become a cougar. And by then, that totally sexist and offensive term will no longer be in use.”

“And here I thought you were thirty-five.” Rampage shakes his head as if in disbelief.

“Thirty-five? Do I look thirty-five?” My voice rises in pitch and then drops when I hear snickers around me. My eyes narrow, and I give Rampage my best monotone. “Ha ha. Very funny. You’re a funny guy, Rampage. My sides are splitting. I can barely contain myself.”

“She sounds forty-five now.” A suicidal Drake steps into the fray.

“One day, I’m going to learn how to fight,” I mutter. “And I won’t forget this conversation. You’ll be a sorry bunch of guys when I’m done with you.”

Glances all round. Smiles. Chuckles. “Now that’s something I’d like to see.” Rampage brushes his thumb over his bottom lip in mock contemplation. “’Manda in the ring. I have a feeling she’d really kick some ass.”