“No.”

“Come on, Fuzz,” I moan. “I joined Redemption because I want to fight. I want to be able to walk down dark alleys and not be afraid. You said I should take your beginners’ class to get in shape and I did. Plus, I’ve been working out every day, not just here. I’m stronger, faster, and I can now leap small buildings in a single bound.”

His face softens and his lips quirk into a smile. “I just want you to be safe. I’ve seen too many people hurt in the ring simply because they weren’t properly conditioned. Maybe you should consider taking one of the martial arts classes. It would be a good halfway point. Girls like you don’t belong in the ring.”

Girls like me?

Shayla snorts a laugh. “Girls like her work out, train hard, and become girls like me. You don’t think I belong in the ring?” She flexes her impressive biceps and then mocks up a few bodybuilder stances. My mouth drops open. Shayla is ripped. Everywhere. She could definitely put down most of the guys I know. I want to be like her.

“Course not.” Fuzzy’s smile fades. “You’re a f**king machine. You didn’t get your nickname for nothing. But I’m talking about Amanda. She’s…different. Delicate.”

Tilting her head to the side, Shayla gives him a curious look. “Did you know I was a professional ballerina before I joined Redemption? I wore tutus and pink slippers. I danced for Joffrey and toured the world. I practiced every day from the age of three until even the barest flutter of my fingers was graceful. You want delicate, you look right over here.”

Eyes wide, mouth open, Fuzzy stares at Shayla like she’s grown two heads. “You’re f**king kidding me.”

By way of answer, Shayla pulls out her phone. She flips through her photos, holding up pictures of her as a ballerina for Fuzzy to see.

He sighs over the last photo. “I don’t get it.”

Shayla shrugs. “We’re not all born fighters. And the fact that you can’t even begin to understand it is the reason you shouldn’t stand in Amanda’s way. She wants to learn how to fight. You should let her fight. If she gets hurt, she’ll learn what not to do next time. Worked for me.”

Still, he hesitates. His eyes rove over me in an assessing, entirely nonsexual way, and he strokes his bottom lip. I fight back the urge to whinny and paw the floor with a running shoe–clad hoof.

“I’ll sign a legal waiver.” I give a pathetic laugh.

Fuzzy shakes his head. “It’s not the law I’m worried about. It’s Renegade. You get hurt, he’ll be all over my ass.”

“Renegade? He has nothing to do with what classes I take. We’re not…you know…together. And even if we were, I wouldn’t let him interfere with how I want to train.”

Fuzzy arches an eyebrow and then he and Shayla share a glance and a snort.

“How about we sign her up for Grunt ’n’ Grapple?” Shayla suggests to Fuzzy as if I wasn’t standing in front of her. “Rampage is teaching tonight. They’re using dummies and just doing submission drills. Should be safe enough.”

Fuzzy sucks in a breath through clenched teeth. “What if she gets a scratch—or worse, a bruise?”

Shayla’s eyebrows fly up to her hairline. “I didn’t think of that. How about I run interference? First sign of injury, and I’ll pull her out and take her to first aid. Doctor Death can patch her up and send her home. Renegade will never know.”

“Seriously?” I raise my voice in disbelief. “Is this a serious conversation? I told you he has nothing to do with how I train. And you can’t possibly be that afraid of him. I mean, he’s only been back in the gym a couple of months.”

“Make sure you have a word with Rampage,” Shayla says to Fuzzy, ignoring my outburst. “We don’t want him getting hurt. He’s fighting in the next event.”

A few irritating minutes later, I am released into Rampage’s hands with a full set of instructions about my care and handling like I’m a kid being dropped off at day care.

“This is ’manda,” Rampage tells the class consisting of six guys and no other women. “She’s Redemption’s attorney and she’s Renegade’s girl, so no one messes with her. That means you don’t speak to her; you don’t look at her; you don’t touch her; you don’t breathe the same air as her. She’s gonna train over there.” He points to the far end of the mat. “We’re gonna train over there.” He points to the opposite end.

“I feel like a pariah,” I mutter. “And, by the way, I’m not Renegade’s girl.”

Rampage chuckles. “Everyone knows you’re Renegade’s girl. Don’t need to be shy.”

“How does everyone know?” I pull away from his bulk and fold my arms. “Did he say something?”

Rampage gives my head a condescending pat. “He didn’t need to say anything. A man stakes his claim, every man with a beating heart in the vicinity knows it. That was done the first day he brought you back to Redemption. Reinforced at the renovation party. The minute you walk in here, he’s got eyes on you. He’s got hands on you. He keeps the sharks away. You never wonder why no one bothers you? You never ask yourself why, looking the way you look and dressing the way you dress and smiling that pretty smile and with all those smarts in your head, you’ve never been harassed at Redemption?”