She makes a few wordless expressions with her eyes. “Well, I don’t know about that either. Rafe wasn’t…” She leans back and stops herself. “I shouldn’t tell you that part, but I will just say this… That man is waging wars in his head, and the bedroom is his battlefield.”

Holy shit.

I nearly suck down the rest of my second drink in one slurp as she walks away to help another customer. I’m stuck on a few pieces of her last statement. One: What part was she not comfortable telling me? Is he into some strange kink that she doesn’t want to share? Two: What the hell does she mean about the bedroom being his battleground? Is he as cruel and abusive in bed as he is in person?

I’d be willing to bet.

And still...I find myself shifting in my seat just thinking about it.

Okay, that’s definitely a sign I’ve had too much to drink. Just then, she places another one in front of me.

“This is from the gentleman at the end of the bar,” she says and with her back to him, she nods her head until I make eye contact with a wiry, blond man with a fake smile and an expensive-looking watch on his wrist.

“Oh, thank you,” I mumble. When I look up at Laini, she just gives me a wide-eyed look that says ‘do not engage,’ and I take the advice.

“Then talk to me so I don’t have to go over there,” I mutter.

She laughs and leans on the bar again. “I like you. What’s a girl like you doing hanging out with Rafe?”

“I told you. Old high school friends, now neighbors.”

She nods her head. “Be careful with that one. He’s damaged, but there’s a soft side under all those scars.”

I swallow, pushing away the thought of a soft side to Rafe. That doesn’t exist. Not for me anyway.

When she stands up, she says over her shoulder while pouring a beer, “Hey, is he still fighting at Vic’s?”

I freeze, wracking my brain for a response. Vic’s? Fighting? What does that even mean? Like MMA or something?

Then, my brain connects the dots, and I remember the concussion and bleeding eyebrow. It makes total sense. “Oh, yeah,” I announce. “He does.”

A voice from across the bar adds in, “Oh there’s a big lot fight at Vic’s tonight,” he says. I nod at the man who bought me the drink.

“What’s a lot fight?” I ask, looking at Laini.

She gives a roll of her eyes toward the guy who brought it up. “It’s their less-than-legal fighting match that takes place in the lot behind the gym on most nights.”

“If you like making money, it’s a great place to win a bet. I’d be happy to show you who to put your money on.” The man smiles at me, and I force a weird, uneasy grin on my face.

“No, thanks.” I smile. “Not really my scene.”