“I hope this kind of stuff doesn’t bother you, then,” he laughs, sitting in the seat next to me. He puts his arm across the back of my chair and leans in.

“Not at all,” I answer. Which is true. “Maybe it was growing up with a brother, but I also love action movies and violence.” He laughs, and I feel his fingers graze my shoulder. Vic is laying on the moves. I’m not sure how I feel about it yet.

There’s a large crowd milling around the parking lot. We’re far enough away from any place where people could see or hear the crowd back here. Lights overhead illuminate the center where a chalk circle is drawn. Across the circle, I notice a familiar, brooding face watching me.

I actually thought he would leave once I walked off with Vic, but it looks like he stuck around to stink face me the rest of the night. Which is fine. All the more opportunity to find out more about him while I flirt with the gym owner. Rafe clearly wanted me to leave when he saw me here, and I just love doing whatever makes him angry.

“So, I have to know,” I say with a smile, leaning toward Vic. “Does Rafe really fight back here?”

Vic puts on a little display like he’s surprised I asked that and is trying to decide how much he can tell me. It’s all a flirtatious show. Finally, he leans in and puts his arm around my back. “Officer Nolan and I have a mutual agreement. I keep the fights clean and no one gets hurt. And of course, no gambling,” he adds in with an adorably fake serious expression. We all know that last part is utter bullshit. The only reason he would do this at all is for the money, and I can clearly hear the guys behind me taking bets, even though I think they're trying to be in cognito about it.

“And what does he get in return?” I ask, genuinely curious.

With a shrug of his shoulders, he says, “He gets to let off some steam. Socialize. Get out for a little bit.”

Something about that doesn’t sound entirely believable. I have a feeling there is more involved than he’s saying.

Just then I hear Rafe’s name being said behind me. I turn toward the guys at the table.

“Yeah, we have Rafe and Mac on for ten,” a young guy with a tattoo creeping up his neck mumbles before listing a few more names that I don’t catch because I’m still stuck on Rafe’s.

“Did they just say Rafe is fighting?” I ask Vic, who turns around to the guys.

“Nah, Rafe said he was out tonight.”

“No, he told me he’s up,” the red-headed man at the table says, looking at his paper.

“He can’t,” I blurt out. Vic looks at me in surprise. I almost say something about his concussion but decide to bite my tongue. If Vic knows Rafe is leaving here with major injuries, or is at least telling people about it, it could cause more problems than I want to solve at the moment.