Abandoned Church. Fell and Fillmore. 8 p.m.

Headlining: Fuzzy vs. Renegade

Code Word: Styx

“What the hell is he thinking?” Heart pounding, I push myself out of my seat and slam the door to my Volvo, now parked outside Tag’s apartment building. On the other side of the vehicle, Jess does the same.

“He can’t fight anymore. His arm”—my voice catches, breaks—“and his shoulder. They never healed right. The doctor told him he couldn’t fight again.”

“We’ll talk him out of it.” Jess catches up with me on the walkway to Tag’s apartment and gives my arm a firm squeeze. “Or…you’ll talk him out of it and I’ll back you up.”

“Did he say anything to you about it when he went to your apartment the other night?” I press the buzzer for Tag’s apartment. “Did he say anything that would explain why he decided to challenge Renegade?”

Jess shakes her head. “It was just…strange. He came to my place, totally distraught, but he didn’t want to talk. I suggested we watch TV, so we sat on the couch for a few hours. Then he said he had to go. I got the feeling he wanted to say something and needed to work up the nerve, so when he called again the next day, I invited him over. But it was just more of the same. If you ask me, he needs some serious help.”

I press the buzzer again and again. “I think you’re right. He’s too deep into this case. He wouldn’t talk to me, so I called my parents, but they had no luck either.”

But Tag isn’t at his apartment or the gym, and he isn’t answering his phone. And by the time we get to the abandoned church for the fight, Tag is already in one corner and Jake a.k.a. Renegade is in the other.

For the first time, I don’t have the usual pang of longing when Jake rakes his hand through his blond curls. Instead, I imagine dark hair, thick and neatly cut and sky-blue eyes. And then I remember spending the last two nights at Jess’s place because I couldn’t bear to be in my apartment alone. Despite my best intentions, I got involved—so involved that the thought of never seeing Ray again is a physical, tangible pain that takes my breath away.

“Tag.” I race around to his side of the makeshift ring. “What are you doing? You know you can’t fight.”

A pained expression crosses his face. “I was meant to be a fighter, and I left it all behind seven years ago. I need to get back in the ring, do what I was meant to do. Who knows when I may need these skills again?”

What the hell is going on with him? This is what happens when I spend all my time obsessing over a mercurial fighter who easily walked away, and turn my back on the people who have always been there when I needed them the most.

“You have police skills. You have a gun. And I have no doubt you can defend yourself in a fight. Please don’t do this.” I reach up and grab his bicep. “You haven’t even trained properly. Renegade is near the top of the amateur league.”

“So was I.” He jerks out of my grasp. “And I will be again.”

But I can’t let this go. Nausea roils in my belly. “I don’t understand what’s going on with you. What do you need to prove? You aren’t acting like yourself. And Jess”—I look back over my shoulder at Jess standing in the spectator’s area with Rampage—“she’s worried about you.”

He swallows hard. “I have nothing to say to Jess. She’s with Blade Saw. I’m happy for them.”

“Why don’t we all go for a drink and talk?”

“Sia.” His voice rises to a loud bark and Jess looks over in alarm. “Go.”

“Let him fight.” Ray’s voice is a low murmur in my ear, his hand warm on my hip. “There’s nothing you can do to stop him.”

Still reeling from seeing Tag in the ring, I don’t question Ray’s sudden appearance at the fight. “You don’t understand. He’s injured.”

“Then he’ll know the extent of his injuries better than anyone.” He grabs my hand and tugs me away. “When a man decides to fight, he’s gonna fight. All you can do is be there for him at the end.”

Jerking out of his grasp, I give Tag one last pleading look, but when he shakes his head, I sigh and head back over to Jess with Ray on my heels.

“Where did you come from anyway?”

“Got the message about the fight. Knew you’d be here. Figured you wouldn’t be too happy.”

I edge away when we turn to watch the fight. I don’t want his hands on me. I don’t want to be tempted by his too-perfect body or the strength of his arms. I don’t want to think how he came here tonight for me even after he pushed me away.

The ref blows the whistle, and Tag opens with a low kick followed by a mid-level that throws him off balance. Renegade moves in fast with a hard left to Tag’s nose, and Tag topples backward. Renegade is on him before he even hits the mat, swarming him with punches. My stomach churns, and Ray leans over and murmurs in my ear.

“Renegade’s pulling his punches. Fuzz will be okay.”

“Doesn’t look like he’s pulling any punches to me.” I swallow as bile rises in my throat. “Tag’s lip is bleeding and Renegade’s not letting up—”

“If it were a real fight, he’d already be unconscious.”

“That doesn’t make me feel a whole lot better.” I scrub my face with my hands and take a deep breath. But although I can block out the sights, I can’t block out the sounds of flesh hitting flesh, Tag’s grunts and groans, and then a howl.