“You are always scrambling to place fighters last minute, man. Don’t give me that shit.” He leaned back in his chair and waited.

Erik was silent.

“Your next meeting is in thirty seconds,” he reminded.

“Fuck. Fine. Dane and Billy. Send me Dane’s clearance as well.”

He sat forward, reaching for the file. “Will do.”

“He better be ready, Tyson, or he’s not getting another fight for a while. At this point, I’d almost prefer putting your little actress on the fight card . . .” he said.

Of course he’d heard about Parker. And of course he’d had to say something about it. It wouldn’t be a normal conversation if they both didn’t seize any opportunity to bust the other’s balls about something. “She could kick your ass. Time’s up. Bye, Erik.”

*   *   *

The pain in his shoulder whenever he jabbed or threw a hook nearly buckled his knees, but he pushed through it. No one could know he was injured. Not now and not after the fight. Win or lose, no one would know he’d gone in at less than 100 percent.

“What’s up with your shoulder?” Walker asked behind the heavy bag he held for him.

“Nothing.” He threw several more jabs.

“Bullshit. I’ve seen you icing it, and your face twitches every time you make contact with the bag.”

“It’s nothing. I just wrenched it the other day. I’ll be fine.” He dropped his hands and checked the time on the wall. After ten. “It’s late. Let’s call it a night. Thanks for sticking around.” It was only the two of them at the gym.

“No problem. How are you feeling? Are you confident about this fight?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I feel good.” He’d never admit he wasn’t confident about the fight. He’d neglected his own training while helping Parker and, for the first time, he was going in to the fight not sure he was the more prepared fighter. He needed to focus and train around the clock the next few days—harder, more intense than ever.

Hopefully the physical exhaustion would help take his mind off of Parker. She hadn’t been at the gym for days, instead attending cast read-throughs. She hadn’t called or texted . . . neither had he. He shook it off. It was fine. This was the way it was always supposed to be.

Yet his heart raced a second later when his cell phone rang.

The number lighting up his call display made his heart pound. What the fuck did Connor do now? “Hello?”

“Tyson, I fucked up.”

The words were what he was expecting, but the voice wasn’t. He frowned. “Dane?”

“I killed someone,” he said, tears choking his words.

Tyson gripped the phone. “What happened, man?”

Walker stopped to give him a questioning look and he showed him the L.V.P.D. station number. Dane, he mouthed. Walker’s expression of disbelief matched his own.

“I . . . I . . . uh, went to see that fight promoter . . . the one Connor mentioned . . .”

Jesus, fuck! His jaw clenched and he forced a calming breath. “What happened?”

“I kicked the guy . . . It was hard . . . He didn’t stand back up . . .” Silence.

Shit. He rubbed his forehead. “Have you called a lawyer yet?”

“They . . . gave . . . me one call . . . I didn’t know who else . . .” His voice broke.

Tyson had never heard his friend sound so desperate. He couldn’t believe this. Dane was the last guy he’d expect to call him from a police station. He’d often jokingly told his guys he’d bail them out once for anything, after that they were on their own. He’d never thought anyone would need to take him up on it, especially Dane. “No, it’s okay. I’m glad you called me. Just don’t talk to anyone until I get there okay,” he said.

Silence.

“Dane!”

“I killed him . . .”

“Stop saying that. Do not say that to anyone.” Damn it. If Connor was standing in front of him at that moment, there would be another fatal incident that evening. “I’ll be there soon, okay?”

“I’m sorry, Tyson . . .”

“I’ll be there soon.”

“What’s going on?” Walker asked, stuffing his gear into his bag.

“Dane’s in trouble. He’s down at the station.”

Walker’s eyes clouded. “Is he okay?”

Tyson shook his head. “I don’t think so. He sounds like a mess.” Rightly so. “He took a no-holds-barred fight . . . his opponent didn’t make it out of the cage.” He refused to say Dane had killed someone. They didn’t know what had actually happened yet and he would be on his fighter’s side no matter what.

“Damn. I heard him say something about a fight tonight. I thought he was going to watch it, not compete.” He threw his bag over his shoulder as Tyson grabbed his motorcycle helmet and keys.

“Anyway, I have to get down there.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Are you sure, man? Don’t you have to go home to Grace?”

“I’ll call her on the way to the station.”

Tyson nodded, relieved at the offer. “Thanks, man.” He wasn’t sure he could deal with this alone, and Walker had dropped out of law school. He was the perfect guy in Dane’s corner that evening. Though Tyson wasn’t sure there was anything they could do for their fellow fighter.

*   *   *

The sound of her doorbell just after midnight wasn’t a surprise as Tyson had texted moments before to ask if he could come over. She hadn’t been sleeping. She’d been lying awake thinking about him anyway. It had been three days since she’d seen him. He hadn’t called or texted until now. He was pushing her away and she had no more fight in her. She’d chased him as far as she could go. If he didn’t want her, she had to accept that.

So she’d been surprised and conflicted when his name appeared on her cell phone that evening.

But his exhausted, defeated look when she opened the door told her she’d done the right thing letting him come over. Whatever was happening between them didn’t matter at that moment. He needed her. Reaching toward him, she hugged him.

His arms went around her and he rested his forehead against hers. They stood silent in her open doorway for a long moment, until a cool November wind blew across her bare feet. “Come in,” she said, taking his hand and leading him to the kitchen. “Do you want something?”

He shook his head, reaching for her once more as he sat.

She sat on his lap and he kissed her bare shoulder. “So, how is Dane?” She’d seen the news about the unsanctioned fight and the tragedy on the late-night news just moments before Tyson had texted. She’d assumed him being here had something to do with it.

He didn’t seem surprised that she knew. “A complete mess,” he said quietly.

“So, he really did kill a guy in the octagon?”

He nodded.

Training for the role of a fighter, she never really understood the risks involved, the chances these guys took with their own lives or their opponents’ whenever they stepped inside the cage.

“It was a legal head kick. It was just one of those freak accidents.” He shook his head.

She kissed his forehead, wishing there was something she could do or say to help. “So, he’s not in any kind of trouble?”

“Walker says he will probably get a minimum sentence of three months for the unsanctioned fight . . . as long as they don’t find any drugs in his system.”

She pulled away and looked at him. “Will they?”

“I wish I knew for sure, but I’m not sure I even know my fighter anymore. Of all the dumb things . . .” His grip on her tightened. “Fucking Connor.”

“I know it’s easier to blame your brother for this, but Dane is a big boy. He made the wrong decision to compete by himself,” she said softly, hugging him closer. She couldn’t imagine the torment he must be battling at the moment—his fighter and friend in trouble and little he could do about it. And her heart ached for Dane, such a great guy—the last person on earth anyone would believe would be involved in this tragedy.

He buried his face against her, breathing deeply, his eyes closed. Then his hand slid below the edge of her tank top, sliding up her stomach slowly but with a determined desperation to cup her bare right breast.