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I think that’s another reason the club asked us to help. This isn’t some seedy ghetto and guys in leather cuts with obvious club affiliations will stand out. They don’t need that kind of exposure, but frankly, neither do we. I still don’t completely understand Daniil’s friendship with Silver but I can’t tell him whom to be friends with. Or whom to help.

When Allora was originally kidnapped, Grim was the one to rescue her, and it’s because of her we met the Renegade Demons. She doesn’t have much to do with the club beyond a somewhat strained relationship with her dad, but she’s known Metal most of her life and she got friendly with Layla. By the same token, Daniil took the opportunity to create a loose working relationship with the Demons.

He said it was better to have them as allies than enemies, and he’s right about that. Unless you count Allora’s kidnapping, there’s been no overlap in our business dealings, but protecting the vulnerable is one of the core values of Shadow Security, so it makes sense that he wants to help.

I’m just not sure it’s the best use of our time or resources in this particular case because this seems like club business. I feel for the girls but it’s the club’s job to protect them—that’s why they get a ten percent cut of their earnings—not ours. Silver asked for help, though, so now I’m out here in the middle of the night searching for a killer.

Instead of balls-deep in the sexiest woman I know.

“Rage? That you?” The voice is low and well-modulated, and I turn in surprise.

It takes a second to recognize the man I knew back in my UFC days, and then it clicks into place. He’s older, completely gray now even though he’s only about fifty, and I hold out my hand. “Garth. Hey, man. What are you doing here?”

“I was walking back to my hotel from a bar around the corner when I heard the commotion. Thought I’d come see what’s what. What are you doing here?”

It’s easy to twist the truth. “The victim was a friend of a friend. Came to offer support.”

“Was she a hooker?” He tries to act nonchalant but I detect a tone of condescension that surprises me.

“A sex worker, yes. But not a junkie.”

He frowns. “I overheard the cops say this was an open and shut case, a simple overdose.”

“There’s nothing simple about addiction or OD’ing.” I’m not going to tell him what I know. He’s more than a decade older than I am, leaving the fighting world right when I was getting into it. We never fought, but he was a kind of mentor for a short time. Then he rode off into the retirement sunset and we lost touch.

“I was going to look you up,” he says after a moment. “I didn’t know if you were still based in L.A. or not.”

“Actually, no. I live in Temecula now.”

“New job?”

“Yeah, I do some bodyguard work for a firm out in Sage Canyon.” I shrug like it’s no big deal. I’m certainly not going to mention that I’m a part owner, but he doesn’t seem interested in my current career anyway.

“You still fight?” he asks.

I chuckle. “Other than kicking my buddies’ asses in the gym? No.”

“I’m running a charity exhibition fight. Any interest?”

“A fighting event?” I frown.

“Lost my wife to cervical cancer. She started a foundation before she died and this year I’m doing a fundraiser. Gonna bring in some friends I used to fight with. You were on my list of people to call.”

“So, it’s just an exhibition?”

“It’s for charity, so there’s no money for the fighters, but it’s mostly older guys, retired, getting back into it for a good cause.”

I hesitate.

Part of me is intrigued—but I left that life for a reason. However, if it’s for charity, I may want to consider it.

But do I have time for something like this?

And why am I suddenly being pulled back into a phase of my life I left behind more than five years ago? Would Daniil even let me do it considering how busy we’re going to be as we get deeper into the summer?

“I have to figure out my work schedule,” I say finally. “I’m interested but I have some commitments I have to look at first.”

He nods. “Of course. I’m in the area scouting talent.”