I force a smile as we walk toward the exit, although inwardly I cringe. Filing a personal injury civil lawsuit against the Slugs’ front man after he was found guilty of criminal assault wasn’t something I was keen to do, but because he was a public figure and I wanted to make sure no one else went through what I did, I accepted Amanda’s offer to drag his sorry ass through court. Just as she predicted, he couldn’t handle the negative press. We settled the case out of court and I used the money to buy a little house in Mission Bay, one of San Francisco’s newest neighborhoods.

    “I think I’ll skip the party tonight. I’ll never be able to show my face in public again.” I make a move toward the side door, but Amanda tugs on my sleeve.

    “No way,” she says. “If people think it doesn’t affect you, then they won’t think twice about it. And once we get a few drinks into you, I promise you won’t care.”

    “You’re not the one who flashed her knickers for the world to see.” But I know it’s no use. Once Amanda gets something in her head, there’s no changing her mind.

    “Hey, guys. Got room for one more?” Jimmy “Blade Saw” Sanchez, a bodybuilder and member of the Redemption team, joins us at the door. Darkly handsome, with the worst relationship luck of anyone I have ever met, Blade Saw is a nice guy, a good friend, and one of the first people I met when I joined the gym.

    Amanda’s face brightens. “I didn’t think you were coming tonight.”

    “I had a family dinner, but it got cancelled.” Blade Saw cracks a smile. “And I gotta be there to celebrate Rampage’s big win. I had fifty dollars riding on him winning the fight, and I have to collect.”

    Damn. How can I let Cora down? I promised I would try to set her up with Blade Saw, and this is the perfect opportunity.

    “You’re in luck,” Amanda says. “We have one extra seat on the direct express to party central. You can keep Penny company in the back while Renegade complains about my driving.”

    I glance back at the screen where Rampage’s fight and my knickers are already on replay. Can I handle more humiliation? And what price will I have to pay when I get home tonight?

2

    Who wants a beating?

    PENNY

    Score, a popular local sports bar in Chinatown, is packed when we arrive. With ten television screens, good brew on tap, decent pub food, and long, communal tables, it has been the Redemption team’s go-to place ever since they were kicked out of their last go-to place for causing too many fights. The exposed brick walls are covered in Oakland decor—Raiders, A’s, and Warriors stuff is everywhere—and the delicious scent of chicken wings and beer fills my head.

    I spot Cora over by the bar and make my way through the crowd to join her. Despite the short notice, she looks effortlessly put-together in a floaty pink top, fitted paisley blazer, and tight jeans tucked inside a pair of worn cowboy boots. Her thick, blond hair is tied up in a loose ponytail, and her mother’s big cameo dangles on a slim gold chain, perfectly finishing off her outfit.

    “I only texted you an hour ago,” I complain. “And you said you were in class. How did you get home, change, get fabulous, and make it here before me?”

    “Desperation.” She toasts me with her empty glass. “Plus, I’ve never met the boys from Redemption, and after hearing all about the mysterious Jimmy ‘Blade Saw’ Sanchez, I didn’t want to waste any time.” Cora fell hard for one of her professors during first term, and they had a heated affair until she discovered he was married. With kids. And one on the way. Cora wasn’t having any of that crap and sent the bastard packing, but her heart is still a bit bruised, and this is the first time in a long time she’s been interested in meeting someone new.

    She frowns, taking in the scrape on my forehead, the bruise on my cheek, and the bandage on my finger. “What happened to you?”

    “Just a little accident. After Rampage’s fight, I got knocked over by his opponent as he stormed out of the stadium. I fell off my chair, and my knickers were live-streamed around the world while Rampage beat up the guy in the aisle.”

    “Oh, honey.” Cora makes a good show of concern for all of three seconds before she laughs in a good-natured bestie kind of way. “Why am I not surprised? You always seem to attract the wrong kind of attention. I hope you were wearing sexy underwear.”

    Trust Cora to drill right down to what is most important, my health and happiness clearly not being as important as the pattern on my knickers.

    “Since I don’t have a boyfriend and no hope of ever finding someone who’s into overly excitable, clumsy, curvy British girls who like frilly pastels, death metal, and whiskey, I was going for comfort, not seduction,” I say dryly. “Plus, it’s that time of the month. My knickers are two sizes too big, plain white, and have very little elastic left. Every month I’m amazed they don’t fall down.”

    “People have all sorts of kinks,” she assures me. “No doubt there is a man out there who is thinking right now that he has just found his soul mate.”

    “You think he wants to sleep with my knickers?”

    “I’ve heard worse.” She flags the bartender for a refill and follows me to the long table at the center of the bar where the Redemption team has gathered. Blade Saw and Amanda are chatting with Obsidian at the far end of the table. With a movie narrator voice, a drop-dead gorgeous body, and deliciously dark skin, Obsidian always attracts attention whenever we go out. Amanda and Obsidian had a brief fling before she and Renegade got serious, but that’s a secret I would never share. Renegade is as possessive and protective as they come.

    We find a couple of empty chairs across from Obsidian and Blade Saw, now engaged in a heated argument about whether their favorite professional fighter, Slayer, is coming back from retirement. Cora’s gaze flicks from Blade Saw to Obsidian and back to Blade Saw.