“In the blue corner, weighing in at one hundred and thirty pounds, with an amateur record of ten wins and zero losses, representing ABC dojo and originally hailing from Brazil, Sophia ‘Stinger’ Curacao.”
Shiori and Sophia stepped into the center of the ring and listened to the rules. They bowed to each other rather than bumping fists.
When the bell rang, Ronin’s entire body seized up. It was harder sitting here waiting for someone he cared about to get smacked around than to be in the cage himself.
Thank god Amery hadn’t ever watched him fight.
Shiori came out swinging, which surprised both Ronin and Sophia. As the women circled each other, he noticed that Shiori held herself more like a boxer, hands up, body turned. She dodged a couple of Sophia’s kicks. She managed to bob and weave enough to keep Sophia from taking her to the mat.
Every second of the three-minute round ticked by like an hour. At the thirty-second mark, Shiori switched tactics and charged for a takedown.
“That’s it. Get her down and keep her down.” Ronin’s jaw tightened when Shiori sustained a strong blow to the side of her head. Didn’t appear to make her loopy, just more determined.
The ten-second warning sounded and the first round ended.
He set the stool in her corner, grabbed the towel and the bottle of water.
Shiori removed her mouth guard. “How’d it look?”
“Good. I have you ahead. You kept her on her feet longer than I expected.”
Breathing hard, she nodded and took a drink of water.
“I sensed some hesitation on her part,” he said, mopping her face.
“Me too. I think she’s holding back.”
“Why?”
“I’ve got ten years on her and it’s supposedly my first fight.”
“Supposedly?” Ronin repeated.
Shiori patted his cheek. “As you say here in the west, this ain’t my first rodeo.”
Ronin grinned. “Goddamn. You’ve been holding back too.”
“Not anymore.”
During the second round, Shiori toyed with Sophia. Their ground game wasn’t evenly matched. Several times Ronin saw where Shiori could’ve ended the bout, but she opted to stay in taunting mode.
But the first minute of the third round, Shiori zeroed in, knocked Sophia to the mat, and got her to tap out by putting her in a rear naked choke.
After Shiori was announced as the winner, Ronin accompanied her back through the gauntlet. Knox and Deacon leaned against the wall, not speaking as they waited for the main event to begin.
Knox said, “Look at you, She-Cat. Not a mark on your face. I’ll admit I was hoping for at least a swollen lip.”
Shiori sauntered up to Knox, swaggering in that supremely confident and yet wholly feminine manner. She stood on tiptoe and spoke directly into his ear.
After she stepped back, Knox seemed flustered for a beat or two. Then he said, “I’ll pass.”
Shiori bumped fists with Deacon. Then she headed to the women’s locker room.
Ronin looked between Knox and Deacon. “Need anything?”
“Nah. We’re good.”
“I’ll head up to the balcony level and watch from there.”
He cut through to the side door and scaled the stairs. The seats were packed, and people were rowdy, ready for the final fight.
Since Deacon’s opponent had a less-impressive win-loss record, he entered the event center first. His theme song was Pink’s “So What,” which was just wrong on so many levels. A dozen people followed him in. He stopped and kissed a woman and a baby; then he did the “man hug” thing with guys outside the ropes.
Cut to the entrance again, where they announced Deacon as Deacon “Con Man” McConnell—which was just fucking stupid that all these fighters had nicknames. When he’d fought, they’d forced a nickname on him too, calling him Ronin “the Master” Black. Better than someone’s other suggestion of Ronin “Jet” Black. At least Ronin’s entrance music had been tongue-in-cheek—when “Back in Black” by AC/DC blared from the speakers.
Deacon’s entrance tune was old-school and a sly wink too—“Enter Sandman”—the same song he’d been using since he was Sandan belt rank. Two people followed Deacon—Knox and Ito. Deacon didn’t kiss babies. He sure as fuck didn’t hug anyone on his way into the cage. After the pat down, he retreated to his corner and conferred with Knox and Ito.
The announcer spent way too much time blathering—nothing new, that’s what they were paid to do. Once the fighters had been introduced and Katie did her thing, the bell rang.
If Ronin had the chance to study his fighters from higher in the arena, he took it. Sometimes critical errors, especially repetitive critical errors, were better seen from above.
Deacon owned the match from the start. Ronin felt a stab of annoyance that the main pro bout had such mismatched fighters.
But as he watched, he realized Deacon’s ground game wasn’t up to par—surprising for a jujitsu MMA fighter. That showed Deacon had been spending too much training time on boxing and not enough on grappling. He needed to get back to basics.
The first round ended, and Ronin had a sense of dread that had nothing to do with the rest of the fight. Everyone had convinced him that because this event launched Black and Blue Promotions, they had to host an after-party. He’d grudgingly agreed. But now the idea of glad-handing sponsors, discussing upcoming opportunities with other promoters, rehashing fights with fighters and their families, plus the Black Arts and ABC crews . . . he wanted to fake a setback injury and bow out.
Katie’s appearance signaled the start of the second round.
After the bell dinged, Deacon came out with extra aggression. Two kicks, one fake punch, and then he executed a spinning back fist to his opponent’s head and the match was over. He knocked the guy out cold.
Ronin had a phantom pain in the back of his skull—he’d been on the receiving end of that move recently.
The referee called the fight, the lights came on, and Ronin headed to the ready room.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
AMERY had to admit it was cool to flash a pass for the private after-party. Black and Blue Promotions had gone all out, securing a large private banquet room at a local brewpub.
But it was cooler yet to walk in on Ronin Black’s arm.
The man defined hot and sexy. And intimidating. Women eyed him. Other fighters wanted to be him. The man was constantly surrounded. But that was okay since she liked to admire him from afar too.
During the party, his eyes met hers across the crowded room, and the punch of lust tightened everything inside her even as her knees went weak. He allowed himself that I-own-you smirk and then refocused on his conversation.
She sighed.
“That is one sigh-worthy man, ma chérie,” Chaz said behind her.
“Will I ever get used to the fact that he’s with me?”
“Watch this.” Chaz draped his arm over her shoulder.
Ronin’s eyes immediately lasered onto Chaz. Although nothing changed on his face, his displeasure pulsed through the air like a sonic boom.
“See? The man is insanely jealous of even a gay man touching you. So your shock and awe that he’s with you is reciprocated one hundred percent.” He gave Ronin a little finger wave and dropped his arm.
“Thanks for coming tonight.”
Chaz sipped his beer. “It’s so not my thing, but I’m a supportive friend.”
“I know. We’ve both been so crazy busy with work, we haven’t had our Friday-night happy hour for ages.”
“That’s a shame for you, sugar lips, because I am fun. I think playing nursemaid to the billionaire made you forget that.”
Last week, Amery had managed to sneak in a lunch date with Chaz and Emmylou, and she’d told them the truth about what’d happened. It spoke a lot of Chaz’s loyalty that he understood her sense of betrayal about Ronin’s nondisclosure regarding his family connections. Emmylou’s reaction was harsh, and the lunch
had ended on a sour note. “Ronin’s pull is such I forget everything when I’m around him.”
“Sweetie. Put the hottie who freakin’ adores you out of his misery and just move in with him already.”
It made no sense to others, why she was dragging her feet on packing up her stuff and moving in with him. It wasn’t a power play—exactly the opposite. Ronin’s nondisclosure about his recovery status convinced her he’d reverted to the share-nothing-unless-they-were-naked man. It wasn’t wrong to wait. It wasn’t wrong to expect more from him.
“Besides, it’s not like you’re not at his penthouse most of the time anyway.” Chaz sighed. “Penthouse. I’m letting my bitchy jealous side show for a minute. Hot. Sexy. Rich. Mysterious. Tough. Yeah, hating on you that your man is all that.”
Amery leaned over and whispered, “And he fucks like an animal, so there is that too.”
“Hate you,” he trilled. “Oops, here he comes.”
Ronin stopped in front of Amery. He curled his hand around the nape of her neck and pulled her to his mouth for a kiss that made her lips tingle. A very possessive kiss. A very unlike–Sensei Black display of public affection. When he eased back, so their lips were only a breath apart, he kept his thumb on the pulse point in her neck. “You okay?” he murmured.
“I am now.”
“Well, I’m not,” Chaz huffed. “I think I need a cold shower and a cigarette after that.”
Ronin smiled at him. “Just making sure my woman doesn’t feel neglected while I’m part of the dog and pony show. Thanks for coming to the event tonight, Chaz.”
Chaz waved him off. “Sweaty half-naked guys rolling around the mat? I’m there.”
He laughed. “I have to make the rounds.” Ronin kissed Amery again, this time softly.
She sighed.
“Hate you,” Chaz singsonged. Then he threaded his arm through hers. “Let’s hit the buffet.”
They were filling plates when Chaz said, “What’s up with the ring girl still wearing her costume to the after-party?”
“Part of her promotional duties. And if I had a body like that? I’d flaunt it too.”
“She certainly isn’t lacking for male attention.”
Amery glanced at Katie, holding court with half a dozen guys. Knox stood behind her, arms crossed, acting like her bodyguard. “She’s supposed to be mingling with the sponsors, not trolling for dates.”
They gossiped about some friends as they nibbled on way-too-healthy appetizers. Amery’s gaze swept the room, and she spied Shiori looking a little disheveled. Something didn’t fit. Shiori never went anywhere less than one hundred percent put together. Amery said, “Excuse me for just a minute,” to Chaz and then headed toward Ronin’s sister.
But Knox intercepted Shiori, and Amery caught the tail end of their heated conversation.
“. . . sporting that just-fucked look.”
“Not your concern,” Shiori retorted.
“What’s going on here?”
Knox retreated. “Nothing.” He executed a military turn and was gone.
Amery studied Shiori, staring thoughtfully after Knox. “You plan to lie and say nothing is going on either?”
Shiori faced her. “The truth? After I spar, grapple, or fight, adrenaline charges through me. I get horny. Evidently it’s all right for guys to take the edge off, but not a woman.”
“So you . . . ?”
“Just fucked some hot young guy out in my limo. Without apology. Which I explained to Ob-Knox-ious.”
Ouch, not a nice nickname. “Good for you. And no offense, but you are looking less uptight and a lot more rumpled.”
Shiori smiled. “Good. And I also hope to have the glassy-eyed look of a drunk soon.” She sauntered to the bar.
Amery caught Ronin’s eye and gestured with her chin to go talk to his sister.
“I sure as hell wouldn’t want to tangle with her after watching her fight tonight,” Molly said.
“Hey! I hoped you’d show up. Sorry we didn’t get to sit together.”
“It’s okay. Chaz kept up a raunchy commentary.”
“I bet it was very entertaining.”
“That it was. I never thought of the dirty connotation of the phrase rear mount.”
She laughed. “Are you and Sandan Zach still avoiding each other?”
“I don’t believe he’s looked past Miss Perky Boobs all night to notice who else is here,” she said dryly.
Amery had noticed Zach in the throng of Katie admirers.
“Anyway, I’m not avoiding him. I’m avoiding—shit, shit, shit, I gotta go.” Molly turned her back to Amery. But before Molly could skulk away, Deacon’s hand circled her upper arm.
“Goin’ somewhere, darlin’?”
Molly blushed. “Ah, hey, Yondan. Great fight tonight. You looked amazing, like, really amazing.” She blushed harder. “I mean your fighting skills were something else.”
Deacon stared placidly at Molly in that ninja-master manner that Ronin used on Amery.
Even Amery fought the urge to fidget and run the hell away.
Molly blurted out, “When are you going to teach me the spinning back fist technique?”
“You’ve missed class the last two weeks.”
She jerked her thumb at Amery. “Boss lady is keeping me late. We’re really busy with some, ah, stuff.”
Amery cringed. Molly was such a bad liar.
Deacon—beefed-up, bald-headed, tattooed badass, never-smile Deacon—threw back his head and laughed.
Several ring bunnies turned and gaped; Deacon’s deep laugh was as sexy as his slow southern drawl.
“What?” Molly said testily. “It’s true.”
“No, darlin’, it’s not remotely close to the truth. Since Amery and Sensei are joined at the hip, I know she was in the dojo during those last two classes, which means you weren’t workin’.”
Molly raised her chin and glared at him.
“Need a repeat of the rules? Every class you miss requires a private makeup session. So you are now four classes behind. I will expect you in the training room next week. You do not want me to track you down.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“I suggest you don’t test me on that.” He started to walk off.
“Doesn’t matter, Yondan. I quit,” Molly said to his back.
Before Molly blinked, Deacon was nose to nose with her. “No one quits my class without my permission. Including you. Maybe especially you.”
Not surprisingly Molly didn’t have a retort that time. But rather than huff and complain to Amery, she hightailed it in the opposite direction to Chaz.
When Amery turned to gauge Deacon’s reaction, the man had vanished.
Damn these guys and their stealthy ninja tricks.
Ronin’s warm hand settled on Amery’s lower back. “Problem?”
“What is it with your instructors tonight? They all need an attitude adjustment.”
“Maybe they’re high on victory.” His lips touched the top of her ear. “You look beautiful tonight.”
She smiled. “So you’ve said. Thank you. You are smokin’ hot yourself.” Didn’t matter what Ronin wore; her mind conjured up the
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