Unwound

CHAPTER TWELVE

“ARE you acting nervous because of the skimpy outfit?”

Katie peered at him over the top of the promotional poster she held, her blue eyes piercing. “No. I wore skimpier clothes than this to the club last weekend.”

Ronin forced himself to continue the conversation. “Then why the nerves?”

“Actually, I’m more anxious than anything.”

“Anxious for what?”

“Anxious to get this stupid thing over with.”

He looked at her sharply. “If you’re not willing to do this, then I will find someone else who is.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and slumped back in the chair with a heavy sigh. Luckily she hadn’t offered him that simpering little-girl pout or he would’ve booted her ass out the door—no matter what promises he’d made. “I said I’d do it.”

“Then act enthusiastic. My reputation is at stake here.”

Three knocks sounded, and Amery poked her head in. “Is this a bad time?”

Ronin smiled at her, grateful for the interruption. “No. Katie was just complaining again about her role at tonight’s event.”

“Please explain to me what being a ring girl has to do with learning the mixed martial arts fight-promotion business?” Katie demanded.

“A, ring girl is your job, so suck it up and do it or quit—your choice. B, while you’re waiting to prance around the outside of the ring, reminding attendees which round it is and who our sponsors are, you will be sitting next to Sandan Zach, paying very close attention to how the fighters are scored.”

“I dated an MMA guy. I know how to score.”

Amery said, “I’ll just bet you do,” with such sweetness that Katie didn’t recognize the sarcasm.

Ronin forced his face to remain blank, but inside he was laughing. “Regardless, pay attention to everything. The scoring, the judges’ actions, the crowd’s reactions, what the sponsors are doing in front of the crowd and behind the scenes. You will be tested.”

Katie opened her mouth and snapped it shut before she stood. “You’ve got it, Sensei.”

After Katie slunk out the door, Amery said, “Can I trip her as she’s walking around the cage?”

He chuckled and pulled her onto his lap. “That’ll fuck with my liability insurance, so no.”

“She annoys me.”

Although Amery had gotten over her bout of jealousy, she still eyed Katie with distrust. “I know she does, baby. She annoys everybody.”

Amery ran her fingers through his hair. “Is it worth it? She’s still sporting that spoiled rich girl attitude. Even Ito, who is more Zen than you, wanted to drop-kick her into next week.”

“Katie’s brattiness is a defense mechanism. She’s a scared kid who’s never been accountable for anything in her life, and she wants to be taken seriously.”

“So that’s why you’re making her walk around the ring in front of a thousand people in booty shorts, a boob-baring halter top, dolled up with pageant queen hair and makeup? So sponsors will take her more seriously?”

Ronin slapped her ass. “She needs to learn ringside protocol. If I gave her a clipboard and put her next to the judges? She’d act like she was in charge—her pride wouldn’t allow anything less. These next-level promoters would treat her like a bimbo and think our organization was unprofessional.”

“So while she’s dressed like a bimbo, she’s learning humility as well as learning the business.” Amery grinned. “Such a wise grasshopper you are, Sensei.”

“Jesus.”

“What did TP do for you that resulted in this huge favor you’re doing for him?”

“He fixed Blue’s lease issue. After this, regardless of how Katie does working for Black and Blue Promotions, all chits will be cashed in and I’ll have a clean slate with TP. For the first time in more than ten years.”

“You’ve never told me your history with TP.”

He reached up and twined a hank of her hair around his finger. “After I earned enough money to buy a place to establish my business, I found out no bank would loan me money because of my credit history.”

“The billionaire heir had bad credit?”

“I had no credit history. I paid cash for everything after I moved to the US. I had no official income because fighting was a cash-only business. Even when I had three bank accounts totaling more than three-quarters of a million dollars, no financial institution would lend me money to buy the piece-of-shit building in a crappy section of Denver.” He continued to twist her rosy-gold hair. The soft curl reminded him of the silken ribbons he’d bound her with last night. “Also at that time, the trust funds Grandfather had set up in my name across the globe were worth seventy-five million dollars.”

Amery’s mouth dropped open. “Are you kidding me?”

“No. So technically I had the cash to buy the building outright—but I wanted to make my own way.”

“Technically?”

“My name is on the accounts, but I’ve never considered it my money. I did research on various banks and came across TP’s company. He had a reputation as a wild card, and the Denver financial establishment didn’t like him, painting him as a liar, so I chose him.”

“Why?”

“Because if he was a risk taker, he’d take a risk on me. If he blabbed the information about my family connection, I could chalk it up to him being a liar and a blowhard. Win-win.”

Ronin remembered how cocky he’d been demanding a meeting with the CFO of Pettigrew Financial. Luck or karma or serendipity had been on his side that day because TP agreed to meet with him privately.

If Amery thought Ronin was tight-lipped now, it was nothing compared to how he was back then. But something about TP had prompted Ronin to spill every detail of his life, his family and financial connections, the reasons why he didn’t use them, the resulting struggles because of that decision, and his business goals. TP had coolly taken the information and sent Ronin away with the promise he’d get back to him.

TP made him sweat it out an entire week before he showed up at the dive martial arts studio Ronin had been renting on a month-to-month basis. And truth was, if TP hadn’t taken the time to thoroughly check out Ronin’s backstory, then Ronin wouldn’t have done business with him. But they’d had an odd connection from the start and hashed out details of their “deal” with just a handshake—unheard of in this day and age.

“So what happened?” Amery prompted, bringing him back to the present.

“He signed off on the loan for the building personally. He had two stipulations. One, that if I ever cashed in any of the trust funds, I’d put the money in one of his banks. Two, that I’d do a favor for him from time to time.” He frowned. “But the favor issue didn’t come up until after I had problems with the construction company I hired for the building remodel. Within two weeks, a group of Russian construction workers showed up, and the guys trying to extort cash from me for ‘protection services’ vanished.”

“Did TP help you handle it?”

Ronin laughed. “Yes. Which is how I ended up owing Max Stanislovsky a favor too.”

Amery placed her hands on his cheeks and tilted his head to gaze into his eyes. “You don’t have to go into detail, but are the thug-for-hire rumors about you true?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me about it. About all of it.”

“At this point, some guys would say they’re not proud of what they’ve done, but I have no regrets. If I didn’t believe in the favor I’d been asked to do, I passed. TP never had an issue with that. Neither did Max.” Ronin peered into Amery’s eyes, half afraid of what he’d see. But those beautiful baby blues held interest and love, not a hint of disdain. “Are you satisfied now?”

“Did you ever put money in TP’s bank, or is he still waiting?”

“Remember when I told you I withdrew funds from a small trust account to finish my penthouse?”

Amery nodded.

“One beneficial thing my sister told me about my grandfather? It didn’t matter if I took out a single dollar or a million. The amount of money wasn’t the catalyst, just that I’d used any of it. As soon as I knew that, I cashed out every fucking penny of that trust. First thing I did was pay off my building.” Ronin sensed she wanted to ask him how much that was, so he told her. “That one small account had more than ten million dollars in it.”

“Oh. My. Fucking. God. You have ten million dollars in the bank? Right now? Right here in Colorado?”

Ronin smiled. “With TP’s investment guy looking after it, it’s closer to twenty million. And before you freak out, I live on what I make from the dojo. That money sits there. I’m happy without all the trappings of worrying about how to spend that much disposable cash. Most people don’t understand that. I’m really happy my bank balance doesn’t matter to you.”

“I don’t think I could be so cavalier about money. Maybe that attitude is the privilege of people who have it.”

He forced himself to ask the question, wondering if he should be afraid of her answer. “So, has hearing all this changed how you look at me now?”

“No.” Amery curled her hand around the side of his face. “Anything you did, even if you bloodied your hands doing it, wasn’t done lightly or without good reason. I know you’re a man of integrity.” She slipped her hand down to the left side of his chest. “You have a good heart.”

Ronin pressed his forehead to hers. “Baby, you own it.”

Amery kissed him with the sweet comfort and acceptance he’d only ever gotten from her. Those soft lips trailed along his jaw, stopping at his ear. “I’m surprised we haven’t been interrupted yet. Is there anything else you need to get off your chest?”

Just then Blue burst in and skidded to a stop. “Sorry to interrupt, but there’s some pre-fight stuff we need to go over.”

Amery whispered, “Later.” Then she slid off Ronin’s lap. “I need to track down my seat anyway.”

“Ringside to the left of the judges table. Fifth row, outside seats,” Blue offered.

After Amery left, Ronin said, “What’s up?”

“The local affiliate for a national sports channel wants to interview someone from the Black and Blue promotion team. We never finished the discussion about who’s handling media.”

“That’ll be Katie’s job—provided she survives her probation. But for now . . . fuck. I don’t want to be on camera. Do you?”

“Fuck no,” Blue said. “TV interview shit is my least-favorite thing about fighting. Especially post-fight. Reporters sticking a damn camera in your face. Half the time I don’t know my own name, never mind talking coherently about fight strategy.”

“We’re on the same page there. You want one of your guys and one of my guys?”

Katie stormed in through the side door. “Who’s representing Black and Blue Promotions in the segment with KNNR?”

Blue’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head and his tongue almost smacked into the floor at seeing Katie in her ring-girl getup.

“That’s what we’re discussing. Knox and Gil?”

“No, no, no. This is the first promotional event, so it has to be the owners, if for no other reason than to show a solid front after Mr. Curacao’s public beat-down of you, Mr. Black.”

The woman did have a point.

Then she opened the door. “Get on with it. Smile, but don’t be goofy. Don’t be aloof either. Talk about the exciting amateur matchups tonight, but also about all the exciting matchups we’ve planned over the next few months. Then mention that mixed martial arts bouts are great entertainment for the whole family.”

Ronin and Blue exchanged a look.

Katie made the shooing motion again. “Go!”

Out in the hallway, Blue said, “Who knew the hot ring girl also had a brain?”

“Jesus, Blue.”

“Her brain ain’t bigger than her tits. Did you see those? I mean, how could you miss them, spilling out of that teeny top, no?”

“Maybe you should be thinking about this interview rather than Katie’s sizable . . . contributions to the company.”

• • •

AFTER the interview, five minutes before the event was slated to start, Ronin and Blue were in the hallway discussing last-minute details with their fighters, when Knox jogged up the hallway, Shiori hot on his heels.

“Sensei, we’ve got a problem.”

Never fucking failed. “What?”

“The chick who’s matched with Sophia is drunk. Like passed-out drunk in the women’s locker room.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Nope.”

“Where in the hell did you find her?” he demanded of Blue.

But Sophia started hammering away at Blue in Portuguese before he could answer.

Then Shiori got in his face. “Ronin, I can do this.”

“Do what?” Ronin scarcely paid any attention to his sister as he was trying to figure out why Sophia was so pissed off at Blue.

A shrill whistle split the air.

All arguing stopped and they faced Knox. “Three minutes till show time. I’ll tell the announcer the women’s bout is off.”

“No. I’ll fight in her place.”

Shocked, Ronin looked at Shiori, dressed to kill in some slinky dress with sleeves that made her look like a butterfly. And she wore five-inch stilettos. “You’re not prepared.”

“That’s what I told her,” Knox said hotly.

Then Shiori went to stand in front of Blue. “You own half of the promotion company, and this was originally set up as your event. You need a fighter and I want to fight. I’m Rokudan. I’ve been teaching for two months and training in jujitsu my entire life. I’m not exactly unskilled. Or unprepared.”

Blue gave her a considering look.

“Goddammit, Blue, you can’t seriously—”

Sophia cut Knox off with, “Let her fight me. Then at least I’ll know I have a worthy opponent and not a drunken whore you used to fuck. You owe me this, brother.”

Blue said, “This is exactly why I didn’t want you on the card tonight. Or any night.”

Sophia cocked her head at Shiori. “We need these men making decisions for us? People paid good money to see a fight. Let’s give them one.”

Both women turned simultaneously toward Blue.

He threw up his hands. “Fine! Fight. But the win-lose outcome better never affect either of you at the dojo. Understood?”

“I’ll already be ringside with Deacon, so who will be ringside with She-Cat?” Knox asked.

“Me,” Ronin said, slipping his arm around Shiori’s waist to keep her from clawing at Knox for his obnoxious nickname for her.

“Thank you.”

“I see a streak of stupid runs wide in the Black family,” Knox said.

Sophia’s gaze moved over Shiori. “You have any gear with you?”

“None.”

“I’ve got extra.” Sophia grinned evilly. “Or we can just rip it off my drunken former opponent. Serve her right to wake up naked.”

They headed to the women’s locker room.

“Wonder if they’re doing each other’s hair, too?” Knox said snottily.

“If you ask me if you can watch, I’m knocking you the fuck out,” Deacon drawled.

Blue met Ronin’s gaze. “Look, I had no choice. Sophia accused me of rigging her fight.”

“Did you?”

“No. But I did sleep with the woman she was supposed to meet in the cage tonight.”

Ronin’s eyes narrowed. “Please tell me you don’t have a problem keeping your dick in your pants.”

Blue blushed. “I’m discreet. The one time I’m not? Came back to bite me in the ass.”

The announcer started his spiel and they headed into the arena.

• • •

THE event center was packed to capacity; they’d had to turn spectators away so as not to violate fire code. It’d be tempting to book a bigger venue next time, but word of mouth about the sold-out status of tonight’s docket would pretty much guarantee early ticket sales for the next matchups.

The lights started swirling and the music crescendoed. Pageantry was Ronin’s least-favorite part of MMA events. The fighter picking a theme song to enter the arena, a posse following behind him, while the crowd alternately booed and cheered.

In the amateur fights, held in boxing gyms and private back rooms at dive bars, the participants were patted down, put in the ring, given a reminder of the rules, and then the round began. Usually the ref was someone like him, a former fighter past his head-knocking prime who still loved a good, fair fight.

While Ronin liked to see professionalism and well-prepared fighters in the amateur division, something about the underground fights rang truer. Many guys in those bouts were in it for the money. Physical prowess played a part in it, but the chance to win a few hundred bucks for a few minutes’ work made it easier to clock in for their blue-collar jobs come Monday morning.

Ronin scanned the Black and Blue seating section. Amery’s beautiful hair shone like a beacon, and he moved down the aisle, taking the empty seat next to her.

Her eyes lit up when she saw him. “I thought you’d be in Deacon’s corner, coaching him.”

“Knox has it covered.”

She leaned over. “I’m glad I’m sitting beside you during my first ever MMA fight and not watching you fight.”

He brushed a kiss over her temple.

Katie vaulted onto the edge around the cage—easy to do with those mile-long legs of hers—and held up the round sign, moving from corner to corner, making sure to turn around and give the mostly male audience not only a look at her ass, but a reminder of the round sponsor’s name on the back of the card.

Amery whapped Ronin’s arm to get his attention.

“What?”

“Good thing I’m fairly secure in our relationship, Master Black, or I’d be worried you’d fall for Katie’s holy-fucking-shit body.”

“Fairly secure?” he repeated. “Guess I’ll have to tie you up later to make sure you’re very secure in the way I feel about you.”

The announcer read the opponents’ names, trunk colors, corners, and which MMA club they represented—if any—before going over the rules.

Ronin automatically tensed up when the fight started. His sweet Amery noticed and reached for his hand.

The crowd was all about cheering for the Denver native. So when the opponent’s first kick connected with the guy’s knee, loud boos echoed through the arena.

Denver wrestling guy took his opponent to the mat.

Ronin glanced at the judges. Then he focused on Zach and Katie seated at the promotions table. Blue switched between watching the fight and flipping through paperwork.

As soon as the round ended, Katie leaped onto the edge of the ring and did her thing.

“Who do you think is winning?” Amery asked.

“The Denver guy. I’d put his points around twenty and his opponent’s at thirteen,” he said absentmindedly while scanning the surrounding area.

“Am I cramping your style or something?”

Ronin’s gaze zoomed to hers. “Why would you say that?”

“Although you’re sitting here, you’re not really here.”

“Maybe it’s because I don’t know how to act when I’m not in the cage.”

“Do you miss fighting?”

“Yes. I’ve no doubt even when I’m an old man—hopefully not suffering from dementia pugilistica—that I’ll still miss being in the ring.” Ronin tucked an errant hank of hair over her shoulder. “Are you worried I’m going to climb back in?”

“Yes. It’s in your blood.”

Ronin couldn’t disagree. “I found out tonight it’s also in Shiori’s blood.”

Amery’s gaze darted to the empty seats in front of them and back to Ronin. “Where is she?”

“Warming up. The other female fighter passed out. Shiori volunteered to fill in.”

“She’s fighting Sophia?” When she realized how loud her voice had gotten, she leaned closer. “And you let her?”

“I had no say in whether or not she fights.” He knew if he would’ve argued, Shiori would’ve thrown back her lack of influence in his choices about fighting. “And now I’ll be coaching her.”

“Ronin. How can you sit there and watch her without wanting to jump in and save her?”

“Shiori has never been the type to need saving.”

The second round started, but Ronin paid no attention. He’d been coached his whole life and done plenty of coaching himself, so he should know how to coach his sister. But his mind had gone blank.

Focus. Find the calm.

But he couldn’t when everything was in chaos.

After the second round ended, Amery rested her cheek against his upper arm. “What can I do?”

“Cheer for her.”

“Will you be okay?”

He deflected answering by kissing her. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ll meet you in the ready room after Deacon’s fight and we’ll head to the party.”

• • •

IT was more of an out-of-body experience trailing behind his sister as she entered the arena than when he walked in himself. She carried herself with feminine grace. After the official patted her down, checking to make sure her upper-body clothing didn’t have zippers or buttons and nothing had been hidden in her gloves, she ducked into the cage.

Ronin took his spot in her corner behind the netting. Ito brought the bucket of supplies and the stool.

Shiori approached him, calmer than he’d expected. In that moment, he had a punch of guilt that he had no clue whether she’d ever fought in an official fight before. During their teenage years, he’d participated in tournaments, but at a different level from his sister, so he’d never seen her compete.

“You good?” Brilliant question, Ronin.

“Yes.” She looked at him expectantly.

He had to give her some kind of advice. “It’ll be a ground fight.”

“I know.”

“Watch the arm bar. Watch those fast reversals. She’ll be aggressive with the takedown and the mount. But don’t let that stop you from using short jabs, elbows, anything in guard position to keep her off balance.”

“Noted.”

He patted her shoulder. “Put her in her place, Rokudan. You got this.”

Shiori grinned and slipped in her mouth guard.

“In the red corner, we’ve got our replacement fighter in her amateur debut, all the way from Tokyo, Japan, weighing in at one hundred and twenty pounds, representing Black Arts dojo, Shiori ‘She-Cat’ Hirano.”

She-Cat? Jesus. Shiori was going to kill Knox after this.

“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.