Caged

  “I did that too. Verbally attacked her and then silence.” When he admitted that out loud, he wondered why the hell Molly put up with him. Wasn’t the first time he’d reacted that way, and it wouldn’t be the last. “Jesus. I’m a real fucking prize, huh?”

  “Give her some time, D.”

  “How much time? The longer I stay away from her, the better the chances she’ll think I don’t give a damn about her. I know her. Unless I can convince her I am capable of change, she’ll assume the worst and then cut me off at the knees.”

  “Molly has already changed you. You never would’ve talked to me about this personal, emotional shit before.”

  “Like you gave me a choice, douche bag.”

  Beck shrugged. “It’s how I show I care, fuckface.” He drained his water jug. “My advice, for what it’s worth, is steer clear of her until the weekend. She’ll be an emotional train wreck for a few days. Be best if you don’t hop on until she’s past crazy town.”

  “Nice.”

  “Hey, I’m trying to help since you’re new to the ins and outs of relationships. Her friends will rally around her. They’ll listen as she calls you every name in the book, as she details your flaws to them, as she lists every time you disappointed her. Then she’ll question what she ever saw in you. Her posse will offer advice, most of which she’ll ignore. But she’ll have time to chew over all of it before you two meet face-to-face and figure out where to go from there.”

  The thought of Molly telling anyone about his private pain in order to gain sympathy made his stomach churn.

  No. His Molly wouldn’t do that. She wasn’t like other women. She’d keep this between them. Even if she walked away.

  “You’re quiet. Because you don’t agree with me?”

  “You’ve got a lot of advice on how women think and act, yet I ain’t ever seen you out with a woman.”

  “You and me haven’t exactly swapped life histories, Yondan. But since you asked, I’ll just say, five years ago I lost my wife and my job at Black Arts within four months of each other. I moved to San Fran and reset my priorities.”

  “Was it sweet vindication when Ronin asked you to return to Black Arts?”

  “Ronin Black turned my life upside down. Firing me wasn’t as unsettling as his mistaken assumption that I’d betrayed him. He served as judge and executioner. To make matters worse, my mom works for Okada, and she can’t say enough good things about the company. So I had to lie to her about my reason for leaving Black Arts. That never sat well with me. Anyway, being with House of Kenji gave me perspective I lacked. When Ronin approached me about returning, I knew things would be different.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, because ‘never forgive, never forget’ Sensei Black came to me. Before, he wouldn’t have lowered himself to ask for my help, say nothing of my forgiveness. He’s changed. His vision for Black Arts has changed. I’ve changed. I have value to him now because I have other experiences to draw from.” He grinned. “I just have to practice patience and remind myself not all changes have to be immediate. Some things are worth waiting for.”

  In Beck’s sneaky way, he’d imparted the advice Deacon needed. “You sound like Ronin.”

  “I’ll take that compliment.” Beck stood. “Break’s over. Ten more sets.”

  “I thought we were done.”

  “You thought wrong.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  THURSDAY afternoon, Chaz pulled Molly’s chair away from her desk and spun her around. Then he dropped to his knees in front of her.

  “Chaz, while I’m flattered you look as if you’re about to pop the question—”

  “I’m about to pop a blood vessel, doll.” He watched her very carefully. “I heard you crying in the bathroom again this morning.”

  “And here I thought noises we hear coming from the bathroom weren’t a topic of conversation.”

  “I’d laugh if I didn’t want to cry right along with you, because I know you’re hurting.”

  “Chaz.”

  “What happened with Deacon?”

  “We broke up.”

  His eyes flashed impatience. “Why?”

  “I can’t talk about it. But he didn’t do anything to physically harm me anywhere on my body—paraphrased from our paralegal dropout pal, Presley.”

  “Good. But that still doesn’t give me any idea what I can do to help you.”

  Leave me alone. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not.” He took her hands. “Please. Talk to me.”

  Damn Chaz and his sweet concern; now she wanted to bawl again. And she thought she’d been holding it together pretty well. “I love you, and thanks for caring about me, but I . . . can’t.”

  “You mean you won’t.”

  “No, Chaz, I mean I can’t.”

  He kissed her knuckles. “Okay, sugar lump, I’ll stop nagging you. But whenever you change your mind, I’m right there. No questions asked.”

  • • •

  AFTER Presley, Chaz, and Amery had all failed to get through to her, Amery called in the big gun.

  Ronin.

  Molly had gone mute when gorgeous, mysterious, intuitive Sensei Black stopped in front of her desk on Friday morning. Even after she’d known him for almost two years, she didn’t really know him. That was the way he preferred it.

  He studied her for the longest time. Then he said, “Grab some coffee. Amery cleared out of her office so we can talk privately.”

  She shook her head.

  “Molly. I’m the only person who knows all about his past.”

  “All of it?”

  He nodded. “I know that’s why you haven’t talked to anyone. But you can talk to me about it.”

  “All right. Just . . . give me a minute.”

  “Take your time.”

  She filled her mug and meandered to Amery’s office. She paused in the doorframe and studied Ronin.

  He lounged in Amery’s desk chair. He could’ve taken a seat on the couch and made this more casual, but that wasn’t his style. Keeping a semblance of formality suited her. She’d be less likely to break down. She’d done that enough.

  Molly closed the door behind her and settled into the guest chair across from Amery’s desk.

  Ronin Black excelled at the waiting game, but today he jumped right in. “Give me the basics of what you know.”

  “Deacon’s twin brother, Dante, died in a car accident when they were fifteen. His birth name isn’t McConnell, but Westerman. His family is Texas-oil rich. I found all this out during a dinner with Deacon’s cousin Tag.” She swigged her sweetened coffee, but the scalding liquid didn’t wash away the bitter taste those words left in her mouth.

  “Look, I’d be pissed too if I’d found out the way you did.”

  “That’s your way of saying you’ve known all along.”

  “Because of my family, background checks are the norm when any new person comes into my life.”

  Molly raised her eyebrows. “Even Amery?”

  “Even her. You can imagine how pleased she was when she discovered I’d had her investigated.” He shared a quick grin.

  “Where’d you meet Deacon?”

  “At an underground fight in Pueblo. He’d been undefeated in the south for two years. So he was understandably pissed when I beat him.”

  “You whipping up on him loosened his tongue and he blurted out his life story to you?” Dammit. She hadn’t meant to sound cynical.

  “No. His willingness to confide in me wasn’t because of me but because he was finally ready to talk to someone.”

  Molly didn’t believe that. When Ronin Black stared at you with that piercing gaze, you had the overwhelming urge to confess every transgression, just to get him to stop dissecting your soul.

  “Even at the time I knew he hadn’t told tell me everything.” Ronin sighed. “I’m not sure I know the whole story even now.”

  You don’t know the whole story either, her conscience prodded her. You left Deacon bef
ore he could explain. She understood the mind-set of keeping your own counsel—she’d done it for years with her own family situation—but she was not in the wrong here.

  “When I offered him an instructor’s job,” Ronin continued, “I had him thoroughly checked out.”

  “Deacon didn’t pass his background check?”

  “He passed. In fact, his record was squeaky clean. Maybe it makes me a judgmental prick, but Deacon had the tats, the shaved head, and the attitude. Guys like that don’t get through life unscathed. When I asked him specifics, he told me enough to get a better understanding of him. He trusted me, and that’s something I don’t take lightly, Molly, because Deacon doesn’t trust anyone. He keeps to himself—or at least he did up until the last year or so.” Ronin paused again. “Knox and Deacon are tight and have been from day one. But even after five years of being his friend, Knox doesn’t know about Deacon’s past—that’s how painful it is for him to talk about.”

  “That’s what I don’t get. We hadn’t even been dating a week and my grandma died. He dropped everything to be with me. He could’ve at least told me about his brother then.”

  “I disagree.”

  Her gaze returned to his. “Why?”

  Ronin studied her.

  The man was scary as hell in Sensei mode.

  “You were grieving. Contrary to popular belief, misery doesn’t love company. Deacon telling you about his twin’s death would’ve taken away from your grief.”

  “Bullshit.”

  He shrugged. “You say that now. But we both know if you were pouring your heart out to him and he interjected that he knew exactly how you felt, you would’ve been resentful.”

  That knocked her back a step. Was that true?

  “Sounds like it was more important for him to support you, which surprises the hell out of me, to be honest.” He paused. His watchful gaze gave nothing away. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t have the right to intrude on his grief any more than he did on yours.”

  Her tears fell, and she snatched a tissue from Amery’s desk. “Maybe the timing wasn’t right when we were in Nebraska. But we’ve been back in Denver for two weeks. We’ve spent more time together than apart. We’ve become intimate on levels I wasn’t aware existed. The way we are together . . . I’ve never given over everything of myself to a man—or to anyone—like I have with him.”

  “And Deacon keeping his past sorrow from you takes something away from that?” Ronin asked gently.

  “Yes. I realize he didn’t hold a gun to my head and order me to spill my guts. I freely chose to share everything about myself and my past with him. Did I bare all because I expected him to do the same? I don’t know. I guess I’d hoped it’d encourage him to open up to me. Because that’s how I thought relationships worked.”

  “You’re not wrong. That is the norm for most people.”

  “But not for Deacon.”

  “Not for me either.”

  Molly glanced up, surprised by the regret in Ronin’s tone.

  “Most people search for that special connection with someone. Guys like me and Deacon? We avoid it. Then closing down becomes such a part of who we are that we don’t even realize we’re doing it.” His hand formed a fist on the desk. “It’s incredibly hard to let go of that mind-set. And when we fuck up a good thing—which we inevitably do—it’s because we don’t have the emotional skill set to understand it or fix it. We’ve never needed it.

  “That said, Deacon should’ve talked to you about the incident in his past that defined him. He knows that. Right now he’s in an internal beat down a million times worse than any fighter he’ll ever face in the ring.” A faraway look entered Ronin’s eyes. “I did the same damn thing with Amery. I should’ve told her up front about my family connection. We, too, had reached a level in our relationship neither of us expected. She felt betrayed—as she should have. I had to see the person I cared more about than life itself look at me like I was a complete stranger.”

  “I feel like that’s what he is. And maybe it makes me self-centered to internalize this, but it hurts that he didn’t tell me. It really hurts that I’m not special enough to him to know about his past. I’m just like everyone else—in the dark.” Her voice caught. “And because I was so pissed off, I walked away. But as much as I hurt, I know he’s hurting worse. How many years has Deacon had to deal with all of this alone? He doesn’t open himself up to anyone, and that breaks my heart.” More tears seeped out. “I haven’t heard from him at all since this went down.” And after all she’d just said, it’d be contradictory to admit that she’d expected Deacon to come after her. Like he had when she missed class. Like he had when she went to Nebraska. She’d gone to bed the night she’d left the restaurant absolutely heartsick, but she’d believed—wanted?—hoped?—that he’d bully his way into her house and try to make things right between them.

  He didn’t, and he won’t. When are you going to learn?

  “I believe given a few more weeks, he would’ve opened up to you. As far as him storming in here, Amery warned him if he showed his face she’d call the cops. And Deacon knows she doesn’t bluff.”

  Her head snapped up. “Amery threatened him? Did you tell her . . . ?”

  “No. She doesn’t know anything about his past and nothing about what happened between you two, just that he fucked something up big-time and you’re a mess.” Ronin leaned forward. “That’s all she needed to know to rally behind you, girl.”

  “See?” She sniffled. “I’ve got all these great friends who stand up for me and I can’t talk to any of them about this. They don’t understand why I won’t tell them what happened.”

  “It’s hard, but I admire your loyalty to Deacon.”

  That brought up something she hadn’t considered. “Is he worried that in a fit of anger I’ll blab his most closely guarded secret to my friends?”

  “Lots of women would have.” He leaned forward. “Deacon put his rage about the situation into play the next morning by beating the hell out of Micah Courey.”

  “What?” she said with gasp.

  “Deacon nearly sent him to the hospital.” Ronin’s eyes gleamed. “It was fucking beautiful to watch. Ever since he came back from Nebraska, he’s not been training at the level he needs to be. So when he faced Courey in full-fight mode? It was like a switch flipped inside him. Every aspect of Deacon’s training throughout the last five years coalesced. He was a fighting machine. I swear Maddox was so proud he even shed a tear or two. Needham is toast. It’ll be a huge win for him and Black Arts since now he’ll be able to retain that focus.”

  Realization slammed into her. Even their fledgling relationship had been a distraction to Con Man’s career. Maddox had understood that and tried to derail this very thing months ago, when he’d enlisted Ronin’s help to keep Molly and Deacon apart. But this time Deacon’s stubbornness had won out—he wanted her, everything and everyone else be damned. Including his fight career? He’d blown off a full training session to spend time with her on Sunday. And their vigorous, frequent sex had to take a toll on him physically by sapping his extra energy.

  So Molly had handed Black Arts the golden opportunity to prove to Deacon that without a girlfriend, and the rage about that driving him, Con Man would become the fighter he needed to be.

  She might be sick.

  No wonder Ronin had felt the need to come here personally to explain and soften the blow.

  “Molly?”

  Ronin’s ninja senses were unparalleled, so she couldn’t let on that she knew it was over between her and Deacon. “Sorry.”

  His golden-eyed gaze sharpened. “About?”

  “All of this drama. I hate that Amery is in the middle of it. She’s got a business to run. And with me being on autopilot the past few days, I haven’t pulled my weight.” She snatched another tissue. “Amery deserves better. So I’ll do as my grams advised. Pull myself up by my bootstraps and do what needs done. Move on.”

  “But tha
t’s not—”

  “It’s fine.” Molly stood and offered Ronin a watery smile. “Thanks for talking to me.”

  “Molly, wait—”

  She didn’t hear anything else after she shut herself in the