Fuck. He couldn’t breathe. Rage supplanted air.
“I’m really hideous looking, aren’t I?”
Her soft, almost apologetic tone snapped him out of it.
Breathe.
In. Out.
Better.
“No, baby, you are beautiful. What was done to you is ugly.”
Tears filled her eyes. “I’m sorry. The training didn’t kick in this time. I was so cocky after knocking Naomi down a peg. But these guys . . . caught me by surprise, and I just froze—”
“Ssh. Two against one is never a fair fight.” It absolutely fucking shredded him she felt any type of guilt about the attack. “Did they hurt you anywhere else?”
“First the guy punched me in the stomach, probably so I didn’t see the fist coming toward my face.”
Ronin forced himself to focus on her eyes. The pain in them would be his calm center. “Tell me how this started.”
“I got a call from a potential client yesterday. We set up the meeting time for today. He told me where to park and what elevator to take for the quickest access to their floor. Which didn’t seem weird at the time, because it is a big building, but now . . .”
“You’re a businesswoman. You meet with new clients all the time. There’s no way you could’ve known.” He picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Tell me the rest.”
“I’d just taken my portfolio out of the backseat when this scary-looking biker dude approached me and asked if I had five bucks for food. I remembered Molly telling me she’d gotten asked the same question before her attack. Then I recognized him; he’d been hanging around us in the bar the other night. Next thing I knew, someone grabbed me from behind and wrenched my arms straight back. The biker guy punched me in the stomach. I think I must’ve fallen forward, and his knee smacked into my eye. Then he grabbed me by the throat and lifted me up.” She began to shake.
“It’s okay. I’m here. Take a breath.”
She nodded. “The rest is a little blurry. I think he backhanded me. He said something about keeping my mouth shut before he hit me there. Then he hit me again, two, maybe three times.”
Stay fucking steady.
“When the other guy let me go, biker dude pushed me into the car and I fell down.”
“Did it knock you out?”
“No. It disoriented me—don’t know how long I huddled next to my car. When I looked up, the Japanese guy who was with Naomi stood by my bumper, making sure I saw him. That scared me, so somehow I got into my car, locked the doors, and called Shiori.”
He would not add to her misery and ask her why she hadn’t called him. Would. Not.
Amery lowered herself back to the pillows and closed her eyes.
“How bad does it hurt?”
“More than I thought it would.” Tears trickled out of the corners of her eyes. “How can you do this, Ronin? Live with this kind of pain? They barely touched me, and I’m curled up in bed weeping like a baby.”
“Barely touched you—baby, he hit you in the face more than once.” He inhaled, still searching for a way to settle down the emotions seething inside him. “I go into the cage aware of what awaits me. You didn’t ask for this.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “It’s my fault.”
“No, it’s not.”
He brushed soft kisses across her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, her temples, that mouse under her eye. He forced himself to stay gentle when his lips reached hers. He forced himself to view the bruises marring her skin as a chance to show his love and care of her and not a reason to go into a killing rage.
Yet.
After he’d kissed every mark, he whispered, “I love you. If I could take the pain for you, I would.”
“I know. But it’s not your fault. I was feeling cocky for showing that bitch I can take care of myself, and she proved I can’t. I humiliated her; she returned the favor.” Amery cupped her hands around his face. “She knew hurting me would hurt you.”
“I’d rather suffer through a thousand concussions than see one single mark on you.”
She blinked at him. “It hurts, seeing someone you love hurt.”
That’s when he understood Amery’s standoffish behavior after seeing him beat-up. She’d felt guilty—like he felt guilty now. “What can I do for you to make this better? I’ve got a couple of pain pills left.”
“Just stay with me until I fall asleep.” She pressed her swollen lips to his. “Be here when I wake up.”
“Done.”
“And don’t kill anyone. Please. I can’t stand the thought of losing you now that I finally found you.”
“Amery, I’m not going anywhere.” He kissed her cheek. “Get some rest.”
• • •
BUT Ronin did leave her. After she crashed and he was sure she’d be asleep for a while, he headed down to the dojo.
Knox and Shiori were in his office, ignoring each other, which was better than their constant sniping.
Shiori stopped pacing as soon as she saw him. “How’s Amery?”
“Sleeping. She’s shaken up and yet she somehow thinks she deserves it because she started crap with Naomi.”
“That is a load of crap.”
“Yes, it is.” Then Ronin did something that shocked himself and Shiori both. He hugged her. “Thank you for getting her here and being the cool head when you both knew I wouldn’t be.”
“So you’re not mad she didn’t call you?”
“No. I’m grateful.” Ronin stepped back, feigning a calmness he didn’t feel. “I need you to do two things for me.”
“Name them.”
“Use your resources to find out the name of Naomi’s bodyguard. Find out where she’s staying in Denver. Find out why the fuck she’s here. Find out if there’s surveillance tape on that level of the parking garage. I want to figure out who the bodyguard’s accomplice was.”
Shiori smiled. “It’d be my pleasure. What else?”
“Pick up Amery’s car and bring it back here.” He tossed Knox the keys. “You’ll have to take a limo ride, Shihan. You okay with that?”
Knox grinned. “Hell yeah. Now I’ll be thinking of places to stop, so people I know will see me climbing out of a limo.”
“Is the city dump open? Maybe we can pick up your girlfriend,” Shiori suggested.
“Ooh, good one, She-Cat. Maybe if you do everything you’re told, when you’re fifty, your grandfather will let you learn how to drive.”
Just as Ronin was about to bark, Enough, they took the back-and-forth out of his office.
Almost on autopilot, he changed into workout clothes. He wrapped his hands on his way to the training room. He knew it’d be empty this time of day. While he usually practiced in silence, focusing on the sound of his breath, gauging the pressure of his hits and kicks by the thwack and crack of his feet and fists connecting with the practice dummy, today he needed noise. Loud distortion that fueled and fed the angry clawing beast inside him.
He found the CD with the mix of music that had one commonality: every time he listened to it, he got mad. He cranked the tunes and freed the rage.
Ronin hadn’t worked his body this hard since before his last fight injury. Concentrating on the flex and release of his muscles for maximum power. Falling back on his training and becoming the persona that demanded respect and pride.
He dripped sweat. And still he pushed through. Switching from punching to kicking to jumping rope to kettle balls to practicing orchestrated falls.
During a break in the music, he glanced at the clock. An hour and a half had passed. At some point, he’d slicked his hair into a ponytail. He didn’t remember. When he hit this zone, his violent Zen, he literally lived in the moment—from punch to punch, kick to kick.
Gil knocked twice before he entered.
Godsmack’s “I Stand Alone” started, and Ronin jogged over to lower the volume. “Are you looking for me?”
“I’m looking for Terrel. Have you seen him?”
“No. Why?”
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“I came early so we could grapple.”
Ronin didn’t hesitate to offer, “I’ll grapple with you.”
Gil’s face showed shock. Then trepidation. “I appreciate the offer, Sensei, but—”
“But you’re afraid. Of what? That you’ll kick my ass? Or that you won’t?”
“I, ah . . .” Gil sighed. “Don’t put me in this position.”
“What position? I’m offering to grapple with you. That’s it. I do it with my guys all the time.”
Gil stared at him for a long moment before he nodded. “Come up to the ABC training room.”
Ronin wanted to ask what was wrong with this training room. But he realized his instructors would start showing up before too long, and chances were good they’d put a stop to the practice. “I’ll grab my gi.”
It was quiet on the third floor except for the office, where he heard Katie yakking on the phone. Didn’t sound like a business call. But she’d settled into being a decent worker, so he’d let it slide. Besides, he’d scare her in his current frame of mind.
Gil was doing warm-ups. Ronin watched him with a critical eye. He hadn’t grappled with any of the ABC guys except for Blue, and most of that fight was a blur.
When Gil motioned he was ready, Ronin bowed at the edge of the mat and stepped on.
“Standard tournament rules.”
They bowed to each other.
Like Ronin expected, Gil immediately went for the takedown. So he let it happen and ended up in guard. In most cases, top position had control. He intended to show Gil that wasn’t always true.
And prove it he did.
First round, he’d put Gil in a headlock.
Second round, he’d locked Gil into an arm bar.
Third round, he’d maneuvered Gil into a rear choke.
They circled each other, ready for round four.
Terrel interrupted. “I’m fifteen minutes late and y’all start without me? That shit sucks.”
Terrel was normally so quiet, Ronin had heard him speak only once. He had twenty pounds, several inches and belt levels on the guy, but he tossed out, “I think I wore Gil out.”
“Great. Now who’m I gonna grapple with?”
He stood and said, “Me. And you’d better bring it.”
Terrel grinned. “Cool, man. I love a challenge.” He bowed in as Gil bowed out.
Ronin bounced foot to foot, beyond impatient. In that zone where he felt invincible.
And Terrel wasn’t much challenge either.
First round, he put Terrel in an Americana lock.
Second round, he put Terrel in a scarf hold.
Third round, he put Terrel in a Brabo choke.
That’s when Blue showed up.
Ronin released Terrel and helped him to his feet. They bowed to each other, and Ronin faced Blue.
“Are you going to tell me that my instructors’ groundwork needs work, Sensei?”
“No. I was just helping out. Sometimes I fail to see the differences between BJJ and traditional jujitsu.”
“Superior training in BJJ,” Blue said.
“Prove it.” Ronin’s gaze moved over Blue. “You’re dressed.”
“You’ve got a dangerous look in your eye, my friend.”
“Don’t want to grapple? Fine. Let’s fight. Give me a chance to reclaim my honor.”
Blue snorted. “Your honor isn’t in question. Just your sanity.”
Ronin had reached that point of a reckless high. “If you’re afraid to fight me, Curacao, say so.”
“I am not afraid. And you’ve just gone grappling rounds with both of my top instructors. I hardly think this is the time to offer challenges.”
“Or maybe, with me being tired out, it’ll be a fair fight for a change.”
That got Blue’s back up just as Ronin expected it would.
“I knocked you out last time we fought.”
Ronin shrugged. “Lucky shot.”
Blue spoke in Portuguese to Gil and then he faced Ronin. “I’ll need to warm up while it looks like you could cool down.”
Ronin’s adrenaline spiked again, and he had a difficult time standing still.
By the time they met in the ring, gi tops gone, gloves on, mouth guards in, Ronin’s pulse was tripping triple time.
“Amateur parameters?” Terrel asked, serving as referee.
They both nodded.
“You know the rules.”
Ronin came out swinging, trying to keep this fight off the ground so he could hear the satisfying smack of his fist on flesh. He let fly and punched Blue in the face.
Just like that son of a bitch did to Amery today.
What kind of sick motherfucker hit a woman? His cross jab landed on Blue’s ear and knocked him back a step.
Ronin kept coming. A knee jump that connected to Blue’s chin followed by a spinning back elbow that caught Blue in the shoulder.
And when Blue went for the takedown, Ronin relished it and allowed himself to be brought down hard. He got in two head punches before performing a rolling press to get out of half guard.
Blue wasn’t expecting that. Or the side mount that allowed Ronin a perfect gut punch.
Just like that son of a bitch did to Amery today.
What kind of sick motherfucker hit a woman? He angled his hand and pummeled Blue—from his chest to his chin.
Terrel yelled, “Time!”
Ronin rolled to his feet and walked to his corner, mopping his face with a towel and taking out his mouth guard for a second. He leveled his breathing and scrolled back through the fight, trying to remember his opponent’s weaknesses. He wasn’t interested in a tap out; he wanted the fight to go all three rounds. He wanted to deliver pain.
So when the second round started, Ronin didn’t see Blue, his business partner, he saw . . . red.
He became methodical in his fury. Cunning. Able to keep his opponent on his feet until that moment he charged, and they hit the mat with a bone-jarring whump. Then he was fighting for dominance. Keeping legs and arms in constant motion. Getting away from his opponent’s hold by utilizing the running sweep just as the referee yelled, “Time!”
Ronin was starting to feel exhaustion set in as the third round started. Which is probably why his opponent was able to connect with a side kick that caught him in the gut and sent him flying against the net. Pissed off, he charged, knocking him to the mat with a wrestling takedown.
Once Ronin was on top, he utilized jab after jab, feeling a burst of satisfaction at seeing the blood . . .
“Stop! Omigod, Ronin, stop it right now!”
He was abruptly yanked upright. Two steel bands circled his upper body, and he welcomed the chance to rest.
Then Amery was in his face.
Amery?
What the fuck was she doing in the goddamn cage?
Her face looked like she’d gone a round.
Then he remembered and his stomach clenched. That burst of rage exploded inside him again. My fault, my fault, my fault. Baby, I’m