Unraveled

  “I want to fight her, Knox.”

  “Not an option.”

  “Why not?”

  He lowered his voice. “Getting in the ring with her will be personal for you, and that is too goddamn dangerous at any time, say nothing of an hour before a fight. So the answer is no.”

  “If I’d been scheduled to fight and got injured, would you put Fee in, in my place?”

  “Yes, but it’s not the same thing.”

  “Because we’re involved?”

  Knox couldn’t say, No, because Fee is a more capable fighter than you, so he tried to be diplomatic. “That has nothing to do with it. You don’t know what Mia is capable of. There’s no fucking way I’m going to stand by and watch you get in the ring with her.”

  Her eyes went flat and cold, and in that moment she looked just like her brother. “You don’t think I can win?”

  “It’s not about winning. It’s about your safety.”

  “The fuck it is, Knox. You’re the one who’s making it personal, not me. And that has no place in this discussion. We need a qualified fighter. I’m here. So I am fighting.”

  “Like hell you are. Don’t forget that I’m Shihan. I said no, and that’s that. Do you understand?”

  Maddox cleared his throat.

  At some point they’d both forgotten they were in a roomful of people.

  Fucking awesome.

  “Actually, Knox, to be fair, that isn’t your decision to make,” Maddox said. “I’m the trainer. I’ve been working with Fee and Shiori as her fight partner. From what I can see, there’s no reason that Shiori can’t step in. She’s watched all of Mia’s fight tapes. There’s nobody better qualified. And Black Arts could use a win.”

  “See? The voice of real reason, not personal reasons,” Shiori said. “I’m fighting, Godan, and that’s that. And there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”

  Godan. Not Shihan.

  His face burned. She’d openly defied him in front of everyone, calling his leadership into question.

  Shiori had sworn she wouldn’t humiliate him, and she’d done just that with absolute defiance, daring him with her Domme voice to contradict him.

  Knox dropped his gaze to the floor. It took every bit of his resolve to keep his expression neutral when he looked up. Everyone in the room still stared at him, some with fucking pity.

  “As the fight promoter, it’s within my purview to move the bout to the last fight of the night, to give the replacement fighter time to prepare.”

  Maddox said, “Thanks.”

  He didn’t—couldn’t—look at Shiori. “Good luck, everyone. I’ll be seeing to the front-of-the-house duties tonight, so if you need anything, peg Maddox.” He turned and left the room.

  A familiar hand clapped him on the shoulder after he’d made it halfway down the hall. “What?”

  “You okay?” Deacon asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  Deacon stepped in front of him. “I suck at this kinda stuff, but I don’t blame you for sayin’ no and bein’ pissed that Shiori jumped in like that. You and I both know those fight tapes don’t tell the real story of what Mia is capable of. When she sees it’s Shiori in the ring . . .”

  “Yeah, I fucking know, all right?”

  “Do you want me to talk to her?”

  “No. What’s done is done.” Knox looked Deacon in the eyes. “I can’t watch.”

  “No one expects you to.”

  “And by that . . . I mean I can’t be anywhere in here. I’ll take off right after your fight.”

  “Blue will be okay with that?” Deacon asked.

  “He’ll have to be. After all this, I’ll need a couple of days to get my head on straight.”

  “You deserve the break. And yeah, I figured that this would fuck up things between you two.”

  “Thanks, man. Good luck tonight.”

  “Don’t need it when I’ve got these.” Deacon did some shadow-boxing moves as he backed up down the hallway.

  Knox looked at the clock. Two hours. Then he was gone.

  * * *

  KNOX was pissed off at her.

  But she was pissed at him too, so in the long run it probably evened things out.

  They’d talk about this later. Yell at each other most likely. Whatever happened, it had to wait until after the fight. And she couldn’t fucking wait to get in the ring. Every bit of anger she’d felt that night at the bar with Mia resurfaced. She’d use that rage as rocket fuel.

  She stayed in her corner of the room, away from the lockers. Gil had taken Fee home after the on-site medical staff had called it a mild concussion.

  Maddox was in and out, shifting his duties between being ringside with his fighters during the match and making sure the upcoming fighters were ready.

  Ivan wore headphones and blocked out the world as he got set to fight. Deacon hadn’t come back after he followed Knox out of the room.

  If looks could kill, she would’ve been dead.

  She paced in her corner, running through drills in her head. She hadn’t stepped in the ring in months, since she’d filled in at another smoker and fought Fee. Since Fee was the lone female fighter at Black Arts, they’d fought another half a dozen times. After sparring with her, Shiori wasn’t sure she’d win if she was put in the ring with Fee again for real.

  But she sure as fuck would win against Mia.

  Maddox bounded in and grabbed Ivan. He gave her the thumbs-up and then she was alone.

  Clear your mind. Visualize yourself winning. Visualize Mia bleeding as Knox gives you the victory kiss.

  She couldn’t allow her thoughts to keep bouncing back to Knox. She needed to focus. In times like this the only thing that quieted her mind was recitation. Poems, plays, prayers, business philosophies, multiplication tables. She turned her mind inward and time lost any meaning.

  The door to the room slammed. Footsteps came closer. A hand pressed into her knee.

  Shiori opened her eyes and felt a quick pang of disappointment that Maddox crouched in front of her, not Knox.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Let’s head out.”

  She waited outside the entrance to the arena. She tuned out the music and the crowd, focusing on her anger. Maddox nudged her and they started the trek to the ring.

  Ringside the ref checked her over. Gloves, clothing, mouth guard. Everything was in place.

  Then she climbed up the stairs, bowing before she entered the ring. She bounced on the balls of her feet as a warm-up and swung her arms, giving Mia her back.

  Maddox set up ringside. “All right. You know what to do. Watch her hip throws. She’s got a vicious uppercut. She’ll switch it up and try to get you to look at how she shuffles her feet, and then she’ll clock you. Don’t fall for it.”

  Shiori nodded.

  “All right, ladies and gentlemen, this is the last bout of the evening. In the women’s featherweight division, in the black corner, is our replacement fighter, with an amateur record of one win, zero losses, hailing all the way from Tokyo, Japan, weighing in at one hundred and twenty-two pounds, representing Black Arts dojo, Shiori ‘She-Cat’ Hirano.

  “And in the silver corner, with an amateur record of eighteen wins and four losses, and a professional record of six wins and zero losses, from Denver, Colorado, weighing in at one hundred and thirty-two pounds, representing Steve Atwood dojo, Mia ‘the Meat Grinder’ Sedladcheck.”

  Wait. What? Mia had a professional record and an amateur record? How was that possible at a smoker?

  “Ladies, here are the rules.”

  As the ref read the rules Shiori reconnected with that burning hatred as she looked at Mia, who seemed a lot bulkier than she remembered.

  “Touch gloves.”

  Neither did. They returned to their corners.

  The bell dinged and it was on.

  Mia came at her hard and fast fro
m the start. She did a dive roll that knocked Shiori off her feet, but Shiori recovered fast and narrowly missed a takedown.

  Then Mia started to kick. She’d pull in close and try to land some punches, and when she backed off, she’d level a slapping front kick to the inside of Shiori’s right leg. Mia connected with that move six times before Shiori switched her fighting stance.

  But as soon as she did that, Mia abandoned the kicks and charged her for a takedown. She got ahold of Shiori’s waist, performing a judo hip throw that put Shiori on her side.

  Ow. Fuck. At least she hadn’t knocked the wind out of her.

  Shiori arched and spun on her back, but that just put Mia in guard position. And Shiori couldn’t get a reversal when she was busy dodging Mia’s blows. Mia nailed her in the jaw, and she could taste blood from her lip. She was completely in a defensive position.

  The clicker counted down the last ten seconds, but Mia managed to work in another blow to the head.

  Bleeding, breathing hard, she walked back to her corner, and Maddox was right there with the stool, water, and Vaseline for her cut lip.

  “Okay, you’ve got to try to keep her on her feet. I know you’ve been working on Muay Thai with Deacon, so use some of those drills to knock her off balance. Any spinning moves you do, do them fast before she grabs any part of you, understand?”

  Shiori nodded. Rinsed her mouth and spit into the bucket. “Why does she have a professional record? Isn’t this amateurs only?”

  “In a smoker like this, anything goes. As long as her amateur record has more fights than her pro record, she can enter these things.”

  “She’s not fighting like the tapes.”

  Maddox looked into her eyes. “No, she’s not. But you can adapt, Shiori. You have to. She won that round. Get her this time.”

  At the start of the second round, Mia started in again with those snap kicks that landed on the inside of Shiori’s knee. She blocked a couple, but she hadn’t landed any kicks because she was too focused on dodging Mia’s kicks.

  She tried a spinning back fist, hoping to knock Mia the fuck out with one blow, but it landed low. The attempt made Mia mad enough that she charged.

  Unprepared for that move, Shiori hit the mat on her back. She did land a knee to Mia’s head before Mia got into guard position again. Then Shiori was getting whaled on.

  Things were starting to get a little fuzzy, and she lowered her hands for just a second and Mia punched her in the eye.

  That motherfucking hurt.

  And she was bleeding again.

  Enraged, she bucked hard and threw Mia off, which allowed her to get a reversal. She knew she didn’t have a chance of getting her arm for an arm bar, so she settled for delivering blows to the side of Mia’s head. As the last ten seconds clicked down, Mia twisted her arm around and punched the inside of Shiori’s right knee—the knee that’d been kicked a hundred times.

  Somehow Shiori walked a straight line to her corner. She sat on the stool and closed her eyes against the blood seeping down the side of her face.

  “Jesus. She got you there.”

  “She. Got. Me. Every. Where,” she wheezed.

  “You did better this round. You earned a few offensive points, which helps, because that tells you she has weak spots.”

  “Where?” She rinsed and spit.

  “When she does the punch, punch, fake-out, kick combo? Sweep her standing leg out from underneath her. Then make sure you get into guard position.” He smeared more Vaseline on her split lip. “Three more minutes. You’ve got it in you.”

  Mia mixed it up at the start of every round. She attempted a spinning back kick, but Shiori saw she’d compromised her balance point and she swept her leg out. This time she did land in guard position, but she couldn’t sustain it against Mia’s monkey feet, which worked their way to Shiori’s hips.

  Then a real bell-ringing blow caught her on the cheek, and she loosened her hold. Mia forced a reversal, and Shiori found herself facedown on the mat, bleeding again, not able to make any offensive moves against this beast.

  Tap out.

  She ignored the voice and struggled to keep her arms away from Mia.

  No shame in tapping out.

  Yes, there is! Ronin’s voice. What happened to your rage? Find it. Use it.

  Her rage had fled the building, along with her sanity, because she should not have gotten in the ring with this woman.

  Then coherent thought disappeared completely when Mia got her into a rear naked choke. But she knew a trick to get out of this one and it worked. She rolled upright, determined to end this round on her feet.

  Mia was bouncing from side to side, trying to distract her with her footwork. So when the wheel kick came, Shiori was ready. She used the last of her energy to do a jumping knee, and it caught Mia under the chin.

  The ten-second clicker ticked down and Shiori kept her hands up, protecting herself, but Mia didn’t strike.

  The final bell rang.

  Would anyone object if she crawled to her corner?

  Her butt hit the stool, and she spit out her mouth guard. She looked at Maddox as he did more patch-up jobs on her face. “How bad did I lose?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve seen worse.”

  The ref brought them both into the center of the ring and held their hands. “After three rounds, the judges have scored this decision unanimously. Your winner tonight.” He lifted Mia’s arm. “Mia ‘the Meat Grinder’ Sedladcheck.”

  Shiori shuffled back to her corner.

  Maddox held out her robe. “That cut above your eye might need stitches.”

  Knox was going to lose his shit when he saw her face up close. She felt it swelling. Stitches could wait until after she’d cleared the air with Knox. Still, it was all she could do not to shamble out of the arena like a little old woman.

  Once they’d reached the private room, she sat on the bench against the wall to wait for Knox to get done with his payouts.

  Shiori had started to doze off when she heard arguing in the hallway. “Tough titties, Deacon. Shi is my friend and I wanna see her.”

  She opened her eyes as Molly barreled in.

  “Omigod. Look at you.”

  “Or don’t,” she joked.

  Then Presley, Molly’s coworker, leaned in really close. “Better get some ice on your face. I had a cut like that once too. See?” She turned her head and pointed to her eyebrow. “My coach forced me to get it sewn up. It needed, like, ten stitches, but as soon as those stitches came out, I pierced it.”

  Molly pulled Presley back by her suspenders. “God, Presley, she doesn’t need ten stitches.”

  “How’d you get your badass scar?” Shiori asked.

  “Got clipped in the head with a roller skate. It bled a fuck ton. They had to stop the match to mop up the blood, which was sort of cool.”

  Molly nudged Presley aside. “I swear if you get her started on roller-derby-injury stories, we’ll be here all damn night.” She took Shiori’s hand. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “No. Thanks, though. And thanks for coming to the fights.”

  “Amery would be horrified by what happened to you.”