Unraveled

  “I know. I’m glad she’s not here. And if you talk to her . . .”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t say anything. Take care, okay? Katie said something about us celebrating next week. I guess we’ll see how you and Fee are faring first.”

  “Good plan.”

  They left and the room became quiet again. She shifted on the hard bench and felt a sharp pain in her hip.

  But in the quiet void Deacon’s and Maddox’s voices drifted to her.

  “We had no way of knowing that,” Maddox argued.

  “Yes, you did. Knox tried to tell her, and she basically called him a dumb shit in front of a roomful of people.”

  Her stomach knotted—and not from her fight injuries.

  “How was I supposed to know that he wasn’t just being the paranoid boyfriend? Because that’s what it came across like. And I’m not the only one who saw it that way.”

  “Shiori doesn’t fucking count,” Deacon snapped. “If you’d seen those two before they started dating, you never would’ve believed they’d end up together. Knox would say white, and even if it was obviously white, Shiori would say black—if only to get a rise out of him.”

  “So you’re saying that she stepped in to fight just to piss Knox off?”

  “No. I won’t pretend that Knox’s feelings for Shiori didn’t play a part in his decision. But the thing neither of you understood is it wasn’t his only reason for wanting to cancel that bout. Shiori made it personal. She stepped in to fight because Mia and Knox hooked up a couple of times. You were there at the bar last week. You saw what kind of a woman Mia is. She’s vindictive as hell. How Knox got away from her unscathed is a miracle.”

  “Shiori sure as fuck didn’t get away unscathed.” Maddox sighed. “Mia whipped up on her, and I never expected that. We watched the fight tapes. The woman in the ring tonight was not the woman on those tapes.”

  “That brings me back to my point. Knox has seen Mia fight. He knows what Mia’s capable of. He tried to keep Shiori from doing something stupid and getting herself hurt because of her pride. But she didn’t listen to reason. She just jumped in and assumed Knox said no for personal reasons only. She made him look like a fool, and you were the hammer that drove that nail home.”

  “Fucking great. I put Ronin Black’s sister in that ring with psycho chick who downplays her fighting abilities so she can destroy unsuspecting challengers. I backed Shiori because I wanted a win. So as far as my debut as the head of Black Arts MMA program, not only is the head of Black Arts questioning my judgment, but I threw in with his girlfriend and disrespected him in the most public way possible.”

  Good thing she was sitting down. The reality of what she’d done knocked all the air from her lungs. Every bit of her earlier indignation taunted her, playing on a loop that highlighted her verbal idiocy. Her treatment of Knox was beyond reprehensible. Talk about turning into a self-important blowhard. The ache in her head increased exponentially, but it didn’t hold a candle to the ache in her soul. Because she’d done the one thing she’d sworn never to do. She’d humiliated him. Their conversation about the consequence of boundaries being crossed slammed into the forefront of her thoughts as hard and as fast as a Japanese bullet train.

  “Any type of humiliation in any setting is my hard limit.”

  “I’d never do that to you,” she said softly.

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “Be warned—if it ever happens, I will walk away.”

  And he had done exactly that.

  At least he’d kept his word, because she had blatantly broken hers.

  Fuck.

  Numb, yet in the worst pain of her life, Shiori pushed to her feet and gathered the rest of her stuff, blindly shoving it in Fee’s duffel bag.

  By the time she reached Maddox and Deacon in the hallway, she’d erected a brave front.

  Deacon frowned at her. “I was coming to see if you’ve got a ride home.”

  She waggled her phone. “Car service is on its way.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “Night, guys. See you tomorrow.”

  “Shiori, given how shitty you look, maybe it’d be best if you didn’t come in tomorrow. You’ll definitely scare the little kids’ classes.”

  “I’ll ice up, take something for the pain, and sleep for fourteen hours. Then I’ll be good to go.”

  “Whatever. You’ll do what you want anyway.” Deacon turned toward Maddox, effectively dismissing her.

  She hobbled to the front entrance. She’d never felt more stupid or alone in her life.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  KNOX hadn’t known what to do with himself after he’d left the fight. He’d been grateful for Blue’s understanding on why he couldn’t stay. At a loss for better ideas, he drove straight home, parking his truck in his garage just in case Shiori showed up. Then he’d realized how ridiculous that was, because he had no intention of sitting in the dark the rest of the night.

  He settled on the couch with a soda and flipped through channels, needing something to hold his attention and distract him. Some station was running a marathon of Supernatural. Nothing in that series would remind him of Shiori. Or tonight.

  But once the fighting sequences started, he had to change to something else.

  Maybe he oughta grab a bottle and drink until he passed out. But he’d never used booze as a coping mechanism, and he wasn’t about to start now.

  Two hours after he’d sat down, he got back up and wandered through his house. He’d turned his phone off, and he turned it back on to see if he had any messages.

  One, from Deacon.

  The fight went like we expected. Thought u should know. Call if u need something.

  His stomach twisted. So Shiori had gotten the fuck beat out of her. How was he supposed to deal with that?

  Get in your truck and go to her.

  No. It was her choice; she needed to deal with the consequences of her rash decision.

  He went around and around with himself, but he finally shut the lights off and crawled into bed.

  All night his dreams were filled with her. She wore one of her business suits—a short, trim jacket that outlined the power in her back and arms with a skintight skirt that showcased her ass—and four-inch stilettos that did amazing things for her calves.

  When Knox tried to get her attention, she ignored him. So he moved in closer and tapped her on the shoulder. When she turned around, blood flowed down her chin and neck. Her teeth were broken. So was her nose. Her eyes were swollen shut. He started to back away from her, but two strong arms held him in place. Then Ronin’s voice exploded in his ear. “This is your fault. You should’ve tried harder to stop her.”

  That was the first time he woke up.

  The next dream had them playing bedroom games. She’d tied him to a bench with his knees spread wide, giving her free access to his cock and balls. Then, after he was blindfolded, she’d put nipple clamps on him. And she’d lubed up something and shoved it up his ass. Something soft floated over his skin from his face to his toes. Shiori excelled at tactile sensations, and he was about to climb out of his damn skin. “Nushi, let me touch you.”

  “Tell me who I am to you.”

  “My Mistress.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  “I’m yours. I follow your desires and fulfill them and turn over all free will to you.”

  “Very good, pet.”

  Pet?

  “Are you proud that I’m your Mistress?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you wear my collar so everyone can see who you belong to?”

  That caused him to struggle against his bonds. “I—”

  “Sounded like a yes to me.” Something cold and tight clamped around his throat. Before he could tell her it was too tight, his hands were freed. Then he was jerked upright. Chains weighted his hands when he tried to claw at his throat to find some air.


  She yanked off the blindfold and the lights blinded him. His eyes watered, but he forced them open. That’s when he noticed they were in the ring. In the middle of a big arena filled with people. All pointing and laughing at him.

  Her voice teased his ear. “Remember when I said I wouldn’t humiliate you?” She paused. “I lied. Humiliation is how you get your dog to heel. Because you are a pet I play with when it suits me. Now show these people how well you obey your Mistress.” She yanked on his leash hard, not caring that he couldn’t breathe or that he didn’t have the use of his hands. He fell forward, right onto her pointy boot. “Lick it,” she hissed. “Show these people what a pathetic little boot licker you are.”

  After that nightmare, he didn’t bother to try to go back to sleep. He lay restless in his dark bedroom until the hours passed.

  Friday morning Knox wandered around his backyard with a mug of coffee, feeling wrung out. Mindless physical activity numbed his brain, and he wished he had a pile of wood to chop. Or paint to scrape. But he’d caught up on his house maintenance last fall.

  He debated on heading to Golden to see his mom and sisters, but they’d ask about Shiori. He needed to do something, though, because the thought of staying here . . . That’s when he saw his fishing gear still out on the back deck.

  Driving up into the mountains, finding a stream, and throwing a line would eat up his day. He’d decide how to fill his night later.

  * * *

  ALTHOUGH Deacon had told Shiori to take the day off, she needed to talk to Knox.

  She stayed in her shower until her skin turned pruny. That helped with some of the aches and pains. Good thing she’d stopped at the drugstore last night, because she’d had nothing in the penthouse to deal with her injuries.

  Jesus. She looked like Ronin the last time he’d fought. The reflection in the mirror showed busted blood vessels in one eye, and the skin surrounding the other one was purple. The bruise on her cheekbone had benefited from an ice pack; the swelling had gone down considerably in the past twelve hours. More bruises dotted her jaw. Her bottom lip was puffy, and she had to keep Vaseline on the cut or it’d rip open and bleed. The gash above her eyebrow was nasty. She’d cleaned it with antiseptic the best she could and applied a small butterfly bandage to hold the skin together. Those things were hard to put on by yourself. It’d taken her three tries before she’d affixed one properly.

  But none of her teeth were loose. Not a scratch or bump on her nose. No blows to her ears.

  Her gaze moved down. No marks on her chest. She had bruises on her ribs but none on her stomach. However, the outside of her hip had sustained damage from Mia’s powerful kicks. She ran her hand along the red welts on the inside of her knee where Mia had connected repeatedly through all three rounds. The skin was swollen, hot to the touch, and ached down to her muscle. That one might not bruise, but it definitely hurt.

  She probably had marks on her back, but she didn’t bother to look. Too damn depressing.

  After downing over-the-counter pain relievers, she brewed a pot of tea and wandered around her place. As she paced, it occurred to her that she’d never once considered the penthouse home.

  Why not?

  Because it didn’t feel like home. Home was Tokyo. Home was her apartment filled with the quirky things that made her happy. She’d left everything behind when she’d fled to America. Partially because after making a decision about her future at Okada, she’d needed to follow through and just . . . go.

  As much as she’d adored living at the Ritz, it wasn’t practical. Not knowing how long she’d be in the States, she’d opted to lease a penthouse while the owners lived abroad. The security was top-notch, and she’d fallen in love with the view. For someone who had a hard time sitting still the past fifteen years, she spent an inordinate amount of time just gazing out the windows.

  The space did have an austere feel. Modern architecture, sleek furnishings in neutral colors. The owners’ personal belongings were locked in one of the bedrooms, and she hadn’t seen the point in making this place more personal.

  Shiori wandered into the closet, looking at her clothing options. As much as she liked the extra confidence a power suit gave her, she needed comfort today.

  After dressing in gray silk pants and a black and silver Japanese-styled peasant blouse, she returned to the bathroom. She debated on whether to wear makeup. But there was no sense trying to hide the bruises. Everyone at Black Arts knew what’d happened last night.

  She called for a car. And it was a little depressing that not only hadn’t Knox called her, but none of her friends had either.

  After a quick stop at the Taco Cabana drive-thru for an early lunch, she arrived at Black Arts.

  She took the stairs to the second floor. Her heart raced as she walked down the corridor to the office. The lights were off. She couldn’t tell if anyone was in the conference room, but the place felt empty.

  Everything in the office was exactly how she’d left it Thursday—yesterday afternoon before she’d headed to the event center. Which meant Knox hadn’t been in today.

  As she looked around, she wondered what she’d do now that she was here. The schedules were set. Payroll had been submitted to the accountant. Finalizing the paperwork for last night’s event would be Katie’s responsibility.

  Maybe she’d go up to the third floor.

  She was standing in the middle of the dark room, her keys in her hand, when Deacon walked in.

  Startled, he said, “What are you doing here?”

  “I needed to check on some things.”

  He gave her a slow once-over. “You look like dog shit. Go home.”

  “Thanks.” She let her gaze wander over him. “You don’t look any worse for the wear.”

  “Got a bruised hip and a helluva headache.”

  “I assume Maddox is happy with your win.”

  Deacon shrugged. “It’s a win. More than anything, the fight showed him the areas where I need to improve.”

  “Maddox didn’t have much time to gauge Ivan’s fighting skills since he knocked the guy out in the first round.”

  “The kid’s got a fist like a sledgehammer.”

  Shiori spun her key ring on her finger, nervous to ask Deacon what she wanted to know because he looked mighty unhappy with her. Then again, Deacon had two expressions: blank and mad. “Where is Knox?”

  “No idea. He’s taking some time off.”

  Everything inside her seized up.

  “You’re surprised by that?”

  “Of course I am. He’s supposed to be running Black Arts.”

  Deacon crossed his tattooed arms over his massive chest. “Maybe he questions who’s really in charge after that bullshit stunt you pulled last night.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “The fuck you didn’t, Shiori. Ronin put him in charge. You’re assisting him. So last night you made it perfectly clear what you think of his leadership when you basically said, Fuck off, Godan. I don’t have to listen to you . . . in front of a roomful of people.”

  She felt the blood drain from her face.

  But Deacon was on a roll. “You and Knox are involved. His reasons for wanting to cancel that fight weren’t personal, but instead of letting him explain that, you went on the offensive and accused him of using your relationship as an excuse to cancel the fight. You questioned his decision-making process and his motive. On the personal side, I can see why you’d act like such a fucking ballbuster. God forbid you’d want Knox protecting you, looking out for you, caring about putting you in the ring with an unpredictable psycho who had it in for you.”

  “I didn’t know any of that.”

  “And you didn’t listen to him, either, because he did know that. You humiliated him. Maddox had a small part in it, but you telling Knox that he couldn’t make decisions for you was dead-ass wrong, because actually, as Shihan, he can decide to pull anyone at any time.”