scroll back through the past five days’ training exercises. He hadn’t learned anything new; he’d just fine-tuned previous lessons. “I’m not sure I follow what you’re after, Master Yasuji.”
“My brother demanded you train with no distractions, which would lead me to believe he had new things to teach you. But you’ve not learned any deeper ties to meditation. You’ve not learned new offensive or defensive techniques. No new weapons have been introduced. So tell me again; why are you here?”
“Because Sensei demanded it,” he said by rote.
In that moment, the wooden recitation of that statement and the wrongness of his blind obedience collided. He finally understood why his teacher had issued the demand; only to see if Ronin would obey it.
Goddammit.
His gaze zoomed to Yasuji. “You knew this additional training wasn’t necessary but just another one of his mindfucks?”
“I’m surprised you didn’t catch on before now.”
“So all of this—the endless drills and never-ending physical challenges were for Daichi’s amusement?”
“No. He is your sensei; he expects obedience from you above all else. But he’s also a man, Ronin. An old man.” He sighed. “As taxing as the challenges have been on you in the past year, the year has been just as bad on him.”
I doubt it.
“Even after your recovery from injury you will continue to be in your prime for the next twenty-plus years. There’s no longer anything more you can learn from him. He knows this. Part of him has feared reaching this point.”
A hard knot formed in his belly. “Since when has he known this?”
“Since you arrived. You had to suspect this was your last training session with him.” Yasuji’s eyes searched Ronin’s. “My brother will always be revered as the man who taught traditional Japanese jujitsu in its purest form. But the time has come for him to rest on his laurels and for you to move on.”
Stunned, Ronin didn’t know what to say.
“You, Ronin-san, are his proudest accomplishment. You’ve surpassed all the goals and expectations he had for you. He saw so much of himself in you. A loner who defied family expectations. A man who rose above mediocrity by sheer will and hard work. A pupil intent on mastering two different disciplines and succeeding. A true Master who defines himself as a teacher above all else.” Yasuji paused. “While you will continue to be a great teacher and a leader for years to come, that one-dimensional description doesn’t fit you anymore. You are also a husband.”
“So because I married Amery he feels I’m somehow . . . lesser?” Ronin said through clenched teeth.
“No man can understand the power of finding the woman who completes him unless he experiences it himself. I have. You have. Daichi has not. His first love is martial arts. He never needed a woman because he felt complete with his first and only love. And because he’s trained you from a young age, he saw a kindred spirit within you.”
Ronin slumped against the outer wall of the spider climb. “The last thing I’ll ever regret is having a life with Amery. And not to be harsh, but I don’t care if he’s disappointed in me for that.”
“He’s disappointed in your need to fight past the point where you injure yourself. In all the years you trained with him, did you ever wonder why he never asked you how you’d earned the money to start your own dojo in America?”
“Because ignorance is easier.”
Yasuji smiled. “Yes. You fought unknown opponents for money and other reasons he couldn’t condone if he asked you outright.”
“Well, it was a dirty little secret for me too.”
“You don’t miss it? The fighting?”
Ronin fidgeted.
“Be truthful in all things—but above all be honest with yourself,” Yasuji advised.
Sometimes these proverbs Masters Daichi and Yasuji spouted off were fucking annoying. And unhelpful. Like he was supposed to be honest now and confess that he still dreamt of getting in the ring and beating the fuck out of someone? Right.
The only person he talked to about his need to prove his superiority in the ring was Deacon—because he was the only person who understood. “I’ll admit I miss the physical challenge. Or thought I did until I got here and Sensei reinforced the idea that training should always be more rigorous and consistent than the random outcome of three, three-minute rounds.”
“Agreed.”
Ronin pushed off the wall. “Thank you, as always, for your insight. Now that I’ve had my break, I’d better get back to it.”
Yasuji shook his head. “You’re done.”
He bristled. “No offense, Master Yasuji, but Sensei says when I’m done. Not you.”
“Ronin-san. Master Daichi walked away from you. Has he ever done that before?”
“No.”
“That’s because disarming your teacher is the sign you’ve completed your last level of training.”
“You mean when I stopped his belt from making contact?” Ronin frowned. “But that was a reflex.”
“You’ve never done more than block him. You’ve certainly never bested him. The fact you did it when you were too exhausted to remain on your feet proves you’ve learned all you can from him.”
“But . . .” Dumbfounded, Ronin could only stare at the man. “How do I know that’s what he wants? He didn’t say a damn word.”
Yasuji draped Daichi’s belt over Ronin’s shoulder. “He didn’t have to. He left this for you because it belongs to you now.” He gave Ronin a deep bow. “Wear it with pride, Hachidan. You’ve earned it.”
Although Ronin was stunned by this turn of events, he bowed back, remaining in the position until he schooled his features and got a better grip on his emotions. Then he tied the belt around his waist. “So I’m just supposed to grab my bag and leave?” Without saying good-bye to him? Without knowing if I’ll ever see him again? Without knowing what—or who—lies ahead in my future training?
“My brother is not one for emotional good-byes.”
“I realize that.” Ronin also realized further arguing was pointless. He took his time packing his gear in his bag. Maybe for the first time he understood why Master Daichi only used the most basic equipment; it was easier for his students to make a quick exit.
As Ronin rolled up his hand protection, he knew Yasuji had something on his mind. “This may be your last chance to ask the question since you’re kicking me out.”
“Your intuitiveness is your greatest strength, Ronin-san. It will serve you well.”
He made the on with it gesture.
“Does it bother you that Amery presented me with a print of her bound by your rope work?”
He smiled. “Not at all. I’m glad you have proof that your years of instruction have formed me as much as Master Daichi’s. I was surprised she’d given it to you, knowing you’d likely display it in a place for all to enjoy it. My wife is modest in public.”
“So was mine.”
His head snapped up to meet Yasuji’s gaze. “But Rikya . . .” Was naked or half-naked in most of the demonstrations Yasuji had given, as well as in the dozen photo albums showcasing Master Yasuji’s rope designs.
“She grew into her place as my rope model,” he said with a smile. “It took several years before she’d wear anything less than a robe during a demonstration. I pushed her to bare all before she was ready. But it was out of male pride; she was beautiful naked, bound in my ropes, and I wanted to show her off. I’ll also admit that some of the most memorable rope designs I created on her weren’t when she was naked in body. So trust in Amery to know her own mind. She will be what you need.”
“She already is.” Ronin zipped up his duffel. “Thank you, Master Yasuji.”
“We will see each other again.”
As Ronin walked through the training center, he glanced around, trying to memorize everything, even when he knew he’d never forget the torturous devices that’d tested his physical and mental resolve. When he reached the door he turned bac
k one last time.
Master Daichi stood on the edge of the practice mat. In the same place he’d always stood these last twenty years.
Ronin faced him, dropped his bag, and waited.
Then his sensei did the oddest thing. He smiled. A genuine smile—not the evil I’m-thinking-of-better-ways-to-torture-you grin that set Ronin’s senses on high alert. Then Daichi offered a deep, formal bow.
Which Ronin returned. When he was upright again, his former Master was already gone.
He slipped outside into the cool evening air.
There was only one person he wanted to share this moment with—and she was in Tokyo.
He quickly made arrangements to get there as soon as possible.
***
Amery let herself into Ronin’s apartment on the forty-first floor of the Okada Garden Tower, a high-rise in the Tokyo business district. This corner apartment was small, according to Tamara, but Ronin had refused anything bigger because he loved the view. The interior was bland—nothing like the charming minimalism of their penthouse, which seemed to get less minimal the longer she lived there.
She’d spent the morning in the main Okada offices, which took up floors twenty through thirty of this building. Then Tamara convinced her to go shopping. Amery had no idea how much money she’d spent, and that bothered her because it wasn’t her money.
That’s not what Ronin would say. In fact he’ll be happy you bought things.
Amery kicked off her heels and dropped the shopping bags by the door. She’d pick them up later. Right now she wanted a glass of sake. She checked her cell as she wandered into the living room, hoping for a message from Ronin.
“I hope the rattling of packages indicates you’ve bought something kinky and sexy?”
She gasped. Then her gaze moved over to the shadowed form in the corner. Her husband lounged with his jean-clad leg draped over the arm of the leather club chair. A lowball glass with half an inch of amber liquid was clasped in his right hand. His black shirt was untucked, his feet were bare. His hair was in delightful disarray and dark stubble lined his lean cheeks.
He was magnificent.
He was here.
When she saw that heated look in his brown eyes—the look that was for her alone—she launched herself at him.
He laughed between her avid kisses as she attempted to rip open his shirt. “Hold on there, tiger. Let me put my drink down first.”
“Hurry.”
“If I was wearing a tie you’d be yanking me up by it.”
“I can do that with your belt loops too—right before I yank your jeans down.”
Ronin pushed to his feet. Then he framed her face in his hands. “I missed you. Let me show you how much, baby.”
She closed her eyes when his lips met hers, letting herself sink into his kiss. Being away from him drove home the point of how essential he’d become to her life.
He picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. He undressed her slowly, kissing, nibbling, licking on her skin as he bared it. So by the time she was naked, she was also wet, and ready for his possession.
Ronin had swept the covers back on the bed before he’d laid her on it. He kept his gaze on her as he removed his clothing. “That’s a sight I thought I’d never see.”
“What?”
“A wife—my wife—in this bed.”
Amery watched as Ronin pushed his jeans and boxer briefs to the floor. She couldn’t help but lick her lips at seeing how weeks of training had defined his musculature even more.
He strode toward her, that stiff-backed martial arts posture undeniably sexy. “I never thought I’d find a woman like you, Amery. I saw my life played out much like my sensei; devoting my time and energy to teaching.”
“Nothing wrong with that, Master Black.”
“Not until life throws you a curve. Or in my case, a curvy strawberry blonde.”
“Regrets?”
“Never.” He ran his fingertips down her arm, from the ball of her shoulder to the inside of her wrist. Just that simple touch sent goose bumps racing down the left side of her body.
That’s when she knew something had happened that’d brought him to Tokyo a full day early. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”
“I will be now that I’m here with you.”
She touched his jaw and he rubbed his face against her wrist, brushing his lips over her pulse point. “Show me how much you missed me,” she whispered.
And he did.
Ronin was an amazing lover whether his mood was raunchy, urgent, playful, sweet, or dominant. This time the man was reverent—making love to her slowly as the sun dropped and the city lights came on. The shimmer of the Tokyo skyline dimmed in comparison to the light in Ronin’s eyes as he watched her unravel beneath him. Twice. And when he reached the tipping point, her name drifting from his lips was the only sound he made as he poured himself into her.
Afterward Amery rested her head on his chest, listening as his rapid heartbeat slowed. “I’m happy that you’re here earlier than you’d planned. But what happened that allowed you to cut out of training a day early?”
When Ronin began to talk, she realized how far he’d come in such a short amount of time. During this trip Ronin had crossed yet another hurdle—she didn’t have to pester or pick a fight with him to get him to share what was on his mind. He wanted to tell her, to include her in all aspects of his life.
Maybe that was a small thing for other men, but it was huge step for Ronin.
“I can tell you’re wondering what comes next for you, but I’m happy you won’t be beholden to train in Japan at your sensei’s whim anymore.” She raised her head and looked at him. “Are you past the point where you need a teacher?”
“Part of me wondered when he kept having me perfect the techniques that I’ve done for a while if there wasn’t anything new for him to teach me. But I don’t feel like I’m done learning. I feel like I’m a better teacher when I’m also a student. There are a couple of masters in the U.S. who’d take me on.”
Amery stroked his cheek. “I’m so proud of you. I’ll support you in whatever you decide to do.” She smirked. “But I’m sort of hoping your new teacher lives in Hawaii. I could hang out there for two and a half months while you’re training.”
Ronin kissed her forehead. “Maybe we should test it out first and see if you like it. How about if we take another week before we go home and hop around the Hawaiian Islands? We have to refuel in Honolulu anyway.”
“Seriously?”
“Unless you need to get back to work?”
“Let me think . . . No. I’ll take another week in the surf and the sand with my man, thank you.”
Chapter Seven
“Am I showing too much skin?” Amery tugged the silvery blue cocktail dress down to cover her ass but it made her cleavage pop out. “I am showing too much skin. I have to change.”
Ronin clamped his hands on her shoulders, and his eyes connected with hers in the mirror. “Baby. Relax. This dress is fine. You look beautiful.”
“I look like a bedazzler experiment gone horribly wrong.” She adjusted the cap sleeves but the strands of beads kept tickling her arm. “Alls I’m missing is a rhinestone headpiece and I’d be right at home at a stripper’s revue in Vegas.”
He chuckled against the nape of her neck. “I love that you’re funny when you’re nervous.”
“Glad that you see the humor in this. Unzip me.”
“Amery—”
“Seriously, Ronin. I cannot wear this dress to meet your grandfather.”
His fingers moved to the zipper. “You will look amazing in whatever you wear. But since this is the third dress you’ve tried on and discarded in the last hour . . . pretty soon you’ll run out of clothes.” His rough-tipped finger trailed up her spine, causing her to shiver. “Then you’re back to being naked, which is how I like you best anyway.”
Amery sidestepped him. “Not helping.” She stared at the two