Unraveled (28 page)

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.”

“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.

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.”

She felt so sick she had to sit down. Deacon was absolutely right in his accusations.

“And the worst part of this? I’ve watched Knox grow more confident since Ronin left
him in charge. He’s been Ronin’s second-in-command for so long, waiting for Sensei
to make a decision, that he became Ronin’s mouthpiece. Ronin’s way of dealing with
things is to make Knox do it—but that doesn’t mean Knox has a voice. So with Ronin
being away, Knox has had a chance to show he’s a good, strong, fair leader. And he’d
counted on your support—if not in private, definitely in public.”

“Until last night.”

“If you cared about him, you wouldn’t have acted just like your fucking brother.”

When Shiori’s expression must have looked blank, Deacon clarified. “Knox has had to
watch Ronin fight and listen to Ronin’s ‘I don’t give a fuck what you think’ attitude
for several years. Knox had been helpless to stop it. And now you did the same thing
to him? You think he wanted to watch the woman he cares about get a public beating?
No.”

Her tears fell when the magnitude of what she’d done finally hit her.

“I’m not a touchy-feely guy. I’m an asshole. But Knox is a good man. And to be totally
fucking honest, he doesn’t deserve the shit you’ve brought into his life. What the
fuck do you think will happen when Ronin finds out you two are involved? He’ll be
a dick. But it’s doubtful he’ll be a dick to
you
, because even though you are a haughty bitch, you’re his family. Ronin will take
every single bit of his frustration out on Knox. Know why? Because he always does.
But this time it’ll be worse, because it is personal. And when Ronin finds out you
were beaten to a pulp in the ring, who’s he gonna blame? You? Fuck no. He’ll blame
Knox because he’s Shihan. Ronin knows who is supposed to make that final decision—and
it’s not the goddamn fighter. The reason for that is exactly what went down in the
ring between you and Mia last night.”

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“It happened all the same.”

“What do I do now?”

“Why’re you asking me? I saw one of the best guys I’ve ever known embarrassed and
forced to leave a fight he’d helped set up because he couldn’t stand to see you get
hurt. And knowing you, you expected him to be waiting around, ready to pick up the
pieces.”

She had.

“I’m proud of him for walking away. I’d be even happier yet if
you went back to Japan.” He paused. “Because we all know that’s what’ll eventually
happen. You’re leaving. You’ve got Knox all wound up and caring for you when you’ve
never had any intention of staying here.”