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  “Yes, I did and, please, please don’t be mad. It got you two to talking again and to see that you are so perfect for each other—”

  “Stop. I understand why you did it. I knew I was falling apart during that time, and it pissed me off because I swore I’d never be one of those women who can’t function without a man in her life.” She laughed. “I thought I’d done pretty well at hiding it from you.”

  “You sucked at hiding it. It was hard for us to watch and do nothing. Chaz swore after the stuff had gone down with Emmylou and her issues with Ronin last time that he wasn’t meddling in your love life again.”

  “But Chaz encouraged you to.”

  “Yep. I don’t regret it, because you’re happy, Amery.”

  “I am.”

  Molly tapped the contracts. “So what does Ronin think of you going to work in the family business?”

  “He doesn’t know.”

  “What? Why not?”

  She twisted a hank of hair. “Because it’s his family’s business. I need to make the decision on my own—what’s best for my company. He wouldn’t consult me on a business decision for the dojo. I have to draw that dividing line because I don’t think he can be neutral when it comes to Okada.”

  “Probably true.”

  “So let’s keep this between us for now.” She picked up the contracts and dropped them back in the envelope. “I’ll make copies before I take this to my lawyer.”

  “Cool.” Molly slid off the stool. “And in my downtime, in my new role as office manager—”

  “Office manager?” Amery repeated.

  “If you take the Okada job, you’ll need to hire another graphic artist. I’ll have seniority, and I’m good at balancing the creative and business side. Anyway, I’ll check out the actual profit and losses for your existing food-based customers and see if letting that part of your business go will be a financial blow.”

  “Awesome. But I want you to wait until this is a done deal before you drop out of school.”

  “Damn. And here I was totally going to blow off my homework.”

  “Smart-ass. Let’s get set up for the Wicksburg Farm Halloween bash.” Amery made it halfway to the sink with the empty coffee cups when she remembered she’d left her camera in Ronin’s practice room. She couldn’t take a chance on Molly seeing those photographs even if she swapped out the memory cards, and if she and Ronin continued to take risqué pictures of each other, they’d need a camera at his place anyway.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She turned around and smiled. “On second thought, let’s head to the electronics store first. I’ve been meaning to upgrade my camera and get one of those headset thingies.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE following week, Alvares “Blue” Curacao showed up at Black Arts on time with his instructors—two men and one woman. He bowed and then offered his hand. “Hachidan Black. Thank you for this opportunity.”

  It seemed strange to hear his belt rank mentioned since Ronin was used to being called Sensei at the dojo. “My pleasure. Have a seat, and everyone can introduce themselves before we get started.”

  The tension in the room was palpable.

  That’s when Shiori walked in.

  Ronin could feel Knox and Deacon’s questioning looks, but he kept his focus on his sister. He’d asked her to mediate this meeting. Personal issues aside, Shiori was a shrewd businesswoman, and he wanted her involvement in this situation.

  “Gentlemen.” She nodded to the other woman in the room. “Sophia. I’m Shiori Hirano, a visiting instructor from Japan. Since I have no personal stake in the outcome of this meeting, I’m here as an impartial mediator. Anything that is said in this meeting is confidential, agreed?”

  “Agreed,” Blue said.

  “Agreed,” Ronin said.

  “Let’s start with you, Mr. Curacao. Tell us about your dojo. Number of students, qualifications of instructors, monthly fees.”

  “Currently we have three qualified instructors besides myself, black belt levels sanctioned by BJJA—Brazilian Jujitsu Association. We teach seventy-five students. The majority of them are below blue belt ranking since the Brazilian method moves slower through the belt ranking system than traditional jujitsu. Our requirements are a minimum of three paid classes a week. We do not charge higher-ranking belts higher fees.”

  Everyone around the table nodded approval. Several martial arts disciplines charged higher fees for brown and black belt levels—which created a problem because the instructors moved the students up the ranks faster to collect the significantly higher class fees.

  When Blue revealed his hourly class fee, Ronin quickly did the math. They were making a nice chunk of change every month.

  Shiori looked to Ronin to offer the same information.

  After he finished speaking, she opened up the discussion to the instructors from both camps. Ronin was really impressed that his guys asked things he hadn’t considered. And Sophia asked why the Black Arts staff wasn’t utilizing female instructors. Then she questioned the boy-to-girl training ratio. Something that had never crossed his radar—until Shiori had questioned him along those same lines.

  When Shiori began speaking of the different philosophies, Ronin discreetly shook his head. Always a pointless discussion.

  Knox stood. “Let’s look at the training rooms.”

  At that point, everyone left Blue and Ronin alone.

  “I thank you for opening the door to this discussion, Sensei. Especially after—”

  “You knocked me out? I don’t hold grudges.”

  Blue cocked his head. “So I shouldn’t hold it against you that you let me win?”

  Ronin said nothing.

  “I’m an excellent fighter, but it shouldn’t have been that easy. I have to ask, why did you want the punishment?”

  He would’ve been disappointed if Blue hadn’t picked up on it. “Ever done something so unbelievably stupid that you want to kick your own ass?”

  “Of course.”

  “Since I couldn’t do that, and no one here would help me out, I let you kick it for me.”

  Blue laughed.

  “I appreciate you following up on my physical condition after the fight.”

  “No problem. I never asked if you made any money from the event.”

  Ronin paused and studied the guy. Blue’s face carried scars from his fighting years. He was one intimidating motherfucker in the ring. But he had a decent head for business—Ronin had checked him out thoroughly before setting up the meetings. “It’s a nonissue at this point. Do you make money from events?”

  “I make enough to tempt me into wanting to make more. I’d like to bring something up before we get into the possible dojo merger. Because if that doesn’t work out, for some reason I think this idea might.”

  “I’m listening.”

  Blue leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “We both know mixed martial arts fighters’ goals are to get into one of the big organizations and fight on a professional level. But if amateurs have no place to fight, how will they establish a record and move up the ranks?”

  “It’s impossible. Or close to.”

  “The major players are bypassing this market. I figured out that the way to make money is to pack the fight card with amateur fights. That brings in friends and family. Put women in the ring for one match. Then close the evening with a pro match, or what passes as a pro matchup. If we combine our resources, in very little time we would be the go-to promoters for amateur fights in this area.”

  Ronin cocked his head. “How many fights are you promoting a year right now?”

  “Three or four very small ones that are barely a step above smokers. How about Black Arts?”

  “Officially? None. I personally set up . . . underground bouts a few times a year. I keep it off the radar. Pay the purse out of my pocket.”

  Blue gave him a narrow-eyed look. “So you fight in these unsanctioned matches?”

  He fought the u
rge to squirm. Before he’d returned to the cage, he’d had to come clean with Knox. It’d been fucking embarrassing to admit that in the past three years, he’d hidden his compulsion to fight like it was some dirty secret. He’d convinced himself he needed to test his skills outside of the dojo, outside of being Sensei Black. But the truth was, after all the years he’d spent earning his reputation with his fighting skills, he couldn’t just . . . stop. He loved to fight. It was the one thing in his life that he was good at.

  “Hachidan?” Blue prompted.

  “Yes, I’ve maintained a presence in the underground fighting world. Seventy percent of the time I referee. The other thirty percent?” He met Blue’s gaze head-on. “I fight.”

  “Dangerous hobby, my friend, and one I’d require you give up for good if we join forces.”

  Ronin nodded. He’d already been forced to give it up, and his respect grew for the man across the table for expecting they’d keep things on the up-and-up.

  “Back to the topic at hand. I’d like to pursue a partnership with you for the major amateur event we’ve scheduled in three weeks.”

  “Here in Denver?”

  “Yep. And you’re thinking . . . why haven’t you heard of it, right?”

  “Right.”

  “That’s what I’m saying. You’re involved in the fight world, and you’re unaware of the event. Think how many other martial arts studios with MMA training programs are in the same situation. They have no place to put their fighters to the test. Between us, we’ve got the network to make it happen. We’ve got the diversity. We’ve got the money.”

  Ronin had to slow down the gears churning in his head and focus. “Expenses?”

  “Everything fifty-fifty. From the overhead to the venue to the staffing. This first event could be a trial run to see how well we mesh. A lot of the logistics are already in place. It’d just entail swapping a few things out. And you kicking in some cash.”

  “I’ll admit you’ve piqued my interest.” Really piqued it. If Ronin couldn’t participate in the fighting world in the cage or host fights in dive bars that catered to a rougher crowd, he could be an active part of it from a different angle. God knew he needed something to occupy himself while he was supposed to sit around twiddling his fucking thumbs.

  Blue smiled. “Good. I didn’t mean to steer you away from the real reason I’m here.”

  “Let’s cut to the chase. I think we can come to a workable agreement as far as absorbing your dojo into mine, while letting you keep some autonomy. What is your biggest issue right now?”

  “I do not own my facility. I moved into the location last year. In the last nine months, I’ve been approached by two guys offering me protection. I initially declined.”

  “Let me guess. After declining their offers, your place has been vandalized.”

  “Three times. Renter’s insurance didn’t begin to cover the replacement costs. I contacted the rental property company to ask for assistance with paying for new windows, and they informed me anything involving ‘malicious intent’ isn’t covered.”

  “Did the protection guys warn you about the vandalism?”

  He nodded. “Being from Brazil and growing up on American TV, I thought those types of business practices were for effect. Or they only happened on the East Coast.”

  “Sadly, no. How long is your lease?”

  “I’ve got one year remaining on it. I’m the only tenant left in the building.”

  “Is the building for sale?”

  “No, but every other building on the block has changed hands in the last two years. As far as I know, the owners weren’t interested in selling.”

  Sounded like the owners were being pressured to sell by a third party harassing the existing leaseholder into breaking the lease and cutting off the owner’s income stream. Easy to hire muscle, use scare tactics and property damage to convince the tenants to leave. He’d seen it happen over and over. And in the not too distant past, he’d been the guy doing the persuading.

  “You don’t believe me,” Blue stated quietly.

  Ronin glanced up at him. “No, it’s not that. A few organizations around here still get results by those tactics. Are you paying for protection?”

  Blue’s face turned red. “I have no choice. But it’s sucking every bit of profit, and I’ll have to close my dojo before too much longer. I’d much rather be under the Black Arts umbrella and pay you rather than lose everything I’ve worked for in the last three years.”

  “I understand. Is there a chance the property management company would relax the penalties for breaking your lease?”

  “I’ll ask.”

  “Let me do some checking around. I know some guys in the business.” Denver mover and shaker Thaddeus “TP” Pettigrew owed him a favor, so the real estate angle would be easy to check.

  “You’d do that before we signed any formal agreement?”

  “Let’s put it this way: I’ll feel better signing an agreement with you if all of that stuff is already taken care of.” Ronin stood. “Let’s join the tour. And if you’re all right with it, we can get Shiori started on the transitional paperwork.”

  “As long as she’s willing to work with Sophia. She handles the business end of ABC.”

  “You should know that Shiori is my sister. She’s here temporarily handling some family business and filling in as an instructor.”

  Blue grinned again. “A sure sign that this arrangement is meant to be, no? Because Sophia is my sister.”

  • • •

  THE next evening, Ronin said, “I think I might go back to teaching next week.”

  Amery lifted her head from his chest. “I know the bruises have faded, but are you really ready? Or are you just feeling guilty?”

  “Teaching is what I do.” Fuck. That’s all they’d let him do.

  “What classes are you usurping? Poor Sandan Zach’s women’s self-defense class?”

  He slapped her bare ass. “I did my penance teaching you.”

  “Hey!”

  “Don’t pout, baby.” Ronin dropped a quick kiss on her forehead. “I’d be helping Ito with the younger kids.”

  “Why? Aren’t your highly advanced skills wasted there?”

  “I should be accessible to all students, not just those in advanced classes. Plus I need to assess all levels more frequently to ensure their skill sets are up to par.”

  “Will you have time to do that, given how much time you’ve already committed to the new promotion company?”

  Ronin would be going fucking crazy if he didn’t have that. In just one day, he’d expanded on Blue’s original idea and he’d become a little obsessed with it.

  “What are you calling the promo company?”

  He frowned. “No idea.”

  “I have one. My creative little brain has just been cranking.”

  “And?”

  “What about . . . Black and Blue Promotions?”

  Ronin laughed. “That is perfect. Damn, woman, you are brilliant.”

  “I know.” Amery’s lips started a southerly path down the center of his chest. She detoured to his right nipple and sucked so hard he nearly bowed off the bed. So when she slid her wet lips across his sternum to his left nipple, he expected the same treatment. But she flicked just the tip of her tongue around the flat disc until it puckered. Then she reconnected with the line bisecting his belly and licked straight down to his cock. Anytime her hot tongue teased his skin, his cock took notice. It’d begun to stir, but was still soft and curled on the inside of his thigh. No sweet nuzzling like he expected. Amery’s mouth enclosed his cock.