Ronin scanned the Black and Blue seating section. Amery’s beautiful hair shone like a beacon, and he moved down the aisle, taking the empty seat next to her.
Her eyes lit up when she saw him. “I thought you’d be in Deacon’s corner, coaching him.”
“Knox has it covered.”
She leaned over. “I’m glad I’m sitting beside you during my first ever MMA fight and not watching you fight.”
He brushed a kiss over her temple.
Katie vaulted onto the edge around the cage—easy to do with those mile-long legs of hers—and held up the round sign, moving from corner to corner, making sure to turn around and give the mostly male audience not only a look at her ass, but a reminder of the round sponsor’s name on the back of the card.
Amery whapped Ronin’s arm to get his attention.
“What?”
“Good thing I’m fairly secure in our relationship, Master Black, or I’d be worried you’d fall for Katie’s holy-fucking-shit body.”
“Fairly secure?” he repeated. “Guess I’ll have to tie you up later to make sure you’re very secure in the way I feel about you.”
The announcer read the opponents’ names, trunk colors, corners, and which MMA club they represented—if any—before going over the rules.
Ronin automatically tensed up when the fight started. His sweet Amery noticed and reached for his hand.
The crowd was all about cheering for the Denver native. So when the opponent’s first kick connected with the guy’s knee, loud boos echoed through the arena.
Denver wrestling guy took his opponent to the mat.
Ronin glanced at the judges. Then he focused on Zach and Katie seated at the promotions table. Blue switched between watching the fight and flipping through paperwork.
As soon as the round ended, Katie leaped onto the edge of the ring and did her thing.
“Who do you think is winning?” Amery asked.
“The Denver guy. I’d put his points around twenty and his opponent’s at thirteen,” he said absentmindedly while scanning the surrounding area.
“Am I cramping your style or something?”
Ronin’s gaze zoomed to hers. “Why would you say that?”
“Although you’re sitting here, you’re not really here.”
“Maybe it’s because I don’t know how to act when I’m not in the cage.”
“Do you miss fighting?”
“Yes. I’ve no doubt even when I’m an old man—hopefully not suffering from dementia pugilistica—that I’ll still miss being in the ring.” Ronin tucked an errant hank of hair over her shoulder. “Are you worried I’m going to climb back in?”
“Yes. It’s in your blood.”
Ronin couldn’t disagree. “I found out tonight it’s also in Shiori’s blood.”
Amery’s gaze darted to the empty seats in front of them and back to Ronin. “Where is she?”
“Warming up. The other female fighter passed out. Shiori volunteered to fill in.”
“She’s fighting Sophia?” When she realized how loud her voice had gotten, she leaned closer. “And you let her?”
“I had no say in whether or not she fights.” He knew if he would’ve argued, Shiori would’ve thrown back her lack of influence in his choices about fighting. “And now I’ll be coaching her.”
“Ronin. How can you sit there and watch her without wanting to jump in and save her?”
“Shiori has never been the type to need saving.”
The second round started, but Ronin paid no attention. He’d been coached his whole life and done plenty of coaching himself, so he should know how to coach his sister. But his mind had gone blank.
Focus. Find the calm.
But he couldn’t when everything was in chaos.
After the second round ended, Amery rested her cheek against his upper arm. “What can I do?”
“Cheer for her.”
“Will you be okay?”
He deflected answering by kissing her. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ll meet you in the ready room after Deacon’s fight and we’ll head to the party.”
• • •
IT was more of an out-of-body experience trailing behind his sister as she entered the arena than when he walked in himself. She carried herself with feminine grace. After the official patted her down, checking to make sure her upper-body clothing didn’t have zippers or buttons and nothing had been hidden in her gloves, she ducked into the cage.
Ronin took his spot in her corner behind the netting. Ito brought the bucket of supplies and the stool.
Shiori approached him, calmer than he’d expected. In that moment, he had a punch of guilt that he had no clue whether she’d ever fought in an official fight before. During their teenage years, he’d participated in tournaments, but at a different level from his sister, so he’d never seen her compete.
“You good?” Brilliant question, Ronin.
“Yes.” She looked at him expectantly.
He had to give her some kind of advice. “It’ll be a ground fight.”
“I know.”
“Watch the arm bar. Watch those fast reversals. She’ll be aggressive with the takedown and the mount. But don’t let that stop you from using short jabs, elbows, anything in guard position to keep her off balance.”
“Noted.”
He patted her shoulder. “Put her in her place, Rokudan. You got this.”
Shiori grinned and slipped in her mouth guard.
“In the red corner, we’ve got our replacement fighter in her amateur debut, all the way from Tokyo, Japan, weighing in at one hundred and twenty pounds, representing Black Arts dojo, Shiori ‘She-Cat’ Hirano.”
She-Cat? Jesus. Shiori was going to kill Knox after this.
“In the blue corner, weighing in at one hundred and thirty pounds, with an amateur record of ten wins and zero losses, representing ABC dojo and originally hailing from Brazil, Sophia ‘Stinger’ Curacao.”
Shiori and Sophia stepped into the center of the ring and listened to the rules. They bowed to each other rather than bumping fists.
When the bell rang, Ronin’s entire body seized up. It was harder sitting here waiting for someone he cared about to get smacked around than to be in the cage himself.
Thank god Amery hadn’t ever watched him fight.
Shiori came out swinging, which surprised both Ronin and Sophia. As the women circled each other, he noticed that Shiori held herself more like a boxer, hands up, body turned. She dodged a couple of Sophia’s kicks. She managed to bob and weave enough to keep Sophia from taking her to the mat.