Every second of the three-minute round ticked by like an hour. At the thirty-second mark, Shiori switched tactics and charged for a takedown.
“That’s it. Get her down and keep her down.” Ronin’s jaw tightened when Shiori sustained a strong blow to the side of her head. Didn’t appear to make her loopy, just more determined.
The ten-second warning sounded and the first round ended.
He set the stool in her corner, grabbed the towel and the bottle of water.
Shiori removed her mouth guard. “How’d it look?”
“Good. I have you ahead. You kept her on her feet longer than I expected.”
Breathing hard, she nodded and took a drink of water.
“I sensed some hesitation on her part,” he said, mopping her face.
“Me too. I think she’s holding back.”
“Why?”
“I’ve got ten years on her and it’s supposedly my first fight.”
“Supposedly?” Ronin repeated.
Shiori patted his cheek. “As you say here in the west, this ain’t my first rodeo.”
Ronin grinned. “Goddamn. You’ve been holding back too.”
“Not anymore.”
During the second round, Shiori toyed with Sophia. Their ground game wasn’t evenly matched. Several times Ronin saw where Shiori could’ve ended the bout, but she opted to stay in taunting mode.
But the first minute of the third round, Shiori zeroed in, knocked Sophia to the mat, and got her to tap out by putting her in a rear naked choke.
After Shiori was announced as the winner, Ronin accompanied her back through the gauntlet. Knox and Deacon leaned against the wall, not speaking as they waited for the main event to begin.
Knox said, “Look at you, She-Cat. Not a mark on your face. I’ll admit I was hoping for at least a swollen lip.”
Shiori sauntered up to Knox, swaggering in that supremely confident and yet wholly feminine manner. She stood on tiptoe and spoke directly into his ear.
After she stepped back, Knox seemed flustered for a beat or two. Then he said, “I’ll pass.”
Shiori bumped fists with Deacon. Then she headed to the women’s locker room.
Ronin looked between Knox and Deacon. “Need anything?”
“Nah. We’re good.”
“I’ll head up to the balcony level and watch from there.”
He cut through to the side door and scaled the stairs. The seats were packed, and people were rowdy, ready for the final fight.
Since Deacon’s opponent had a less-impressive win-loss record, he entered the event center first. His theme song was Pink’s “So What,” which was just wrong on so many levels. A dozen people followed him in. He stopped and kissed a woman and a baby; then he did the “man hug” thing with guys outside the ropes.
Cut to the entrance again, where they announced Deacon as Deacon “Con Man” McConnell—which was just f**king stupid that all these fighters had nicknames. When he’d fought, they’d forced a nickname on him too, calling him Ronin “the Master” Black. Better than someone’s other suggestion of Ronin “Jet” Black. At least Ronin’s entrance music had been tongue-in-cheek—when “Back in Black” by AC/DC blared from the speakers.
Deacon’s entrance tune was old-school and a sly wink too—“Enter Sandman”—the same song he’d been using since he was Sandan belt rank. Two people followed Deacon—Knox and Ito. Deacon didn’t kiss babies. He sure as f**k didn’t hug anyone on his way into the cage. After the pat down, he retreated to his corner and conferred with Knox and Ito.
The announcer spent way too much time blathering—nothing new, that’s what they were paid to do. Once the fighters had been introduced and Katie did her thing, the bell rang.
If Ronin had the chance to study his fighters from higher in the arena, he took it. Sometimes critical errors, especially repetitive critical errors, were better seen from above.
Deacon owned the match from the start. Ronin felt a stab of annoyance that the main pro bout had such mismatched fighters.
But as he watched, he realized Deacon’s ground game wasn’t up to par—surprising for a jujitsu MMA fighter. That showed Deacon had been spending too much training time on boxing and not enough on grappling. He needed to get back to basics.
The first round ended, and Ronin had a sense of dread that had nothing to do with the rest of the fight. Everyone had convinced him that because this event launched Black and Blue Promotions, they had to host an after-party. He’d grudgingly agreed. But now the idea of glad-handing sponsors, discussing upcoming opportunities with other promoters, rehashing fights with fighters and their families, plus the Black Arts and ABC crews . . . he wanted to fake a setback injury and bow out.
Katie’s appearance signaled the start of the second round.
After the bell dinged, Deacon came out with extra aggression. Two kicks, one fake punch, and then he executed a spinning back fist to his opponent’s head and the match was over. He knocked the guy out cold.
Ronin had a phantom pain in the back of his skull—he’d been on the receiving end of that move recently.
The referee called the fight, the lights came on, and Ronin headed to the ready room.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
AMERY had to admit it was cool to flash a pass for the private after-party. Black and Blue Promotions had gone all out, securing a large private banquet room at a local brewpub.
But it was cooler yet to walk in on Ronin Black’s arm.
The man defined hot and sexy. And intimidating. Women eyed him. Other fighters wanted to be him. The man was constantly surrounded. But that was okay since she liked to admire him from afar too.
During the party, his eyes met hers across the crowded room, and the punch of lust tightened everything inside her even as her knees went weak. He allowed himself that I-own-you smirk and then refocused on his conversation.
She sighed.
“That is one sigh-worthy man, ma chérie,” Chaz said behind her.
“Will I ever get used to the fact that he’s with me?”
“Watch this.” Chaz draped his arm over her shoulder.
Ronin’s eyes immediately lasered onto Chaz. Although nothing changed on his face, his displeasure pulsed through the air like a sonic boom.
“See? The man is insanely jealous of even a g*y man touching you. So your shock and awe that he’s with you is reciprocated one hundred percent.” He gave Ronin a little finger wave and dropped his arm.
“Thanks for coming tonight.”