“I didn’t say they were faked. Those are pictures from a long time ago.” Amery had seen some of those pictures—they were in Ronin’s photo albums, visual records of his previous bindings. So that snake Naomi had somehow copied the photos without Ronin knowing, which was just another breach of trust.
“What about this one?” he demanded, pulling out a shot of Amery leaving the dojo the day after the parking garage attack, her lip still swollen, her eye a hideous shade of black. With the hunched-over posture, she looked . . . beaten down. The next shot, a close-up of her face, showed every mark in detail, including the bruises on her neck.
“So you’re not denying anything we’ve said about this man?”
“I’m telling you that you don’t know him. He would never hurt me. And you have no right to judge him.”
A long pause settled between them.
“Who are you?” her father said hoarsely. “This is not how we raised you. We provided you with a moral compass. How did you veer so far off the right path?”
“Here you are, living in the big city, living a life of sin and depravity.” Her mother picked up the argument. “This is why she doesn’t come home more often—she knew we’d see the ugly truth about her life. She’s so caught up in it that she can’t see she’s allowing herself to be fed a line of lies. Where will she be when she’s been used up and discarded? No one will want her then. No one will care to help a woman who refuses to help herself.”
Don’t cry. Goddammit, don’t cry. “Not even you?” she managed to choke out.
“We can only do so much,” her father added, slipping an arm around his wife’s shoulder. “We want to help you. Will you come with us to church service tonight and pray about it?”
Help her their way. Amery shook her head.
“Are you running straight to him?” her mother demanded.
She shook her head again.
Her father appeared relieved. “At least give this some thought, okay? We’re staying at the Holiday Inn Express out by the airport.”
“For how long?”
“That depends on you.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning we’ve been in contact with a Christian center here in Colorado that runs a retreat for abused women. We’ve secured a place for you for a few weeks. We’ll take you there and check you in.”
She clenched her jaw to keep it from dropping. They thought she was a victim? That Ronin was some kind of abuser?
Why would they think differently? Your assumption about what kind of man Ronin was the first time you were in his practice room was similar to theirs.
Amery refused to let that voice she’d worked so damn hard to exorcise from her mind and her life get a foothold again.
“Watch the other DVD. You need to see it.”
“What’s on it?”
“Just watch it,” her mother said shortly.
Fuck. Amery didn’t want to do this, but it appeared they wouldn’t leave until she met their demands. She switched out the discs, but didn’t sit down when she hit PLAY.
Two fighters circled each other on-screen. One was Ronin. Immediately he was the aggressor, cornering his opponent, getting him on the ground. Keeping the guy locked down. The round ended when Ronin got the guy to tap out after an arm bar.
Another fight started. This one was more physical on the boxing and kicking side. Ronin’s opponent refused to stay down. But Ronin adapted. He brought out his punching and kicking game. And he beat the guy bloody. The final move that ended the fight was when he performed a spinning back kick that connected with his opponent’s head.
Straight knockout.
After she watched the third fight, where once again Ronin was victorious, she didn’t see the point to watching this DVD. Was she supposed to believe that he’d take this behavior outside the cage? Direct it at her? Just as she opened her mouth to ask the purpose, another fight started.
But this wasn’t like the others. This fight found Ronin on the receiving end of rapid-fire fists. His opponent absolutely brutalized Ronin. The skin above his eye was sliced open and bleeding. His mouth was cut and swollen. The camera had zeroed in on him, and the look in his eye was complete blankness. Bleakness. And she knew, in that moment, this was the fight he’d been in the night he’d shown up at her loft beat to crap.
Where had Naomi gotten footage of this? Had she been there? Taking joy in watching Ronin getting pummeled?
Ronin had come to her to help him become whole again. He needed her. Amery bit her lip and tasted the salt from her tears in the back of her throat.
She opened the DVD drive and removed the disk.
“Well?”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I told you this was a waste of time,” her mother snapped.
“Say that our concerns are justified.”
Amery shook her head. “You are off base on this. Ronin isn’t a monster. Not even close.”
“You will never convince us of that. And we won’t stand by and watch your life destroyed, young lady.”
“You’re telling me if I stay with Ronin, you’ll disown me?”
“We cannot support you in this life choice, Amery. We will not.”
“You’ve never supported me in any choices. From what dress I wore to prom, to what college I chose, to moving to Denver.”
“We’ll be waiting to hear from you. If we don’t, we’ll be on our way and you won’t hear from us again until you prove you’ve gotten your life straightened out.”
Amery clutched the manila envelope to her chest and didn’t even get up when they walked out the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY
RONIN couldn’t get ahold of Amery.
Normally even if she was busy she’d at least text him back and let him know she’d call him when she had a chance.
So why hadn’t he heard from her in more than seven hours?
Don’t be a possessive ass**le who needs to know where your woman is at all times.
He’d finished teaching the class of blue and green belts—what a trip that’d been—and was taking a breather in his office when Deacon poked his head in.
“Got a minute, Sensei?”
“What’s up?”
“Molly is here for my kickboxing class, and she wants to talk to you.”
There went Ronin’s theory that Amery had kept Molly late to work on the Okada project and had lost track of time. “Send her in.” As soon as he saw Molly’s face, he knew something was wrong.