He grunted. “Not always. Let’s get the first business discussion out of the way. Why’d you want to know about that property on Baldwin?”

“The lone tenant is a friend of mine.” Ronin explained the incidents, ending with, “I hadn’t heard of those organizations moving into that neighborhood. Figured you’d know something about it.”

“I’d heard a blip or two over the past few months but nothing solid. I’ll be keeping a better eye on it now. I’ll also pass the info to Stanislovsky. I know that won’t sit well with him.”

“How is Max?”

“Headed for divorce court again. This marriage lasted barely three years. He set her up in business, some healthy frozen yogurt chain. She had some success with it, so she figures that entitles her to a bigger piece of all of his business.” TP sighed. “He could’ve saved himself two divorces and ten million bucks if he’d listened to my advice.”

“Which is what?”

“Keep your woman—or women—out of your business.”

Surely he’d misheard that.

“I see by the look on your face you think I’m sexist.” TP shrugged and puffed on his cigar. “Maybe I am. I’ve been married thirty years. Not once have I ever asked my wife’s opinion on a possible business deal. Not once have I given her the details on how I make the money she’s more than happy to spend.”

“So you don’t share anything with your wife?”

“Businesswise? Nope.”

Maybe that’s why rumors abounded that TP had multiple mistresses. Just like Ronin’s grandfather—but at least he didn’t have a wife literally overlooking his affairs.

“I never fooled myself into believing I was a handsome son of a bitch like you, Black. I’m fat. Obnoxious. Cocky. Crude. I don’t score with the ladies because they’re getting a night with Brad Pitt. I’m rich. That’s my appeal. I knew it when I married my wife. I know it whenever I hire a new assistant. I’m good with that.”

“Does that throwback attitude keep you from doing business with women?”

“No. I know women are highly capable of running their own businesses. I just don’t want them running mine. Men like us? We do what we have to do. We don’t piss and moan about it and wring our hands. We don’t hold a focus group to determine the best course of action. We just do it.”

Ronin wasn’t anything like TP . . . Was he?

“Can’t go back and change the past, Ronin. Only thing you can do is move forward.”

“I fail to see how asking me to do you a favor—given the types of favors I’ve done for you in the past—is allowing me to move forward.”

“So tell me no.”

“Jesus, TP, are you off your meds?”

TP grinned. “You paid your debt to me years ago, Ronin. It’s your sense of loyalty that keeps you doing the occasional favor for me. I’m not above taking advantage of that for no reason other than I trust you. And you can be guaran-damn-teed if I’ve asked for your help it’s because I’ve exhausted other options.”

There was a compliment in there somewhere. “What’s going on?”

He sighed. “My daughter Katie. She’s twenty-three, beautiful, sweet, and dumb as a post. I say that with pure fatherly love and no malevolence.”

“What’s she gotten herself into?”

“Three months ago, she called her mom, claiming her boyfriend was holding her against her will. Prior to that, we hadn’t seen the girl for damn near two months, so we had legitimate reason for concern. Katie has fallen for every dirtbag to come down the pike since she turned sixteen. When these guys figure out who she is, they swear it’s true love.” He snorted. “She even married one of these bastards. It lasted one month. That cost me a chunk of change. Every time she’s been in a situation, I’ve bailed her out.”

“Of jail?”

“Not so far, knock on wood.” He rapped on the table. “Like our other kids, when she turned eighteen, she started receiving monthly dividends from her trust fund. For the past five years, at the beginning of every month, the balance on the account is close to zero because she—or her douche bag boyfriend of the moment—has emptied the account. But during those three months, she hadn’t touched the money. Long story short, my PI found her, and my security team dragged her out of the roach-infested place she’d been held. The wife picked out a rehab place in California that specializes in rebuilding or re-creating self-esteem in poor little rich girls or some such new-age shit. After she completed the program, she returned to Denver, and she’s been driving me batshit crazy ever since.”

“While I’m glad it sounds like everything worked out, why are you telling me this, TP?”

“Come to find out, the guy she’d shacked up with was an MMA fighter.” He blew a smoke ring. “Evidently you refereed one of his amateur underground fights.”

“Still not seeing where you’re going with this.”

“Katie discovered you and I are acquaintances. Somewhere along the way, she’s convinced herself she belongs in the MMA fight-promotion business. Specifically building one with Black Arts.”

Ronin couldn’t stop his look of shock.

TP laughed. “Exactly my reaction when my daughter demanded I set up a meeting between the three of us to discuss options.”

He fought the urge to look over his shoulder to see if TP’s kid was joining them.

“Don’t worry. I ain’t gonna foist my ditzy daughter on ya without your permission. I like you too much. But my wife, who is not privy to my business, is riding my ass about this. So I gotta come up with something besides losing a shit ton of money.”

“Jesus. I need another drink.” Ronin walked to the bar in the corner of the room and grabbed the bottle of Chivas, bringing it back to the table. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Like I said, tell me no.” TP refilled both their glasses. “I won’t hold it against you.”

Ronin knocked back the scotch. “Christ, TP. This feels wrong.”

A sheepish look crossed TP’s face. “Look, I don’t want you to get the wrong impression. I adore this kid—she’s sweet and she’s got a damn good heart. It’s the first time I’ve seen her excited about anything besides a man in years. She did manage to finish a two-year community-college degree in administrative business.”

An odd notion occurred to him.

“What? I see the wheels turning. If you’ve got an idea—no matter how damn crazy it sounds—I’d consider it.”

“It is crazy. But do you think she’d buy that being a ring girl for an event is the best way to learn the fight-promotion business from the inside?”

“Possibly. The girl’s got the body and the looks for it.”

Most fathers thought their daughters were beautiful. What if Katie . . . wasn’t? Ronin needed a backup idea. “Would she be willing to enroll in martial arts classes?”

“You could make it a stipulation.” His eyes turned shrewd. “How’d you come up with that?”

“Black Arts is adding on Brazilian jujitsu. I’d like to have a newcomer in the classes as a way to keep an eye on things.”

TP’s eyebrows rose. “Whose idea was that?”

Since TP freely admitted he never took his woman’s advice, Ronin opted to keep Amery’s suggestions out of it. “Makes financial sense to expand. I found an instructor who is qualified and has an established dojo.”

“What’s this guy’s name?”

“Alvares Curacao. He owns the ABC dojo. Oddly enough, your timing is”—suspect, but Ronin soldiered on with—“good because he and I recently decided to combine resources and start a fight-promotion company that focuses on the amateur circuit. Katie could work as a ring girl, and train in the dojo to see firsthand what the MMA fighters do to prepare.”

“Keep going.”

“She’d have to understand she starts on the bottom, doing grunt work like anyone else.” Ronin gave TP a contemplative look. “Will it mean more to her if she thinks she got the job on her own?”

“It’d be a first.” TP poured himself another shot. “I appreciate you doing this, Ronin. And don’t worry; I’m fully prepared to pay her salary.”

Ronin laughed. “Not happening, Daddy Warbucks. She works for me; I pay her. Won’t be much. Nor will it be full-time. I’d put her on probation for the standard six months to see if she’s serious. Because I don’t think you really know how long her interest in this will last.”

“Understood. I’ll tell Katie I talked to you and you have an opening, but she has to apply for the job like everyone else. If she doesn’t follow through, neither of us are out anything.” TP grinned. “Think I oughta tell her to keep it on the down low that she’s my daughter? She kept the last name of the asshole she married. Hiding your family connections has worked well for you.”

“Not always.” Definitely not with Amery.

“Count yourself lucky you were born with the looks that make it an option for you. An ugly guy like me? No choice but to flash money around.” He put out his cigar. “When do you want Katie to interview?”

“Have her send a résumé to Black and Blue Promotions. Same address as the dojo.”

“Clever name.”

Another one of Amery’s ideas. “I’ll probably sit on it for a week or so before I call her in.”

“Good plan. And just so we’re clear. You do this for me? We’re square. For good. No more favors.”

That right there made it worth doing.

“Deal.”

• • •

THURSDAY afternoon, Ronin was rearranging teaching schedules when his cell phone rang. “Ronin Black.”

“It’s Blue. I don’t know what kind of pull you’ve got, but man, thank you. I spoke to the property rental company on Monday right after our conversation, and the guy pretty much guaranteed it’d be a hefty enough penalty for breaking the lease that I’d end up staying. So today I had a message from him, and he said there’d be no penalty at all for breaking the lease early except for losing first and last month deposits and incurring a cleaning cost.”