Ronin had figured either TP or Max would step in. “I’m glad to hear they saw the light.”

“The kicker is we have to be out of here by Saturday.”

“How much equipment do you have?” Ronin jotted down items as Blue rattled them off. That was less stuff than he’d anticipated. But it’d take a crew to load and unload. “How many guys you got helping make the move?”

“Five.”

“I can add”—he did a quick calculation—“six more. Shouldn’t take too long. When is final inspection?”

“Saturday afternoon at two.” He paused. “But here’s the thing. I worry the protection dudes will vandalize the building before the lease company signs off.”

“They might make an example of you, so protect yourself.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“Set up a perimeter around the building and get enough guys to stand watch from sundown to sunup. They show their faces, make sure none of your guys engage them in any kind of physical altercation and call the cops.”

“What if the cops don’t show up?”

“Just say shots have been fired, and I guarantee you’ll get a response.”

Blue got quiet. “I’d ask how you know all this stuff, but then I’d know, and I’m not sure I want that.”

“Smart choice. Call me if you have any problems. I’ll have people there at six a.m. with a truck. I want you there keeping an eye out, not loading stuff.”

“Thanks, Sensei. Anything else I need to know?”

“You’ll have legal documents to sign on Saturday afternoon, as soon as everything is unloaded here. We’ll go over scheduling and all that the first part of next week. I’m giving only you a keycard and the security codes until we decide who else will get access.”

“I appreciate everything, and I’m looking forward to being in business together.”

After Ronin hung up, he rummaged in his desk for something to eradicate the pounding in his head. But he couldn’t even find a damn aspirin, and it was too much trouble to head up to his place for a pain pill.

Fifteen minutes before classes were scheduled to start, Knox came into his office without knocking and closed the door.

“What?”

“Please tell me that the hot fucking blonde out there applying for a job is one of the female black belt instructors you’ve been talking about hiring?”

Ronin shook his head. “I haven’t set up any interviews.”

“Maybe it’s our lucky day because she’s here for a job interview. Said you were expecting her.”

He rubbed his forehead. “No. Send her—”

“Jesus, man, don’t send her away. I’ll hire her for something.”

“I was going to say send her in, you fucking pervert.”

Almost as soon as Knox opened the door, a six-foot blond bombshell sashayed in wearing a low-cut shirt that showcased a big pair of tits that jiggled too perfectly to be fake. She offered her hand. “Ronin? I’m Katie Pettigrew Gardiner.”

This was TP’s daughter? He glanced at Knox—who had his gaze glued on this chick’s ass in her painted-on jeans. “Shihan, close the door on your way out.”

“Ah, sure.”

Ronin pointed at the chair across from the desk and didn’t take Katie’s hand. “I received your résumé. I intended to call you next week to set up an interview.”

“I couldn’t wait. I’m just so excited to be part of the team.” Her gaze encompassed the room and frowned. “Will my office be smaller than this one?”

“Ms. Gardiner. You need to take a step back.”

“Excuse me?”

“I haven’t hired you. And with the way you’ve shown up, assuming you’ve already got the job? I’m leaning toward ending this interview right now.”

Katie blinked with confusion. “But didn’t you talk to Daddy and come to an agreement about this?”

“No. I agreed to read your résumé and call you for an interview. That’s it. Unlike most people in this town, I do not jump through hoops for Thaddeus Pettigrew.”

“But you’ve had it since yesterday! I sent it by special courier.”

Was this woman for real?

Yes. She’s had the kind of spoiled upbringing your mother refused to give her children.

Ronin said a silent thank-you to his mother.

“Have you read my résumé?”

“I skimmed it.”

“And?” she demanded.

“You have zero experience for the position.” He paused. “You are aware of the job requirements?”

“I’d be heading up the Black and Blue promotional team for MMA events.”

Ronin flashed his teeth at her. “Wrong. You are applying for an entry-level position—a part-time position. Your main responsibility? Ring girl.”

Her jaw almost hit her cleavage. “Are you kidding me?”

“No. We’re hiring a ring girl, a gopher, and a lackey—all-in-one. Those would be your job duties and in that order, plus you’d be enrolled in classes and report to me.”

Katie’s eyes cooled. “My father knew this was the type of job after he spoke to you.”

“Yes. And you would’ve known it too if you would’ve waited for the callback. But since you’re here, and you’ve been apprised of what the job entails, I imagine you’re not interested?”

“Ring girl,” she muttered. “I should’ve known he’d pass me off as some brainless twit.” Determination shone on her face. “Of course I’d be happy to represent Black and Blue Promotions as ring girl. I’ll even fetch coffee and file.”

If she expected Ronin to backtrack, the girl was bound to be disappointed. “We’ll need help setting up the office next week. I’ll have to get back to you on specific times. Your classes here will be free. The job pays minimum wage for office work. The dollar amounts will vary for your work as ring girl, depending on sponsor commitments, size of the event, and the venue. Clothing is provided. Any questions?”

“Is my father paying you to hire me?”

“No. He is not paying your wages, either. If you take the job, you will have six months of job probation.”

“Which means you can fire me at will.”

“Yes. I’ll warn you—I’m demanding, and I will not treat you like a delicate flower. You’ll either bloom on your own or wither and die. Your choice.”

She looked confused—and maybe a little scared.

Good.

She rose to her feet. “Thank you for this opportunity, Ronin.”

“Not Ronin. Call me Mr. Black.”

“Absolutely, Mr. Black.” She stood and bowed with a flourish before she spun on her heel and exited the room.

His screaming headache had just gotten worse.

Normally he’d head to the workout room and pound on a speed bag, or a heavy bag, or a sparring opponent and give himself something else to focus on besides the pain. But that wasn’t an option, because he was heeding the doctor’s warnings. Ronin had to admit his body wasn’t fully healed. So he detoured to the Crow’s Nest to brood and pace. Up here, his anxiety would be hidden. Up here, he’d be spared from his instructors treating him with kid gloves.

Over the years, he’d packed his working hours with so much he had no idea what to do with himself when he had free time. So what had he done when he had free time? Started a new promotion company that occupied his every waking hour spent in the dojo so he didn’t have to worry that he’d finally irreparably damaged his body and he’d never bounce back to the man—to the fighter—he was.

As much as he tried not to think about the repercussions of a lifetime spent pushing his body past normal limits, he couldn’t help it since he had a doctor’s appointment scheduled for tomorrow.

A loud ki-yah brought Ronin’s attention to the class of yellow belts. He barely remembered being in that stage of his training. He’d accelerated quickly because his father had drilled him continually, both in class and outside of it.

Maybe it was Shiori’s constant presence, or maybe it was because he’d been dodging his mother’s calls, but his family had been on his mind a lot lately. He’d been thinking about his grandfather’s expectations, which had somehow segued into his questioning his father’s motives in enrolling him in jujitsu at such a young age.

Had his father seen that something extra special in his son that caused him to constantly push Ronin to the next level? Or had his father merely lived vicariously through his child?

A long-buried memory surfaced of being with his father in the tiny backyard of their house on base, practicing kicking strikes. Ronin couldn’t have been older than five, and all he’d wanted to do on that sunny afternoon was roll in the grass, chase his little sister around, and dig in the dirt with his toy trucks. He’d heard the happy shrieks of the boy next door and his friends and experienced his first taste of envy. His father believed a purposeful life meant a structured use of time. So while kids his age learned to have fun, Ronin learned how to tune out those sounds and concentrate on achieving greatness.

That jarred him. Been a while since that phrase surfaced: achieving greatness. Those were his father’s favorite words to explain why Ronin’s life wouldn’t be like other kids.’ He was meant for more.

Ronin heard the bottom door open and played the guessing game of who’d breached Master Black’s ivory tower. Then Amery’s sweet cherry scent wafted toward him, calming him.

She pressed her chest to his back and wreathed her arms around his waist. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“I had this crazy idea you were hiding from me when you didn’t answer your phone, and you weren’t in the penthouse or in your office or punishing yourself in the weight room. So I set out on a quest to find you.”

“And find me you did.”

“So whatcha doing up here, Sensei?”

“Taking stock.”

“And how are the kiddos performing?”