Unraveled (35 page)

“Since . . . always.” Tired of talking to the side of his head, she moved into the
kitchen to stand in front of him. “Where is all of this coming from?”

“Like you don’t know.”

“I don’t. So tell me.”

“Master Black. Sensei.”

“What about him?”

“You missed a great fucking meeting today. The new rules for the House of Kenji were
laid out.”

“And?”

“And congratulations to you.” Knox picked up the bottle in a mocking toast and swigged.
“The rules are black-and-white.” He snickered. “Black, get it? Ronin Black’s rules?
Funny, right?”

“Hilarious. Tell me what that means.”

“It means Black Arts is under the House of Kenji, and since you outrank me, you officially
get the title of Shihan.”

That made no sense. Knox had to have misunderstood. “Ronin said this to you? This
is not you extrapolating something you overheard?”

“You think I’m an idiot? I might be drunk now, but I sure wasn’t drunk when Master
Black informed me of the change. Effective immediately.” He tipped the bottle and
drank. “I never realized how short I fell of Sensei’s expectations until you showed
up here.”

That wasn’t true and he knew it when he wasn’t full of booze and self-pity. “I’m not
following.”

“No, you’re always leading, aren’t you?” he shot back.

Shiori counted to ten, trying to keep her temper in check. “Do you want me to apologize
for being a higher belt rank than you?
Guess what? I won’t. I worked just as hard as you did to get where I am. Harder because
I’m a woman.”

“Which is why you’re now Shihan. You should’ve been it the minute you walked into
the dojo. I didn’t question staying in the number two spot just because I was so damn
glad to be there. I didn’t know I’d retained the position only because Sensei felt
sorry for me. I’m a fucking pity case. Or I was.”

How was she supposed to respond?

“Do you have any idea what that feels like? Of course you don’t. You’re the anointed
one.”

“That’s not something I—”

“Let me finish.” His tone was curt. And a little raw.

“By all means, since this has been going so well so far.”

Knox tilted his head back and gazed at the ceiling, looking anywhere besides at her.
“You know why the Domme-sub thing worked between us? Because we balanced each other
out. In the dojo I’ve been in charge. In the bedroom you’ve been in charge. I needed
that separation or else I . . .”

“Couldn’t have been submissive to me,” she supplied.

“Yeah. I’da seen you as the ballbuster at the dojo and the whip cracker at Twisted.”
He snorted. “Like I needed another thing for you to lord over me.”

She shrank back, but she didn’t think he noticed.

“At least Master Black demoted me in the privacy of his office and not in front of
the other instructors.”

Why had her brother done this? In an attempt to break them up? A horrible thought
occurred to her. Was this finally payback for her part in the Naomi debacle? Ronin
could hurt her by taking away the one thing that mattered most to Knox—his position
at Black Arts—and in the process turn him resentful and bitter toward her.

“Wanna know the really fun part of this whole thing? Now I have
to find a paying job. Because the only position that pays full-time wages at Black
Arts is yours, Shihan. So the billionaire heiress will get paid my salary, which is
probably a joke amount to you anyway. But it’s not a joke to me because it’s all I
fucking have.” Another glug of scotch. “You even have another job—not that you need
it. My other job at Twisted is a trade-out for yearly dues, so I don’t even have that.”

“Knox. You have to believe I didn’t want this.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Rules are rules. And Black Arts is definitely under
new management.”

“Why won’t you look at me?”

“Because you read me too fucking well.”

“Not a good enough answer.” The Domme in her snapped, “Look. At. Me.”

The submissive in him responded.

And she recoiled at the desolation and anger in his eyes.

“Happy now, Mistress?”

How could she ever be happy seeing him like that?

Shiori wanted to curl herself around him, but he’d closed himself off. “What can I
do?”

His bark of laughter was near maniacal. “Not something you’ll wanna hear.”

“Try me.”

Knox knocked back another mouthful of booze. “It’s simple. Just follow through with
your original plan. You were here temporarily, biding your time to return to Japan.
So if you went now . . .”

He could retain his status as Shihan. That nauseous feeling surfaced again. “You want
me to leave?”

His lips twisted into a cruel smile. “Wasn’t that always your intent? Tokyo is your
home. You’ve told me that several times.”

Once again she took a mental step back.

Her leaving would solve the problem—Ronin couldn’t force her to become Shihan if she
wasn’t part of the dojo.

But that wasn’t the problem you came here to address.

Why hadn’t Ronin discussed this with her? Especially the part where he planned to
give her all of Knox’s responsibilities? Her brother knew she had commitments to Okada—she’d
heard Ronin and Knox discussing that just the other day.

When Knox tipped the bottle again, it was all she could do not to smack it out of
his hand. Getting shitfaced wasn’t helping.

“Just go. I’ll get by on my own. I always do.”

Shiori had the sensation of watching this unfold from behind a pane of glass. This
wasn’t her life crumbling before her—seeing the man she loved drunk and telling her
to leave. Seeing the father of her child resentful of her.

God. How would Knox react when she told him about the baby?

She couldn’t do it tonight.

Knox wasn’t a hateful person, but he was drunk, and she had no idea what he’d say
in that state. So it was best to let it go.

When the bottle hit the counter, she jumped.

Bleary-eyed, he pushed to his feet. He stumbled down the hallway toward the bathroom.

No use in sticking around.

Heartsick, she slipped out and called the car service as she walked along Knox’s street.

While she waited for the car, she scrolled through her choices for a moving and packing
company. “Your ad says twenty-four-hour service? Yes. I need to be packed up and out
of the rental tonight. I understand it’s premium pricing. Sir, money is not an object
for me. Time is. If your movers can make my deadline, there will be bonuses all around.”
She rattled off the address. “Showing up within the hour would be great. Thank you.”

Next she called Katie. She answered with, “Shi-Shi girl, you never call me. What’s
up?”

“I need a huge favor. Huge. But it needs to be kept quiet.”

“Anything. Name it.”

“My lease has been unexpectedly terminated, and I need a place to st—”

“Stay? Of course you can stay with me for as long as you need.”

Katie really was very sweet. “While I appreciate that, I’m looking for a place to
store my stuff.”

“Oh, of course. You’re probably staying with Knox.”

Yeah, not so much with that. “There’s not a lot, and I can pay you—”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I have a huge house that’s empty. You can store anything you
want, for as long as you like.”

“Thank you. The movers are coming tonight.”

“Oh. Wow. Okay. That soon. Just text me and let me know exactly when. I’ll have to
give the security guy at the gate a heads-up you’ll be coming through with a moving
van. Those kinds of things set him on edge.”

“Will do. And, Katie, thank you. I mean it. I owe you.”

“This is what friends do for each other.”

Lastly, Shiori called her mom. Before her mother said hello, or chewed her out for
not keeping in touch, she said, “Shiori-san. What’s wrong?”

“Everything.”

“Be specific, sweetheart.”

“I’m in trouble.” That sounded ominous. “Don’t worry. I’m not in jail.”

“I would hope if you were in jail you’d call your brother first for bail money since
he’s closest.”

Shiori burst into tears.

“I’m sorry. Badly timed joke. Tell me . . . What’s everything?”

And it spewed out—probably way more than her mother needed to know. After Shiori finished
talking, she tried to get control of her emotions, if only to stop crying.

Although the other end of the line was silent, she knew her mother hadn’t hung up.
“Where are you now?”

She wiped her face and peered out the window. How long had they been parked here?
“In front of my apartment complex.”

“The movers will be there tonight?”

“Yes. I don’t have much to pack, and I lined up a temporary place to store it. Why?”

“As soon as you’re squared away, I want you on the next flight to Tokyo.”

Shiori closed her eyes. “That feels like running away, Mom.”

“It is. But it’s for a good reason. You’re confused and scared and pregnant. Being
home will give you a perspective you’ve been lacking.” She paused. “You’re an adult,
Shiori-san, but that doesn’t mean I don’t worry about you. After the car accident
and now this . . . I need you here for my peace of mind. If only for a little while.”

“Okay.” Relief filled her. Going home seemed like the first sound decision she’d made
in a long time. Not that she’d really made it herself.

“Text me the flight information, or e-mail it to me. And yes, I wish you had the Gulfstream
Five there.”

“Me too. I’ll stay in touch, Mom. I promise. And please don’t say anything to Ronin,
Amery, or Ojisan about this.”

“I won’t, sweetheart.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry—” She started crying again.

“Nothing to be sorry about. One last thing. Make sure you have plenty of barf bags.
Flying internationally always made me sick when I was pregnant. See you soon.”

How weird would it be talking with her mother about what to expect during her pregnancy?
She hadn’t wrapped her head around the concept of a baby yet.

Another pang hit her. Knox should’ve been the first person she’d told.

You held back for a reason. Stop second-guessing yourself with everything.

She took a deep breath. Then she lowered the privacy partition in the car. “Hi. Are
you on shift until midnight?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll need to book you through then. I have some errands to run all over town, and
I’m not sure when I’ll finish.”

“Not a problem. I’ll find out from building security where to park while I’m waiting.
Do you have the addresses of where we’ll be going so I can get them plugged in to
the GPS?”

“One address I don’t have. But then we’ll be going to Black Arts dojo before you drop
me off at the airport.”

Just as Shiori exited the car, the moving van pulled up.

Perfect timing.

Had to be a sign she was doing the right thing.

Wasn’t it?

For once her subconscious was quiet.

KNOX
woke up with a killer fucking hangover the next morning.

Jesus. Fuck. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d downed a fifth of scotch. A guy
his size could hold his liquor and then some.

But he hadn’t held it very well last night. He’d blown chunks. Twice.

Took a ton of effort to slide to the side of the bed and sit up. His head and his
stomach both protested. It even fucking hurt to scrub his hands over his face.

You’re in bad shape.

No shit.

He had no clue how long he sat there with his head in his hands. Thinking about what’d
gone down yesterday added to his screaming-ass headache.

Demoted.

He’d been in a state of agitation since Ronin had returned. He could deal with Sensei’s
questions about the dojo because it wasn’t like he hadn’t run through every damn scenario
prior to the king reclaiming his kingdom. While he’d been grateful for the commiserating
looks from his fellow instructors, Knox was a big boy. He could take the heat.

He just hadn’t expected to get fucking burned.

First thing yesterday morning Ronin admitted hiring Maddox to head up the MMA program
had been a great decision, so Knox had gotten props for that.

Then Maddox addressed the issue of space. He required a dedicated training area, not
a corner of the workout room. The one good thing about the last facility he’d worked
in was the private training area. No one could just walk in and watch or interrupt.
He also found having the business offices and the conference room on the same floor
as the training room distracting.

Ronin hadn’t disagreed. So he’d brought Knox, Maddox, Blue, Deacon, and Gil into the
discussion of how to reorganize the layouts of the rooms on all three floors to make
the most use of them. When Maddox asked what businesses were on the other floors in
the building, Ronin admitted he wasn’t allowing the businesses on the fourth floor
to renew their leases and the fifth and sixth levels were his personal space.

At that point Knox had a burst of pride in Black Arts because Ronin had achieved his
years-long goal of having the entire building dedicated to his business.

For the time being, until the fourth floor had been cleared, MMA training would take
place on the third floor, which belonged to ABC.

So Knox had been feeling good when Ronin asked him to his office. He expected they’d
hash out the details of scheduling. Nothing had tripped his alarms. He made himself
comfy in the chair across from Ronin’s desk and tried like hell not to focus on the
time he’d bent Shiori over said desk and fucked her with enough force to bruise her
hips.

When he’d looked up to see Ronin fiddling with the stapler, his first suspicion all
wasn’t right had kicked in. Master Black wasn’t a fiddler. Unless he was nervous.

Knox decided to break the ice first. “What’s up?”

“As you know, we’re aligned with the House of Kenji now. In addition to being tested,
I had to send staff stats and all that bullshit paperwork that no one ever looks at.”
He paused. “Except they did.”

“And?”

Ronin seemed torn, disgruntled, and nervous.

“Just tell me.”

“Master Daichi never cared about dojo politics, which is why we got along so well.
But House of Kenji has strict ‘guidelines.’ They’re really ironclad rules. And since
I’m new, I’ve been advised to adhere to them, even when it makes me fucking crazy.”

Knox slumped in his chair. “I ain’t gonna like this, am I?”

“No. You won’t. Bottom line? Shiori outranks you . . . according to the Japanese belt
system. In my opinion, that system has always placed students higher than their skill
level indicates. For instance, eighth-degree black belt is a high rank for my age.
I imagine if I’d continued in American jujitsu, I’d be ranked about seventh degree.”

Breathe . . . Just listen.

“Shiori is Rokudan. Taking her belt system into account, I’ve always considered her
Godan—on par with you. You’ve been here longer so you have the experience, which is
why I never made the official title switch between you. I didn’t bring it up with
Master Daichi because he’d never put a woman as Shihan.” Ronin looked away. “But the
House of Kenji doesn’t agree. Their third-highest-ranking belt—”

“Is a woman,” Knox finished.

Ronin nodded. “So as of right now, I’m naming Shiori Shihan.”

Everything went fuzzy at those words. He felt sick. Ronin’s voice became distant.
Unintelligible. Yet the voices in his head became considerably louder.

You should’ve expected this.

Now you’ll have to find another day job.

So much for loyalty. No different from when you were in the army, where you had to
suck up to the brass only to get a boot to the face.

How can you face the rest of the staff? How will they react to your demotion? Will
they laugh? Whisper behind your back?

Why didn’t she tell you this was coming?

Because she wants to rule you inside and outside the dojo.

Break it off with her. Then she’ll return to Japan and things won’t change. You’ll
retain your title and your job.

But I love her.

Does she love you? She hasn’t admitted it.

Or are you just her plaything?

As your Mistress she’s supposed to do what’s best for you. Then shouldn’t she leave
the dojo to make you happy?

“Knox?”

Knox blinked and looked at Ronin leaning across the desk. “Yeah.”

“Are you all right?”

“Surprised, but that’s expected.”

“Look—”

“No need to keep explaining.” Knox stood. “In fact, I really wish you wouldn’t.”

“Fair enough.” Ronin fell back in his chair. “But think about what I said.”

I don’t even know what the fuck you said because I was too goddamn deafened from hearing
the pieces of my life crashing around me.

Knox walked out. He cut through the hallway and forced himself not to run down the
stairs and out of the dojo.

He unlocked his truck and climbed in. His destination was the closest liquor store.
Once inside, he went straight for the cheap stuff. Better get used to pinching pennies
now that he was unemployed.

Fuck.

He’d parked at his house, locked the door behind him, and got his drink on. Hard-core.

So he deserved this motherfucking cocksucker of a hangover because he didn’t remember
anything after he hit the three-quarters-of-a-bottle mark.

Wait. He had a vague recollection of Shiori . . . standing in his kitchen glaring
at him? Had she really been here? Or had it been another hallucination?

If he concentrated really hard—to the point it hurt his fucking brain—then he could
sort of remember talking to her, congratulating her. Her pulling that Domme voice
and attitude. Then . . . nothing. They could’ve had a fight. She could’ve tucked him
in after he’d hugged the toilet.

No. He remembered crawling to his bed after the second time.

He shuffled to the bathroom and popped four Excedrin. Then he hauled his dragging
ass into the shower and let the hot water beat down on him.

After Knox toweled off, he brushed his teeth and dressed himself, feeling somewhat
better.

But still bitter. That wouldn’t go away as quickly as his hangover.

When he couldn’t find his phone in the house, he trekked outside and found it lodged
in the passenger seat of his truck. Barely enough juice to check his messages.

None from Shiori. One from Ronin. About ten minutes ago. When he scrolled to his voice
messages screen and pressed play, his phone went completely dead.

Fucking great.

Then again, he couldn’t deal with Ronin today. The least the man could do was allow
him some time to process this shit. The male pride part of him said he didn’t have
to jump when Master Black called anymore since he wasn’t his second-in-command.

The last thing Knox needed today was face time in the dojo—with Sensei, the new Shihan,
his fellow instructors, or even his
students. He had to get the hell away. Clear his head, his lungs, his heart.

That forced him to stop. Was that really what he wanted? To shut Shiori out of his
life?

No. The very thought of that made his stomach churn. No doubt they’d have to talk
about how this dojo status change would affect the status quo in their personal relationship.

But that was another thing he couldn’t deal with today. Especially after he had no
clue how he’d acted toward her last night.

Fuck. He really, really had to get gone for a bit.

In the five years he’d been part of Black Arts, he’d never not shown up to teach his
classes.

There was a first time for everything.

Knox packed his fishing and camping gear, figuring he’d stop for food on the way out
of town. He wasn’t running away; he was reevaluating.

Twenty-four hours later . . .

So maybe he was slightly stinky after being out in the wild, but he needed to see
Shiori. He imagined she’d be pissed and demand to whip his ass for staying out of
touch for a day and a half. But he felt calmer about the situation. Clearer.

In the hours he’d spent staring at the stars, he understood the last three months
they’d been Domme and sub hadn’t been a game, or a trial, or even a test. It’d been
him falling in love with her. Completely, totally, never-want-to-let-her-go, sit-at-her-feet-forever
kind of love. He believed he was a man strong enough to love her, knowing the challenges
he faced in giving a woman like her his lifelong devotion.

No matter what happened with their roles in the dojo, he’d be by her side, at her
feet, in her bed every night.

He pulled up to her apartment building and parked out front. It drove the security
guy nuts, but after the time Knox had shown up in his gi, the guy hadn’t said a word
of complaint.

In a fit of pique Shiori might’ve scratched his name from her guest list, so he was
forced to go make nice. He flashed a smile. “Hey. Knox Lofgren to see Shiori Hirano
on the penthouse level.”

The security guard typed on his computer. Then his lips formed a sneer. “Sorry. No
one by that name resides in this building.”

“Come on. Quit messing with me. Did she block me or something?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sir. The person whose name you gave me
doesn’t live in this building.”

Now Knox was getting pissed. “Since when?”

Another smarmy sneer. “I’m not at liberty to disclose that information.”

“Then what the fuck good are you, huh?” He slammed his hands down on the reception
desk. “Two days ago she lived here. Now you’re telling me she doesn’t? That’s bullshit.”

“Sir. Your agitation is making me uncomfortable.”

“I haven’t even fucking
started
to make you feel uncomfortable, dickhead. Tell me where the hell she is.”

The security guard’s gaze moved to someone behind Knox and he whirled around.

The woman in front of him, although very pregnant, had the carriage of a former soldier.
The hard eyes of one too. “Whatever the problem is, yelling at the security guard
won’t solve it,” she said coolly.

Knox counted to ten. “This guy is telling me that the woman I’ve been involved with,
who has lived here for almost a year, who lived here up until two days ago, is no
longer a resident.”

“I’m a resident here. Who are we talking about?”

“Shiori Hirano. She leased the penthouse.”

“The exotic-looking woman about yay big?” She held her hand to her own shoulder level.
“Ran around in a gi half the time like some ninja badass?”

“Yes. That’s her. Have you seen her in the past day or so?”

She pushed a chunk of blue hair behind her ear and spoke to the security guard. “Thanks,
Stevo. I’ll handle this.” Then she looked at Knox and gestured to a lounge area in
the corner. “Let’s sit over there.”

Right. That was some kind of code for
wait
here asshole; we’re calling the cops.
Knox shook his head. “I’m fine standing.”

“Well, I’m not,” she snapped. “This baby weighs two hundred fucking pounds, and I
need to sit. If you want to talk to me, park it.”

And . . . Knox didn’t argue. Maybe this chick was one of Shiori’s Domme friends. She
certainly had the air of command.

After they’d settled in, the woman gave him a shrewd once-over. “What branch?”

Yep, his former soldier impression had been dead-on. “Army. Twelve years. How about
you?”

“Ironically . . . the same.” She offered her hand. “Liberty Masterson.”

“Knox Lofgren.”

“So, Knox, have you been gone or something and didn’t know your girlfriend moved out?”

“I’ve been gone twenty-four hours. Shiori and I also work together. We had some big
changes at the dojo, and I needed time to get my head on straight.”

“Dojo?” she repeated. “You mean she wasn’t making a fashion statement with her clothing?”

“Hardly,” Knox said dryly. “She is a sixth-degree black belt, and her fierceness compensates
for her size. She’s rubbed my face in the mat on plenty of occasions.”

“Interesting. So you went to get your head on straight . . . ?”

“In the great outdoors, where there wasn’t phone service. So I’m uneasy about the
idea she might’ve just fucking moved in the forty-eight hours since I last saw her.”
He glanced at her distended stomach. “Shit. I’m not supposed to swear in front of
kids.”

Liberty rubbed her hand over her belly. “Junior gets an earful from me all the time,
so no worries. Daddy and I will both clean up our language postbirth.” She paused.
“My husband, Devin, and I are on the floor right below the penthouse.”

“Which unit?”

“Both of them. One is our residence; the other is for my husband’s business. We knew
the penthouse owners intended to rent out their place for a year. So I was surprised
to see them back yesterday. I know a year hasn’t passed since they left.” She shot
a look over her shoulder. “I asked the night security guard about it and he said that
the renter had movers here packing her stuff up at ten o’clock, night before last.”