Unraveled (38 page)

Six months later . . .

SHIORI
Lofgren wanted to beat the fuck out of someone.

And by “someone” she meant Knox Lofgren, her husband—the man responsible for putting
her in such excruciating pain.

She grunted, and it might’ve turned into a frustrated scream.

“Nushi, come on. You’re almost there.”

“I don’t . . . I can’t . . .” she panted.

His soothing voice burrowed into her ear. “Yes, you can. You are the strongest woman
I know. A couple more pushes and we can finally meet our girl.”

She curled her hands more tightly around the metal bars and bore down when Dr. Barr
told her to.

“Breathe, baby. That’s good,” Knox cooed, wiping the sweat from her brow.

Shiori waited for the next twisting squeeze of pain, unable to keep up with the breathing
exercises. After another hard push, all the internal pressure vanished and she had
such a feeling of relief.

“Your baby girl has arrived, Lofgrens!” Dr. Barr said.

Next thing she heard was a loud squawk. Then the nurses rushed her off to the medical
equipment.

Shiori looked at Knox. “What’s wrong with her?”

“I don’t know.”

“Go see. Please.”

Just as Knox started to walk over, Dr. Barr turned, holding a wrapped bundle. “Sorry.
Nothing to be concerned about. Just routine checks.”

She reached out for her husband, and of course he was right there.

Dr. Barr set the baby on the pillow on Shiori’s lap. “Congrats. I’ll let you two coo
and admire her for a few minutes while I finish up the medical end.”

“I wanna see her.” Knox pulled her hat off.

Beneath the hat was fuzzy blond hair.

Shiori laughed. “Of course I gave birth to a Viking child.”

“We’ll turn her into a ninja to even things out.”

“Deal.”

“Look at her. She’s beautiful. Just like her mama.” Knox brushed his lips over Shiori’s.
“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They just stared at their red-faced little miracle. In awe.

“What are we naming her?”

Shiori stroked her baby’s cheek, and immediately her head turned, looking for food.
“How about Nuri?”

“After your grandfather?” he asked softly.

“Yes. Is that all right?”

Knox kissed her forehead and then his baby daughter’s. “It’s perfect.” Then he touched
Nuri’s tiny hand with his pinky finger, and those itty-bitty fingers clamped down
on his. “Whoa. She’s got a strong grip.”

“Our baby girl is already trying to wrap herself around Daddy’s little finger.”

“Something she’ll learn from her mama, since I’m completely wrapped around your whole
hand.”

“Mmm. But I like it better when you’re at my feet.” Marriage and pregnancy hadn’t
changed her dominant nature, but it had made Knox even more protective of her. Every
once in a while he’d take those instincts too far and she’d become the big bad Domme.
But their dynamic worked beautifully.

“It’s a shame with your medical restrictions that you’ll have to wait six weeks until
you can boss me around, Mistress.”

She turned and looked at him. “
I
have restrictions. You don’t. So nice try, but you’re not getting a six-week sabbatical.”

Knox smiled slyly. “Worth a shot.”

“Having second thoughts about being my sub?”

“Nope.” He smooched her mouth. “Since you finally put me in my place, you’re stuck
with me.”

“For good?”

“Forever, kitten.”

Shiori nuzzled her face into his neck. “Forever doesn’t seem like long enough with
you, but it’s a good place to start.”

PRESLEY stopped in the middle of the hallway so abruptly that Molly ran into her.

When she glanced up to see what’d caught Presley’s attention, she froze.

Deacon leaned against the wall, his muscled arms crossed over his chest, one knee
bent with his cowboy boot pressed behind him. The pose seemed casual, but she wasn’t
fooled.

“Beat it,” he said to Presley. “I need to talk to Molly.”

Her stomach swooped.

“You have shitty manners,” Presley said.

Deacon ignored Presley and continued to level his brooding stare at Molly.

Talk about unnerving.

Talk about hot.

Shut up, hormones.

Then Presley moved and blocked Molly from his view. “Tell me what to do.”

“Go. I’ll give him five minutes.”

“Don’t take his crap.”

“I won’t.”

Presley’s gaze darted between Molly and Deacon as she backed away. “I’ll be right
over there if you need anything.”

“She won’t,” Deacon said.

“I wasn’t talking to you, asshole.”

“I know. Keep walking.”

When they were alone, Molly kept the entire width of the hallway between them. “You
were rude.”

“So?”

“So you save your decent behavior for the strippers working the VIP section?”

His eyes flashed. “Sometimes. What are you doin’ here?”

“Drinking with my friends and soaking up the naked entertainment.”

“Doesn’t seem like your scene.”

“I hardly think
you
can chastise
me
for being here when it appears you’re a frequent patron of this strip club, Mr. VIP.”

In the blink of an eye, Deacon had caged her against the wall, his mouth next to her
ear. “You trying to push my buttons?”

“Back. Off.”

“Not on your life.”

She shivered when his hot breath tickled her neck.

He muttered, “Goddamn flowers.”

“What?”

“You always smell sweet. Even after sweating in class for an hour, you didn’t reek
like everyone else.”

“There’s a compliment.” Molly put her hands on his chest and pushed him. “Move it.”

A soft growl vibrated against her cheek. “You drive me crazy, woman.”

“Hey!” a loud male voice shouted behind them. “Let her go.”

Deacon retreated to face Black Bart. “I don’t have my hands on your merchandise, so
this isn’t your concern.”

Merchandise?
Was that all the women who worked the club were to him?

Black Bart stopped a foot from Molly and set his hand on her shoulder. “Hey, pretty
eyes, is this fucker harassing you?”

“No, I’m not harassing her, but I’ll break your hand if you don’t take it off of her,”
Deacon retorted.

“Deacon! What is wrong with you?” Molly asked.

“Got a case of
mine
, I’m thinking,” Black Bart said. “You know this joker, sweet thang?”

What perfect payback to proclaim she’d never seen him before. But that’d set him off.
And Deacon “Con Man” McConnell in a rage was dangerous for everyone. “Yes, I know
him. He is—
was
—my kickboxing instructor.”

Black Bart grinned. “No kidding. You one of them
ka-rah-tay
chicks?”

“No. I’ve discovered I like beating the shit out of something a couple of times a
week.”

“I hear ya there.” Despite Deacon’s warning growl, Black Bart stepped between them.
“Say the word and I toss him out on his tattooed ass. I don’t cotton with any women
being threatened in my club.”

“Our conversation got a little intense, but we’re done now.”

Deacon’s dark look said,
The hell we are
, but he kept his mouth shut.

“Okay. You need anything, come find me.”

“I will. Thanks.”

“I don’t like the way he looks at you,” Deacon said softly, the menace in his tone
unmistakable.

“Like you’d know how he was looking at me,” she said hotly. “You haven’t stopped glaring
at me since the moment you trapped me back here.”

“Staring at you and glaring at you aren’t the same thing, darlin’, and you damn well
know it.”

“My mistake. But you’re always glaring at someone. Is that MMA badass behavior? Daring
someone to screw with you so you can beat the snot out of them?”

“‘Beat the snot out of them’?” A smile curled his lips. “Babe. If I hit a guy in the
nose, it ain’t snot running out.”

“Eww. Thanks for the visual.”

Deacon inched closer. “No one here knows I’m a fighter.”

“Why not?”

“It’s my personal business.”

“I don’t imagine there’s much talking going on during a lap dance anyway.”

“Not usually, no.”

“Whatever. I’m leaving.”

He shook his head. “Not done talking to you.”

“We have nothing to talk about. I ran into you at a strip club. Big deal. You’re a
single guy. It’s your
personal business
if you pay some chick with fake boobs to grind her bony ass on your crotch.” She
paused. “Does that about cover it?”

“No, it doesn’t begin to cover it.” Deacon crowded her against the wall. “You still
seeing that banker friend of Amery’s?”

How did Deacon know that?

“What was it about the douche bag that caught your eye? The snappy suit? The nine-to-five
work hours? The freakishly perfect groomed hair?”

“Maybe it’s the fact he didn’t stand me up for our first date.” She gave his shiny
head a blatant once-over. “Sounds like you’re jealous of his hair, baldy.”

His eyes hardened. “Shaving my head is a choice.”

She shrugged. “How do I know you’re not sporting a chrome dome because otherwise you’d
have a bad comb-over?”

Omigod. I cannot believe I said that. To Deacon.

Molly braced herself for his reaction.

But nothing could’ve prepared her for his mouth coming down on hers in an explosion
full of heat, need and possession.

“WHAT
did you have to promise Shiori to convince her to let us borrow her private jet?”

Amery felt Ronin staring at her beneath his sunglasses.

“Nothing. You realize she does not
own
this plane? It belongs to the company.”

“Same difference. It’s been here, in Denver, at her disposal, since her arrival. And
it’s not like Okada is missing it, right? How many personal aircraft does your grandfather
own anyway?”

Now Amery suspected Ronin had narrowed his eyes beneath the dark lenses. “Five. Three
airplanes and two helicopters. Do you have a problem with that?”

She wasn’t quite sure how to answer that question.
Although she and Ronin had been married for six months, she hadn’t gotten used to
the perks of having the heir to a corporation worth billions as her husband. Ronin
didn’t live ostentatiously—if she didn’t count his penthouse suite atop the building
he owned, or his SUV, or his sports car, or
his custom motorcycle. But every once in a while the magnitude of his fortune hit
her.

Like now.

Ronin stopped in front of her and pushed his sunglasses on top of his head. Then he
curled his hand around her face. “Baby. Having access to a private jet just means
we don’t have to worry about airport security confiscating the bags of ropes I packed
for us.”

“Bags? Is that why you insisted I could pack as many suitcases as I wanted?”

“No.” He feathered his thumb across her bottom lip. “We’ll be gone for two and a half
months. I want you to have anything you need from our home to help you to settle in.”

She kissed the inside of his wrist. “All I need to feel at home is you, Master Black.”

“You humble me, Mrs. Black.”

“Mmm. You still love saying that.”

“And I always will.”

“Mr. Black?” a male voice spoke behind them.

Ronin’s stern mask dropped into place before he turned around. “Yes?”

The blond pilot, a male somewhere in his fifties, offered his hand. “Mark Beauchamp.
This is my copilot, Bernie Samuelson.”

“Pleased to meet you both. This is my wife, Amery.”

Another round of handshakes.

“We’ve done the preflight checks. We’re scheduled to refuel in Hawaii. Then we’re
flying to Osaka. Do you have any questions?”

“Can I see your aviation orders from Okada?”

Amery’s gaze moved between the two men. What were aviation orders?

Pilot Mark pulled out a manila envelope and handed it to Ronin.

Ronin removed three papers and read the first one; then he lifted the paper up to
the light. After he read the second document, he scanned the third and handed the
paperwork back to Pilot Mark. “Glad to see it’s all in order.”

“We’re familiar with protocol with Ms. Hirano.” He pointed to a burly man standing
about twenty feet behind them. “Carver will handle your luggage. As soon as we’ve
finished final checks, Nick, your flight steward, will bring you on board.”

“Appreciated. Thank you.”

“Our pleasure, Mr. Black.” Pilot Mark smiled at Amery. “Mrs. Black.”

Before she could ask Ronin a question, he strode toward Carver and handed him the
luggage claim ticket. Then he returned to her. “You okay?”

“This is all really weird. What paperwork did he give you?”

“Authorization papers. In Japan, Okada has an aviation crew on standby. While this
plane is here, it doesn’t have a regular crew, so we hire a local aviation company.
Due to kidnapping threats, my grandfather has a set of protocols in place for any
crew who flies an Okada heir. Even on an Okada jet. It’s up to me to verify this crew
is the crew that Okada hired.”

“So they passed?”

“Yes.”

“Ever had a crew
not
pass?”

“Once. No nefarious plans, just a clerical error that resulted in them losing Okada’s
business.” Ronin took her hand and led her to the big window overlooking the tarmac.
“There it is. A Gulfstream Five.”

She studied the airplane. It didn’t have the Okada Foods corporate logo on it anywhere.
“It’s a lot bigger than I expected.”

He chuckled in her ear. “A phrase a man loves to hear.”

When she didn’t tease him or call him a pervert, he turned her around to face him.
“Are you nervous?”

“About flying? No. It’s just surreal to think that we’ll be living in Japan for ten
weeks.”

“For me too.”

Amery gave him a skeptical look. “Why? You go to Japan at least twice a year for weeks
at a time.” She left the rest of it unsaid.
You were raised in Japan; you know the language and the customs—you’re not a foreigner
like I am.

“But I always go by myself. While I’m there, I train. I sleep. I do
that for two or three weeks. Then I spend a few days with my family in the craziness
that is Tokyo and I return to Denver more worn down than when I left.”

She brushed his hair off his face. “That makes me sad.”

“But this time will be different. I’ll get to spend three weeks with you. Just us,
seeing the sights.” Ronin squeezed her hand. “And after my daily training sessions,
I get to return to you every night.”

“But what if—”

Ronin slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her very softly. “You and me, Amery.
Nothing else matters.”

As much as she wanted to believe him, his claim wasn’t entirely true. Master Black
would spend six weeks training with his sensei, Daichi. He’d already warned her that
the regimen was grueling. Fourteen-hour days, every day, for three weeks. Then they’d
take a week and sightsee between session one and session two, but then they’d return
to the remote village where Ronin would train for three more weeks—the last week of
which he’d spend sequestered. That’s when Ronin’s mother would squire Amery off to
visit the Okada Foods factories that were mass-producing her packaging designs.

“Mr. Black?” a voice inquired behind them.

They turned to face a good-looking Hispanic man she guessed was around her age. “Yes?”

“I’m Nick. Your steward. The cabin is ready if you are?”

“Of course. Thank you.”

Ronin kept his hand on the small of her back as they crossed the tarmac. The wind
blew like crazy, whipping her hair around her face.

Nick scaled the stairs and waited at the top. “It feels strange welcoming you aboard
the plane you own, but welcome.”

Amery waited for Ronin to correct Nick—that Okada owned the plane, not him, but Ronin
didn’t respond.

“May I take your coats?”

Ronin helped Amery with her long wool coat before shrugging
out of his leather jacket. “I’ll give my wife a tour. We can take off as soon as they’re
ready. I’ll let you know if we need anything.”

“Of course.” Nick stepped back into a small galley kitchen.

Amery turned and felt her mouth hanging open as she stared at their surroundings.
This was the inside of an
airplane
? The interior ceiling was white tufted leather. Silver-and-black zigzag-patterned
wallpaper covered the walls. The plush chairs—four of them—were upholstered in a dark
charcoal with red leather armrests. The carpeting was gray with flecks of red. Behind
the chairs was a mini conference table. Directly behind that area were two more oversized
recliners, which could swivel toward each other or face the red leather couch along
the opposite side.

“Holy shit, Ronin. I don’t know what I was expecting—okay, I had zero expectations
because I’ve never been on a private plane before, but it certainly wasn’t this.”

“It gets better.” He led her past the conference and lounging areas. He slid open
a door, revealing a bathroom with a walk-in tiled shower.

“That is nothing like the tiny, cramped bathrooms on commercial airliners,” she said
with awe.

“This is Okada’s transcontinental aircraft, so it was retrofitted for comfort on long
flights.” Ronin opened another door and brought her inside a bedroom.

A bedroom. On a plane.

Of course the decor screamed rich and classy. Plush black-and-cream-striped bedding
with half a dozen fluffy pillows covered in solid black set against cream-colored
sheets. The king-sized bed took up most of the space, but on each side of the headboard
were built-in dressers in white and black lacquer. Heavy black curtains covered the
walls. “The only thing missing is a big-screen TV.”

“Got that too.” Ronin punched a button on the wall, and a TV screen that she guessed
to be about forty-eight inches lowered from the ceiling. She hadn’t noticed it because
the black panel had blended in with the black ceiling.

Amery gawked at the luxurious space and wondered if there’d ever come a time when
she took things like this for granted.

Ronin kicked the door shut and pulled her into him so they tumbled onto the bed. Then
he pinned her arms above her head and got right in her face. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t look at me like you don’t know me.”

Her eyes searched his. “But I don’t know you in this context, Ronin. I’m sorry if
that makes you uncomfortable.”

“Do you want to get off this plane and fly commercial? Because I will.”

“Are you kidding me? No. Way.” She nuzzled his jaw. “I just don’t want you to get
short with me when I’m overwhelmed by who you are outside of our life in Denver.”

He rested his forehead to hers. “You are my life, regardless of where we are. I know
I’m selfish for demanding you come with me. I can’t stand the thought of being away
from you for two and a half months. But if that means you resent me—”

Amery lifted her head to gaze at him and then pressed her lips to his. The feel of
his weight on her, the taste of him, his scent, those were familiar. Those things
grounded her as much as they grounded him. That’s why she was going. He needed her
there with him. “No resentment. But you’ll have to figure out a way to deal with my
freak-out moments, because this is the first of many.”

Ronin’s lips curved into a wicked smile. “I’ve come up with a few ideas on how best
to distract you, baby.”

“Do those ideas involve rope?”

He rubbed his nose to hers. “Always.”

The plane started to move. “Whoa.”

“It appears they were as ready to take off as they claimed.” Ronin kissed her quickly
and pushed onto his knees.

“Do we have to go back to the main part of the cabin and buckle up?”

“Nope.” He stretched out beside her, placing his feet on the pillows. “Do this.”

“What?”

“Lie beside me like this.”

She spun around. “Now what?”

He picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Now have some patience.”

It was weird, lying on the comfortable mattress, facing the wrong way, staring at
the back of the TV screen as the plane rolled along.

After a couple of turns the plane stopped.

“Ronin—”

“Hang on. Wait for it.”

The bumps were jarring when the plane started to accelerate. When it lifted off the
runway, so fast, at such a sharp angle, she felt like she was standing up. And for
just a moment . . . she felt weightless, as if she’d entered a zero-gravity chamber.
Despite the stomach-churning sensation, she turned her head and looked at him with
a smile.

He wore a boyish grin. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“How’d you figure it out?”

“I crawled in bed before the plane took off one night and damn near ended up ass over
teakettle. It’s a steeper climb for smaller jets to reach altitude. Now, whenever
I’m on this aircraft, I act like a kid who thinks he’s on a rocket ship during takeoff.”

She laughed. “Crazy man-boy. I thought you dragged me to the bedroom because you wanted
me to join the mile-high club.”

Ronin rolled her on top of him and kissed her, mouth avid, keeping his hands clamped
on her butt. Between his all-consuming kisses, he spoke against her lips. “Maybe we
should take the edge off.” He treated her lips to a few more teasing kisses. “You
seem tense.”

“You’re up for a quickie?” She moaned when he nipped the side of her neck and then
soothed the sting with hot, slow kisses.

“Who said anything about a quickie? It’s a long flight.”