After she left, Deacon muttered, “Wish I had a shot of Jäeger right about now.”

“Me too.” Knox dropped his arm below the table and fiddled with his bracelet. It was still new enough he wasn’t used to it, but it’d become his touchstone in such a short amount of time.

“I thought Gil was gonna be here?” Deacon asked.

“Guess he’s coming later.”

Silence settled between them so completely they heard the ping of the elevator.

They exchanged a look that said, Here we go.

Shiori entered the room first and Maddox followed.

Although Knox had seen Maddox on TV, in MMA magazines, and they’d had a Skype conversation, the man’s size surprised him. He was an inch shorter than Knox, and he had the build of a boxer, not the doughy physique of a trainer who’d let himself go—which was the norm in the world of sports training. It was hard to tell whether his ancestry was Latin, Italian, or Native American. Dark hair in a buzz cut, a goatee, no visible tattoos. As Knox assessed him, Maddox’s dark gray eyes met his, and he realized Maddox had been assessing him also.

Then he stepped forward and offered his hand. “Knox? Maddox Byerly.”

Knox shook his hand. “Great to finally meet you in person.” Then he hung back when Deacon moved in.

“Deacon McConnell. It’s an honor to have you here, sir.”

“I’m glad to be here. And no need for formality . . .” He looked between the three of them. “Unless that’s a requirement since this is a martial-arts studio?”

“We use formal titles during class hours. Makes it easier for the students to show respect to us if we show respect to one another.”

“Understood.”

“What would you like to do first?”

“Since I’ve been sitting in the car the better part of the last two days, I’d like to stretch my legs and see the training areas.”

So Knox took him through the dojo from the first floor up to the third floor. Deacon and Shiori tagged along, but neither had jumped into the conversation, which left Knox feeling like he’d been droning on for forty-five minutes by the time they returned to the conference room.

Shiori passed out bottles of water and they settled in.

“This is a great facility. I know the jujitsu program here is top-notch.”

That was a nice . . . platitude. Some awkwardness was to be expected, but this meeting needed to set the tone for their working relationship, so Knox barreled ahead.

“Look, Maddox, we are thrilled that you chose to join us. With your reputation I imagine you had dozens of other offers, so we figured we’d better jump while we had the chance. Since Ronin is training in Japan with his longtime sensei and out of contact, we—Shiori and I—brought you on board without discussing it with him because we feel that you are the best person to reinvent our MMA training program.”

His face remained blank. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“I wanted full disclosure. You’re contracted for a year, so even if Ronin comes back and disagrees with our decision, you’ll retain the full salary you were guaranteed. But I’d like to think Ronin would be more pissed off that we had a chance to hire you and didn’t than that we’ve secured you for Black Arts.”

Maddox crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t go into any situation with blinders on. I quizzed Gil about this situation and he admitted Ronin Black wasn’t in the picture. I could’ve taken that two ways—that Ronin’s second-in-command and his sister were trying to overthrow his leadership and take over his business. Or Ronin’s second-in-command and sister were trying to expand the business for the benefit of all. Obviously, I banked on option number two.”

Knox nodded.

“I’ll be honest. Taking the owner out of the decision-making process has made it easier all around. It’ll allow me do my job rebuilding the training program while Ronin does his job running a respected dojo.”

“Gil is shit for keeping secrets. But I’m relieved he clued you in. We didn’t want you to think we got you here under false pretenses.”

“Leaving the familiar for the unknown is always a crapshoot. You leveled with me, so I’ll level with you.” Maddox sighed and laced his hands behind his neck. “This last year has been utter shit. I finally got the psycho woman I was married to, to agree to a divorce. It only cost me everything I had, and that seems like a damn bargain. I couldn’t leave my former employer until the divorce was finalized because she would’ve demanded a chunk of my future earnings too.”