As far as Ronin knew, he was the last student his sensei had consented to teach—and that’d been twenty-two years ago. “In your defense, he’s never taken a woman as a pupil.”

“That seems to be a tradition you’re following.”

“Wrong. I have female students.”

“Ah. But do you have any female instructors?”

“No.”

Shiori cocked her head. “Because you don’t feel women are as qualified to teach as men?”

Ronin did not want to get into a gender-equality argument with his sister.

But you can admit she has a point.

“I’ve not had any women apply for an instructor’s position.”

“But you do have female students at black belt level you could’ve moved up?” she pressed.

“A few. But like I said, none of them have expressed interest.”

“Perhaps they’re afraid to be the first to break the Black Arts glass ceiling. Along those lines, what is the protocol for my visitor’s status?”

“Having a higher-ranking belt than my Shihan hasn’t come up before, so we don’t have protocol in place. I’ll discuss options with my instructors and let you know.” Maybe he’d have his sister put her money where her mouth was and assign her to teach classes.

“Thank you.” She stood. “I’m not returning to Japan until things are settled between us. I screwed up. I’ve apologized. I don’t expect immediate forgiveness, but I do expect you to acknowledge that the person you’re angriest with is . . . yourself.”

She walked out, regal as a warrior queen.

Unbelievable. His pesky little sister still had the ability to get under his skin.

Knox cleared his throat.

“What?”

“I hear you muttering. And not to be a dick, but I agree with your sister. While she stirred the pot, the shit stew that was already in it was all yours.”

A sense of self-loathing rose again. Ronin closed his eyes.

“Let it go, my man. You can sort things out with Amery when she returns from wherever she’s gone. Don’t you always preach to control the things you can and ignore the rest? You can’t control this.”

“I’m a postulating ass**le sometimes, aren’t I?”

Knox grinned. “Only on the days of the week ending in Y.”

• • •

IT’D been one week since Ronin had seen Amery.

One week.

Seven f**king days without a word from her.

He hadn’t gone back to her loft. But he hadn’t stopped calling her once an hour. His way of letting her know he thought of her every waking hour of his day.

Then maybe you should leave a message so she’ll call you back.

“Ronin?”

He turned away from brooding out his office window and faced Deacon. “Hey. What’s up? I didn’t think you were coming in today.”

“I hadn’t planned on it. But I got some bad news yesterday.”

“What’s going on?”

Deacon ran his hand across his bald head and sighed. “You know my grandfather died a few months back and his estate is in limbo. My dad’s been trying to mediate all this inheritance shit between his brother and sister. My aunt hired an attorney, which we all expected, and he’s scheduled a meeting for next Thursday afternoon.”

Ronin’s gaze sharpened. “That’s the night you’re scheduled for a bout with Alvares Curacao.”

“I know. And if the meeting were in Denver, it wouldn’t be an issue. But it’s in San Antonio. My dad . . .” Deacon started to pace. “He’s had a rough go of it. On top of losing his father, he’s dealing with his greedy siblings, who care only about the money they feel is owed to them as their birthright.”

Deacon came from money. Old Texas oil money. So the legal summons wasn’t something he could ignore, especially when his participation in MMA fights was more of a hobby. Their family situations were similar only in that they both had more money than they could possibly ever spend.

“Look, I’m really sorry—”

“No worries, Deacon. Be there for your dad. How much time off will you need?”

“I’ll leave on Tuesday morning and take a late flight back on Sunday. In addition to putting you in a bind with missing the fight, that leaves four days’ worth of classes uncovered.”

“We can combine classes. I’ll move Jon up to instructor level. Probably time I did that anyway.”

“Fine, but four students in my Friday class are testing for black belts next week, remember? I don’t have to be there to test them, but I promised to extend class time so they could work on techniques, and that requires an instructor.”

Ronin reached for the printout with the month’s class schedules. “Can we push testing back until next month?”

Deacon shook his head. “It’s already been postponed once. These students have been working hard for the last year. I don’t wanna disappoint them.”

Since Ronin preferred to run his martial arts studio with a small staff of instructors, something like this could upend his system.

He glanced up. “There is one option. Since it doesn’t appear my sister plans to leave Denver anytime soon, she could fill in.”

“Will Shiori feel that’s beneath her?”

“If she practices here, she’s under my leadership. She’ll do what I tell her.” Ronin noticed Deacon’s rigid posture. “Don’t tell me both you and Knox have an issue with her?”