Blue spoke in Portuguese to Gil and then he faced Ronin. “I’ll need to warm up while it looks like you could cool down.”

Ronin’s adrenaline spiked again, and he had a difficult time standing still.

By the time they met in the ring, gi tops gone, gloves on, mouth guards in, Ronin’s pulse was tripping triple time.

“Amateur parameters?” Terrel asked, serving as referee.

They both nodded.

“You know the rules.”

Ronin came out swinging, trying to keep this fight off the ground so he could hear the satisfying smack of his fist on flesh. He let fly and punched Blue in the face.

Just like that son of a bitch did to Amery today.

What kind of sick motherfucker hit a woman? His cross jab landed on Blue’s ear and knocked him back a step.

Ronin kept coming. A knee jump that connected to Blue’s chin followed by a spinning back elbow that caught Blue in the shoulder.

And when Blue went for the takedown, Ronin relished it and allowed himself to be brought down hard. He got in two head punches before performing a rolling press to get out of half guard.

Blue wasn’t expecting that. Or the side mount that allowed Ronin a perfect gut punch.

Just like that son of a bitch did to Amery today.

What kind of sick motherfucker hit a woman? He angled his hand and pummeled Blue—from his chest to his chin.

Terrel yelled, “Time!”

Ronin rolled to his feet and walked to his corner, mopping his face with a towel and taking out his mouth guard for a second. He leveled his breathing and scrolled back through the fight, trying to remember his opponent’s weaknesses. He wasn’t interested in a tap out; he wanted the fight to go all three rounds. He wanted to deliver pain.

So when the second round started, Ronin didn’t see Blue, his business partner, he saw . . . red.

He became methodical in his fury. Cunning. Able to keep his opponent on his feet until that moment he charged, and they hit the mat with a bone-jarring whump. Then he was fighting for dominance. Keeping legs and arms in constant motion. Getting away from his opponent’s hold by utilizing the running sweep just as the referee yelled, “Time!”

Ronin was starting to feel exhaustion set in as the third round started. Which is probably why his opponent was able to connect with a side kick that caught him in the gut and sent him flying against the net. Pissed off, he charged, knocking him to the mat with a wrestling takedown.

Once Ronin was on top, he utilized jab after jab, feeling a burst of satisfaction at seeing the blood . . .

“Stop! Omigod, Ronin, stop it right now!”

He was abruptly yanked upright. Two steel bands circled his upper body, and he welcomed the chance to rest.

Then Amery was in his face.

Amery?

What the f**k was she doing in the goddamn cage?

Her face looked like she’d gone a round.

Then he remembered and his stomach clenched. That burst of rage exploded inside him again. My fault, my fault, my fault. Baby, I’m sorry.

Amery placed her hand on his heart. “Ronin. It’s okay. I’m okay. Don’t do this. You’re not supposed to do this.”

He glanced at his opponent—holy shit, that was Blue—holding a bloody towel to his face as he sat in the middle of the practice ring.

What the f**k had he been thinking?

His mouth guard fell out when he started to speak. “Blue. Jesus. I’m so sorry.”

Blue rose to his feet with a grunt and shuffled over. His gaze slowly roamed over Amery’s face, and he murmured something in Portuguese. Then his eyes met Ronin’s. “I don’t blame you for the anger, my friend. But now we are even for our first fight.”

While Ronin’s lungs billowed, fighting for more air, his eyes followed Blue’s progress out of the room.

“I’m gonna let go of you now,” Knox said.

“Amery, baby, step back in case I fall.”

The woman didn’t budge. “Then I’ll catch you.”

He just about lost it again right then.

• • •

AMERY watched Ronin closely. He didn’t act like he’d gone three rounds with Blue. Evidently he’d gone six grappling rounds with two other ABC black belts before that. Seeing the man was still standing spoke volumes about his strength.

And about his heart.

He didn’t speak until they were in the private elevator. “How’d you know?” Ronin asked her.

“Blue sent Gil to find Knox when the fight started. Knox came and got me.”

“I’m sorry. You didn’t need to see that—or deal with me after what you’ve been through today.”

Amery pressed her cheek to his still sweaty chest. “You put yourself through that because of me. Did it help?”

“Some.”

“Did you get hit in the head?”

Ronin kissed her crown. “No. I just needed . . .”

“You don’t have to explain. I accept all parts of you, sweetheart.” She brushed her lips across his pectoral. “Even the parts I don’t understand. But that doesn’t mean I can’t worry you took it too far.”

He said nothing.

The elevator door opened to the penthouse, and she stayed glued to his side, even when he tried to shake her free.

“Look, Amery, I need a shower.”

“So do I. I’ll scrub your back; you scrub mine.”

Once they were in the master bathroom together, not happily, according to Ronin’s expression, she realized in all the times and all the places they’d had sex, they’d missed the shower.