Bound (Mastered 1)
She moved back and brought up her hands into position. Then she let fly, hitting the heavy bag with all she had.
“I knew you could hit harder.”
“That’s because I superimposed your face on my target area,” she panted between punches.
“Whatever works. Fifty more. Make them count and this will be it.”
Amery gritted her teeth and smacked the meaty part of her forearms into the bag. Left, right, left, right.
“Don’t hunch your shoulders. Change the pattern. Three strikes with the right, then one with the left.”
She kept that pattern for a dozen strikes and focused on a fast switch when he changed the rhythm again to two and two.
“Ten left. All left strikes.”
Wham. Wham. Wham. So much sweat ran into her eyes she could hardly see. But she didn’t let it deter her as she counted out the last seven blows.
“Strong finish. Excellent work. Grab a drink.”
“I don’t think I can move.” Her words were muted since she’d face-planted into the heavy bag.
“Either let go and get a drink or I’ll add another hundred drills.”
She cracked one eye open and glared at him. “Bite me.”
Outside class Ronin would’ve laughed at her. But being as they were in the dojo . . . he lifted one imperious eyebrow.
“Sorry, Sensei. Getting a drink now.” She trudged to the bench and uncapped her water, taking four gulps. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to sit on the bench, but she didn’t care. Her legs were noodles.
“The extra training classes show marked improvement in your form and stamina.”
“How did this go from being in a self-defense class to private instruction with boxing and takedown techniques?” She knocked back another mouthful of water. “You training me for women’s MMA?”
“Not hardly.”
“I’m getting special treatment because . . . ?”
“I deemed it so.”
“Or because I’m f**king Sensei Black?”
Ronin smirked. “That too.”
“I know I’m supposed to respect the teacher/student line when we’re in the dojo.”
“But?”
“But all I can think about is you tying my arms with that nylon resistance strap and f**king me against the wall.”
“For that obvious insubordination, I’d give you ten lashes with that strap before I bind you and f**k you.”
Amery hid her smile behind her water bottle. “I apologize for putting such raunchy thoughts in your head, Master Black.”
“Class dismissed, Ms. Hardwick.”
“Does that mean we can . . . ?”
He made that low growl. “Not here. But I’d better find you on your knees in my practice room in an hour to make the raunchy images you put in my head a reality.”
Her pulse spiked.
“Am I clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
He stopped in the doorway and turned to give her a slow once-over. “Don’t bother showering. You’ll need another one by the time I’m through with you tonight.”
A shiver worked through her. She couldn’t wait.
• • •
A few days after Chaz apologized, Emmylou had shown up at Amery’s loft after hours, with a bottle of whipped cream vodka and two bags of Amery’s favorite Lindt chocolates.
The conversation had started out surprisingly awkward. Emmylou had apologized for listening to Tyler and not recognizing his true motives. But then she’d admitted Tyler wasn’t the only one who’d expressed concerns about Ronin and his business connections. One of Emmylou’s clients had seen Ronin leaving Amery’s business when she’d come in for a massage.
She’d assumed Ronin was Emmylou’s massage client and proceeded to tell her about Ronin’s connection to Thaddeus “TP” Pettigrew, the mogul who owned half of Denver. The source swore that several years ago Ronin had dealt with the vagrants, dealers, and squatters at several abandoned buildings in the Platte River Valley District. Once the commercial and residential buildings had been cleared of undesirables, including existing tenants who put their buildings up for sale, TP bought up a huge chunk of the area and applied for urban renewal funds.
Not exactly illegal, but it sounded suspicious given Ronin’s hard stance on ethics in and out of the dojo.
Emmylou’s source, a real estate broker, swore it was common knowledge but no one had shared details on exactly what Ronin had done to force people out. But rumors ran rampant.
So despite Emmylou’s apology, Amery had a sense of disquiet about the information. Especially since she knew Ronin and TP were friends and they’d left the Colorado Sports Banquet for a private business discussion. She’d tracked down a few articles on TP, and the more she read, the more disparaging the pieces were on TP’s questionable business practices and the organizations he supported. Being associated with TP often resulted in a tainted reputation—guilt by association. So why would Ronin subject himself to that?
Maybe he didn’t have a choice.
Amery continued to worry that she wouldn’t have a choice but to let Molly go. What sucked was she had no one to discuss her business issues with. Chaz couldn’t keep a secret. She’d considered talking to Emmylou, but with Amery being her landlord, admitting her financial struggles might send Emmylou looking for a different place to set up shop, and Amery depended on her rental income.
Shaking herself out of her reverie and needing a break, she wandered into the massage studio and paused in the office doorway.