The Immortal Warriors Boxed Set: Books 1-11 Page 3

  “Yeah, so?” Sasha grabbed me and turned me to my back and began kissing my chest.

  I stopped her and said, “Are you sure?”

  “Are you the same guy who talked about his beautiful penis an hour ago?”

  “I am definitely the same guy. And I do have an epic penis, as far as beauty is concerned.”

  “All talk. Put your money where your mouth is.” Man, she was driving harder than a guy would.

  “Let me ask you a question. Are you okay if this is all it is? Sex?”

  “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.” She was now kissing my stomach.

  I looked at this beautiful woman loving on my body and thought, Screw it!

  I thanked God the devil had come back. With that, I grabbed her and turned her over and ripped off both of our clothes. Sasha then experienced beauty... and the beast.

  Chapter Four

  I woke up from a deep slumber and stared at the digital clock to the left of my bed. It read 11:30. That meant I had a solid seven-hour snooze. I turned over and my little brunette friend was still sound asleep. She looked peaceful as she lay in my bed. I leaned over and kissed her cheek. Her eyes opened as my lips made contact.

  “You are for real,” she said hoarsely.

  “You thought I was make-believe?” I laughed.

  “Not make-believe. Just maybe a Greek god like Thor.”

  “Nope. I’m all flesh and bone.”

  “Yes, you are. I can attest to that.” She sat up and grinned. “I can’t believe you almost went soft on me last night.”

  “Soft, I was never—”

  “I don’t mean soft like that. I mean you almost didn’t want to go through with it.”

  “Yeah, I did have a Boy Scout moment.”

  “Why? Do you make a habit of bringing girls you meet at a bar home and not scoring with them? Do you have a whole separate belt for notches that could have been?”

  “Honestly, I just knew I wanted to see you again. I figured the best insurance I had was to still stay unfamiliar in certain areas.”

  “Well, you became pretty familiar.”

  “I sure did.”

  “You are an interesting man, bleeder.”

  “It’s the life of a fighter,” I said proudly.

  “When is your next fight?”

  “In three weeks.” I reached down and felt my gut. “I need to lose about twelve more pounds.”

  “Well, you have three more weeks.”

  “You want to go grab some breakfast? I’m starving.”

  “I thought you didn’t eat.”

  “I’ll have some cottage cheese and egg whites. It’s my breakfast of champions.”

  “That would be fine, but let’s stop by that bar and get my car.” Sasha stood up and stretched. Damn, she had a hot little body.

  “Want to take a shower?”

  “Considering we did have sex, I’d better.”

  “Yeah, you might have my cooties.”

  “I hope that’s all it is—is cooties.”

  “I’m good, little girl. We did use protection.”

  “I know we did.” Sasha reflected a bit on the night before. She looked at me and smiled. “You know, you are a pretty damn good kisser.”

  “How could you tell?” I said, laughing.

  “What do you mean?” Sasha seemed confused.

  “You seemed to have your agenda in the kissing department.”

  “I do like to kiss.”

  “As do I, my lady.”

  “That’s good to know because you haven’t seen anything yet.”

  Sasha walked out of my room into the bathroom completely naked and jumped in the shower. I shook my head at the sight of a gorgeous woman walking naked in my lonely bedroom. Wow, some nights, it’s like shooting fish in a barrel. I stood up and put on a pair of basketball shorts and waited for her to get out of the shower. I jumped in after she was done and took a very long, hot shower.

  When I was finished, we threw on some clothes and Sasha and I headed out. My apartment was about 15 minutes from Shiners. It didn’t take long to drive there. I whipped a left on Tustin Street. I took another left at the bar’s parking lot where Sasha’s Jeep was parked. There was a fairly large, muscular man standing next to Sasha’s Jeep. He had a giant, black 4Runner parked adjacent to Sasha’s car. I slowed down my Mustang and looked over at Sasha; she looked on in horror. Oh, this wasn’t going to be good.

  “Tommy, remember last night when I asked if you had me figured out and you spouted off all those details?”

  “Yes,” I said, hesitantly.

  “You were right on just about everything.” She took a deep breath. “Everything, except the part about me being single!”

  “Seriously, Sasha, that overgrown heap of muscle is your boyfriend?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long?”

  “About a year.”

  “Fucking great. Now this meathead is going to want to try to kick my ass.” I drove my car through the parking lot, expecting this guy to charge my car and pull me out of the window. I stopped and put my car in park almost a hundred feet from where he was parked. I wasn’t taking any chances.

  Sasha climbed out of the car with her hair still wet from her shower. “I’m sorry, Tommy. I left my number by your television at your apartment. This situation is complicated.”

  Complicated? Was she kidding me?

  Sasha slammed the passenger door and walked over to her boyfriend who stood by her car. I knew I shouldn’t whip out of the parking lot because that would look bad and was definitely the cowardly dick move. And I was anything but a coward.

  I watched as Sasha talked to the fellow with the dark brown hair. Surprisingly, he didn’t seem upset. He just leaned back and listened. He was at least 6’5” and weighed 250 pounds. He looked like he should have been playing linebacker for the Green Bay Packers.

  Sasha turned around and walked toward my car. Then she stopped and motioned for me to come out of my vehicle.

  Was she serious? This was the last thing I wanted to do.

  But I had no choice. I slowly climbed out of the driver’s side. I rolled my eyes as I turned around and gave my best Hollywood, good-guy smile that I had in my arsenal in times of turmoil. I confidently walked over to Sasha’s Jeep.

  “Hey, brother,” the large man said.

  “What’s up?” He eyed me in a way to see what I was about. The big oaf was trying to read me before we even began to engage in a conversation. I gave him a sincere, warm stare, not knowing what Sasha could have possibly told him.

  “Thanks for taking care of her last night.”

  “No problem,” I said, just going along with it.

  “Not every guy would help a drunk girl and not try anything.”

  Try anything? There wasn’t much we didn’t try last night! But that was definitely not something to blurt out.

  Meathead continued, “Thanks for making sure that creep that was hitting on her didn’t take advantage of her.”

  Wow. Sasha laid it out and gave him a detailed story. A lie. Oh, she was good.

  Sasha jumped in. “I told Gary about that jerk that was grabbing my arm and not letting me get in my car.”

  “Yeah, what a douche,” I said, with zero expression in my voice. “He was a real asshole.” I emphasized asshole, so Sasha could tell I was referring to her.

  “Well, maybe you and your wife would like to come over and barbecue sometime,” said Gary the meathead.

  Huh? My wife? Okay, I’m cool with helping someone who is in trouble, but don’t get me hitched, not even in fantasy land.

  “Yeah, I told Gary that you and your lovely wife let me sleep it off in your guest room. You two were great.” Sasha smiled at me innocently. Wow, she was a piece of work.

  “That’s what we do, my wife and me. We love thy neighbor,” I said. Hell, if she was going to lie, I was going to go all in, too. “And don’t worry about the bed,” I continued. “We knew you were drunk and everyone
wets the bed, once in a while.”

  “You wet the man’s bed!” her boyfriend said, disgusted. He stared at Sasha with an embarrassed, horrified look.

  “We don’t have to go into that,” I said, reassuringly. “She went all crazy and free and ran outside naked. My poor wife chased her down the block.”

  Sasha looked at me as if to say, ‘Are you kidding me?’

  “Why the hell would you allow yourself to become that drunk?” Now her boyfriend was irate.

  “Yeah, she gave those junior high boys an eyeful,” I said, piling it on.

  “Junior high boys?” Now, he was about to explode.

  “Yeah, they were more like our local street gang,” I said, pressing the point.

  “Where the hell do you live?” Meathead apparently didn’t like my pretend address.

  And like I said, I went all in. “Unfortunately, I live in a not-so-safe neighborhood in Anaheim, but we only had one drive-by shooting last week, so it’s improving.”

  “Let me get this straight, Sasha. You became so drunk that some jerk tried to take you home forcefully. And then this poor guy helps you out and lets you sleep it off at his house... in what appears to be downtown Compton. If that wasn’t bad enough, you stripped naked and ran down the street and this guy’s poor wife had to run you down at four in the morning. Are you serious?”

  Sasha looked stunned and just had to nod. She was in no position to dispute anything, so I couldn’t resist. “Don’t forget she peed all over our guest bed, and maybe even pooped in it a tad bit.”

  That was it! Gary was done! “New rule: You are to never go out anywhere again unless I’m with you.” Gary then turned to me. “Thanks, bro. You are a good man. Please apologize to your wife for me.”

  “Oh, I will. She’s at the Laundromat washing the sheets.”

  Then Gary reached into his wallet and pulled out forty bucks and handed it to me. “I hope this covers it.”

  It didn’t exactly. All the drinks and food she ate last night came closer to about sixty, but it was a good gesture, even though he thought it was for the sheets.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here, Sasha. I’ll deal with you when we get home.” Then Meathead walked past me and jumped into his giant truck and slammed the door.

  “Thanks,” Sasha said to me. “Thanks a lot,” she said sarcastically.

  “No problem!” I said, stoically, then turned around and walked back to my car. That was the story of my life—bad decision after bad decision. I meet someone great, and she turns out to be a cheater, a liar, and most importantly, a bed wetter.

  Chapter Five

  For the next three weeks, I trained my butt off and lost the weight I needed to by eating a 1,400-calorie-a-day diet and kicking my ass in the gym.

  My opponent was a fighter named Jorge Vasquez; he was an established pro and had a 16-6 record with twelve knockouts. He was the opposite kind of fighter than I was; he was a striker and I loved the ground game. I worked on some standing techniques with my trainer, Mo. For the most part, my job was to take him down and pile on the elbows and maneuver him in a way to do one of my infamous submission moves.

  The night before my fight, I had a light workout. I was going to be on the undercard at the Staples Center and was the first fight out of the gate. I knew I needed to get some rest, so I drove home and went to straight to bed. I wanted eight solid hours, no more, no less. I quickly fell asleep, as I usually did after a glass of warm milk.

  I had started out in a very deep sleep and then I began to hear a constant beeping in my dreams. It didn’t matter what I was dreaming, from unicorns to bikini babes, there was this damn beeping sound in the distance.

  Finally, I woke up and right beside my hand was my cell phone. I stared at my cell phone screen—23 missed calls. Are you kidding me? They were all from a 714 area code number that I didn’t even recognize.

  I stood up and went to my bathroom to wash my face. I was apprehensive about calling back. Whoever it was didn’t mind blowing up my phone in the middle of the night before my big fight. Maybe it had something to do with my grandma. I knew I needed to call the number back, but I was groggy and tired and needed at least four more hours of rest.

  I went into my kitchen and sat at my table. I knew I needed to call the number back because it could be an emergency. It wasn’t every day I had 23 missed calls in the middle of the night. I sighed and I pressed ‘call back’ on my cell phone. The phone rang once and a woman answered the phone.

  “Tommy,” the woman yelled.

  “Who is this?” I asked. My voice was louder than I wanted it to be in trying to match her volume.

  “It’s Sasha!”

  “Who?”

  “Sasha! From a couple weeks ago.”

  “Sasha! Are you okay?” I asked. I was pretty shocked that, of all people, she was the one blowing up my phone.

  “No, I’m not. I’m stuck in Balboa Beach. I have no money and my boyfriend left me.”

  “Why are you in Balboa Beach?”

  “I was having drinks with a friend, and he turned out to be a freak. He fell asleep and I slipped out of his house and I’ve been walking around in circles and have no idea where I am.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Could you come get me?”

  “Don’t you have someone else you can call?”

  “No, or I wouldn’t have called you so many times.”

  “How did you get this number anyhow?”

  “I found it in your phone when you fell asleep the other night.”

  I didn’t want to help her, and I wasn’t quite sure if she truly had broken up with her behemoth boyfriend, but for whatever reason, she did call me. She probably didn’t have too many options available if she was calling me.

  “Listen, I have my fight tonight and I need my rest.”

  “Tommy, please! I’m almost to the point where I am going to hitchhike.”

  “Don’t do that,” I said. Shit, I was never one to leave a damsel in distress hanging out on the streets in the middle of the night—even one who lied to me. “Where are you exactly?”

  “I’m on PCH near Harbor.”

  “I know where that is.” I had gone down there plenty of times.

  “I’m at an all-night donut shop called Cakes. It’s on the corner.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there in a half an hour.” I ended the call and just stared at the clock on my microwave. It was three in the morning. You have got to be kidding me. I was running out in the middle of the night before a big fight. Part of me wanted to turn off my phone and let her rot at the donut shop. I should make her whore herself out for a ride home, but I wasn’t that kind of guy. I’m a man of my word, and in the end, that’s really all you’re left with—your honor. She might not have had any honor, but I did. I went to my bedroom and put on a pair of basketball shorts and a Lakers T-shirt and shoes, then headed out the door, keys in hand.

  It didn’t take long to get there and I pulled into the donut shop’s parking lot. There she was, sitting in the front, looking miserable and bereft. I motioned for her to come to my Mustang from my car. She stood up and walked over to my car. I unlocked the passenger door and she slid into the passenger seat.

  “Thank you, Tommy. I was running out of options.”

  “You must have if you’re reaching so far back in your Rolodex that you’re calling one-night stands from two weeks ago.”

  “You know you were more than that,” she said, in a flirtatious way that I was definitely not in a mood to hear.

  “No,” I said. “I was definitely just a one-night stand. That’s all it was and nothing more.”

  I slowly backed out of the parking lot, turned my lights back on and pulled onto Harbor Boulevard. I stopped at the red light and sighed. I didn’t feel like talking to her but I needed to know where I was taking her. “Where to?” I asked.

  Then the most bizarre thing happened. Someone jumped on the hood of my Mustang. “What the fuck?” I yelle
d out.

  Then that same guy punched my front window with his fist. I jumped out of the car and saw that there were three of these assholes.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I yelled at them.

  The person who had just punched a hole in my windshield with his bare fist said, “Why don’t you ask your friend?” He had long brown hair and looked extremely dirty.

  I looked at Sasha. “You know these fuckers?”

  “Oh, she knows us. We heard from a little bird that she was stranded out here. But it looks like she found herself a Cub Scout to come help her.”

  “Did you call these guys to come pick you up?” I yelled to Sasha, who was still sitting in my car.

  “No, I called Gina and she must have told them!” Sasha yelled back.

  I could give a rat’s ass about who Gina was. This piece of shit had just busted my windshield, not mention put a big dent on my hood. This guy wasn’t that big and I definitely could take him in my sleep. His two friends weren’t much bigger. They were all in their mid-twenties, and all of them could have used a shave and a shower.

  Now, the guy who slammed my window was to the right of me and the other two were on the left.

  “Look, dick,” I said. “You’re going to pay for my window.”

  “What are you? A lawyer?”

  “No, I’m a guy who is about to kick your teeth in for fucking up his Mustang.”

  The long-haired guy looked at Sasha and said, “I guess a guy who runs a surf shop wasn’t good enough for you.” Great, this douchebag was a scorned lover, too. How many exes did she have?

  “Eddie, we dated over a year ago. Get over it,” Sasha yelled, from inside my vehicle.

  She was still sitting in the passenger seat, expecting me to just jump in and drive off. That wasn’t how I handled my business. No one screwed with me, and especially, no one touched my Mustang.

  “OK, Eddie. You’re going to find out real quick I’m not a lawyer and you just made the worst choice in judgment anyone ever has by thinking you can smash my car.”

  I was a professional mixed martial arts fighter and I needed to be discreet about that specific detail because this guy could sue me once he realized he was just slam-dunked by a professional. But I didn’t care; this guy was going to pay for his indiscretion. I charged to my left and grabbed Eddie and threw him on the trunk lid of my car. He was a lot stronger than I expected. He was like a little ball of iron.