BEAST (MMA Bad Boys Book 1) (3 page)

Swinging the doors to the pub open, my eyes survey the room. Bitches are everywhere in their tiny dresses and too much make-up. Makes me cringe thinking what their daddy’s think of them leaving the house like that. They think they look good when really they’re just asking for trouble.

“Beast! Over here, mate. Already got you a drink!” Jase calls out from one of the tables in front of the long oak bar. Strolling over, I smile…sort of… and slump into the only spare seat at the table with a pint of cold beer in front of it. Lifting it, I gulp down half the glass and sigh in bliss. That’s what I’m fucking talking about.

“Great fight, Beast. I was wondering how long you were going to let that dude think he was gonna win.” Roofie laughs as he claps me on the back. “Knock out was a good’n though.”

“Couldn’t let the arseholes in the audience down right? If I knocked him out at first whistle, I wouldn’t be paid shit. I wanted to though, he doesn’t follow the rules properly and the look he kept giving me was damn fucking creepy. Hopefully, the fucker will stop stalking me now.” I take another swig of my pint as Jase and Roofie voice their opinions of the guy I fought.

“Do you really think he’ll leave ya alone now, buddy? I mean, come on, you just humiliated the shit out of him in front of hundreds of people.” Jase shakes his head as he eyes me with concern.

“If he knows what’s good for him he’ll fuck off and never come back. He wanted the fucking fight and that’s what I gave him. Ain’t my fault he wears his weaknesses on his sleeves.” Sitting there, I listen to the lads reminisce on the fight and I once again take in tonight’s crowd.

I’ve known Jase and Roofie since the first day at secondary school. We were the rowdiest eleven-year-old boys of year seven and all three of us found ourselves in the head teacher’s office on more than one occasion within a seven-day period. We were known as the Triple Bandits. Fuck knows who came up with that bullshit but it stuck until we left after final exams. Both Jase and Roofie fight, though they don’t do it often as they have regular jobs. Jase is a firefighter and Roofie owns the gym that all the MMA fighters in the area use. No, Roofie isn’t his real name, we started calling him that when we were all still in school. We all experimented with our fair share of drugs, and instead of an Ecstasy pill, he took a fucking roofie pill. Thank fuck we were all to fucked up on some other shit or we would have taken them as well. After that, we stopped fucking about with the stuff and turned our attention to the gym, though I was already hard at it by that point.

I was the fucker that got them into the circuit, they begged and begged until I couldn’t take their constant fucking whining any more. They’re good at what they do, but they’ll never be on my level. Am I arrogant? Fuck yeah, I have reason to be. I’m the best in the game and I have never lost a fight. Even when I was a naïve fourteen-year-old lad, I never lost a fight. Bullies targeted me constantly about the way I looked, back then having a permanent tan or different skin colour, put a massive fucking bullseye on your back for bullies. My Ma and dad are both Italian, from a small village just outside of Venice and emigrated here when I was in Ma’s belly. I didn’t know anything different, though I spoke fluent Italian because at first Ma refused to speak English…She didn’t learn until I had to go to school. She was my constant, still is, in this ruthless world we live in. We stuck together when my father’s anger was aimed at us. I never understood why Ma stayed with the likes of him; he smacked her around a lot, even in front of me. Richard Mendez was a ruthless, cold-hearted, arsehole who no one stood up to, including me. He was one of those people who commanded attention and when he walked into a room, everyone would become silent. I never understood it, he was just a person, but as I grew older, I started to understand his need for power, his hunger for it. That, and fighting, are the only two things that I inherited in my genes from him. I’d never cheat on a woman like he would, I sure as fuck won’t harm a woman, though I do threaten it to get my own way. He did all of that and more. Fuck him, I’m glad he’s dead and I’m pretty sure my Ma is happier too.

“Beast? You in there, mate?” Jase says, waving her hand in front of my face.

I smack his hand away in annoyance and stare daggers at him. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be sat here with you, arsehole. I just got lost in my own head.”

“Got you another beer, though I’m sure you didn’t even realise before downing half the glass before I even placed it on the table.” He snorts as I scowl at the glass. “You okay? You’re a bit off today.”

“When isn’t he off? Come on, this is Beast you’re talking about here.” I smack Roofie on the back of the head. “What? It’s true. You never smile, you hardly ever laugh…we’re just concerned, mate, that’s all.”

Even though I can be a cold bastard, these guys really do centre me, keep from doing shit that probably would end my career, life, whatever. They’re always there. Though I’m no pussy, going around talking about my shit with others, I know that they’re there if I feel like I’m drowning and just need a night on the piss. These fuckers mean more to me than I let on. They’re the brothers I never had. “Yeah, yeah, pussy boy. I’m good, alright? Let me get pissed without you being all mushy and shit.”

They laugh before changing the subject to football. Which I have no interest in but listen anyway. I can feel eyes on me, but that’s no different to any other night that we’re in here. Girls swarm me because they know of me, every fucker does but I’m not interest in anything other than getting my rocks off. Doesn’t stop bitches trying though.

“Hey, big boy.” A long-legged brunette says, planting her bony as shit arse on my lap. “Fancy buying me a drink?” I take in her make-up encased face and her mascara enhanced eyelashes to her blood red lipstick. High cheek bones are covered in some sort of powder but she’s still pretty hot.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart,” I reply to her as I lean my head forward to lean into her neck. I flick my tongue out to lick a trail from the base of her neck up to her earlobe before whispering in her ear, “But I’ll fuck you so you can’t walk for a week.”

I feel her shiver and notice her eyelids fluttering, her eyes mist in lust as she stares longingly at me. “You say all the right things, Beast, let’s go.” She stands and drags me with her but before she can take another step, I pull her to me so she wobbles on her heels.

“Remember who’s in charge, bitch. I don’t take kindly to women thinking they’re too big for their boots.” My eyes drag down the length of her and land on her sparkly shoes. “Or in your case, heels.” I see her swallow hard before nodding her head vigorously. Good, now that that is settled...

Watching the ring from my spot at the side of the room, I watch as a girl clocks the other with a fierce uppercut. My fight has already been and done and I’m just here killing time, waiting for Gemma to finish her fight so we can get a drink.

Most MMA fighters, especially the girls, don’t usually hang with one another because they’re catty bitches who think they’re much better than what they really are. But Gemma is different, we’ve been best friends for about two years now, we share a small apartment on the outskirts of London and even co-own a tattoo shop. We don’t usually associate with the guys either, they’re too arrogant and so far up their own arses its unbearable.

Gemma wins her fight and leaves the ring, heading toward me with a shit eating grin on her face. “That was fun and easy. Let me get showered and we’ll hit the pub to celebrate.” She disappears into the female locker room, leaving me to bask in the atmosphere.

Standing there, I remember back to when I got into the circuit and why. I owed a shit tonne of money to drug dealers and was desperate for cash to get them off my back. I was already in the gym six days a week by then, sparring with my coach, learning the basics to defend myself in case a time came when I needed to use the skills. Coach asked me if I was ever interested in professional fighting and I think I actually laughed in his face. I was a size eight, five-foot four-inch female who had never had a single fight in her life. He didn’t laugh and was deadly serious. I asked him why he would ask that and he told me that he could see potential in me, and he mentioned the shit load of money I could earn just from beating the shit out of another girl. I liked the idea and we moved up my training. The rest is history as they say, I was seventeen then, and two years later at nineteen, I’m actually doing it. As soon as I hit eighteen, Coach got me in with a fight lined up. The bosses wanted to see my skills, potential and all the bullcrap. They were impressed and soon I was earning enough money to not only pay the dealers from my past off but to open my own tattoo shop too.

“Let’s go.” I’m startled out of thoughts when Gemma comes barrelling out of the locker room, pushing her way through the crowd to get to the front of the building.

“Yo, hold up will ya!” I shout behind her, picking up my pace to catch up. “What rocket’s crawled up your arse?”

She slows down and I can see her shoulders shaking with laughter. “Girl, I need a damn drink, that’s the hurry.” I can’t fault her for many things but the one thing I do is her drinking. She doesn’t know her limit and I’m the one that has to carry her home at the end of the night.

“Can you lay off the booze just a little tonight? I don’t fancy carrying your sorry arse home. Especially when we have to get a taxi.” I say to her receding back. God knows if she heard me or not because she doesn’t acknowledge me, but then again, she has an awful case of selective hearing.

Once we hit the pavement on the side of the road, we call for a taxi and wait. “Who’s the girl you fought tonight? She looked too young to be fighting.” I ask her. I hate silence, it’s the one thing I hate more in life than my parents.

“Kacey Kalhourn. She’s eighteen, apparently. Only been in the biz’ for about three months. Coach said this was only her fourth fight. She wasn’t very good.” She laughs. “Amateurs have no right to be here, until they’re trained up enough and she definitely wasn’t. She was sloppy and her footwork was too predictable. She’ll never win a fight like that.”

“God, Gemma, you’re sounding bitchier than the other girls.” I slap her shoulder in jest and laugh at her expression. She hates being compared to them, she dislikes them as much as I do. We only do this for the money, nothing more and nothing less. We both know the score and we’re trained enough now to know the moves of the opponent before they even do. The scowl on her face has me laughing all the more, and I’m bent double with tears in my eyes. People pass us and give me strange looks like I’ve lost the plot, and I think I might have if I’m laughing at something like this. “I’m joking, Gemma, chill.”

“You’re so fucking funny, Car.” She says this with a straight face and I snort, clapping a hand over my mouth to stop the laughter coming out again. “Thank God the taxi’s here, I was about ready to put you on your arse.”

“Yeah, like you could ever do that,” I reply, winking at her as I climb into the back of the black taxicab.

“King’s Arms pub please, boss.” She turns her attention to me with one eyebrow raised up into her hairline. “You wanna bet on that?”

“Not really, I know you can hold your own. I ain’t going to fight you, you twat.” We both laugh and make easy conversation about the work schedule for the week ahead.

Just as we’re getting into a debate about butterfly tattoos, we pull up outside the pub and pay the driver. Just as we’re stepping out, I notice Beast leaving with a pretty girl jogging behind him, her hand is literally crushed by his as he drags her along and the look on her face screams excitement. He looks our way and his steps falter. Does he remember me from earlier when I spoke to him while I was finishing my cigarette before my fight? Not many people have the guts to speak to him. He’s not known as warm hearted, hugging type of guy. I’ve heard the stories about him and the ring girls, but I chose to ignore the rumours. I tend to hear shit right from the horse’s mouth because most rumours prove to be just that; rumours.

As our eyes connect, a shiver runs down my spine. I’m pinning that on fear because his body lives up to his name. He is a fucking beast. “Car?”