King's Promise Page 6

  “Excuse me, ladies,” she said, and waited for two of the girls to step aside so that she could pass.

  During what took about two seconds tops, Cheryl could feel Xavier’s gaze as though it was a feathery touch stroking the sides of her face. She even quivered and darted her eyes away.

  “Good night, Cheryl,” Xavier said.

  There was something about the way he said good night that sounded familiar, though it was the first time he’d ever said it to her. How easy it was to imagine him saying, “Good night, Cheryl,” every night for the rest of their lives before curling up together and going to sleep.

  What in the hell is wrong with me? Snap out of it!

  “Good night, Xavier,” she responded softly, and maneuvered past him and his laughing clique. Cheryl didn’t know why she thought that there would be some kind of relief once she passed him on the stairs. There wasn’t.

  None.

  She knew he turned, not because she saw him, but because she could feel that feathery caress now floating down the back of her head and then lingering on her butt. All right. That knowledge did make her smile a bit. One thing for sure, none of the girls that she saw dancing tonight even came close to what the good Lord and her mama blessed her with.

  “Excuse me, guys. I’ll be right back,” Xavier said.

  Cheryl’s eyes bulged while her brain screamed for her legs to move faster. And that was just what the hell they did. Then that magical baritone said, “Cheryl, wait up.”

  Don’t you dare stop! She shoved open the glass front door and marched like a soldier headed off to war. Xavier chuckled.

  When she realized that the deep rumble sounded entirely too close, it was a nanosecond before his hand locked around her wrist. Cheryl gasped aloud as an electric charge surged through her body. Unfortunately for Xavier, it also activated her self-defense reflexes and before either of them could process what was happening, she’d turned and flipped his large frame over on the asphalt. Once reality settled in, Xavier was lying on his back on the pavement with Cheryl still holding his hand and her right foot planted squarely in the center of his chest.

  He blinked. “I just wanted to see if you were interested in grabbing something at the Waffle House, but, uh, I can take a rain check.”

  Realizing what she had done, she released his hand and removed her foot from his chest. “I’m sooooo sorry. You just startled me.” She dropped down and then tried to help him up.

  Still dazed and confused, Xavier sat up and looked around. “How in the hell…?”

  “I, uh, took some self-defense classes a while back.” She waved off the question and gave him a nervous smile.

  “You took classes or you taught classes?” He stood up. “I don’t know whether to be embarrassed right now or impressed.”

  Cheryl smiled and stepped back. “Well, I did have the element of surprise on my side,” she offered as a way for him to save face.

  He nodded as he proceeded to dust himself off. “Good point. I’ll add that to my version of events when I’m nursing my pride over a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up too bad. I’ve taken down men a lot bigger than you.”

  A singular brow arched in the center of Xavier’s forehead.

  “Really? Care to tell me about it over waffles?”

  “Uh, maybe another time,” she said, clinging to the leather strap of her duffel bag and stepping backward toward her car. “I’m really beat and just want to fall into bed.”

  An effortless smile eased across his face, and though he didn’t say the words, his eyes asked, Want company?

  “See you tomorrow night,” Cheryl said, continuing to walk backward to her car.

  “Yeah.” He started walking backward himself. “See you.”

  Cheryl bumped into the front of her car and then turned around so that she could go to the driver’s side and climb in as soon as possible. After getting behind the wheel and starting the car, she was still a bundle of nerves. When she pulled out of the parking lot, Xavier, still standing at the front door of the club, lifted his hand to wave goodbye.

  She smiled sheepishly and waved, then quickly jammed her foot on the accelerator and peeled off. Not until she was twenty minutes down the road did her heart rate return to normal and she felt like herself again.

  “This case is definitely going to be a lot harder than I thought.”

  Chapter 6

  Xavier kept only a few secrets from his brothers—and Quentin, for that matter. And Cheryl Shepherd catching him off guard and flipping him on his ass was just going to have to go into his vault of secrets. Hell, he spent half the night playing and replaying his memory of the event. Sure, it had been a while since he’d climbed into the boxing ring. But damn, had his reflexes gotten that bad? When was the last time he struck out that badly?

  And what did she mean that she had flipped bigger men than him? Was she some super vigilante that roamed the streets of Atlanta at night? As soon as that crackpot thought floated through his head, he shook it right out. But if he didn’t come up with a better excuse soon, he was going to have a permanent scar on his fragile ego. By 9:00 a.m. he was crawling out of bed with laserlike determination to get to the gym.

  The minute he waltzed through the doors of Ripped Gym, he felt as if he’d instantly been transported back in time. The bricks-and-mortar building was old school. No fancy elliptical anything crowded its floor. There were no televisions to distract you from focusing on your sole purpose, which was to train hard and work up a sweat. This morning the place was packed with guys pounding away at the heavy bags, jumping rope, lifting weights and punching the speed bags in a rapid-fire motion. Xavier’s attention, however, zoomed in on the brothers sparring in the three boxing rings in the center of the spacious gym.

  In the first ring, a mammoth of a man danced awkwardly on his feet while making wide swings at his opponent and forgetting to protect his chin. Unfortunately, his sparring partner, who was barely half the other man’s size, danced gracefully on his feet, bobbing and weaving like a seasoned pro. In fact, Xavier got the distinct impression that he was just playing with the graceless giant the way David might have played with Goliath before he fired off that one good slingshot.

  In the next second, that is exactly what happened. Big Man made a wide Texas swing, left his chin open and boom! goes the dynamite. Hell, there was plenty of time for anyone to yell, “Timber,” when he pitched backward and fell to the canvas.

  By the time he hit the mat, Xavier was shaking his head and tsking under his breath. He hadn’t seen anything that sad, painful and funny in a long while.

  “Ayo! It’s the X-Man,” old-timer Ricky Miller shouted from across the gym. “Please tell me that this is the miracle from God that I’ve been praying for.”

  Xavier frowned as his ex-trainer rushed over to him.

  “Please say that you came to tell me that you’re ready to get back into the ring again.”

  “Sorry, old man,” Xavier said, shaking his head. “You know that I hung up my boxing gloves. I just came in for an old-fashioned workout.”

  Disappointment blanketed Ricky’s face as he dropped his arms a few steps before he reached Xavier. “Damn. I should’ve known that it was just too good to be true.”

  Laughing, Xavier wrapped his arms around his old curmudgeon of a trainer and hugged him anyway. “I miss you, too.”

  “Humph. You sure have a funny way of showing it,” he deadpanned.

  Xavier bobbed his head while his arms swung back to his sides. “You’re right. I’ve been meaning to stop by the old gym. But, uh, you know how it is. Life tends to keep tossing things at you.”

  It was a weak excuse at best and Ricky treated it as such by waving him off. “C’mon. You can’t out bullshit a bullshitter. You ended your career, dumped me on my ass and then ran off with your brothers to run a titty bar. I can see how all of that could keep a man busy. In the spirit of keeping it real, if Viagra mixed better with my heart pi
lls, I probably would’ve done the same thing a long time ago.”

  Xavier laughed heartily and then experienced a twinge of guilt about how abruptly he’d ended things between them. “I’m sorry, Ricky. You deserved better.”

  “Damn right I did.” He sniffed and then settled his hands on his thin hips as he examined Xavier from head to toe. “Well, clearly you haven’t gone the route of other ex-champs and turned into a big tub of lard. So what have you been doing to keep yourself in shape?”

  Suddenly modest, Xavier shrugged. “I still get in a four-mile run most days, watch what I eat and do this whole muscle-confusion phenomenon that’s sweeping the country.”

  “Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph.” Ricky rolled his eyes. “DVDs? You’re doing workout DVDs at home? What are you, a chick? Are you bopping around in leotards and leg warmers, too?”

  “All right. Reel in the outrage, old man. Times have changed.”

  “You’re telling me?” Ricky adjusted his woolen cap. “Yesterday I was buying diapers for my newborn daughter, now she buys them for me.”

  Xavier’s lips hitched up.

  “That’s the sad part. The funny part is that I actually like them. They’re very comfortable. You’ll see in about fifty years.”

  “Great. I can’t wait.” Xavier laughed and gave his friend another pat on the back.

  “So if you’re doing your workouts like Suzy Homemaker, what are you doing here?”

  Last night’s embarrassment quickly flooded Xavier’s mind. “Well, you know, I thought I could use a tune-up on the reflexes and all. Just because I’m not in the ring doesn’t mean that I want to get caught slipping or anything.”

  “Uh-huh.” Ricky frowned.

  Xavier swore he could see the spokes and wheels slowly churning in Ricky’s head as he tried to decipher his real meaning. “And, of course, there’s the added benefit of seeing my old friend again.”

  “Don’t blow smoke up my ass, I might like it.” Ricky’s gaze cut across the room to a young but well-chiseled brother pounding away on an old, heavy bag that had about as much duct tape holding it together as the original leather. “Another five minutes and then I want you in the ring with Dog Pound!” He looked around. “Is Dog Pound awake?”

  The awkward Goliath that Xavier observed earlier sat hunched on a small stool in the corner of the gym, raising his right hand as he squirted water from his water bottle all over his head. “I’m all right, Unc. Lucky punch, that’s all.”

  Xavier snickered under his breath. Luck had nothing to do with that knockout.

  Ricky mumbled something, but it was clearly with disgust.

  “Problem?”

  “What else can there be when you’re dealing with family?” Ricky shook his head. “My sister Vera out in Texas sent him to me hoping that a father figure would do him some good. Seems he got into a little trouble with some local gang members out there. Good kid even though he’s not the brightest bulb on the marquee.”

  “Any potential?”

  “If so, I haven’t found it yet.” Ricky shrugged. “What he lacks in natural talent, he makes up for with heart. When I first started bringing him here, he got knocked out at least ten times a day. I got him down to just three.”

  “Progress is progress.”

  “Yeah, at this rate he should be ready for his first fight in about fifty years.”

  “I think you’re underestimating your skills.”

  “And you keep forgetting how old I am.” Ricky shook his head. “I still love the sport, but…well. What was it you said…life keeps tossing things at you?”

  Xavier nodded while his gaze drifted back to the man pounding the heavy bag. He was impressed by the young fighter’s stance, form and extreme focus on the task at hand. “He yours?”

  Ricky followed Xavier’s gaze and then lit up. “That he is. Until someone pinches me and tells me that I’m dreaming.”

  “Great form,” Xavier complimented.

  Ricky turned back toward his former fighter. “Yeah, sometimes he reminds me of someone else I used to know.”

  Xavier picked up on the not so subtle hint and smiled. “Aww. You say the nicest things. Give me a hug.”

  Ricky tossed up his hands and started backing away. “Nah. Nah. You’ve reached your quota. Now get away from me.”

  Enjoying the fact that he was making Ricky uncomfortable, Xavier continued to try to wrap his arms around him. “C’mon, now. You know you missed me.”

  “Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.” Ricky kept flapping his hands to try and shoo him away.

  Finally, Xavier just gave up and threw his head back for a hearty laugh. That’s when he saw her.

  Cheryl strolled into the gym in a pair of formfitting, black capri-length sweats and a bright red crop top that left her well-defined, six-pack abs exposed. When she walked, she had a sexy swagger that caused men to trip over their jump ropes, nearly drop their weight bars, stop mid-pull-up and, for one unlucky brother, take a knockout blow across the jaw because he got distracted. The amazing thing was she was oblivious to it all.

  “I knew it was a mistake to turn this place into a coed gym,” Ricky grumbled.

  Entranced, Xavier watched Cheryl until she disappeared into the locker room. Once she was out of view, he snapped out of it and shook the remaining fairy dust from his head. “How long has she been coming here?”

  “Not long.” Ricky laughed. “I guess that means that you really will be hanging around here again…at least until you sleep with her and get her out of your system.”

  Xavier frowned and then glanced back at his friend. “Oww. That’s kind of harsh, don’t you think?”

  “What? Am I wrong?”

  “Well…yeah.” Xavier folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not an asshole or anything.”

  Instead of answering, Ricky laughed and walked off.

  Frowning, Xavier followed. He felt like he needed to say something to defend himself. “I’ll have you know that I’m on good terms with most of the women I’ve been involved with.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I’m not a dog,” he insisted. “In fact, I’m what most women claim they want—honest.”

  Ricky tossed up his hands. “Hey, no judgment here. My’kael, Dog Pound, let’s go.” He clapped his hands, urging them to hustle.

  “I’m serious,” Xavier insisted. “I’m not like my cousin or anything. I don’t just hit it and quit it. I like to remain friends with my ex-lovers.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  With their headgear in place, My’kael and Dog Pound climbed into the ring.

  “I’ve never used women.”

  Ricky yelled, “Dog Pound, make sure that you keep your chin tucked and your elbows in. None of that sidewinding BS you learned watching that damn Karate Kid movie.”

  “Plus, I never crept out in the middle of the night, called a woman by the wrong name in bed or not call when I said I would,” Xavier continued.

  “Look, X-Man. I said no judgment. You don’t have to explain your sexual habits to me. Hell, I had ten kids and six wives. All of which is why I’m nearly eighty years old and still having to work for a living. That, and the fact that my one golden goose kicked me to the curb without an explanation.”

  That again. “I can only apologize so many times.”

  “How about I let you know when you hit the right number?”

  Cheryl exited the locker room and started stretching. Once again, Xavier fell into a trance. She had a sweet, girl-next-door face, but there was a definite edginess there, too. Was it around her eyes or the firm line of her jaw? He watched her while she leaned, dipped and stretched. He couldn’t quite pinpoint exactly what gave her that extra edge. Eventually, his eyes roamed away from her face and journeyed down her long neck and straight shoulders. But she rocked his world when she picked up a jump rope and started bouncing up and down.

  Parts of Xavier started moving…and expanding. Xavier jerked his gaze away and turned around. Did he have a cup in his b
ag? Should he rush to go put it on? “Why did you make this place coed?”

  “Why else? Money. Bad economy.”

  Xavier nodded while he tried to mentally will his cock to go down by envisioning himself jumping into an icy pond. It usually worked, but for some damn reason, Cheryl was swimming in that damn pond in nothing but her birthday suit.

  “Speaking of which,” Ricky said. “You wouldn’t happen to need some help down there at the club—some security or something like that? My nephew would make an excellent bouncer.”

  Xavier glanced back at Dog Pound, who was preparing himself for the coming sparring session by delivering a few punches to his own head.

  “You’d be doing me a big favor,” Ricky pressed.

  At least his size was intimidating. Xavier looked back over at his former trainer and realized that perhaps he did owe the old man a few favors. “Sure. Just send him over to the club Monday and I’ll stick him at the front door.”

  When Ricky smiled this time, Xavier swore he saw the weight of the world lift off his shoulders. He sensed something else was going on. “Is there anything else that I can help you with?”

  Ricky’s salt-and-pepper brows shot up. “You can tell me that you’re going back into the ring.”

  Xavier laughed. “Other than that?”

  “Then I’m good.” He turned his attention back to his boxers in the ring. “All right, you two slackers, show me what you got!” Ricky slapped his hands together.

  Xavier folded his arms and watched the sparring match with an increasingly interested eye on Ricky’s new protégé, My’kael. It only took a minute for him to realize that the kid really had something—something great.

  Finally remembering that he only had a limited amount of time himself, Xavier went to start his own warm-up exercises. During his stretches and lunges, his gaze shifted back across the room to Cheryl. At the sight of her throwing punches at one of the speed bags, he instantly became hard again. The sweat that poured over her body looked more like glistening body oil to him. But what had him totally riveted was the fact that his sexy bartender’s nipples apparently hardened when she worked up a good sweat because they were visible and hard as rocks.