by P. T. Macias
The owner, Carlos Reyes, is a dangerously powerful man. Reyes gets a kick out of the name he gave the gym, Apollo. Yup, it’s the one that means the Greek God and the name linked to the Greek verb that means to destroy.
I walk down the hall into the small kitchen to get some breakfast before working out. I open the refrigerator, peering inside before finally grabbing some eggs, spinach, and avocado.
I always make it a point to eat healthy high protein meals. It takes a few minutes to cook the scrambled eggs with spinach, onions, tomatoes, and avocado slice.
I take a drink from my cup of coffee, looking out the window into the parking lot full of old beat-up cars.
So, the apartment isn’t in the best part of town, but at least I have somewhere to live.
I pull out my cell, swiping the screen with my finger, I press on my bank app. My finger moves to scrolls down, looking at my bank statement. I stare at the balance clenching my jaw.
I can’t fucking believe it!
I’m not going to make it at this rate.
The fight is still three months away. I don’t have anything to sell, and I’ll be damn if I ask my stepdad for any money. He didn’t hesitate to kick me out of his fancy-ass mansion the day that I turned eighteen. And then I joined the Marines.
What hurts the most is that my mother never stopped the abuse. He’s an admired, influential, upstanding citizen, and everyone loves him. I bet that his friends at the country club don’t know that he’s an abusive bastard.
Countless nights the bastard would beat me until I couldn’t move, so I learned how to fight back. That’s the only good thing out of his fucking abuse because thanks to all of the beatings, I learned the necessary skills to fight back. I excel in the fighting game plus the high school wrestling team. Fuck, I can still hear his voice echo in my mind.
Spencer, you’re a fucking loser. What the fuck are you going to do now that you’ve graduated from high school? Do I need to remind you that you don’t have the grades for college? I told you that you wouldn’t amount to anything. I’m not going to support your rotten ass. I did everything I could to help you grow into a successful man, but no, you only wanted to go against everything I say. Now, you’re on your own.
I’m going to prove him wrong.
I don’t need his money or his approval.
I’ll figure it out.
I know that I can make some money to hold me over fighting in the illegal underworld fight.
I know that once I win this fight, I’m all set with the UFC, Ultimate Fighting Championship, contract. I know this is the moment when everything is going to change.
I need to get training; I’m making damn sure that I’m winning this fight.
I slide my cell into my pocket; then, I grab my dirty dishes, placing them in the sink to wash.
I try to keep the apartment clean since I can’t afford to have a maid. Besides, I live in a shitty part. Nobody has a maid.
I walk out of the apartment, looking around the parking lot, nodding. I pull up my hoodie, sprinting off to the gym in the early morning mist.
A few minutes later, I walk into the gym, looking around. As a greeting at my buddies, I do a chin lift, walking over to start my workout.
“Hey, Spencer, do you want to spar?” Ash asks.
“Hell, yes, I need all the practice I can get Ash. I really need to win this match,” I say, nodding.
I walk over to him, standing next to him. I watch him do some sit-ups, working his core.
It’s essential to work out your core because that’s the power behind the strength in the kicks, punches, knees, and elbows.
I start my core work out on the mat a few feet from Ash. In a few I’m inhaling and exhaling deeply. The work out kicks ass.
I finish my core work out, reaching over to grab the towel, wiping the sweat off my face. Now I’m ready to spar with Ash. I walk over to where Ash is punching the bag.
“I’m ready; let me get my hands wrapped really quick,” I say, twisting the water bottle cap off. I take several long pulls, and then I smash the plastic bottle in my hands. I walk over to the recycle bin, throwing the bottle inside.
“Great, I know that you have a good chance to win, Spencer. I love sparring with you,” Ash says, handing me a water bottle.
“I’ll get X to coach,” Ash says, walking over to the cage.
I smirk, following Ash across the gym room. I nod at several fighters.
“Hey Spencer, I need a favor,” Ethan says, a fighter in the light heavyweight division. He has several wins.
“Yeah, what’s up?” I say, looking over at him. Ethan wipes his neck with a towel cracking his neck.
“I have this sweet job that pays fuckingtastic, but I need to take care of my mom. She’s ill, and I don’t want to lose this job. Could you stand in for me until I return,” Ethan asks, rubbing his neck, furrows his forehead, looking anxious?
“Yeah, but I need more details, but I think that I can fill in for you,” I say, nodding, throwing the towel over my shoulder, crossing my arms, standing with a wide stance.
“It’s a guard job for a very important man. You’ll be guarding his child, making sure that they’re safe,” Ethan says, nodding.
“Fuck, that sounds easy, I can do that. How did you get the job?” I ask, raising my eyebrow, looking at him.
“My buddy Ryan got me the job since he’s the security manager, and that’s why he’s willing to allow me to get a fill-in,” Ethan says, chuckling, looking a hell of a lot better.
“Fuck, it sounds sweet. I’m glad I can help out, and it’s also helping me out. Give me the address where I need to report to,” I say, crossing my arms.
“Awesome, you’ll be reporting with my buddy Ryan. I’ll let him know that you will call him later to get the deets from him. I’ll text you his number. How is this helping you,” Ethan says, smiling, pulling his cell from his hoodie pocket?
“I really need some money until my fight,” I say, running my hand through my hair.
“Right, I’m glad that this will help you out. Thanks,” Ethan, says beaming as he texts me the information.
“Okay, I’ll call Ryan soon as I’m done. Talk to you later; X and Ash are waiting for me,” I say, nodding walking away to the cage area to get my hands wrapped.
“Hey, you ready?” X says, cracking his neck, his thick neck muscles flex.
“Yeah,” I say, extending my arms out to get my hands taped.
“I think that sparring practice has helped sharpen your skills. I think that you stand a chance to win the fight,” X says, nodding. He looks at me, sliding the mitts on.
“Hell, yes, I’m so glad to hear that from you, X. I really need to win, so I’m giving it my all,” I say, smirking.
“Right, well, don’t worry because I know you will win. I’m looking forward to your fight in Vegas; come on, let’s get started,” X says, walking into the cage.
“Seriously, you’re going to be there?” I say, grinning.
“Hell yes, the entire team will be there, even Carlos,” X says, nodding.
“Awesome,” I say, walking behind X.
I step into the cage staring at Ash’s stone face as we bump fists. We start to spar, to throw some punches.
“Spencer, Ash, you need to engage,” X says, shaking his head.
Four
Spencer
Hell, this job is a little strange for me, the boss wants me in a black suit, white shirt, all of this just to guard a child. It fucking doesn’t make any sense. In fact, I think that it’s so damn absurd, but whatever.
I need the money.
The Dude Ryan wants me there at six in the morning, so I need to get going; I can’t fucking be late.
I walk out of my apartment complex, taking quick long strides down the walkway to get to my older Honda parked in the back of the parking lot. I pull the door sliding into the car, folding my big body to fit in the little space behind the steering wheel.
Fuck, it’s a tight s
queeze!
I turn the car on, looking around checking that it’s clear, I pull out of the parking lot, onto the street. I make a right turn, merging onto the freeway. I drive as fast as I can, down twelve miles taking the exit, coming to a stop at the red light.
Fuck!
I look around for the building; okay, that’s the building over there.
I drive down the street, making a turn to enter the Plaza’s parking garage. I drive up to the tenth floor to meet Ryan Low, the security manager. I drive into the parking space next to the elevator, turning the car off. I exit the car walking towards the elevator as instructed, looking around the parking garage for the door.
Yeah, this seems to be the place.
I knock on the door, staring at the Plaza Security decal, waiting. The door opens, the Dude tilts his head, indicating for me to enter.
“Hey dude, you must be Spencer,” Ryan says, nodding, looking at me with dark, piercing eyes. He’s a tall, muscular man wearing a black suit with a white shirt and tie.
Yeah, the same fucking uniform that I’m wearing.
Isn’t this sweet, the Bobbsey Twins.
“Hi, yeah, I’m Spencer,” I say, looking at him, shaking his hand.
“Fantastic, come on in. I’m Ryan,” Ryan says, nodding walks into the office.
I follow him inside, down the long hallway, walking into the conference room.
“I’m glad that you’re punctual because I want to review your job description and tell you all about your charge. Mr. Ford wants his child protected at all costs, but the issue is that the child is difficult to handle,” Ryan says, chuckling.
“What do you mean? A child shouldn’t be difficult to babysit,” I say, grinning.
“Yeah, this one is, and she’s feisty. Have a seat, let me give you all the important deets on her,” Ryan says, shaking his head wryly.
I nod, taking a seat next to Ryan to look at the laptop, ready for the details. I listen carefully to every word he’s saying.
“This is the child, Dior Ford, she’s twenty-two years old, spoiled rotten, Daddy’s darling, and very challenging. You will need to be her shadow; you will protect her at all costs. The reason is her ex has threatened to kill her because she broke it off. Ford wants her protected until the bastard is taken out,” Ryan says, staring at me, trying to get a measure on me.
Of course, I stare back, stone-faced.
Oh, fuck!
She’s not a child!
Why the fuck didn’t Ethan mention this?
It’s a significant fact.
Damn!
She’s beautiful and sexy.
What the fuck am I getting into?
She sounds like a crazy bitch.
Crap!
“Right, taken out? Who is Mr. Ford,” I ask, rubbing my neck, nodding?
“Ford is the Boss, which means that he’s high up in the organization of the mafia,” Ryan says, looking closely at me for my reaction.
What the fuck am I getting into?
Shit, it really doesn’t matter.
I need the money.
It’s all good; this is only temporary.
“Okay, I can handle this,” I say, nodding.
“Cool, Dude, here’s the address to the condo and the keys to the SUV for you to drive Ms. Ford, but most importantly, don’t allow Ms. Ford out of your sight. Call me if you need anything,” Ryan says, smirking.
“Right,” I say, nodding, entering the address and cell number, saving it in my cell; I look at Ryan taking the key from his desk, pushing off the chair.
“Okay, get going,” Ryan says, clapping his hands.
I walk out of the security office, grinding my molars.
Fuck!
Fuck!
Fuck!
This spoiled rich bitch is going to be trouble; I can feel it.
I reach the black SUV, pressing the key fob to open the door, sliding onto the black leather seat, turning on the SUV. I pull out my cell to enter Ms. Ford’s home address into the GPS. I place my cell phone in the holder, sigh, pulling out of the parking space. I drive down the aisle, turning to exit the parking garage. I turn left, then I merge onto the freeway. It takes me thirty minutes to exit onto the street.
I pull into the parking lot of the tall, expensive condo complex. I park, turning off the SUV, opening the door. I jump out, looking around the garage, making sure nobody has followed me or is waiting.
Thank fuck it’s all clear.
I walk over to the front door, pressing the keypad to open the front door. The door opens, I step inside the impressive condo, looking around.
Fuck, this condo is enormous.
Okay, now I’ll wait until Ms. Ford wakes up.
I’ll get some coffee while I wait.
I walk down the hallway, looking for the kitchen. I walk into the kitchen, looking around at the fancy appliances and the spotless house kitchen.
Fuck!
I see the cook cooking some bacon.
“Hi, that smells delicious! Is it possible to get a cup of coffee?” I say, smiling at the cook flashing my dimples.
The cook looks up; her eyes widened when she sees me, smiling, nods waving her hand.
“Of course, let me get the cup of coffee for you. I’m Ivy, the cook. I’ve never seen you before,” Ivy says, looking up at me.
I stand at the island, grinning, placing my big hands on the kitchen countertop.
“I’m Spencer, I’m Ms. Ford’s security guard,” I say, scrubbing my face.
“Ah, that’s good,” Ivy says, handing me the cup of coffee.
I take the hot cup of coffee, inhaling deeply.
Fucking yes. I love coffee!
I take a drink, closing my eyes enjoying the expensive coffee. Yeah, I miss having freshly ground coffee.
Yeah, this coffee hits the spot.
I open my eyes, setting my cup on the countertop.
“I need to locate her room so I can guard her. Ivy, could you be so kind as to give me an idea of how to get there,” I say, grabbing the coffee cup in my hands?
“Sure, just walk down the hall, turn right, and it’s the last door on the right,” Ivy says cheerfully.
“Thanks, Ivy,” I say, setting the empty coffee cup on the counter.
“No problem, I’ll bring Dior her breakfast in a few minutes,” Ivy says, turning to flip the bacon.
I walk down the hallway, turning right, and I walk to the last door looking around. I stand in front of the door, looking straight ahead, sliding my hands into my pants pocket.
Okay.
I can’t believe that I’m going to be guarding someone that looks like heaven, she’s beautiful, hot, but she’s trouble.
I scrub my face, shaking my head inhaling deeply.
How in the fuck did I get into this dangerous job?
Fuck!
Yeah, I mean all kinds of danger.
I’m going to knock and see if she’s okay. I might as well introduce myself.
I knock on the door waiting for Ms. Ford to open.
“Come in, Ivy. Good morning, please set the tray on the table,” Dior says, opening the door.
I stand at the open door, watching her walk to what appears to be the bathroom, waving her hand.
Fuckingtastic.
Dior is too much.
I lean against the door crossing my arms, staring at her long golden-brown hair sway across her perfect heart-shaped ass. Each step that Dior takes mesmerizes, driving me insane.
I stare at the soft clinging material covering her firm breasts, zooming in at her extended nipples, sending blood to my aching flesh.
Fuck!
“Hmm . . . . hey, I’m Spencer, your guard,” I say, in a low, raspy voice, swallowing thickly.
I inhale and exhale, walking further into the bedroom, closing the door.
“What are you doing? Don’t you see that I’m not dressed,” Dior yells, blushing moves her arms, crossing them over her chest.
“You’re dressed; I nee
d to search your room,” I bark, raising my eyebrow.
“I’m not dressed,” she shouts, placing her hands on her hips.
Fuck this!
I have a lot to do, and I can’t get distracted by Diorzella.
I walk around the room, looking at the corners, walking into the bathroom, looking around in every drawer, walking over to the big walk-in closet.
I’m fine. Everything is okay walking out of the closet. I lift my chin at Diorzella as she glares at me
“All clear. Is there somewhere specific you would like to go today? I’ll be waiting outside the door, ready for when you’re ready to start the day.” I say, staring at her.
I walk over to her, standing tall, lowering my eyelids halfway, waiting for her bitchy whining.
I look at her startled face, gazing into her huge turquoise eyes.
Fuck!
I look at her breast push up as she breathes, giving me a fucking hard-on.
Yeah, she’s trouble.
“What do you think that you’re doing? You need to give me some privacy here,” Dior yells, glaring at me. She chews her lower lip crossing her arms under those fantastic breasts tapping her barefoot.
“Dior, we’re going to be very close the next few weeks. In fact, we’re going to be attached at the hip because I’m going to be your shadow,” I say, tilting my head back, staring down at her.
“You can’t be serious! I’m not a child! You can wait for me outside my room, you asshole,” Dior screams through clenched teeth.
I grin fucking amused at her pissy hissy fit. Yeah, I can’t take her all in when she’s standing there in all of her glory. I stare at her full lips as she whines.
Fuck!
I can imagine those lips wrap around my cock. I’m ignoring everything she’s saying because I have a job to do.
I can’t fucking help from checking out all of her. My eyes have a mind of their own, roaming all over her sexy body, coming to rest on her breasts again. They’re fucking awesome, then I look down her small waist, going over the soft swell of her hips then down her long legs. I stop to stare at her cute painted pink toenails.
Fuck!