King's Promise

“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 pills, 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.”