BEAST (MMA Bad Boys Book 1)
Read BEAST (MMA Bad Boys Book 1) Online
Authors: L Grubb
Text copyright © 2015
L. Grubb
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events are the products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or distributed in any form or by any other means without permission from the Author.
Cover copyright © 2015
The cover of this book is primarily the author’s, any illegal distribution will have legal action taken against them in a court of law.
Crusaders MC Series
An Honest Mistake – Available now
The Last Betrayal – Available now
Champ & Lauren – Available now
Cobra & Alexis – Available now
Holding onto Hope – Coming 2016
MMA series
BEAST
ROOFIE – Coming 2017
Firstly, I want to thank my amazing cover designer, Clarissa Wild -
www.boomingcovers.blogspot.com
- for designing my AMAZING cover. I love it. And because perfection is her middle name, she’s made it that way. Amazing talent and an amazing friend.
I want to thank Leigh Stone for formatting for me again, I really appreciate it.
https://www.facebook.com/FormattingByLeigh/
I want to thank my amazing friend, Sheila Kell. She’s been absolutely fantastic and has helped me so much. She’s a valued friend and much like family to me. Thank you! (FANTASTIC AUTHOR too!)
Kelly Hamley, you’ve supported me since I first started writing and without the encouragement you sent my way, I would never have even got passed the first book! (AMAZING AUTHOR too!)
My STREET TEAM, Bonnie Mancuso, Mary M. Sembera, Lisa Morgan, Emma Parrott, Brandi, Louise Bailey, Amber, Marie Yule, Becky and everyone else, thank you so so much for all your support, even before reading my work you showed untimely support and I will be forever grateful.
Keren Hughes, by far my #1 fan! You’ve been nothing short of fantastic to me, making me swag, designing my bookmarks and telling me how much you love my book. Both of them seeing as you read this one as I wrote! I love ya to pieces,
remember you’re like a sister to me. Xx
To Bella Williams; girl you are amazing, and I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done from me. I love you chick! <3 xxx
My mum, Jacs Dugdale, for supporting me in my adventure into writing, who is reading this book now to give me criticism that only she can.
My auntie Liane, you’ve inspired me so much! When you wrote your first book, I knew I wanted to follow in your footsteps, and here I am! Thank you for always believing in me.
I NEED to thank Bailey Lee, because he’s been like the brother I never had and has been there for me from the day I started writing my first book in 2015. I couldn’t be where I am without you.
Thank you to Eric Battershell for all your support, even though this image isn’t one of yours, you inspire me daily with your wonderful photography.
My little princess. Sofia. I love you so much baby girl, you inspire me every day to be a better person, to not slip off the deep end. I love you unconditionally and I love watching you grow into your own little person. You battle your severe eczema with so much pride, that I envy you for your not letting other kids pick on you because of you face, and how brave you through your asthma episodes. I love you so much, princess. <3 Here’s to our future! *raises can of coke*.
To all the bloggers that have shared the shit out of my work, I can’t honestly thank you enough.
Lastly, to you, the readers, for reading my ramblings and reviewing like crazy. Without you I’m a nobody. Thank you!
From the age of fourteen, I built myself, my body, and trained hard to become an MMA champion. I spent years perfecting my image, hardening my inner-self as well as physically. I’m my father’s legacy and he’s pushed me hard to be where I am today. He may have been the shittiest father anyone could ask for, but he taught me stuff that could make me into someone. I never wanted to be a champion fighter, I wanted to become a doctor but my path was already set in stone when my parents found out I was a boy; I didn’t stand a fucking chance. I’m eighteen now and at the top of my fucking game, I’m an international superstar with more money than I know what to do with. Women flock me and I can have any one of those fake bitches if I want to…and I do; daily. I’m an aggressive fucker with particular tastes when it comes to sex and these bimbos let me do whatever the fuck I want. They’re trying for air time, but they get jack shit. The paparazzi won’t print them because they’re just inadequate nobodies. Unworthy. Money grabbing whores.
My late father, MMA champion for twenty-five years, Ricardo Mendez, died having a heart attack while he was mid-attacking me. I laughed and said to him as he was dying on the linoleum floor of our kitchen, “Karma’s a bitch, mother fucker.” I stepped back and watched as his hands clung to his chest, fighting desperately for breath. The last things he saw before handing himself over to the grim reaper was my big ass smirk and my middle finger before I turned and walked from the room, calmly shutting the door behind me and chuckling the whole way to my Conquest Knight XV. People can hear me coming from miles away when I drive this beast. Its sleek, black colour complements the chrome lining around the wheels and the tinted windows give me enough privacy to do the dirty shit I make bitches do when I’m driving us back to the penthouse.
I strapped myself in, turned over the engine and take a minute to relish in the growling sound of the engine before I hightail it out of there, leaving plumes of black smoke to pollute the London air. The squeal of my tires is unmistakeable and I knew then that it wouldn’t be long for the police to track me down for questioning. And I wasn’t disappointed.
His death was ruled a heart attack brought on by stress. As I predicted, that night when I left my old family home, the police came knocking and I was brought in for questioning. I was questioned relentlessly for hours and hours, sticking to the same shit and listening to them droning on and on with the same pathetic questions. It was like a never ending cycle, but I was trained to have a high level of patience, and I used it that day in the cop shop. They gave up and released me when they had the coroner’s report back but I suspect they never really stopped playing the blame game. That’s fine, they have no proof I was even there except one statement from a neighbour ‘claiming’ to have heard my car flying down the street but not visually seeing it.
