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21

BLOOD

The gym usually buzzes with energy the day before a big fight. Today it is all that on steroids, so I duck into my office to make the call to Ricky.

After two rings, he picks up. “Hey, Blood, what’s up?”

“I need a favor.”

Ricky, our club secretary, knows every pickpocket, thief, con-man and forger in Tijuana. Perfect secretary for an outlaw biker club.

“Sure, anything.”

And he means anything. He has contacts in every alley and rathole in and around the city, plus he speaks the language. If you needed something done—ask Ricky.

“You gotta get me a passport.”

“For you?”

“Nah, for Maxine at the fight club.”

“Oh.” Short pause. “Does Smoke know about this?”

“Are you questioning your VP?”

“No, no, I just—” I hear the flick of his lighter. “I’m gonna need some information. Date and place of birth, full legal name and a photo. We like to make them look as real as possible right down to the watermarks and hologram over the picture.”

“Stop by the gym later today. I’ll have all the info you need.”

“The guy I deal with is a professional. He does quality work, not like the shit sold by the border. Swear to fuck, it’ll never be detected, but—it’s gonna cost you.”

“How much?”

“At least two grand, maybe more.”

I can’t say I’m surprised. In the States, the Royal Bastards deal in fake documents. Huge moneymaker for the clubs situated close to the border.

“All right, see you in a few.”

I swipe away the call before Ricky could ask any more questions I didn’t feel like answering—or better yet, couldn’t answer. Like why was I setting this up and willing to lay out two grand for someone I’d known less than a month? Better yet, why would I lay it out when I couldn’t even answer one of the questions required for the passport?

When I think about it, I realize the only solid thing I know about Maxine is where she lives now, that she is a kick-ass fighter, and fuckin’ lit me up in bed. I have no idea where she lived in the States, or even her last name. For all I know, Maxine isn’t even her real first name.

I gaze out into the gym. Every ring is occupied with men and woman honing their craft, practicing their footwork, bobbing and weaving in every kind of mashup imaginable. Guns N’ Roses blares through the speakers, matching the vibe, as they all prepare for the biggest event since the Bastards took over the fight club last year. An event that has to go off without a hitch. An event that needs my full attention.

After I set up the meet with Ricky, I try to keep my mind off Maxine. Hard to do when she has my guts twisted in knots, but if I stay in the office and off the gym floor, I’ll avoid the distraction of watching her work out.

I keep myself busy the rest of the morning, going over every detail for the fight. We expect huge crowds and the partying and craziness that goes along with it.

“Maxie’s the favorite to win,” Bolt says as he and Smoke enter the office. “Her hands are like lightning. Never saw a fighter, man or woman, with such fast fuckin hands.”

“Everybody at The Tropics is talking about her and the whole night,” Smoke adds. “Gonna be fuckin’ huge.”

Javi and some of the other neighborhood kids passed out flyers for the last two weeks to the locals, along with the usual word of mouth, so Bolt’s prediction is right on target.

“Gotta hand it to you, VP, you turned this shithole into a huge moneymaker.” Smoke claps his hand on my shoulder. “The weekly fights brought in huge crowds, so this mega fight is gonna be off-the-fuckin’-charts crazy.”

“Between the bets and the product, the Bastards are sure to clean up.”

A few minutes later, Diesel returns, unusually somber. “You seen Maxi’s face?”

“No, why?” My whole objective is to avoid Maxine until Ricky shows up for the passport info. Info I couldn’t wait to hear.

“It’s all busted up.”

“Whaddya mean?” Bolt asks.

“Looks like somebody whaled on her. Swollen cheek, black eye.”

Smoke leans forward in his chair. “Did it happen here?”

Diesel shakes his head. “Nah, I don’t think so.”

I heave out a sigh. “Let me check it out.” So much for my plan to avoid her. I open the office door, and Javi steps in my path.

“I got something.” Javi’s eyes widen.

“Not now.” I step around him, and he grabs my arm.

“You’re gonna want to hear this.”

“All right.” I open the door wider, and Javi enters the office, ignoring the looks from Smoke, Diesel and Bolt.

I slam the door behind us to block out the noise. “What’s up?”

“You’re not gonna like it.” Javi’s eyes dart between me and the other brothers.

“Right now, I’m not liking you stalling, so spit out whatever the fuck you got.”

“I was hanging out across the street from Maxine’s apartment this morning, like you said, and I saw her with Hector.”

My stomach rolls. “They came out of her place together?”

“No, he was waiting for her. Like he ambushed her.”

“What?”

“Yeah, he pulled her in the alley, so I crossed the street for a better look.”

“And?”

“They were fighting for sure,” Javi says. “Then he was choking her, but she broke free.”

My heart slams against my ribs, but I force myself to stay cool.

Javi smiles. “Fuckin’ amazing, she used moves on him just like she does in the cage.”

“What else?” I ask.

Javi shuffles his feet. “Then they did more fighting, and he smacked her hard.”

I slam my hand on the desk. “Fuuucck!”

“But, shit, you should’ve seen her,” Javi continues. “She didn’t back down or nothing.”

“Could you hear what they were saying?” Smoke asks.

Javi shakes his head. “Nah, I stayed at the edge of the alley. Close enough to see, but not close enough to hear.”

I pound my fist on the desk, then scrape my hand through my hair. “That fuckin’ bastard. Somehow he’s using her.”

“You want me to keep watching her place?” Javi asks.

I shoot a look to Smoke, and he nods.

“Yeah. Keep your ears and eyes open.” I dig my hand in my pocket, peel off some cash and press it into Javi’s palm. “And make sure you stay outta sight.”

“Don’t worry about me, Blood.” Javi puffs out his skinny chest. “I stay in the shadows, ‘cause I’m practicing to be a Royal Bastard.”

Bolt laughs, but Javi ignores him.

He turns to the door, and I call after him, “You did good.”

Javi throws me a smile over his shoulder, then weaves his way through the crush of people in the gym.

“What the fuck was that about?” Smoke asks.

“I’ve had Javi watching Maxine’s apartment.”

Smoke’s eyebrows rise.

“We know she fought for him back in the day, and now, according to Javi, he’s also slapping her around.”

“Sounds like she’s not giving him what he wants,” Diesel says.

“She said he wants her to fight for his club. So, either he wants her back, or he sent her here to check out our operation, but I know she’s holding back something else.”

“Like what?” Bolt asks.

“I don’t know, just a feeling.”

Then I go and offer the perfect escape—a passport.

“Knowing Hector, he’s using her to fuck with our operation.” Smoke jerks his head at Bolt and Diesel. “Give us a minute.”

Bolt eyeballs both of us, then he and Diesel leave the office.

When the door closes, Smoke pulls a cig out of his cut, then takes his time lighting up. “All right, what’s goin’ on?”

“Whaddya mean?”

“With you and Maxine.”

I return Smoke’s glare with one of my own.

“Don’t give me the fuckin’ fisheye. You’ve barely been to the club all week.”

“In case you forgot, I got a lot going on. I’m putting together a huge fight tomorrow night.”

“And you missed a church meeting.”

I point to the green and yellow bruise decorating my cheekbone. “Yeah, and I paid the price.”

“We go back a long time.” Smoke leans on the edge of my desk. “Putting the club together up in Cali. Doing deals and all kinds of shit to make a buck and keep the club together. Bargaining with the cartel for gun shipments.”

“All true, so what’s your point?” Best offense is a fucked-up defense.

“My point is, you’ve been breaking a lot of rules lately—and you’re not a rule breaker.”

“Right, that’s usually your job.”

Smoke drags deep, then blows out a long stream of smoke. “I know, it was because of my bullshit we got shipped down here, but through it all, you kept me straight. You were loyal to me and to the club.”

“And you’re sayin’ now I’m not?” I ball my fists at my sides.

“I’m saying you’ve got a lot going on, and you don’t need any road blocks making shit harder.”

“Sometimes things happen for a reason. If we didn’t end up in Tijuana, you never would’ve met Marisol, who’s now your old lady.”

Disbelief covers Smoke’s face. “You wanna make Maxine your old lady?”

Why the fuck did he have to say that?

I play with the pack of smokes on my desk. “I’m just a little distracted.”

“Distracted? More like not paying attention to business.”

My head jerks up at the insult. “Fuckin’ bullshit, and you know it.”

Smoke curls his lip. “When my VP is distracted by a piece of ass, I get worried.”

I lunge. “Don’t fuckin’ call her that.”

Smoke easily pushes me off. “You just proved my point.”

I want to knock that smug smile off my prez’s face, but instead I pace in front of my desk.

“For whatever reason, this bitc . . . woman has gotten under your skin, and it’s not healthy, especially if she’s connected to Rodriquez.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.” I scrub my hand over my face. “She just needs a little help.”

“By way of a passport?”

“How’d you know about?—”

“Ricky called me.”

“Fuck, didn’t take him long to rat me out. I just called him this morning.”

“Don’t get up his ass. He thought it was an odd request, and he wanted to know if I knew about it.”

“Or he should just do what his VP tells him to do without involving you or asking a bunch of stupid-ass questions.” I sound pissy and petty, but I don’t give a shit. First Diesel, now Ricky. Why didn’t they both stay the fuck outta my business?

“And why didn’t you tell me straight out?”

“‘Cause I was trying to avoid this.” I wave my hand between us. “Anyway, it’s no big deal.”

“It is if you’re involving the club. Why does she need a fake?”

“She lost hers, and she wants to get back to the States.”

“Yeah, that sounds all kinds of screwed up.” Smoke crushes his cig in the ashtray on my desk. “Did it ever occur to you she’s playing you?”

Sure, it occurred to me, but I’m not ready to admit it.

“What if she and Hector are working together and what happened in the alley is because he’s not happy with her performance?” Smoke lets the question hang between us.

“He’s been spooking her. I can tell she’s afraid of him, so I doubt they’re working together.”

“Or that’s what she wants you to believe.” Smoke huffs out a harsh breath. “When were you gonna tell me we’re also losing one of our best fighters?”

“‘Cause I’m hoping we’re not gonna lose her.” I lean my elbows on the scarred wood of the desk. “If it all works out, we’re gonna have more money than we know what to do with. Enough to call Hector’s bluff, get him the fuck outta Tijuana, and we keep one of our best fighters.”

“And you get to keep Maxine warming your bed.” Smoke shakes his head. “Shit, you got it bad for her.”

“I don’t know what I got; all I know is, when I’m with her, I don’t want her to leave, and when I’m not with her, I wanna be.”

“You’re fucked.”

“Says the man who spends every waking hour trying to knock up his wife.”

“That’s how I know—you’re fucked.”

“Let’s just get through tomorrow night, rake in our profits, then have a sit down with Hector.”

“Nah, I say we send one of the prospects to Hector’s place and invite him to the fight. We have him sit with us so we can keep eyes on him. That way, if he plans on starting any bullshit, we can stop it—real damn fast.”

“Sounds good, ‘cause I don’t trust the bastard either.”

Smoke always keeps his eye on the ball, heading off trouble before it starts. A good trait since the last thing we need is Hector fucking things up.

Smoke pushes out of the chair and points at me. “Make sure you show up at The Tropics tonight. I like to see my VP once in a while.” Then he holds out his fist, and I return the gesture. “Since we’re closing the club tomorrow night, we’re gonna party tonight.”

“I’ll be there.”

Smoke throws me a look that says you better be .

After Smoke leaves, I settle into my chair to sort shit out in my head. I pull a cig out of the pack, light up and inhale deep, but the nicotine doesn’t squelch the wonky sensation jittering through my veins. So much going on at once, I just have to hope it doesn’t all come crashing down on me or the club—or Maxine.