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MAXINE

I enter the cage and immediately size up my opponent, knowing I could easily take her down. It’s not false bravado—it’s practical knowledge of past experience and knowing my advantages. Sure, she outweighs me and is maybe two inches taller, but I’m fast and agile, where she’s bulky and probably clumsy and slow. Granted, if I let her connect a few blows, I’ll be in trouble, but that will never happen ‘cause I’m just that good.

Over the last five years, I’ve learned all the tricks the hard way, but the bottom line remains—I became proficient, and what didn’t kill me not only made me stronger—it made me impossible to defeat.

As we circle each other, I catch sight of Blood out of the corner of my eye leaving the bleachers. I’ve seen him in the gym plenty, and people in the know say he organizes the fights and handles the betting for the Royal Bastards MC. Gossip also said the Bastards run most of Tijuana, a fact Hector Rodriquez hates.

Diesel, a member of the Royal Bastards, doubles as a fighter and trainer. He and another guy, Ricky, also a member of the RBMC, watched some of my other bouts, then took me on when I applied to fight under the club’s colors. A great gig, since the popularity of women cage fighters is growing fast and quickly becoming more lucrative than the male fighters. The only thing men like more than watching two women sweating in the cage together is two women sweating in the bedroom together.

Doesn’t take a genius to figure out the profit—the exact reason Hector Rodriquez sent me to infiltrate and find out some key information. Of course, I agreed. You don’t say no to a psycho like Rodriquez, but my reason for stepping into the cage has nothing to do with Rodriquez or the Royal Bastards. It has to do with freedom—my freedom.

I’ve been fighting for it one way or another for most of my life: a need and a want that bloomed in a shy Midwestern girl named Chastity.

CHASTITY/Five Years Ago

By the time Chastity was ten years old, she knew her parents were different from other kids’ parents. Even brought up in a tiny bumfuck town in Oklahoma with a population of two hundred and four, she knew. They had strict ideas about right and wrong, with no room for apology or other opinions.

Television and radio were not allowed in their tiny ranch house because, according to her parents, they were the devil’s instruments. Her father believed God wanted them to suffer because they were unworthy sinners. God must’ve also wanted them to experience hell firsthand, because summer without air-conditioning in the plains of Oklahoma reached way over one hundred degrees.

Their devotion to their religious beliefs went way over the line of normalcy, using every situation, every act, as a way to instill fear. Their God held vengeance and retribution, but Chastity saw their behavior for what it was—outrageous and dangerously abusive.

Her parents’ skewed reality came from their version of the Bible, or God’s Word, as they readily spouted the scriptures, but little Chastity didn’t buy it. No higher power would approve of locking a child in a closet for hours because she walked on a newly mopped floor or came in five minutes late for dinner. No divine being would condone beating a nine-year-old so severely, she couldn’t sleep on her back for a week.

Since her parents didn’t encourage friendships, Chastity spent most of her time alone. Her life centered on going to school and doing homework, which put her at the top of her class, making her an honor student by the time she reached high school. On Sundays, she attended church all day, where the minister preached about punishment and damnation in the fiery depths of hell.

In her free time, she counted the days until she was old enough to leave what she called her living hell . She knew there had to be another way to live, far, far away from her parents’ insane rules.

Planning her escape became the center of Chastity’s existence at age thirteen. By fourteen, she had an outline. By sixteen, she had a solid plan, and a year later, she put her plan in motion—on her seventeenth birthday.

The day marked the beginning of her new life, her freedom.

Chastity planned to run off with an older girl she befriended in high school. Tiffany was everything Chastity wasn’t: brave, outgoing, beautiful, and rebellious. It was the brave, rebellious part that made Chastity share her plan to run away.

Perfect timing since Tiffany’s last offense centered around smoking weed in the boys’ locker room and blowing said smoke in the gym teacher’s face. Facing suspension for her fifth offense in as many months, Tiffany jumped at the chance to get away from her parents’ wrath.

Chastity crammed her two favorite pairs of jeans, a few t-shirts and random travel-size toiletries she’d swiped from Walgreens into a plastic shopping bag. Her fanatically religious parents would’ve told her she’d burn in hell for such a sin, but she wasn’t afraid. After being locked in a closet for hours and beaten with a belt, nothing scared her.

They left immediately after attendance was taken in homeroom. Tiffany reasoned it would give them a day’s head start before anyone began to look for them, but Chastity wasn’t concerned. Her parents frequently threatened disowning her for minor infractions, so breaking the rules so drastically would make Chastity damaged in her parents’ eyes and, therefore, unwanted.

Chastity happily spent her seventeenth birthday speeding down Route 80 on their way to California in Tiffany’s Mercedes coupe, a gift from her parents when she promised to stay out of trouble the last time. Apparently, gifting a crazy teen a luxury vehicle wasn’t good parenting skills either.

Tiffany taught Chastity how to drive along the way, and they shared the long ride, making it to Los Angeles in just under twenty-four hours. They hit the Golden State with a thousand dollars between them. All of it was Tiffany’s, but she wasn’t stingy. They rented a tiny one-room apartment right off Sunset Boulevard, with the intention of getting jobs, then breaking into Hollywood and becoming famous actresses. Again, they were teenagers with big, unrealistic dreams.

A year later, they still weren’t actresses, but Chastity wrangled a job at Taco Bell. Most employers weren’t interested in her honors classes since she was only seventeen with no work experience. Tiffany was a hostess at a local restaurant, when she actually showed up. They should’ve had enough to get by if Tiffany wasn’t obsessed with clubbing every night, spending hundreds on clothes and picking up deadbeat boyfriends who claimed to be big-time talent agents.

Chastity never joined Tiffany on her all-night adventures. Some of her parents’ rules still lingered, along with a sense of responsibility. Plus, at least one of them had to hold down a steady job, especially since, after only two months, she was promoted to manager of the Taco Bell on Hollywood Boulevard. Her bosses finally noticed her organizational skills and the fact her cash drawer was always correct to the penny. Mr. Nash, her Advanced Placement Math teacher, would be proud.

Tiffany, on the other hand, must’ve had and lost ten jobs in the last twelve months, but she never lost her spirit or her single-minded desire to hit it big and become an actress.

“I can’t believe you’re actually coming with me tonight,” Tiffany squealed.

After much prodding, teasing and cajoling, Chastity agreed to go along on one of Tiffany’s wild nights. After all, it was her eighteenth birthday.

“We are going to have so much fun.” Tiffany had already piled on her own makeup and teased her hair into submission. Now she was in the process of doing the same to Chastity.

“Stop trying to peek in the mirror,” Tiffany warned as she applied more eyeliner and mascara to Chastity's eyes. “Just trust me. You are going to love your new look.”

Chastity didn’t mind her old look of jeans and a t-shirt. It was what she wore almost every day, except for days she wore her Taco Bell uniform at work.

Tiffany stepped back, assessing her. “You have so much potential, and yet you hide it behind dull clothing and that hideous fast-food uniform.”

“That hideous uniform is what pays the rent most months,” Chastity reminded her.

Tiffany huffed out a long, dramatic sigh. “After tonight, you can ditch that stupid job, because this guy is going to get us both into the movies.”

“You mean as paying customers?” Chastity twisted her lips in uncharacteristic sarcasm.

“No, silly, as actresses.” Tiffany fluffed her hair one last time, then spun Chastity toward the mirror.

Chastity’s mouth gaped open, speechless.

“Well, what did I tell you?”

“I . . . I don’t know what to say. You’ve made me look?—”

“Hot, gorgeous, fabulous?”

“Beautiful.” Chastity reached out and touched the mirror in awe. Her long auburn hair was full and slightly curled at the ends, framing her face. Her creamy skin had just enough bronzer and highlighter, transforming her narrow face into intriguing angles. Her green eyes popped with the combination of liner, mascara, and gel defining her brows. Her once average face now appeared dramatic and . . . sexy.

“You can thank me later.” Tiffany pointed to the bed. “Put this on, and your look is complete.”

Chastity ran her fingers over the sequined halter top and a black pleather skirt that didn’t look large enough for a child. “You bought this for me?”

“Yes, because your clothes are boring. Consider it a birthday present.”

A flood of emotion filled Chastity’s chest as she blinked away the tears pooling in her eyes. “This is the first birthday present I ever received.” She enveloped Tiffany in a hug.

“What the hell?” Tiffany screwed up her face. “What kind of childhood did you have?”

Too embarrassed to admit the truth, along with a lingering loyalty to her family, Chastity murmured, “My parents only believed in spiritual gifts.”

“Wow, no wonder you wanted to jet out of there.” She hugged Chastity harder, then pointed to the clothes. “Now stop wasting time and get dressed. Tonight is the first night of the rest of our lives. Tonight everything changes for us.” Tiffany did a little spin in her micro-mini dress and heels. “I can feel it.”

Chastity slipped on the clothes and gawked at herself in the full-length mirror nailed to the back of their bedroom door. At five-foot ten, and always self-conscious about her height, she rarely wore heels so high, but she had to admit they made her legs look amazing.

She pulled at the skirt barely covering her ass, and Tiffany frowned. “Stop fidgeting. You look fantastic. You’re so tall and thin, you look like a runway model.”

Normally, Chastity scoffed at the silly things Tiffany said, but she had to admit, tonight, at this moment, she looked every bit like the slinky models showcased in Tiffany’s copies of Vogue and InStyle littering the apartment.

Armed with fake IDs Tiffany recently bought claiming they were both twenty-one, they set out for Tiffany’s favorite club in Beverly Hills. A place her agent friend said all the important people in Hollywood frequented.

Chastity trailed Tiffany as she ignored the long line at the door. “I looked this club up online, and the percentage of people allowed in each weekend is very low. By my calculations, I would say?—”

Tiffany spun around to face her. “Will you please give your brain a day off? We’re going to get in.”

Chastity shrugged, not wanting to argue, but numbers never lied. She kept pace with Tiffany as she sidled up to the giant of a man stationed at the entrance. She leaned in, said something in his ear, followed by a secretive smile, batting of eyelashes, and a sexy twist of her lips. A second later, the enormous man dressed in black waved them inside, much to Chastity’s amazement.

Once inside, the hard, driving, pounding music surrounded Chastity.

“See how easy that was?” Tiffany shrilled over the music. “Between my big boobs and your glorious height, he never doubted we were legal.”

Chastity could only nod as her whole being buzzed with the intoxicating sights and sounds of the club. It both energized and frightened her. Never allowed to join the other girls at parties or dances at school (again, the devil’s work), Chastity didn’t know how to act or react with other people her age, and certainly not men. At eighteen, she’d never even had a date, much less kissed a boy. How crazy ridiculous was that?

The flashing lights, pounding bass and people—so many people—dancing, moving, crowded together everywhere made every nerve and muscle of her body feel alive. She loved it.

She’d been so wound up in her observation, she’d lost track of Tiffany. She scanned the club, but the flashing strobe lights made it impossible to see clearly. Her heart kicked up as she narrowed her eyes in an attempt to concentrate on her surroundings. She swiveled her head and looked deeper into the crowd—finally she saw Tiffany making her way back to her holding two green-tinted drinks.

“Here, try this.” Tiffany took a large gulp of hers, then licked her lips.

“What is it?”

“It’s an appletini, or apple martini. You’ll love it.”

Chastity sipped at hers, a blended mix of sour and sweet. “It is quite good.”

“Quite good. You crack me the fuck up.” Tiffany raised her glass. “Drink up, and with any luck, we won’t have to buy another.”

“Why?”

Tiffany rolled her eyes. “Because some guy or many guys will buy them for us.”

“Why?”

“Because we both look as hot as fuck.” Tiffany held the glass to her lips. “The guy against the wall is already checking you out.”

Chastity turned to look, and Tiffany grabbed her arm. “Don’t look. You have to play hard to get. Like this.” Tiffany pushed her hair over her shoulder and cocked her head. “You have to pretend you aren’t looking when you really are.”

“Sounds confusing.” Although Chastity was a rule follower, this seemed way too complicated.

“Ohhhhh, shit, shit, shit.” Tiffany leaned in and jerked her head to the side. “There’s the talent agent I met the other night. Isn’t he gorgeous?”

“Can I look, or do I have to do that pretend thing with my hair?”

Tiffany burst out laughing. “You are so fucking funny.”

Chastity shrugged, not getting the joke, but in the next few seconds, both guys approached them, then offered to buy them drinks, just as Tiffany predicted. The night raced forward in a blur of dancing, some soulful kissing on the dance floor and more appletinis. Rafael, Chastity’s guy, was movie-star handsome with jet-black hair, perfect tawny skin and straight white teeth. If he wasn’t an actor, he certainly could’ve been one.

He was the same height as Chastity, but she was used to that, and what did she expect with her sky-high heels? If she wore flats the next time, he’d be taller than her, but she was getting ahead of herself thinking she would see him after tonight. Although, he was funny and seemed to be into her. Maybe tonight she’d finally lose her virginity in one of those one-night things Tiffany was always going on about.

She and Rafael found a booth off to the side where they continued to kiss and laugh and order more drinks. Chastity had never had so much fun, and even though she’d just met Rafael, his attention thrilled her, making her feel important and special for the first time in her life—and she never wanted it to end.

Chastity never drank alcohol before, and she loved the freeing buzz in her brain. So free that when Tiffany suggested they go to the talent agent’s huge house in the Marina del Rey, she went along without a second thought. It turned out the two men were friends. How crazy was that?

They piled into a limo the men had waiting at the curb, complete with a uniformed driver. The outside lights spun in a swirling kaleidoscope as they sped toward the Pacific Ocean. This was the Hollywood Chastity had only read about in books, and it was happening to her. It seemed like life finally recognized Chastity’s arrival, and she liked her new persona.

She had no idea how long they drove because she and Rafael were engaged in a bliss of kissing, groping and everything just short of sex. Pumped up with her new look and on her way to a fancy mansion in an expensive neighborhood with a hotter-than-hell man, Tiffany’s promise seemed attainable.

Maybe tonight would be the night their lives changed forever.