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BLOOD

I push through the door of my apartment and?—

“Where the fuck you been?” Smoke and Diesel jump off the couch. “You gotta get over to Otay Mesa.”

“What?”

“Otay Mesa.” Smoke rolls his eyes like I’m supposed to know what he’s talking about. “I had Marisol stall Maxie as long as possible.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about getting your ass over to the border crossing before Maxine is gone for good.” Smoke hustles me to the door. “Although Manny could probably find her with his mad cyber skills, I need him on club shit, not tracking down a woman you let slip through your fingers.”

“I didn’t let her slip through my fingers. I let her go on purpose. It’s better this way.”

“For who?” Diesel steps to me. “You gonna tell me you’re happy she’s gone?”

“Like I said, it’s better this way.”

Diesel twists his lips. “Well, you look like shit, and when Maxie stopped by the gym to collect her stuff, her eyes were all red and puffy.”

I huff out a breath. “She was crying?”

“Yeah, she was crying, you dumb shit. She tried to act all cool like she was fine, but I could tell.”

“All of a sudden the guy bustin’ heads in the cage is Mr. Sensitivity?”

“I spent the better part of the last two months training her, so, yeah, I know her pretty fuckin’ well.”

Smoke pushes me out into the hallway. “We’re wasting time with this bullshit.”

“Wait.” I throw up my palms. “What if I don’t wanna? What if I wanna let her go?”

“Do you?” Smoke nails me with a look he saves for our enemies.

“No.”

“All right, then.” Diesel flanks me on the other side. “Move your sorry ass.”

When we hit the bottom of the stairs, I stop. “What if she shoots me down? What if she tells me to fuck off?”

“I wouldn’t blame her.” Smoke cocks his head. “But I don’t think it’s gonna go down that way.”

We head out to the lot behind the club, I straddle my bike, and Smoke and Diesel do the same.

“I can do this alone.”

“Ahhh, no, fucker.” Smoke shakes his head. “We’re goin’ along to make sure you don’t chicken out.”

“Yeah, ‘cause we don’t feel like listening to your whiny ass if you let her get away,” Diesel adds.

I flip them off, then we throttle our bikes and head for the border.

Fifteen minutes later, we park our bikes at the curb, and I hop off, surveying the ridiculously long line leading into the building at the border crossing.

“I got it from here.” The last thing I need is them coming with me, giving me shit along the way.

Smoke points at me. “Don’t fuck this up.”

“I got it.” We tag fists. “Thanks.”

“Go bring our girl home,” Diesel adds.

I start at the back of the line, surprised at how many people cross the border on foot. Shit, this is going to be harder than I thought. When I get closer to the front of the line, I start to worry I’m too late—until I spot her.

My heart jacks up, and I catch my reflection in the window of the building. Fuck me, Smoke was right. I look like shit. My eyes are sunken in with dark circles, my hair is all kinds of crazy from me dragging my fingers through it, and my boots along with the bottom of my jeans are crusted with mud from the cemetery. Not only do I look like shit, but the last twenty-four hours kicked my ass. I’m shit without Maxine, and I beg whatever almighty power might still listen that she doesn’t tell me to go straight to hell.

“Goin’ somewhere?” Cheesy as fuck, but it was all I had. When she doesn’t turn around I add, “‘Cause I’ve heard you’re one hell of a cage fighter. I’ve also heard woman in the cage fight better than men.”

She shifts her feet and turns her head toward me. “Reallllly?” she asks, full of sass with a touch of remorse. “Who told you that?”

“Some sassy cage fighter with a huge attitude.”

“Hmmm, some badass biker told me there was no ‘us,’ and we were a mistake.”

“Did I say that?” I flash the same grin I gave her the first day we met. The day she called me out and said I was a misogy-something.

“Not going to work.” She moves forward with the line, and I move with her.

I jerk my head to the sidewalk. “Do you think we could get off this line?”

“No.”

“But I wanna talk to you.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I was wrong to turn you away.”

“And?”

We move forward a few more feet, getting dangerously close to the entrance of the building.

“‘Cause I’m a fuckin’ asshole, and I made a huge mistake, and I want you back in my life.”

A woman behind us says something to Maxine in Spanish, to which she laughs and says something in return.

“What did she say?” I whisper.

“She said you were very handsome, ‘hermoso,’ and if you didn’t screw up too bad, maybe I should take you back.”

I turn to the woman. “Gracias.”

The woman smiles, and Maxine adds, “You need to learn the language.”

“If you come back with me, you can teach me.” I lean into Maxine’s ear. “I know I screwed up, but I can’t go on without you.”

She mashes her lips together. “I know why you did what you did, and I understand. I lied, and then you had to hear the truth from Hector.” She looks away from me. “I get it, a man like you wouldn’t be able to get past it.”

I furrow my brow. “Get past what?”

“What Hector said.”

“I don’t give a fuck about the bullshit he was spitting out. And what do you mean, a man like me?”

“A man who wouldn’t want to think he had to share with someone like Hector Rodriquez.”

“Fuck. Is that what you think of me? You think I would let a bastard like Rodriquez get to me?”

“Then, why?”

I run my hand through my hair for probably the tenth time today. “I sent you off to save you from me.”

“Save me?”

“Yeah, after losing Javi, I couldn’t let that happen to you.” We move forward again. “Because what happened to Javi was my fault, and I realized the same thing could happen to you too. I figured getting away from me was the best thing for you.”

“Well, you figured wrong—and now you know what’s best for me?”

“I admit I was pissed you didn’t tell me, but I’d never blame you because I’ve done . . .” I hold her gaze for an extra beat.

She stares, waiting for me to finish.

The line pushes us forward, and I stay glued to her side. “Can we please get outta here?”

“Not unless you promise to listen to the truth about what happened with Hector.”

“I don’t give a shit about what he said.”

“But I do, and I did keep it from you, and now, I want you to know everything about me. The good and the bad.”

“All right.” I move off the line, but she stays.

“One more thing.” She looks deep into my eyes. “You promise to do the same. Twice you’ve tried to tell me something about your past and stopped. I want to know the good and the bad about you too.”

“You sure about that?” My truths are way worse than hers, and telling her might scare her, but she’s right. We both have to come clean if we’re to go on.

“I’m sure.”

“Buena suerte.” The woman behind us smiles at Maxine.

“Gracias,” Maxine replies, then lets me lead her to my bike.

MAXINE

I rest my head on Blood’s broad back as we speed through the streets heading back to Tijuana. It feels good to be hugged up against him again. To revel in the ripple of his muscles as he commands the huge Harley. He is one with the machine, and the power radiates through him, making me remember my first ride with him a few weeks ago. We’ve moved forward in so many ways since then, but I’m not foolish enough to think we’ve quite climbed every hurdle.

When we pull into the lot behind The Tropics and dismount, Blood’s expression is somber. We walk into the back of the club and up the stairs to his apartment. He closes the door behind us, exhaustion shadowing his face.

I close the distance between us. “We don’t have to talk about anything right now if you don’t want to.”

Javi’s funeral and the emotional turmoil has taken its toll on both of us.

“Nah, I want us both to get the fuck outta our pasts.”

Blood motions to the couch, and we both sit. What looks like an expensive bottle of wine rests on the coffee table with a note attached. Blood opens the card and smiles.

“Seems like Marisol has more faith in us than we do.” He hands me the card.

“Every celebration deserves a good bottle of wine, and since Blood knows nothing about wine, I took the liberty. Hope you enjoy it. Love, Marisol”

“P.S. Don’t screw it up, Blood.”

“She’s so sweet.” I reread the card. “She was so kind to me last night.”

“Yeah, anybody who can keep Smoke’s wild ass in line has to be special.” Blood pushes off the couch. “Let me find a corkscrew.”

I reach for his hand. “Let’s talk first.” I tug him back to the sofa.

He reluctantly sits. “Babe, this isn’t necessary. Like I said before, I don’t care about what happened with you and?—”

I press my forefinger to his lips. “I told you about me holding out when the other girls went to work in the brothels, and how Hector sent for me and told me I would train in the gym, have my own living space, and then join the other female cage fighters. I actually thought I’d bested him until he laid out the rest of the bargain.” I draw in a slow breath, determined to get this out without breaking. “What I didn’t tell you is I was to live with him at the ranch house in Rosarito, which included sharing his bed.”

“That bastard,” Blood growls. “I wish I could put another fuckin’ bullet in him.”

I swallow down the quiver in my voice. “He made it quite clear there were no other options if I wanted to keep breathing.” I concentrate on the hem of my t-shirt for fear I would see Blood’s pain, anger or utter disgust.

“Hey.” He gently cups my cheek until I look at him. “You were practically a child in a foreign country, with nowhere to go and no means of escape. A prisoner, so I don’t want you to ever blame yourself or feel less than what you are and what you’ve accomplished under the worst circumstances.”

I draw my lips inward. “You really feel that way?”

“Shit, babe, of course. You chose to survive, and that’s what makes you one of the best female . . . one of the best fighters I’ve ever seen. You had and have the will to survive.”

His strong arms circle me, drawing me closer, and I burrow into his warm chest, loving the scent of him.

“Believe me, I’ve done way worse.”

I push away from him but stay close. “Now it’s your turn for the truth.”

BLOOD

I have no way of knowing how Maxine would react to my past, but if I don’t come clean, we could never move forward.

“I just want you to know, the only other person who knows this story is Smoke.” Yeah, I’m stalling for time, but admitting to killing your own father isn’t something people usually talked about.

Maxine stays quiet but grabs my hand in hers, her eyes pleading with me to continue.

“Believe it or not, I grew up in Beverly Hills, the only son of Jack and Doris Collins. My father worked for some of the biggest stars in the business. He was what you would call a ‘fixer.’ If a celebrity found him or herself in a compromising position, my father would take care of it, for which he was paid very well.

“We lived in a beautiful home with an inground pool, tennis courts, and all the perks my father’s money could buy. Unfortunately, my father was also a son of a bitch who would do any dirty deed to make a deal. He gathered incriminating information on political and city officials, which ensured his luxurious lifestyle. I won’t say he actually killed anyone, but I know he had people threatened to get what he wanted.”

Maxine hasn’t moved a muscle, like she expects the worst.

“What I couldn’t excuse was the way he treated, or I should say, mistreated my mother and me.” I pause as the memories flood back. “My mother’s suspicious ailments, putting her to bed for days, were really her nursing a black eye or a broken jaw.”

“And he hit you too?” Maxine asks.

“Until I got as big as him. Then he took me down mentally, telling me I was stupid and worthless, and he had no trouble voicing these opinions in public.”

“I’m so sorry,” Maxine whispers.

“I’d beg my mother to leave him, but she’d claim she loved him.” I shake my head. “I never understood it, but I knew she’d never let him go.” I shift on the couch. “When I was sixteen, I came home and found my mother beaten worse than I’d ever seen her. She begged me to forget about it, but instead, I waited up for him and confronted him. He laughed at me then said my mother deserved what she got for annoying him. Annoying him!”

My gut churns, remembering that night. “We were on the second floor, and when he laughingly dismissed me, an insane rage coursed through my veins. When he turned from me—I pushed him. He yelled out as he tumbled down the stairs, his head hitting the marble repeatedly, then silence as he lay in the foyer with a trail of blood seeping from the back of his skull.”

“You were defending your mother.”

“It wasn’t an accident, and I never felt a minute of regret. I knew pushing him would probably be fatal, but I’d finally gotten revenge for my mother and me.”

“I know how it feels to want to right the wrongs.” Maxine holds my hands, giving me the strength to go on with my story.

“I’ve broken the law plenty as a Royal Bastard, but I’ve never hurt anyone weaker, or anyone who couldn’t fight back.”

“I believe you. It’s probably why you have such a soft spot for kids like Javi—and why I felt safe with you even from the beginning.”

“Even when you were spitting sass?”

“Even then.”

I draw in a deep breath, determined to continue. “As my mother and I stared at his limp body, she told me, for the first time, she felt relieved.

“My father had an office full of incriminating information on the police and city officials, which I mentioned when I called the chief of police. I agreed to keep it all to myself, and they agreed to report his death as an accident.”

“You told me you left home at sixteen, so why didn't you stay with your mother?”

“She said, even though she was glad my father was dead, she couldn’t forgive me. She still had some irrational loyalty to him. She sold the house and moved to Michigan, where she grew up, and I took off and headed to San Diego. I lived hand-to-mouth, shacking up in abandoned buildings and sleeping on the beach, but it was the freest I’d ever felt. I met Smoke in a biker bar by the beach, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“Have you had any contact with your mother since then?”

“Nah, it was like we both wanted to wipe away that part of our lives.”

“In so many twisted ways, our stories have parallels.” Maxine shakes her head. “The striving to belong and the need to feel wanted. It’s like fate drew us to each other.”

The truth of Maxine’s words fill me up, and when I take her in my arms, I know we’re meant to be together.