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5

BLOOD

Maxine storms away from me on those long, curvy legs, and I call after her, “Hey, did you hear me?”

She keeps walking, probably figuring I’d give up or get pissed off, but it takes much more for me to back down when I want something, and right now, I want sassy Maxine to turn around and talk to me.

My long strides put me right next to her. “I said you did good.”

“I know I did good. I won.” She keeps walking, her gaze centered on the gym door in the distance.

“I gotta tell you, I think recruiting women is gonna work out.”

Only a few feet from the gym entrance, she stops dead, spins around and throws me a deadly glare. “Really?” Her tone oozes with sarcasm, but I have to admit, I like a little banter.

“Gotta admit, I never would’ve thought a woman could fight as good as a man.”

Her expression freezes in place, then her lips twist into a sneer. “Try better.”

“Better?"

“As in, a woman can fight better than a man.”

“Well, you sure do look better than any of the men up there, especially in those skimpy booty shorts, all hot and sweaty.” I blatantly stare then tilt my head, and when her eyes narrow, the cocky bastard in me smiles again.

“So, you’re not only a chauvinist, but you’re a misogynist too.”

“Hey, I get into all kinds of kinky shit, but I never heard of this misogyny thing. You’re gonna have to show me how it works.”

She huffs out a mocking laugh, and the gym door swings open. Carmella, one of the other female fighters for RBMC, gives Maxine a high-five. “You were deadly in the cage, Maxi.”

“Thanks.” Maxine returns the gesture. “See you tomorrow.”

Carmella rounds the building, and I turn to Maxine. “Maxi. I like it.”

“Only my friends call me Maxi.”

“And what am I?”

“My . . . employer,” she deadpans.

“And what would have to happen for me to become a friend?” Why the fuck am I engaging her when she is totally off-limits?

“That would never happen.”

“Why?” I challenge, ‘cause, fuck me, her attitude amps me up.

“‘Cause I need this job, and you need me doing this job.”

“Always with the sass.”

“No sass, just truth.” She turns toward the gym door and yanks it open.

“Nice talking to you,” I yell at her back. “Keep up the good work.”

I laugh out loud at the deadly glare she shoots over her shoulder seconds before the door eases shut.

MAXINE

Great. Just my luck. Blood has to be big, muscular, dark and dangerous—the four male traits bound to get me in trouble. Of course, imagining the Royal Bastards’ VP would be a skinny, pale, nerdy guy defies reality, but still . . . And if that isn’t bad enough, he held me tight against his strong, hard body.

What is it they say? “If it wasn’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all.” Sure as hell applies to my screwed-up life.

I pivot and head for the gym, which includes the locker room and showers, with the intention of getting as far away from Blood as possible. He runs the fights, fine, and I have a job to do, but I have to stay neutral and tamp down any feelings Blood might ignite. I’ll train with Diesel and spar with my usual partners. I’ll stay in my lane, keep my ears and eyes open for any useable information, and make sure I’m the best female fighter in the cage.

I make a beeline for the women’s locker room, where I spin the combination on my lock. Then I peel off the booty shorts and sports bra, drop them on the bench, grab my toiletries out of my locker and head for the showers. I glance over my shoulder, but even an arrogant ass like Blood wouldn’t follow me in here, right?

Then again, with my track record, anything is possible.

I let the warm water pelt against my skin, relieving the tightness of the fight or the tension from bantering with Blood—no, don’t even go there.

After my shower, I slip on a pair of soft cotton shorts and another tank top advertising Mexico as the place to be. Big joke on me. Like I ever had a choice in the matter.

CHASTITY/Five Years Ago

The claustrophobic heat and nerve-shattering fear seeped through the cargo van as it rumbled along the road. Ten women, crammed together, their hands zip-tied, with barely enough room to sit on the hard metal floor. One window in the back door allowed the moonlight to filter across the faces etched in fear around Chastity.

Out of the ten women, at least six looked younger than Chastity, way younger. The other four looked to be Chastity’s age, but it was hard to tell. Most of them were hunched over, whimpering, and some were curled up in a ball outright weeping. Very few words were exchanged as each of them battled their own imaginations of what was to come.

After maybe two hours, the van stopped. Male voices and heavy footsteps surrounded the van, and then the back door swung open. Three men shouted orders in Spanish as they were herded out of the van and into a sweltering shack. Chastity searched her surroundings, but it was impossible to see in the pitch-black night.

Once inside, they were divided into two small rooms, and again shouted at in Spanish, before they left them alone. A lock clicked on the door and they were enveloped in darkness. Some of the girls cried out in fear, but Chastity reverted to the counting game she’d play when locked in a closet for hours as a child. Although they didn’t know it, Chastity’s sadistic parents prepared her for this moment.

MAXINE/Present Day

I sling my duffel over my shoulder and head out of the locker room for my tiny apartment paid for by the cartel on one of the worst streets in town. I can’t go back to Hector’s compound in Rosarito every day, in case anyone sees me, so I play along with the ruse of spying on the Royal Bastards fight club. Hector means to beat me down and make me weak, but the harshness of my life and the rigorous fight training has made me stronger and resilient. Determined to free myself from his claws, and if I have to use the Royal Bastards to do it, so be it.

For the first time in years, I had hope and a possible chance at freedom. I knew the fatal consequences if Hector caught onto my plan, and if he did, I would gain another kind of freedom. Either way, I’d be away from his tyranny.

The heat of the late day sun surrounds me as I leave the air-conditioned gym. The Royal Bastards certainly didn’t skimp on any of the amenities. Their exercise equipment rivals any professional gym, and the whole facility screams first-rate, including the fight cage.

I’d made it my business all those years ago to listen and learn Spanish until I became fluent, a useful tool since many of Hector’s men speak in front of the women like they are inanimate objects. Overhearing the whispers in Hector’s camp about being cheated by the Royal Bastards and how the MC apparently murdered another cartel member, Rico Sandoval, gave me an edge. My sharp mind serves me well, because, as my high school history teacher said, “Knowledge is power.”

I round the corner of the building and pause. A few feet away, neighborhood children surround Blood. He interacts with them in an easy way, then he pulls a wad of cash out of his pocket and peels off money for each of them.

They scurry away, and when he turns, he catches sight of me staring at him. I freeze in place as his long legs close the distance between us.

“Spying on me?” His choice of words throws me for a minute, then his cocky grin returns, and I realize he’s joking.

“Just leaving the gym.”

We stand in awkward silence for a few seconds.

“I saw you giving money to those kids.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, you?—”

“They help me out with stuff.”

“What kind of stuff could kids do for an outlaw biker?”

He shrugs his answer, but I want more, and for some reason, I need to know what makes Blood tick.

“I hope you’re not using them to do your dirty work.” Rampant poverty in Mexico means many people in power shamelessly use children to their own advantage.

Blood cocks his head. “Not that it’s any of your business, but, no, I don’t make my money off the backs of kids.”

His dark eyes bore into me, and I shift my feet. What is it about the depths of his gaze? Like he can see right through me, clearly viewing all the parts I struggle to keep hidden.

“You think you’re some modern-day Robin Hood?”

Blood squints against the sun. “Robin Hood?”

“You know, the rich giving to the poor.”

“I don’t know who the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Maybe you see some kids in need, and you’re trying to do the right thing.”

“Nah, there’s no fuckin’ way an outlaw biker would give money away to a bunch of street kids, right?”

“Right.” I adjust the duffel bag on my shoulder as he moves past me like he wants an end to this conversation. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

He keeps walking, and it intrigues me how the man’s persona changes like the flip of a switch. After my fight, he was all cocky swagger, intentionally trying to piss me off and rile me up. Not twenty minutes later, he’s passing out money to locals, then acting embarrassed by it.

Blood came off all hard-ass and tough in the gym, and the Royal Bastard earned a reputation for being ruthless and not backing down to anyone, including the cartel. Word is they basically gunned down Rico Sandoval at his villa in an old-style shootout.

That’s the main reason Hector saw an opening for himself in the cartel and wants to take the Bastards down, but I have my own goals. Goals I have no intention of sharing or abandoning, no matter how much Blood’s smirky grin amps me up. Or how his intricate tats accentuate the cut of his muscled biceps.

I would use good sense and not be swayed by the bad boy. No good would come of it, especially since the one and only time I let my guard down ended in being abducted to a foreign country. I have to keep my eye on the prize and get enough money together to get away from the clutches of Hector Rodriquez.

Away from the corruption of Tijuana.

And away from the Royal Bastards—and their hotter-than-hell VP.