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BLOOD

I admit I’m fuck-drunk, but . . . shit. “What the hell do you mean there won’t be a next time?”

“I mean, this was a one-time-only thing.” She tries to put distance between us, but I tighten my grip around her waist.

“You gonna tell me it wasn’t good for you? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure I got the marks to prove it.”

“No, it was great.” Her matter-of-fact tone pisses me off as much as it scares me.

“I know you got off; you fuckin’ blew apart for me.”

“I did, but that’s it.”

“So, you’re telling me we had off-the-charts, hotter-than-fuckin’-hell sex, and that’s it?”

“Yes.”

Nah, I’m not buying it, and I’m sure not letting this go without some kind of explanation. My ego isn’t fragile, but this is fuckin ridiculous.

“Are you worried ‘cause you work for us?”

“That’s the least of my problems.” She turns her head away from me. “What happened here tonight will never happen again.”

Her decisive tone and determined attitude blow me away. Like she already made up her mind, and there’s no changing it. That pisses me off more.

“You know, plenty of women want what I got.” Yeah, I know I sound fuckin’ childish and petty, but shit, how could she blow me off without a second thought? Or at least a decent reason.

“Great.” She shrugs her shoulder. “Then what’s the big deal?”

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”

“Are you telling me you’ve never fucked a woman then blew her off?”

Okay, so she caught me with that one, but damn if I was gonna admit it.

She throws me a half-smile. “Just what I thought, so I don’t know why you’re getting so worked up now.”

“‘Cause that’s not what we’re talking about.”

“Then what are we talking about? We had sex. It was good for you. It was good for me. It’s over.”

“It’s over? You can’t be serious.”

“I’m dead serious. This shouldn’t have happened in the first place, but it did, and now it will never happen again.”

“You think what we did was a mistake?”

“More like a lack of good judgment—on my part.”

“Fine.” I push away from her, zip up and right my jeans. I sure the fuck wasn’t gonna beg. “You don’t have to worry about making any more mistakes .”

“See, that’s exactly what I mean. Now you’re mad, and I can’t afford to lose this gig.”

“Ohhh, don’t worry, babe, you’re gonna continue to fight here, ‘cause you’re a moneymaker, and as long as you’re making cash for the Royal Bastards, you’re valuable.” I lean in, getting right in her face. “But don’t expect any fuckin’ favors or special treatment ‘cause, as far as I’m concerned, this was nothing more than getting my dick wet with a fast fuck. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” She throws me a sneer, pushes off the wall and heads toward the street.

I wait until she turns the corner of the building, then I jog to the street, keeping eyes on her until the crush of tourists, pickpockets and everyone in between swallow her up and out of sight. The streets in this part of Tijuana are dangerous at night, and even though she blew me off, I couldn’t help worrying about her. The fact I worried about her even though I know she can defend herself pisses me off too.

Yeah, I’m fuckin’ screwed.

Ten minutes ago, I had a hotter-than-hell woman riding my dick and giving me the best sex I’d had in—ever. Only to be told afterward to piss off. Shit.

To make matters worse, it’s almost one in the morning, and I’m wide awake, so I sprint back to the gym, unlock the door, flip on the lights, and head for my office. I want to check the lineup of fighters for next week and stash the money from Juan in the safe. It’s not smart to walk around holding a wad of cash in Tijuana.

I open the closet, shift some floorboards and spin the dial on the safe set between the slats. I drop in the cash and slam the safe door. I shuffle some papers on my desk and check the sheet with the lineup of fighters for next week. Manny ragged on me to use a spreadsheet on the computer, but the thought of learning Excel bit me in the ass. Too much fuckin’ trouble. Much easier to write it out by hand.

I push away from my desk and pause. My desk’s usually a mess, but the papers with the lineup were neatly stacked. Not the way I left them scattered over my desk. Has someone been in my office? Maybe Diesel looking for something? Nah, he’s even more disorganized than me. No fuckin’ way he’d make neat stacks of papers.

Although we have cameras outside the building, we don’t have any in the gym or the office. Mainly because we don’t want any proof of all the money we stash in here or where it is hidden.

I check the outside cameras once more on my phone, but the only one I see entering the gym is me. I leave my office and lock up, but I can’t shake the wonky sensation something is off. Outside, I check the surrounding area, even walk completely around the fight cage before I realize maybe what is off is me.

Sex with Maxine was—different. More intense, more desperate, more—passionate. I could get laid any day of the week, but with Maxine, there was a connection bordering on raw emotion and need. The absolute power of her body and her sheer will and boldness. She fuckin’ bit me—hard, then glared at me. Testing me, trying to figure me out. So different and defiant, and so damn unsettling.

I head for my bike, and another missing piece surfaces. What was Maxine doing here anyway? The gym is closed on Mondays, so what the hell was she doing here after midnight?

Something didn’t add up, and first thing tomorrow I’m going to do a deeper dive into her background. Get Ricky to do some asking around and have Manny find some intel on the computer. We’ve come too far to be tripped up now, no matter how great the sex or hot the suspect.

MAXINE

I didn’t expect to see Blood on a Monday night when the gym was closed, but it couldn’t have worked out better if I planned it. Although, if he showed up sooner, he would’ve caught me rummaging around his office, but for once, luck was on my side.

Then that asshole stalking me and Blood jumping in as my protector was almost too good to be true. Him coming to my rescue served his ego even though I was handling the jerk just fine. Me giving Blood the right amount of independent sass led to sexy banter, which led to kissing, very sensual kissing, which, of course, led to sex. Not just any sex—crazy, against the wall, fist-gripping sex. In my defense, the only sex I’d had was—no, don’t go there, but it was way more than I expected from a hardcore biker.

Shit, I hadn’t come like that in—never.

I assumed he’d be all about his own pleasure, but, no, his rock-hard body had me riding his cock like a bitch in heat. The way Blood knew how to move and work me was magical, and, yeah, his dick was ginormous. The man has mad skills and definitely knows how to use his huge dick, but it was more, way more.

A hot flash zips up my spine just thinking of what we did only a few short minutes ago, and that scares the shit out of me. I can’t afford to feel, or have any connection to anyone. I have to keep my eye on the prize at all times. No exceptions if I ever plan on breaking free.

Having sex with Blood definitely fits into my plan, though I wasn’t expecting it to happen tonight, which left me totally unprepared and a bit vulnerable, so I flipped the script. Me turning him down and saying sex couldn’t happen again—genius.

Nothing gets under an alpha male’s skin like being sent away before they’re ready. The more they hear no, the hotter the pursuit, but Blood’s fierce reaction did surprise me. I dangled the bait on purpose, but I didn’t expect him to be so vocal about his disappointment. I assumed, no matter how pissed off, he’d hide his emotions. I also assumed bikers are like the men of the cartel, using sex for power and pleasure, nothing more, and yet—Blood seemed almost hurt when I told him it was a one-off. It doesn’t make sense. Don’t outlaws have many women at their disposal, caring for none of them?

I chalked it up to damaged male ego and pride on his part. The alpha male not getting what he wanted. And Blood is definitely an alpha male, from his tatted, muscled body, right down to his scuffed engineer boots. The man is physical perfection, but I have to tamp down my lust and continue as planned.

No muss, no fuss. No big deal. Nothing special.

Yeah right, even I can’t sell the lie to myself. While I worked Blood perfectly with my attitude, my mind focuses on doing it again and again while my body already aches for him. Like an addict craving junk, if I’m not careful, Blood would become addiction.

For a split second, I worried I’d gone too far and my sassy attitude might’ve put my fighting for the Royal Bastards in jeopardy, but, no, Blood reverted to pettiness by saying I was nothing more than a fighter for his club. Retaliating with twisted words of indifference, even though his growly rasp during sex said different.

Just like with Hector, when Blood didn’t get the response he wanted, he threw my value in my face. Equating my worth with what I could do for them, and how I could perform. For that alone, I could hate Blood and Hector equally because they both treated me like a commodity, something to be bartered with no more value than what I could deliver.

I veer off the main boulevard and head for my apartment. Tomorrow, I’d show Hector the pictures I took of the fight lineup for next few weeks. The whole reason for my late-night rendezvous. Hopefully, the information would keep Hector off my back for a while as he sets up his elaborate scheme. Knowing the names of the fighters in advance will give him the opportunity to pressure them into taking a dive, then betting on their opponent, gradually undermining the Royal Bastards’ fight club and weakening their profits.

Getting into the gym after-hours proved easier than I expected. The ladies’ locker room is a new addition and isn’t armed yet, so I left the door unlocked before I left. There are no cameras inside the gym, and after I found the blind spots of the outside cameras, I easily slipped in. All in all, Hector should be pleased with my intel, leaving out the part where Blood and I screwed each other’s brains out in wild abandon.

The next time Blood and I get together, and there would be a next time, I’ll be prepared. I’ll stay removed from the situation, only allowing him to see what I want him to see. I’ll play him so well, he’ll be at my mercy. Unguarded and susceptible to my requests. Requests that would have nothing to do with what Hector wants, and everything to do with what I need.

Over the years, I’d learned the hard way how to manipulate—say one thing while doing or thinking another. Those lies wove themselves together like the links on the fight cage until I wasn’t sure who was lying to whom. Deception became part of my life from the time I was a child right up to the time Hector abducted me. Lies became the foundation holding me up, but maybe if I played it right, I could win this time.

Blood’s obvious desire for me makes it much easier. Just pretend to do Hector’s bidding while using Blood to my advantage. Drop little hints to the outlaw about my dire situation. Leaving enough breadcrumbs to bring out the savior in him again, then wheedle what I need from him to win my freedom. Escape from Tijuana, the cartel and Hector. Finally freeing myself and putting the last five years behind me.

CHASTITY/Five Years Ago

The next day, the guards moved us again. All this moving around gave Chastity hope. They wouldn’t go to all this trouble of hiding them if they were going to kill them in the end. She clung to that thought and made surviving her only mission.

Not easy in the sweltering heat when their only daily nourishment was a bottle of water and a piece of stale bread. They were purposely keeping them weak, thus not able to fight back, and, sadly, it was working. Although Chastity talked herself into staying strong, mentally and physically her body had weakened. Always being slender, she didn’t have extra weight to lose, and her clothes became loose after only a few days.

The original ten girls dwindled to five, but Chastity didn’t dwell on where they were taken or what happened to them. She had to stay focused. She also listened intently when the men guarding them spoke in Spanish. She tried to decipher their words by their inflections, and she swore to herself she would learn the language and use it as a weapon against her captors.

Finally, they reached Rosarito at dusk, but it was still bright enough for her to make out their surroundings. A gravel driveway led to a sprawling farm way off the main road with a rambling single-story home and a barn.

Over the next three weeks, Chastity and the other women were locked in another room and again only given enough food and water to survive. One by one, the women broke and accepted what the guards offered, freeing themselves from the torturous lifestyle but ultimately becoming slaves—pawns to be used in Hector’s prostitution ring. Everyone except Chastity.

“Andale,” one of the guards yelled at her in Spanish.

She pushed off the thin mattress of the cot and smoothed her hands over one of the two cotton dresses they’d given her when they arrived in Rosarito. As she followed the guard over the dusty ground, the hot breeze ruffled over the voluminous dress covering her gaunt frame.

The terrain changed to plush grass and swaying palm trees as they neared Hector’s house with a fountain spraying water into a pool filled with different colored fish. The water glistened in the sun, and she marveled at how the tropical fish had a better life than her.

The guard pushed open the main door and ushered her inside with a wary expression, but strangely, she wasn’t afraid, just curious. The pain and suffering of the last two months removed all fear, leaving only skin stretched over bones and muscle.

She entered the foyer and relished the air-conditioning wafting over her hot, sweaty skin. Intricate tapestries decorated the walls, and heavy, ornate furniture filled the rooms. Hector lived a lavish lifestyle while the women he captured lived no better than the animals he kept in the barn.

Footsteps came from the back of the house, and Hector emerged in a crisp white shirt, perfectly tailored pants, and designer shoes. “Do you wonder why I’ve summoned you?”

Chastity remained silent, not knowing what the correct response should be.

“You intrigue me.” He motioned to the couch, and she tentatively perched on the edge of the cushion. The last months had made her cagy and edgy. “The other girls have accepted my offer of better living conditions and more food, but you’ve refused.”

Chastity focused on her hands folded on her lap and her bony knees peeking beyond the edge of her dress.

He waited, and when she still didn’t reply, he continued, “I find your strength commendable but also daunting. As I’m sure you’re aware, you are a prisoner here, and in the end, you must do as I say, but I see something in you I don’t see in the other girls. You have an inner strength, and while they are only good for spreading their legs for money, you are destined for better.”

Chastity raised her head.

“So, this is how we are going to move forward. From now on, you will learn to fight in the cage. You will train every day in the gym and learn to fight.” He furrowed his brow. “What is your name?”

“Maxine.” She’d been referring to herself by that name since they hit Mexico. She’d remembered from her Bible studies, the name Maxine meant the greatest or the strongest. Perfect.

Hector leaned in. “And in the evening, you will spend the night with me and only me. Do you understand?”

Maxine nodded again while her head spun with this information. She would make this new situation work in her favor, and whether it took months or years, she vowed one day she would be free of Hector Rodriquez.