Page 23 of Saving Blood

“In a way, I’m doin’ you a favor,” I call after him as he darts through the gym. “Less you have to lose on bad bets or piss away on some Tijuana whore.”

I sit behind my desk and dissect what Juan told me. Nothing earth-shattering but something to look into. Definitely something to go over with Smoke. Hector is bad news, and the faster the Royal Bastards get him out of Tijuana, the better. This is our city now, so paying the fucker a visit with a warning would be in order.

The more I think about it, the more I like the idea. If things turn to shit, I might be able to throw some fists before the end of the day after all.

10

BLOOD

An hour later, my phone buzzes with a text from Juan telling me Hector’s location in Rosarito. This new information puts me in a better mood, so if it all pans out, maybe I’ll give the guy a break and lower his debt. I contact Smoke with the location, and he agrees with my “no time like the present” approach.

When I head for my bike in the lot, loud voices draw my attention to the side exit of the gym where Carmella and Francesca are in a shoving match.

Fuck. The last thing I need is them getting injured and not able to fight because of bullshit drama.

I easily get between them. “C’mon, save all this for the cage.” I pull them apart, but they are still swinging and yelling at each other in Spanish.

Maxine exits the gym. “Need a little help?”

“Only if you can understand what the fuck they’re saying.”

Maxine unleashes rapid-fire Spanish, and both women settle down. Then Carmella says something to Maxine, who then tuns to me.

“Believe it or not, all this is over the size of their lockers. Carmella says Francesca has a bigger locker than her.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Take them in the locker room and figure this out. Give her another locker, anything to keep the bullshit down.”

Maxine relays my message, Carmella and Francesca have another short exchange, then head into the locker room.

Maxine cocks her hip. “You really ought to learn the language.”

“I’m not from here.”

Maxine rotates her eyes dramatically. “Looks to me like you are now.”

“Very funny.” I point to the door. “Straighten this shit out before they kill each other.”

“You’re welcome,” she snipes.

I turn to my bike, muttering, “Wiseass.”

“I heard that,” Maxine calls after me.

I keep my eyes focused on my Harley. Much easier than zooming in on her narrow waist or how her midriff top shows off her toned six-pack.

She’s not the only one who can play games.

* * *

An hour later,Smoke and I are heading down a dusty, dead-end road, ending at a long, gravel driveway.

“Whaddya think?” We stop our bikes and survey the property consisting of a barn, a sprawling Spanish-style ranch house, complete with a tile roof, lush palm trees, and an intricately carved stone fountain out front. In the distance, way behind the house, stands a one-story building with separate units resembling an old-school run-down motel. Probably where the workers live.

Over the last year, I’d observed the blatant caste system in Tijuana. The wealthy enjoy every convenience and luxury, while the poor barely scrape by with castoffs and substandard living conditions. Like Javi’s family.

Smoke nods toward the armed guards outside the barn doors. “Looks like overkill to me.”

“We got a plan?” Our visit was unscheduled on purpose, but now I’m beginning to wonder if the element of surprise was a good idea.

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