Page 57 of Saving Blood

BLOOD

I storm out of the locker room and catch sight of Maxine’s drawn, pained face, but I keep going straight to my office. I swipe up the bottle of Jack and gulp at it. I welcome the burn in my throat, but it doesn’t ease the deep ache seeping through my body. I slam the bottle onto the desk, then hurl one of the shot glasses against the wall.

Diesel appears in the doorway, and I glare at him. “Get out.”

He puts his hand up like he’s dealing with a dangerous animal. “Take it easy.”

“I said, get out.” I punctuate my words by hurling the other shot glass in his direction.

“It’s not your fault.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I spit out an evil laugh. “Of course it’s my fault.”

Diesel inches into the office. “You gotta calm down.”

“I don’t gotta do anything. This is my fuckin’ office.” I slam my hand on the desk. “In my fuckin’ gym, and if I want to, I’ll tear the whole fuckin’ place apart.”

Diesel backs away from me, then whips out his phone. I’m too far gone to hear or care what he is saying, but I’m pretty sure he’s calling Smoke and telling him his VP is heading off the rails hard and fast.

After Diesel left, I overturn my chair and a few other pieces of furniture, but nothing helps. My phone rings in my pocket a few times, but I ignore it, and when it continues to ring, I shut it off. No one can do anything or say anything to make this better.

Exhausted, I stumble out to my bike, throw my leg over the seat, hit the throttle and take off. I don’t know how long I ride, but I finally end up at The Tropics. I park in the lot and go in the back door. The loud, pounding music and people laughing pisses me the fuck off. Don’t they know an innocent kid died tonight?

I trudge up the stairs to my apartment, unlock the door and head for the bar in the corner. I nab a bottle of Jack, then throw myself onto the couch. I uncap the bottle and take a healthy swig, then dig my phone out of my pocket and turn it back on. There are six missed calls from Smoke, along with calls and texts from the other brothers.

I kick my booted feet up on the coffee table, gulp at the whiskey, then lay my head against the couch cushions. My eyes slide shut, and the gruesome picture of Javi’s limp body jumps out at me. I bolt upright and put the bottle to my lips. I have to keep drinking until I pass out. Keep drinking until I’m too delirious to see that horrifying image.

He was just a kid. Who would do this to a kid? Who would—I pull the paper out of my pocket and read it again. Fuck, it was Hector. Of course, who else?

A knock on the door jars me out of my stupor.

“Go the fuck away,” I yell through the door.

The knocking comes harder, more insistent.

“I said, go the fuck away,” I bellow louder.

Probably Smoke wanting to talk me down, tell me Javi’s death isn’t my fault. All the bullshit lies people say, even when it isn’t true, even when they know it isn’t true.

The knocking continues, so I slam the bottle onto the coffee table and heave myself off the couch.

“Whoever is on the other side of this fuckin' door better be ready to have my fist in their face.” Diesel, Smoke, Bolt, I don’t give a fuck. I ball up my hand, thoroughly intending to tune up whoever is standing there.

I yank open the door, my fist cranked and ready.

Maxine doesn’t even flinch. “You’re not going to hit me.”

“What the fuck are you?—”

She eases between me and the door, then gently closes it and turns toward me. She cups my face in her warm hands. “I know you’re hurting.”

Then she leans in and kisses me hard, offering me her tongue, then sliding her body tight to mine. My palms automatically cup her ass, and when I lift her, she wraps those magnificent long legs around my hips.

I spin her around until her back hits the door. “Just wanna let you know, this isn’t gonna be sweet; it’s gonna be hard and fuckin’ savage.”

“It can be anything you want it to be.” She plasters her lips to mine, and I twist away from the door, then stumble us into the bedroom.

I drop her on the bed, frantically pulling at my clothes and then hers. I peel down her shorts and flip her over, wrapping my arm around her waist, hoisting her onto her knees. I push my denim away, then my fingers find her center.

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