Page 12 of Saving Blood

“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 lookbetterthan 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.

---