Page 13 of Saving Blood

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.”

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