Page 20 of Saving Blood

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.

9

BLOOD

The next day sucks balls. I switch from pissed-off to horny, then slide back to pissed-off again. I ran last night over and over in my head, but it didn’t fuckin’ make sense. Finding Maxine at the gym way after midnight, our banter, the way we lit each other up and then the sex. Raw, gritty and out-of-control. Just the way I like it. The way she gave it all to me and wanted more. Just thinking about the shit we got up to had me hard all over again. Damn it. Then she shoots me down and tells me it could never happen again. Fuckin’ ridiculous.

Afterwards, I rode around on my prized Harley for over an hour, but even that didn’t quiet my demons. When I got to The Tropics, the usual women were hanging out, and yeah, I could’ve stuck my dick into any one of them, but instead I stomped up to my rooms above the club. Pissed-off.

Once I was alone, I couldn’t stop my brain from spinning out. Maybe Maxine already had a guy, and that’s why she got spooked, thinking he’d find out. Maybe they’d had a fight, and doin’ me was a one-off. A way to get back at him. Then my fucked-up brain pictured her with another guy. The idea of her moaning and giving it up for someone else like she did for me was too much. That’s when I pulled out the bottle of Jack and drowned my sorrows in a few shots. More than a few, and a fuckin’ stupid move ‘cause now I had a pounding headache doing nothing to improve my pissy mood.

I prowled around the gym most of the morning looking for something to bitch about. I’d already popped off at Diesel about not putting the weights away correctly, which earned me a look saying I was fuckin’ nuts. Couldn’t argue with him, ‘cause I was driving myself crazy too. I’d called and texted Bolt so many times reminding him to tail Maxine that he stopped answering me. I headed to my office in a pissy mood, and the worst part was—I didn’t know why.

Maxine was nothing to me. We fucked against the wall in the alley alongside the gym, so what? I screwed plenty of women on the back of my bike, in the john, even one chick behind the bar of The Tropics during the epic, wild, patching-in party for Manny. Last night, my whiskey-soaked brain convinced me it was just my bruised ego, but now in the light of day, I realize it was something else.

The way she reacted showed a hint of fear, but not about someone finding out about us—she was genuinely afraid of something or someone. She couldn’t get away from me fast enough, and that pissed me off too, until I realized I wasn’t the one generating the fear.

“Hey, what’s up?” Javi jars me out of my thoughts as he swaggers into my office acting and looking way older than his thirteen years.

I raise my head from the computer screen I’d been battling with for the last fifteen minutes. I hate the fuckin’ machine, and I swear it hates me right back. With the mood I’m in, I want to pitch it through the glass partition.

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