Page 22 of Saving Blood

“So, what’s it’s gonna be? My money or some useful info?”

Juan sucks in a breath, and I almost hope the fucker has nothing so I can slam somebody in the face this afternoon.

“I got information.” Juan shifts again, and my stomach tightens. “Good stuff.”

“Well, spit it out. I ain’t got all day.”

“Hector Rodriquez is getting restless. He wants to be the head guy, and he’s adding to his crew.”

“I already know that.” I drum my fingers against the wood of my desk, and Juan swallows hard.

“He’s also got a fight club down in Rosarito, and he only recruits women.”

“Like I give a fuck what he does in Rosarito.” I narrow my eyes and glare at Juan. “I told you I wanted info about his setup here in Tijuana.”

“He kidnaps the women he uses then gives them two choices—fight for his club, or work on the street.”

“Still not impressed.” Nor am I surprised. Slave trade in Mexico is common. With poverty and lack of jobs, women have limited resources, and a scumbag like Rodriquez benefits off their backs and profits from the weak.

“That’s the thing. He’s sent a few of his guys up here to Tijuana to set up shop.”

“When you say set up shop, you mean . . .”

“He bought an old cantina on the edge of the city that he’s fixing up. Some people say he’s gonna use it for fighting so he can fuck with your profits, then take you down.”

I digest Juan’s words. It’s not the craziest thing I ever heard. There’s always somebody waiting in the shadows to fuck things up. The object of the game is to stop shit before it happens.

“Find out exactly where he lives in Rosarito.”

Juan smiles. “I got you good information, right?”

I stay silent, and my pissy mood enjoys making Juan sweat. Yeah, I need to have the upper hand today, and the bastard in me wants to make Juan squirm.

“C’mon, you got to admit, it’s good info.”

“I don’t gotta admit anything.” I push out of my chair, and Juan steps back from my desk, eyes wide. “The info is just okay.”

“Okay? It’s way better than?—”

In three large steps, I corner him between the chair and my desk. “Like I said, it was okay.” I let my eyes roam over him. “I’m guessing you also came to place a bet on tonight’s fight, which means you got cash on you, right?”

“No, no, I’m taking your advice and slowing down with the gambling.”

“Bullshit.” In one smooth move, I lift Juan’s wallet out of his back pocket, flip it open, pull out a wad of bills, and hold it in front of his face. “Just like I thought.”

“That’s my money.” Juan grabs for the cash, but I easily hold it over his head.

“Technically, it’s my money, fucker.”

“But you said if I gave you information, you’d forget what I owed.”

I shake my head and smirk. “You really gotta start listening better. What I said was, if you got me something good, I’d consider lowering your debt.” I fan through the money. A thousand bucks. “And like I said, your intel was just okay, so I’m gonna take this.” I hold up the cash. “And you get to keep this.” I peel off two hundred-dollar bills and shove them back into his wallet.

Juan snatches his wallet back. “But that’s not?—”

I loom closer. “Not what?” For the second time in ten minutes, I want to smash my fist into Juan’s face.

“Nothing.” Juan backs himself out of the office.

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