Page 25 of Saving Blood

“Ahhhh, Rosarito is becoming an extremely violent city. Very hard for a businessman to make a profit.”

I huff out a breath, which earns a side-eye from Smoke.

“And what business would that be?” Smoke asks, smooth as fuckin’ silk.

“Mostly the entertainment business.”

“Entertainment?”

“Things that give men like us pleasure.” Hector grins. “Beautiful women men are willing to pay for their company.”

“In other words, you’re pimping whores?” The words slip out of my mouth before my brain can stop them.

Smoke clears his throat, then shoots me another side-eye.

Hector’s face flattens. “Such a harsh description for something giving so much enjoyment.” Then the smarmy smile returns. “We’ve also investigated the advantages of female fighters. Seems the profit margin is high, am I right?” Hector’s expressionless dark brown eyes bore into us as he carefully leaves out his extensive drug trade, guns, and abducting women for slave trade.

Smoke holds eye contact. “Real high, and the Royal Bastards intend to keep it that way.”

“Of course, but you have nothing to worry about. What I have planned is on the outskirts of Tijuana and small compared to what you run.”

“Here’s the thing.” Smoke leans in. “I don’t want you planning anything in or around Tijuana. As a matter of fact, nothing would make me happier than if you stayed right here in Rosarito.”

“What I’m looking at borders the city. Nothing for you to worry?—”

“I’m giving you fair warning.” Smoke stands. “Close down this shit before it starts.”

I flank Smoke as tense silence hangs over us. The huge clock over the fireplace ticks off the seconds.

Hector slowly pushes off the couch. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I was hoping we could come to a friendly agreement like gentlemen, or maybe even a partnership. I was also hoping you’d come to a party I’m hosting next weekend to celebrate my move to Tijuana.”

Smoke glares at the man. “First off, none of us are gentlemen or friendly, and there’ll be no fuckin’ partnership or us coming to any bullshit party.”

Hector draws in a deep breath. “An unfortunate decision.” Pedro moves forward, but Hector shakes his head, and the guard retreats. “I know how you settled your differences with my rival Rico Sandoval, but he had many weaknesses—I have none.”

Smoke jerks his head, and I follow him out the front door. We silently walk away from the house, down the driveway, and when we mount our bikes, Smoke turns to me. “Put Bolt on this. I wanna know where this fucker is at all times.”

“You got it.” I throttle my Harley, and we speed out, leaving a cloud of dust in our wake.

When we get on the main road back to Tijuana, I send a voice message to Bolt telling him what Smoke wants with more info to follow. So much for having him follow Maxine. For now, my dick would have to take a back seat to whatever is brewing with Hector Rodriquez.

11

BLOOD

The next day, I push through the gym doors with the same nagging headache right behind my left eye. I’ve had it since getting with Maxine, and the meeting with Rodriquez yesterday didn’t help.

When Diesel approaches, I know by his expression my headache is about to get worse. “Juan’s in your office.”

I look through the glass partition. “What the hell does he want?”

“Wouldn’t say.”

I massage my temples. “Find me something for a headache.”

“You want something to knock you out, dull the pain, make you feel good, make you horny, or—” The man prides himself on having every kind of pharmaceutical the fighters might need.

“I want something for a fuckin’ headache. Nothing fancy. Aspirin, Advil, just get it.”

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