Page 27 of Saving Blood

“Did you hear me?” Juan pushes out of the chair.

“What?”

“I fed you more good information, so how about?—”

I wanted Juan gone like two minutes ago so I could make sense of all this, check it out further, then decide how to handle this new problem.

“Yeah, yeah, if this checks out, we’ll talk about your debt.” I wave my hand at him. “Now, get the fuck outta here.”

Juan scurries to the door. “You’ll see. It’ll check out. It’ll be just like I said.”

I close the door behind him, then sit down behind my desk. The part of me who fucked Maxine against the gym wall wanted this info to be fake, but my gut told me Juan’s intel was dead-on right.

I pull my phone out of my pocket to call Smoke, then another idea hits me. I gaze through the glass until I find Maxine. Amazing. Her hands move at lightning speed. Her body in complete control. My traitorous mind flashes on how her she felt pressed against me. How she melted into me and gave herself over to me.

My first instinct is to storm into the gym, drag her out of the sparring ring and demand the truth, but my time in Tijuana has taught me one thing: patience. Not an easy lesson for an outlaw like me, but valuable just the same.

I’d wait, then when the time was right, I’d call her out and demand she come clean about Hector, or her days fighting the RBMC were over. I’d evaluate her expression, see what choice she made, then reevaluate the situation.

MAXINE

After working out all afternoon in the gym, I’m exhausted, but a good tired. The kind of tired that freed my mind from the dangerous thoughts of Blood and how he commanded my body. Instinctively knowing what I needed and wanted. Taking without asking, yet also giving. In the quiet of the night, I could hear his raspy commands and then his confusion when I turned him away. Maybe in another life, far away from Tijuana and Hector Rodriquez, but not in the here and now. Much too risky with too much at stake.

I walk up the one flight to my modest apartment, unlock the door, and enter the space I’ve called home for the last month. The small apartment consists of a main room with a sitting area and kitchen and a separate bedroom and private bath. Modest by most standards, but a palace to me. Yes, Hector owns the building, but it’s the first time in my adult life I’ve had a space of my own. Somewhere I can be at peace and think my own thoughts.

I enter the bedroom, open the bottom drawer of the bureau, and grope around for the envelope wedged in the back. I open it, then fan through my quickly growing escape fund I skimmed off the top of my winnings. Little by little, I’m getting closer to freedom.

Like most things in Mexico, if you have the right amount of money, you can make anything happen. Police ignored transgressions, and even trusted guards could be bought and persuaded to go against their bosses. I fan through the money again, loving the feel of freedom in my hands, then stuff it back in the drawer.

I collapse onto my bed and lay my head on the pillow, letting my mind wander to a world where I make my own choices without needing permission. Where I can do what I want, when I want. When I was kidnapped, I doubted that world would ever exist for me.

My last failed attempt at an escape came from desperation and the need to lash out, not only at Hector, but at my parents too. I had mistakenly let my empowerment in the ring fool me into thinking I could outsmart and outwit Hector Rodriquez. Using my newfound spirit, I attempted an escape that had no chance of working. My overwhelming desire for freedom earned me a punishment so debilitating, I never went against Hector again.

Until now—now I have maturity and an understanding of how Mexico works, and how to use powerful men like Rodriquez and Smoke to my advantage.

The knock on my door jars me out of my thoughts, then fills me with anxiety. I have no friends and never have visitors. I contemplate ignoring it until the knocking becomes insistent, followed by a voice I can’t ignore.

I slowly push off the bed, undo the lock and deadbolt, easing the door open only a few inches.

“May I come in?”

12

BLOOD

The gym buzzes with activity for the rest of the day as the fighters prepare for the big fight next Saturday night. The first time we’d showcase both women and men at the same event, and we were already sold out with standing room only. Although Ricky added other women to the roster, Maxine remains the favorite. All the brothers are pumped for what would definitely be a huge moneymaker.

As I circled the gym, it was easy to get lost in the chaos and energy flowing around me until Bolt storms through the gym and jerks his head toward my office. When I close the door behind us, he settles his bulk into the chair in front of my desk, his face unreadable.

“So? What’ve you got?”

“Checking up on Hector also gave me info on Maxine,” Bolt says. “Juan’s information is right. The building and the apartment Maxine lives in is owned by Rodriquez.”

My jaw tightens, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Before she came to Tijuana, she was fighting for Hector in Rosarito for almost four years.”

“Four years?”

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