Page 42 of Saving Blood

“No,” she spits the word out way too fast.

My guess is Hector has eyes on her apartment at all times, so her answer intrigues me.

“Feel like a ride on my Harley?”

Her eyes widen. “Never been on a motorcycle.”

“First time for everything.”

18

MAXINE

Blood slings my gym bag over his shoulder, then rests his palm on the small of my back, leading me outside to his bike. I’ve seen the Royal Bastards park their bikes outside the gym many times, but standing next to the huge machine intimidates me.

He stores my bag in the side compartment, throws his leg over the seat, and holds out his hand. I follow his move, then settle myself on the wide leather seat.

He reaches back and wraps my hands around his waist. “Hold on tight and move with me.” He kicks the bike to life, twists the throttle, and I realize that was all the instruction I would get as we spin out of the lot.

I did as he said, and after a few minutes, I relax against him and enjoy the ride. Once we leave the crowded city streets around the gym, he accelerates, speeding us through the dark night.

I dip my head back to gaze up at the stars as the warm air washes over my face. My fingers dig into Blood’s hard, firm abs as the giant machine hums beneath me. Like a giant vibrator, it has my blood racing through my veins in an erotic, potent mix. Any other night, for any other person, this would be a romantic beginning to the evening. Whizzing through the dark Tijuana night with all its intrigue and danger. Hanging on to a beast of a man, close enough to scent leather, smoke and musk. A heady combination, for sure.

Fifteen minutes later, we slow when we hit another main street, then turn into a lot next to The Tropics. Hector’s mini bio of the MC said the Royal Bastards own and operate the strip club, and the members also use it as their clubhouse. Some of them have rooms on the second floor.

Interesting Blood took me here. If Hector knew, he’d pump me for even more information, but this would remain my secret because my interest in Blood and the Bastards has nothing to do with Hector and everything to do with me.

But I have to do this right. Give Blood just enough information to intrigue him, enough to make him want more, enough to make him want to help me.

While he pulls out my gym bag and locks up his bike, I congratulate myself on a plan well executed. I’d purposely showered at the gym, then cracked the door of the locker room and waited until Blood exited his office. I counted to ten then made my exit. Perfect timing all around, except for the part where his mere touch lit me up. Or the way his faded Harley t-shirt stretched over his bulging biceps.

Fighting and training in the gym makes me immune to the exceptional bodies of the other men, except Blood. Something about the way he carries himself. The way he owns every space he occupies. A confidence, a swagger that is his alone. Even Diesel, who is bigger and more massive than Blood, doesn’t have his smooth moves—almost graceful like a leopard on the prowl.

Blood jerks his head toward the back door of the club, then slings my bag over his shoulder. When he opens the door, the pounding music vibrates in my chest, but he veers me down a hallway leading to a staircase. One flight up, he pushes through another door and leads me down another hallway. He stops three doors down, unlocks the door, then holds it open.

The building obviously has been recently renovated, right down to the finished hardwood floors and modern kitchen beyond the living area. My eyes scan the space, and I smile at the random clothes draped over the chair and couch. Sneakers and boots scattered around. Not messy, but lived in.

“You want something to eat, drink?

The question throws me off. I’ve never been in a man’s apartment. I’ve never even had a date, except the disastrous experience five years ago, which ended in murder and abduction. I’ve experienced many things in my life, but none of them normal.

When I don’t answer, Blood cocks his head. “I’m gonna have a beer. You want one?”

Another big decision. The last drink I had was laced with a drugs. Since then, I’ve devoted my time and body to fight training. I never realized till this moment how stilted and unnatural my life is—how much I’d missed out on.

“Sure.” It seems like the answer he expects, plus him going into the kitchen gives me a chance to regroup. Years of pretending with Hector taught me how to manipulate a man, then the out-of-control emotion I experienced with Blood, but I have no knowledge of a normal interchange between a man and woman.

Blood returns with the two beers, and we settle on the couch. Which also surprises me. After his forcefulness in the gym, I expected him to rip my clothes off the minute we were alone, similar to the last times.

I sip at my beer and shift on the couch cushion as an awkward silence passes between us. The vibrations of his beast of a Harley certainly revved me up, but Blood seems to be going in another direction.

“So?” Blood takes a long pull of his beer, then sets it on the coffee table in front of us. “Why don’t you tell me how you’re connected to Hector Rodriquez?”

I quickly take a sip from the bottle, but the beer leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. “I told you I’ve only heard of him, but I don’t know him.”

“Yeah, I know what you told me, but that’s bullshit.”

I arch my back and eye the door just in case I have to make my escape, but he stays silent, waiting for me to break first. Is he testing me? The manipulator meets the outlaw biker.

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