Page 68 of Saving Blood

I grip the metal lockers and swallow hard, willing myself to settle, but it’s no use. I dash to the bathroom, yank open the stall door, fall to my knees, and wretch until my chest aches. When there’s nothing left but empty sorrow, I struggle to stand, flush the toilet, stagger to the sink, and rinse my mouth out with shaky hands. A gaunt face with wide, hollow eyes full of fear stares back at me, my reflection frighteningly pale.

I’d fought so hard all these years, but I couldn’t selfishly involve Blood. We’d foolishly made each other believe in something better, something just for us, but it wouldn’t work no matter how much I wanted it.

I draw in a deep breath, straighten my spine, pull on my gloves, and leave the bathroom.

“Are you all right?” Diesel scrunches up his hard face. “You look like shit.”

“I’m fine.” I walk past him and head for the speed bag.

“You sure, ‘cause you?—”

I ignore him as I pummel the bag at lightning speed.

Diesel stands next to me. “You shouldn’t be using up all your energy this close to fight time.”

“I said I’m fine,” I throw over my shoulder, but Diesel stays close.

I hit the bag harder, faster, but it doesn’t help. Hector using Javi as a pawn, threatening Blood. If he could so easily admit to killing an innocent child, taking out Blood, an enemy, would be nothing.

I have to rethink and regroup. Sure, pride drove my desire to win this fight, but at what cost? If I take the dive, Hector would win huge, take over the Royal Bastards’ fight club, and Blood would never forgive me. If I don’t, Hector would kill Blood and still try to take down the Bastards. Easy choice—I’d rather have Blood alive and hating me than dead.

Decision made. I would get the passport from Blood before the fight, take the dive, then disappear. It’s the only way.

I turn to Diesel. “Find Blood, and tell him I need to talk to him.”

BLOOD

“The place is fuckin’ packed already.” Bolt has his head on a swivel, taking it all in and smiling. “I can just hear Manny’s cash machine flipping all that paper.”

People turn when we enter the arena. Some gawk, some blatantly stare, and others make-believe they aren’t looking when they are. Nothing we haven’t seen before. When five guys six-feet or better swagger in draped in faded denim, worn leather cuts covered in patches, and scuffed engineer boots with ink scrolled over their skin, people sit up and take notice. The only one missing is Diesel. He usually babysits the fighters, calms their nerves and pumps them up, but tonight his main focus should be keeping eyes on Maxine until her fight.

We head for the bleachers, and Juan falls into step with me.

“What the fuck do you want?”

“I gotta talk to you.”

“Forget it, I’m busy.” I widen my stride. The last thing I need tonight is this fucker whining about his debts.

He grabs me around my biceps. “No, man, this is important.”

I glare at his hand on my arm, then up at him.

“It’s about Maxine.”

I slow my pace, and Bolt cuts me a look.

“I’ll meet you at the bleachers,” I tell Bolt.

He nods, walks off with the other brothers, and I turn my gaze to Juan. “This better be good.”

“It is.” Juan jerks a look over his shoulder, then back to me. “I heard Maxine talking to Hector in the ladies’ locker room.”

“The ladies’ locker room? What the fuck were you doin’ in there?”

Juan licks his thin lips. “I like to sneak in and watch the girls change and shower. There’s an alcove where I can stand and?—”

I grab Juan around the back of the neck and wheel him off to the side of the lot. “You are a fuckin’ perv.”

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