Page 36 of Saving Blood

My need to dig deeper into Maxine’s past goes beyond intel for the club, and I don’t understand it. I barely got the woman’s name, yet Maxine’s life is a mystery I want to solve—starting with the scars marking her.

I hug her to me and let my fingers caress her skin. “You wanna tell me how you got those scars?”

“Not really.”

Not the answer I’d hoped for, but I didn’t expect her to pour her soul out to me. That isn’t Maxine’s style.

I ease away from her. “Some of them are old, but some of them aren’t.”

Her spine stiffens, but she remains silent.

“You don’t owe me anything, and you don’t have to tell me shit, but if this person is still hurting you, I can do something about it.” Anger boils in my gut. No matter which side she is on, the thought of someone marking her so severely is a hard fuck no—and that surprises me too. I’ve seen guys beat to shit, acid burned into their skin, yet Maxine’s scarred back pisses me the fuck off. Maybe the conscience I thought was long dead has resurfaced.

Her shoulders jerk, and she leans away from me with a sad smile. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

Shit, she is good. Denying she ever heard of Rico and Hector was an out and out lie, yet she sold it without a blink of an eye. Whoever put those scars on her must’ve also taught her how to hide her emotions. A trait she probably acquired to shield and protect herself. It’s fuckin’ weird the way she spoke of her past without any emotion. I’d have to figure out another way to crack her hard shell, gain her trust and ultimately take her and Hector down.

MAXINE

I carefully school my expression, but Blood’s questions and his searing brown eyes bore into me like he can see through me. As if he knows my secrets, both past and present. Lies ruled my life for so many years, I’d become the master of deception, but tonight Blood allowed me a freedom I’ve never experienced.

I’d gone into this thinking I could be detached. Not so hard—I separated myself from my surroundings for all of my adult life. Say or do one thing, but act another—except tonight. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t keep my body from responding to Blood’s touch or his demands. Like he’d cast a spell over me and wiped away everything I experienced before him.

Being duplicitous had become a way of survival for me. First, with my parents, then with Hector. I’d learned to be cunning and sly. I even made a monster like Hector believe I’m submissive when the exact opposite is true.

When Hector suggested I begin fighting on his compound in Rosarito, I wanted to rebel, but of course it wasn’t an option. After a few weeks, I began to see changes in my body. Definition and curves were added to my normally thin frame. This outer strength kindled an inner power. A way of gaining control, of not only my body, but my mind. I no longer looked at myself like a victim. Although Hector’s interest in my talents are monetary, my new awareness and physical power have given me the spirit to carry on and not give up.

I accepted my fate and played the game to win. Then I made sure my inner self and my outer self match my new powerful name. Every day I worked out harder and longer than anyone else. Molding and shaping my body into a fighting machine. A shell tough and hard.

Hector might think he owns all of me, but I’ve remained aloof, telling myself he can have my body, but not my soul and never my mind.

But even that level of focus can’t compete with Blood’s force and lust. He played my body as if he’s known me for years. It went beyond his physical perfection, although it didn’t hurt, but to a deeper level of understanding. Like he too knows the need to bring the mind and body to another plateau above the pain.

Instead of being intimidated like most men, Blood enjoyed my energy and intensity. He encouraged my skills at the gym, and he certainly awakened something else these last few hours. An inner peace, a release without fear of retribution. A freedom to be myself and experience the normal feelings books and movies tout. Experiences most woman take for granted. I’d been so concerned about physical freedom, I abandoned any idea of an inner freedom.

Maybe with Blood I could?—

No, no, and no. I can’t afford to indulge such thoughts until I’m free of Hector’s clutches. I have to keep my eye on the ball. No good comes from impulsive, snap decisions. I fell into that trap years ago, resulting in a murder.

My only interest in the notorious outlaw biker who runs an underground fight club will be what he can do for me.

Blood shifts next to me. “Since I’d say we’re friends now, does that mean I can call you Maxi?”

I smile at his attempt at a joke. “I like that you call me Maxine.”

He threads his fingers through my hair. “Yeah, I think I like it too.”

The gentle touch from such a hard, untamed man amazes me and makes his lovemaking even more unique.Lovemaking?Where did that come from? What Blood and I did had absolutely nothing to do with love. He’s just a means to an end.

16

BLOOD

After I left Maxine, I hit The Tropics just after midnight. The club vibrates with energy even on a Monday night. As I shoulder my way through the crowd, I pick up a beer at the bar along the way, then head for our usual table in the back.

The other brothers greet me with side-eye glances until Smoke jerks his head toward the back hall and growls, “My office, now.”

I follow him, trying to figure out what crawled up his ass. We close the gym on Mondays for general cleaning and maintenance, so it’s not like I was fucking off. Granted, I don’t usually spend all afternoon and half the night shacked up with a woman, but Smoke wants me to get info out of Maxine, so, in a way, he should be happy I was screwing her for the club.

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