Page 41 of Saving Blood

“Instead of working at the gym this week, I want you to keep eyes on an apartment on the corner of Calle Coahuila and Revolucion. A two-story building next to the Hotel Hacienda.”

“Coahuila is a street for hookers.”

“Yeah.” Like I need to be reminded of that info. “I want you to tell me if you see Maxine with Hector Rodriquez or anyone else going in that building.” I peel off a hundred and shove it in his hand. “And stay invisible.”

“Okay.” He shoves the money into his pocket and jets out the door.

For the rest of the afternoon, I screw around with my computer, trying to get it to work the way I want. Basically staying in the office because, when I go out on the floor, some kind of magnetic force pulls me to wherever Maxine is sparring or working out.

Now that Diesel is on to me with Maxine, I have to play it down. The last thing I need is these guys talking shit. Some of them are like a bunch of old ladies running their mouths with all the aimless gossip floating around. Especially since I’m trying to work her for information while ignoring whatever the fuck is going on between us.

She lit me up like no woman I’ve ever known, but my street smarts tell me she has secrets—a fuck ton of secrets, plus she is connected to Rodriquez, who I want to take down.

Not good.

Hours later, the gym quiets down. We aren’t a public gym, so we only stay open until six. I purposely kept watch, and when I’m sure the gym is empty, I close down the monitor, lock up my desk, grab my smokes off the desk and head for the door. After last week’s possible break-in, I purposely lock the office door, then shove the keys in my pocket.

I turn when the door to the ladies’ locker room whooshes open.

Fuck. This has to be some kind of test.

“Hey.” Maxine closes the distance between us. “I thought everyone left.”

“Just locking up.”

“I was so sweaty after my cardio.” She runs her hands through her damp hair. “I had to take a quick shower.”

I picture her wet, with messy hair around her shoulders while water droplets pebble on her tits, then sluice down her firm abs and . . . Shit, now I have that visual in my brain along with a swollen dick.

She moves closer and gently grazes my bruised cheek with her fingers. “What happened?”

“I lost track of time.”

Her brow furrows, but I have no intentions of admitting she is the reason I got my face busted up. Stupid male pride, but shit, I’m not ready to be pussy-whipped yet.

“It looks painful.” Her hand lingers on my face.

“Nah, it only hurts when I talk, eat or move my face.” I try to smile and, yeah, that hurts too.

She throws me a dramatic eye roll. “Typical male. Can’t admit you’re in pain.”

Right now, I could admit my dick is in pain. Fuckin’ thing is pushing against the zipper of my jeans, trying to bust out.

She lowers her hand, and I grab her wrist. “Did you know I was still here?”

“No, I thought everyone had left.”

I ease her gym bag off her shoulder and drop it to the floor, then I spin her around until her back hits the office door. I grip her chin and ravage her lips, shoving my tongue deep. Our tongues dance around each other. My body molds to hers as she moans into my mouth. I bury my face in her neck, and the scent of her flowery shampoo surrounds me. My hips jerk, and she groans, so I do it again.

“You feel what the fuck you do to me?” I want her to know how much my dick needs her, even if the rest of me has to play this game out.

After a few more seconds, I pull back slightly. “We gonna do this here?”

My palms are already cupping her ass. One flick of my wrist and those booty shorts would be on the gym floor. Another flick of my wrist and my jeans would be around my hips with my cock primed and ready.

Her gaze flicks over my shoulder, then back to me. “We could but . . .”

“Your place?” I ask the question and wait.

---