Page 78 of Saving Blood

“Fuck no.” I slam the glass onto the granite top.

“So, then what’s the big deal?”

“She didn’t trust me enough to protect her, and she didn’t trust me enough to tell me.”

“Sounds like bullshit to me,” Smoke challenges.

“You have your woman nice and safe in your house.”

“Yeah, now. Or did you forget she was the daughter of the cartel kingpin of Tijuana and she kept it from me?”

“Completely different.”

“You’re right, Maxie’s story is way worse, ‘cause she had no choice but to do what Hector said. I’m pretty sure reliving that nightmare was the last thing she wanted to talk about. Especially since he basically held her prisoner.”

“It’s better this way. She deserves a fresh start after all the shit she’s been through, not hanging with an outlaw biker.”

Smoke closes the distance between us. “You don’t believe that.”

“I can’t let what happened to Javi happen to her too.”

“One thing has nothing to do with the other, and you know it.”

I grunt because, again, I have nothing.

“I don’t know what to think, and I sure as shit don’t know what she thinks, but you barking at me isn’t helping.”

“Just don’t let your pride get in the way.” Smoke shoots his drink, then heads for the door and turns. “Diesel said they’re holding Javi’s funeral tomorrow.”

Smoke slams the door behind him, and I collapse onto the couch. I suck in a deep breath, but it doesn’t help the tightness squeezing my chest or the pounding in my head.

MAXINE

I focus on the pebbles and sand under my feet, unable to witness the small casket descending into the earth. Whispered murmurs and soft weeping mix with the steady rain pelting umbrellas at the small cemetery on the outskirts of the city. The priest offers prayers in Spanish, but all I can picture is Javi’s sweet face at the gym. The eager way he wanted to help, his cocky attitude, so mature beyond his thirteen years, and now never to experience a future. Explaining or understanding death baffles most, but the senseless death of a child cuts deep.

I position myself close enough to pay my respects but far enough from the family so I’m not intrusive. When the priest closes his Bible and consoles the family members, I turn to leave. Off to the edge of the path, beyond the gravesite, I see Blood standing among a cluster of straggly trees, almost out of sight.

Every proud bone in my body tells me I should walk in the other direction, but my fragile heart takes over. As I draw closer, the sorrow etched across his gaunt face is painful. When he looks up, he stares at me with weary eyes. It’s only been twelve hours since I’ve seen him, yet it feels like a lifetime.

So much has come between us. Assisting him in a murder I would do again ten times over, then the wicked truths of my past spewed out like garbage for everyone to wade through. Bad enough Blood had to hear it from Hector, but he also had to bear the humiliation in front of his brothers.

I stop a few feet in front of him and graze my fingertips against his arm. He stares over my shoulder, focused on the gravesite.

I draw in a breath. “I know you’re hurting, and I?—”

“Don’t,” he whispers the one word, and his chilling grief surrounds me.

My brain tells me to just walk away. Put whatever I thought we might’ve or could’ve had behind me. Look to the future—a new start away from Mexico—away from Blood.

“I met Marisol last night.” Again my heart wins out. “She told me she and Smoke had a rough start too.” When Blood doesn’t respond, I forge on. “She actually lied to Smoke about her real identity.”

“And?”

Okay, so he isn’t going to make it easy, but I’m not used to easy. “Smoke forgave her, and now they’re so happy. They’re even trying to have a baby.”

Blood lifts his head like the weight is too heavy for his shoulders. “What does that have to do with us?”

“I thought we could?—”

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