Saving Blood--Preorder

Chapter 1
BLOOD/Tijuana, MX
“I told you Diesel would be a monster in the ring.” I nod toward the cage.
We’d originally hired Diesel as a bouncer at our strip club, The Tropics. His ability to handle out-of-control drunks without breaking a sweat and his loyalty earned him his Enforcer patch with the Royal Bastards—and a top spot in the cage.
When Smoke didn’t respond, I add, “He annihilates anyone he comes up against. He’s the best underground cage fighter on the Baja Coast.”
Diesel’s skills in the cage never disappoint, as he bounces on the balls of his feet in the center of the metal cage. His massive body barely contained in the red tank top and silk shorts all our fighters wear with the RBMC logo proudly scrolled across the back.
“Brings in a shit ton of money.” I wipe at the sweat on my forehead. “Guys come from all over just to see him pulverize these poor fuckers.”
Nothing brought in fast cash like two guys beating the shit outta each other in the cage. Not even the sexiest stripper could compete with the chaos of the bloodiest, baddest, no-limits fights. No rules, no sanctions, just two guys on a mission to knock each other senseless and win the no-limit bets and high stakes of every fight.
Smoke nods but keeps his eyes trained on Diesel, the six-foot-five fighter raining hell on his opponent.
Typical Smoke, no reaction until he totally susses out the situation, making him the perfect prez of the Royal Bastards, Tijuana Chapter. His cool, controlled temperament and my aggressive, sometimes over-the-top energy as VP make us the perfect team. Just the right mix of savvy and savage.
Smoke shifts on the front row seat of the newly installed bleachers surrounding the regulation cage on three sides. Close enough to take in the action but far enough not to get splattered by the blood of the losers. Power and strength fill the air along with an electric energy, riling the high-stakes crowd into a crazed frenzy. The fighters also get a sizable cut, making each bout brutal and ruthless.
Almost as barbaric as the gladiators of Rome and just as lucrative.
Smoke squints against the scorching Tijuana heat. “He isn’t what you dragged me out in the blazing sun to see though, is it?”
I smirk ‘cause I never could hide anything from the fucker, but the surprise I had for Smoke would surpass even his expectations.
“Just be patient.”
“As you know, patience ain’t my thing.” Smoke looks over his shoulder, scanning the crowd for the tenth time in as many minutes.
“I wish you’d chill.” I follow his gaze. “You’re starting to make me jumpy.”
“I can’t shake the feeling Rodriquez is gonna strike when we least expect it. The crazy fucker’s been making threats, and I don’t like it.”
Hector Rodriquez's rep as a ruthless cartel kingpin proceeded him on most shit illegal and fucked up. He started a crew down in Rosarito gaining power through intimidation. Anybody who went against him ended up in a body bag with their limbs scattered over the outskirts of the city. We’d heard he was moving north to Tijuana, and we planned on being prepared, ‘cause there was no fuckin’ way we were letting him move in on what was ours.
“I got eyes and ears out all over Tijuana. Nothing’s gonna go down without me knowing about it.”
“Just not crazy about relying on civilians for information.”
Along with my usual street contacts, I enlisted the help of locals to keep me informed. Seems the streets of Tijuana were a hotbed for gossip, and if you talked to the right people, you could find out some very valuable information, which they passed on to me for a price. A good investment all around.
“Hector don’t have the balls to pull any shit at our fight club on our turf.”
Smoke locks his gaze on me. “We both know how easy things can fall to shit.”
A year ago, we learned the hard way how fast life could blow up in our faces. After a DEA sweep, our national Prez, Jameson, banished and me and Blood to The Tropics, a strip club in the ass end of Tijuana. Both of us were pissed off big time, but we ended up coming out on top.
“Just enjoy the fights. I got this.” My words sound more confident than I feel, so I throw back my shoulders and front. “Whaddya worried about? You got me as your VP. What could go wrong?”