Chapter 8
DIESEL
What the ever-loving fuck is wrong with me? Spilling all that shit about my past. Telling her about my mother. I never even introduced Adele, my bitchy second wife, to my mother, and here I am spilling my guts to a woman I barely know.
After Ricky dropped off Martina’s clothes, she made a beeline for the bathroom like the hounds of hell were on her ass. Then I heard the lock click on the door.
I drag my hand through my hair, and grab my smokes off the coffee table. I plug one between my lips, light up, and drag deep, but it doesn’t help. I can still hear the shower running, and my imagination travels to fantasyland, picturing the water sluicing off her tanned, trim body.
And that was another fuckin’ thing—she wasn’t even my type—not one little bit.
My usual was big tits and wide hips, yet she had me cranked up in the worst way.
Being a big guy, I always felt like I might break a smaller woman.
Maybe Martina was right and I should switch it up ‘cause whatever the fuck I’d done in the past wasn’t working.
I sure had no problem with Martina grinding her ass over me last night.
Fuck, I had to put that visual out there. Now, my pissed-off cock is hard again. Not getting what it wanted last night, I’m surprised it’s even bothering, but the damn thing has no shame.
While she takes a shower, I get dressed, and after what seems like an eternity, the water shuts off. Now, I picture her drying herself off and pulling her clothes over that tight, firm body.
Oh shit, I’m fucked.
When she enters the living room, I’m stubbing out my second cigarette in fifteen minutes.
She nods to the ashtray. “You know, those things are going to kill you.”
“With all the shit I’ve done,” I point to the burned-out butts, “those are the least of my problems.” I push off the sofa because I can’t stay in this small apartment any longer without touching her.
“I gotta head to the gym. Come with me and I’ll introduce you to Maxie. She’s Blood’s woman.” I swipe my cigs off the coffee table and stuff them into my cut. “And like I said before, she knows her shit when it comes to the women fighters she trains.”
“Sounds good.”
Great. Let her be Maxie’s problem. Then I can go about my day and give my raging cock a break.
We get out to the back lot, and Martina stops short at the sight of my Harley.
“Wow, I didn’t realize it was so big.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot.” She rolls her eyes, and I laugh. “I couldn’t resist.”
“Really though, this thing is huge.”
I snicker again. “Yup, that’s what they say.” I hold up my palms. “I’m done.”
She runs her hand over the leather seat.
“Ever ride before?”
She shakes her head, but her eyes are wide in anticipation, and I automatically know she’s gonna love it.
I throw my leg over the saddle, then offer her my hand. Her delicate fingers get lost in my grip as she settles in behind me. She adjusts a few times and rests her palms lightly on my hips.
“Just move with me.” I reach around and pull her arms around my waist. “And hold on tight.”
She laces her fingers together, and my abs tighten, then she shifts closer. The heat of her body warms my back, and, yeah, my cock notices.
The ten-minute ride outside the city is filled with her enthusiasm. When I open up the throttle on the empty road leading to the fight club, she throws her head back and howls. “This is fucking amazing!” she yells into the blue Tijuana sky.
“I had a feeling you’d like it,” I shout over the engine.
“I like anything with speed.” She leans into my ear. “The faster, the better.”
My kind of woman, but I’m thinking she’d like some things slow . . . slow and dirty.
We pull into the lot housing the garage and the fight club, and she slumps behind me. “I can’t believe we’re here already. I could’ve ridden forever.”
Yeah, I felt the exact same way about riding.
I nod for her to get off, and I follow.
She eyes the Harley with admiration. “Can’t believe I’ve never been on one, but that was the best.”
I want to say all kinds of shit like, “We can ride anytime you want.” “I loved having you on the back of my bike.” “Can’t wait to fuckin’ do it again.”
Of course, I stay silent cause she made it clear last night she wasn’t interested, and I might not have had the greatest track record with women, but I never had to fuckin’ beg.
I guide her into the gym building behind the garage, and the pounding beat of Black Sabbath surrounds us. I locate Maxie and flag her over. “This is Martina. She’s interested in fighting, so show her around.”
Maxie starts to say something, but I turn and head toward Blood’s office. She can ask Martina everything she needs to know. My job is done.
MARTINA
Maxine shakes her head at Diesel’s abrupt exit, then sticks out her hand. “Maxine, but everyone calls me Maxie, except for Blood.” She flicks her gaze to the glass-enclosed office where Diesel disappeared. “Blood and Diesel pretty much run the gym, but I manage the women fighters.”
It’s easy to see why. Maxie’s overall build is unbelievable. Her muscles are defined but not bulky, and she exudes confidence.
“I have to be honest, I’ve been doing martial arts most of my life, but only as a hobby and to keep in shape. I’ve competed, but full-contact strikes on the body weren’t allowed.”
“Is it something you think you’d like to learn?”
“I love watching the MMA fighters, but watching and doing are two different things.”
“First, we have to find out if you want to take martial arts from being a hobby to being a job, but let’s see what you know and what kind of shape you’re in. Then we’ll go from there, okay?”
“Sounds good.” I immediately get the feeling this woman knows what she’s doing and what she’s talking about.
Maxie checks me out on the weight machines, and when we do some sparring in the ring, my original opinion of her is confirmed. She’s proficient and professional, and it’s no wonder she’s the Royal Bastard’s top fighter, male or female.
After an hour, we enter a small room in the back of the gym with a desk, chair and a scale.
She motions for me to get up on the scale while she takes a clipboard off the desk.
The digital read-out pops up, and Maxie writes it down, then measures my height.
She nods to the chair, and she sits behind the desk.
“You have great form and agility in the ring. Your strikes are clean, and I can see you push yourself to do your best. All important when competing and fighting. Your overall strength is good for your size, but . . .”
I lean forward, afraid of her next words. Has she found out my true identity? Does she know I was almost having public sex with Diesel last night? Or that I spent the night in his apartment—even though I was on the couch.
“Don’t look so worried.” Maxie smiles.
Maybe the Royal Bastards have some weird rules I’m not aware of, and me not having sex with Diesel would be held against me. Okay, now I’m spiraling.
“It’s your weight.” Maxie acts like her words explain everything.
“My weight?”
“You’re much too thin.” Maxie cocks her head. “You don’t have an eating disorder, do you?”
“Ohhh, no. It’s just the last few months, I’ve had some trouble with my stomach.” Like only being fed once a day by my captors. “And I guess I lost some weight.”
“How do you feel now?”
“Fine, fine. No more problems.” Except being found out and taken against my will again.
“Then, if this is something you want to do, I have no problem setting you up for regular training. With the skills you have already, we could probably have your first fight by the end of the month.”
“That would be great.”
“Fighting is more than skill though; it’s an attitude. Your fearless nature shines through, but we’ll need to work on your mindset. When you step into the cage, you must believe you are the winner before you even make the first strike.”
“I understand.”
“I don’t think you do, but we’ll work on your overall confidence as much as your technique because spirit without direction can turn reckless.”
Maxie’s words summarize my life. Diving into situations head first without checking if the pool is filled.
I play with the tape around my knuckles. “I also need a place to stay.”
“Yeah, Blood mentioned that.”
“You mean Diesel.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “Diesel told Blood, and he told me before you got here today.” Then she grins. “Blood knows just about everything that goes on here and at the club. As VP, it’s his job to be aware of potential problems.”
And since Maxie was with Blood, they both have their eyes and ears out for any potential problems. A good thing and a bad thing.
“I don’t plan on being a problem.”
“I didn’t mean you. Fact is, these big tatted men love to gossip worse than the women.” She pushes away from the desk. “Why don’t I show you the rooms over the gym, and you can give me your decision?”
No decision to make. This is my last stop, my only stop before obtaining a passport and making it back to the States.
We climb one flight of stairs and enter a hallway the length of the gym.
“Each fighter has their own room with a private bath. They put the second floor on last year. The fighters get a place to stay if they need it, and the club takes a percentage of your winnings.” Maxie stops in front of a door, pulls out a key, unlocks the door, and pushes it open. “It’s simple, but clean.”
The room resembles an oversized motel room, with a bed, small sofa, and a kitchenette with a microwave and mini fridge.
“It’s fine.” The biggest selling point being I’m not a prisoner.
“We’ll see how the next few weeks go.”
“I’m ready to put in the work.”
“That’s great, and I believe you, but we’ll talk again when your muscles are screaming and every ounce of your strength is tapped out.
Endurance is what wins a fight as much as technique, and if you don’t have the stamina or the consistency, then, like I said before, you’ll know if this is for you after the first week.
I’ve had women pack it in after two days, but if you want to keep fighting, you’ll fight under the Royal Harlots’ colors. ”
“Harlots, as in—” My heart kicks up.
Maxie laughs. “Nothing like that. The Royal Harlots are the women’s version of the Royal Bastards.”
“Like the motorcycle club.”
“Some of us ride, but we use the logo as our fight insignia, and we write our own rules that have nothing to do with the Bastards.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“Ours is more like a female fight club that also rides bikes. Our insignia with the crown depicts our attitude, but our main goal, along with our motto, is Sisterhood, Strength and Security.”
“I like that.” So few women band together in a positive way.
“Sisterhood is our bond. Strength is both physical and mental. And Security means independence: creating our own safety and freedom from the power of our own bodies.”
“I could definitely get behind that.”
“Most of the women down here have a story. Some of us ran from abusive relationships, or a life where we couldn’t be ourselves.
I ended up in Mexico because some bad choices put me in a dangerous situation with ruthless people, but you don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to. That’s not what we’re about.”
I nod, touched by her words. Knowing I’m not alone makes succeeding seem attainable.
Maxie hands me the keys. “We don’t really know each other yet, but I sense you have seen a whole world of hurt, and that’s okay too, ‘cause I get the need to put up barriers.”
A ball of emotion clogs my throat, and I swallow hard. In the last five minutes, this woman basically described me without knowing it.
She squeezes my hand. “In the Harlots, we all support each other no matter what happens.
She tugs me into an embrace, and I let her. It’s been so long since I’ve had a friend or felt safe.
A half hour later, there’s a knock on the door. I cautiously peek through the chained opening and see Maxie holding two shopping bags. I unlatch the chain, and she shoves a shopping bag into my arms.
“Just a little something from the Harlots.”
“But I can’t take—”
“Yes, you can. It’s like I told you before, we take care of each other.” She motions to the bags. “This is just from a bunch of women who’ve been in your position, thinking there was no way out.”
I open up the bags filled with new leggings, tank tops, sports bras, panties, and assorted toiletries. “This cost a lot of money and—”
“It came out of our dues, so no one person put up the money. It comes from all of the Harlots.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“When you start making money here, you’ll contribute too, but, for now, take what’s offered. It’s not charity; it’s our way of giving back for all those who helped us.” She points to one of the bags. “There’s a prepaid phone in there. It’s already set up to use.”
“Thank you.” I haven’t had a phone in so long, I’m almost giddy.
“Have to have some way to reach you and communicate, right?”
My throat closes up again with emotion, so I drop the bags and wrap my arms around this amazing woman.
Maxie hugs me back, then puts me at arm’s distance. “Just remember we’re all here for you no matter what, and all we ask is that you give one hundred percent in the gym, grow and become confident.”
Her words give me hope and make me believe that good things can happen to me.
“See you bright and early.” She heads for the door. “Tomorrow is leg day, and I guarantee by the end of the day, you’ll be cursing my name.”
I close the door behind her and thank whatever spiritual power is still looking out for me.
A few minutes later, there’s another knock on the door. I swing the door open and freeze.