Chapter 33
Max
My stubborn ass woman wants to come to the Underground after I deliberately told her no. She huffs and puffs for an hour, stating she might need to clean my wounds. I’m not about to put her at risk and our child.
Then she says, “If something happens, Max…I can’t live without you.”
My heart softens, but I only clench my jaw tighter. My dad walks in from the clubhouse, where he was lifting weights, covered in sweat.
“What is going on?” He stares at my girl’s pleading face.
So she tells him everything, and I mean every single thing.
“You’re working for the crime organization, Maximiliano?” His voice sounds like it had been dragged through glass.
I rub my face. “No, not exactly. I had been fighting in what they call the Underground, which is illegal fights.”
“I know what that is…but why?” He lifts his hands up, his forehead creasing.
“Why?” I stare at him. “Because I didn’t have much of a choice. I was homeless. It’s not like I could exactly stay with you. I had to find a way to make money fast. I don’t take handouts from anyone.”
He bows his head in shame. Then says he is coming with me.
So this is why we are all packed in the truck, along with Drake.
Five minutes later, I’m at the front door of the warehouse. I look to my dad and Drake. “You two better keep an eye on her. If a strand of hair is misplaced on her head, I swear…”
“Don’t worry, Pops and I have it under control. Right?” Drake elbows him, and my dad just grunts.
The second we enter the warehouse, the air changes as if we’ve stepped into another world.
The metallic copper tang of fresh blood hits first—sharp, invasive—making my nostrils flare.
It mingles with the musky scent of sex seeping from beneath closed doors, a primal perfume that makes me want to vomit.
Stale alcohol clings to everything, sweet and sour simultaneously, while cigarette smoke hangs in visible layers beneath the dim lights.
All of it wrapped in the salty, unwashed smell of too many bodies sweating in too small a space.
A woman steps out of the room, the look of her disheveled hair, smeared lipstick, ripped shirt, tits out, only means—freshly fucked.
The woman eyes me with familiarity. I’m wearing my hoodie to hide my identity.
“What the fuck are you looking at?” Sol shouts. Only making the woman smirk.
I tighten my hand in hers. “Cálmate.”
“Well, she’s looking at you like she wants to lick your balls.”
Drake snorts from behind. My jealous woman.
“And she’s the one who said you fuck like a beast. Or something like that. When I went to the underground for the first time.”
“I guarantee you, I haven’t touched her, or anyone but you. You’re the only one who can establish that theory.” Her first time at the underground was with Andrew. How could I forget that asshole? I wish I could.
She hums. The door from one of the rooms swings open. A guy walks out with his flaccid dick out. He beckons the woman.
“Don’t look,” I murmur, telling Sol.
“I wish I hadn’t,” she mumbles.
My boot connects with the locker room door, sending it crashing against the wall.
I toss my duffel bag on the wooden bench.
It lands with a thud. I dig through my bag until my fingers find the wraps, then unravel them between my hands.
Just as I loop the first wrap around my knuckles, Dad’s calloused fingers intercept, taking them from me. His eyes find mine.
I nod. He starts with my right hand. His fingers are deliberate. Careful. Like he’s doing something he’s been waiting to do for a long time and doesn’t want to rush it. I watch him. These hands once caused pain and are now working to protect me.
He lays a hand on my shoulder. His voice drops low, and he recites a familiar prayer. One my mom used to recite to me, and the one inked on my chest. That way, I’d always remember it. My throat tightens.
“Amen,” we all say in unison. Moments pass. We all stay silent for what feels like minutes, but it only lasts seconds until Drake breaks the silence.
“So, you can’t get out of this shit hole?” Drake asks, scrutinizing the room. The last time he was here at the warehouse was when Daniel had Jason.
“I could, but I have too much at stake. I don’t want them to come after Sol or any of you guys.”
Drake nods, and my dad sits next to Sol.
Now that we have a baby on the way. A family we are starting. I need to find a way out of this. A part of me wants to pack up and move to keep Sol and the baby safe. I’ll figure it out.
A knock rasps at the door. Xander walks in. He greets everyone. “They’re ready for you.” Sweat covers his face. Blood trickles from a cut on the corner of his eye. He must have just finished up his fight.
Sol jumps from her seat, fishing out her first aid kit from her bag. “Here, let me help you,” she offers.
“No, it’s okay. You don’t…”
“I didn’t ask,” she growls.
That only makes the guys laugh. She dabs at his wounds with cotton, then smears petroleum jelly across the broken skin.
When she’s done, Sol turns to me and delivers a gentle kiss on the lips. “You go kick ass and come back to us.”
“Always,” I promise.
She lifts my hood up and pats my chest. “I love you, Max.”
“I love you too, tesoro.” I wink at her to ease the tension. Before leaving, I add, “Stay put and behave yourself.”
I’m sure she rolled those pretty eyes of hers as the door shut behind me.
Sol
“I can’t sit here and wait,” Drake growls, followed by Hector agreeing.
“Same. I need to see if he’s okay,” I tell them, my stomach tensing into a ball.
Drake’s fingers curl around the edge of the wooden door, and he pries it open just enough for one eye to peer through the crack.
The roar hits us like a physical wave—thousands of voices crashing together, feet stomping in rhythm against the arena floor, a thunderous pulse that vibrates through the walls.
It’s only been five minutes since Max stepped out. The unknown is making us lose our minds. With these types of fights, you just never know.
“Let’s stand in the entryway. We can see from there,” Drake suggests. “Listen, Sunny, stay close to me.”
I nod and loop my arm in his. From a distance, we can see Max fight his opponent. He’s a big, bulky man with wild, untamed hair. If I’m not mistaken, it looks like scars on his face.
The fabric of my shirt gathers in my sweaty hand, pulling at the collar. The guy throws a punch at Max’s cheek. He staggers back. I want to scream to pump him up, but that will only make him lose the fight.
“Come on, Max…you can do it,” I chant in my head repeatedly. My heart is about to roll out of my chest by how fast it’s beating.
Hector bellows about uppercuts while Drake screams for jabs. I barely hear them—all I can see is Max, and all I can think is please, let this be over.
Blood and saliva spray from the guy’s mouth as Max’s fist connects. A sneer twists his opponent’s face before his arms become a blur of retaliatory strikes.
Breathe. Breathe.
“What the fuck, Max? Where’s your head at?” Drake shouts.
“You shouldn’t say his name.” I grimace at Drake.
“Sorry,” he mumbles back.
Max circles him like a predator; finds me in the crowd. Everything on his face happened at once—every emotion shown. Fury, relief, something that looks almost like he expected this. He knew I wouldn’t listen. The veins in his neck bulge as his jaw tightens when our gazes lock for a split second.
Yup, too late to hide now. So I might as well yell at him. “Come on, champ, you got this. Finish him.” Just don’t kill him.
Max throws punch after punch, and his opponent stumbles back. He corners him in and hits him so hard his face swings to the side. Spit and blood fly out of the man’s mouth. The man loses balance and falls to the ground.
The opponent remains on the canvas longer than he should, prompting others to assist him to his feet.
Max claims victory. Someone leaps between the ropes, reaching for Max’s wrists to raise them triumphantly. But Max is already ducking through the ropes, leaving the ring. The knot in my chest finally unravels. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath.
His eyes are burning hot with fury as he walks toward me. I wet my lips, not with fear—With something else entirely. Kinda turns me on. What makes a relationship catch fire is a rising pulse—that’s how you know you’ve struck a match to his heart and made his dick hard.
Max’s jaw clenches in front of me. He pulls me to him with a tug on my neck. His thick fingers run circles on my skin. His hot breath fans my face. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put?”
“I did. I’m with them. I didn’t want to stay alone in the room.”
He grimaces at his dad and Drake.
“Look at me,” I demand. “I’m proud of you. You kicked ass like always.” I point to the guys. “They kept an eye on me. So, how about we get out of here?”
His eyes soften. “Let’s go,” he says, taking my hand in his.
We take a couple of steps, then Max freezes. I turn to see what he’s looking at up the paved cement stairs. Nothing but hushed voices and heels clicking. Max shakes his head, and we keep walking.
We don’t get a chance to make it back into the room for Max to get his bag when Daniel steps in front of us.
Like always, he has that smug face. I haven’t seen him since he captured me.
Daniel runs his fingers through his dark hair.
That profile of sin behind a handsome face and a charming smile.
It has me wondering how he treats a woman of interest, maybe one he’d be in love with.
Is he brutal, soft, or does his cold heart melt while cozies up to her?
I want to snort at that. His intrigued gaze sweeps my body.
His smile curls. “Rainey, nice to see you again…or should I call you…Sol?”
My brows dip. How does he know my other name? Or that I decided to go by that name? I guess I did mention to him about me being adopted. He must have put it together.
“We are on our way out,” Max interjects.