Page 118 of Tracking Luxe

He was inside his condo all of five minutes before he popped up from the couch, unable to sit, his nerves were banging inside his body. He’d tried calling her before his cell phone died. Piece of shit was on charge in his bedroom. Grabbing his keys, he knew the only place she would be this time of the night was another MC and he really hated going cap in hand to Steele’s club, especially with the way things were left between him and Luxe, but he wouldn’t sleep a wink knowing she was out there somewhere. Call him a fucking soft soak, but that was the truth.

With his jaw like granite, he slammed the door behind him and strode through the condo compound, intent on dragging his girl back if need------a black Lexus sat idle at the curb and two thick necked bruisers were standing next to it. He pegged them as lowlife right off the bat. His spine went on alert.

They were waiting.

Waiting for him.

It had all the markings of a showdown and here Grinder was without his damn cell phone or his 9mm. Rounding his shoulders, he had a number of options still available to him.

Fight.

Fight.

Flee.

He eyed his bike, counting the number of steps to reach the Harley and then looked at the men. Wide and ugly like they chewed rocks for dinner and punched concrete for fun.

“There a reason you’re loitering outside my place at the butt crack of dawn, fellas?”

“Boss want see you.” One spoke in broken English. Grinder was right, the guy even sounded like he chewed rocks. His voice ugly as shit.

“Tell your boss to go fuck himself. This isn’t the way to approach my club and Grigori knows that, so if he wants----”

Big and wide growled baring three missing front teeth. “He say to tell you he has girl.”

Grinder was fortunate that his knees locked the fuck in place because his whole body shut down for a second. Cold seeping into his brain. “The fuck did you say?” He has the girl? It’s not. It can’t be. She’s at Steele’s club.No need to panic, dickhead. It was the Russian’s trying to play mind games. Whose girl? Not Zara. After what once happened to the club queen Rider was a wall of neurotic protection around her, especially now she was ready to push out a kid in a few months’ time.

“What the fuck you talking about?” dread oozed into Grinder’s extremities, almost like he knew the answer before the guy answered in a smug tone, eyeballing Grinder for a reaction. “Thief. Stole from us. Black hair. Smart mouth. Nice titties.” His staggered English gave Grinder just enough to snarl and advance forward ready to grab this motherfucker in a choke hold and----

“Careful,comrade,” the other guy finally spoke, clicking his tongue like he was chastising a child. “You do not wish to do that,da? Not if you want no harm to come to girl. Boss is waiting.” Then he moved aside and swept the blacked-out car’s back door open and ushered Grinder in.

What choice did he have?

They could be bluffing. It was more than likely they were telling big fat lies. But it was his heart that moved his feet and strode forward. “You better pray to your Russian fucking maker that if you’re telling me the truth she’s unharmed, fucker.” He snarled in the mobster’s face. Whatever control Grinder once had for not poking the mafia had gone.

He climbed into the back of the car, casting a discriminating eye on the driver who started up the Lexus as both his teammates pushed their way in on either side of Grinder making him the meat in that fucking Russian sandwich.

He saved his words for the man in charge, these thugs were just that. Paid muscle to make sure they got Grinder where they were told to bring him.

He watched the road, had an idea where they were taking him. As well as the apartment block Grigori had rented, he’d also rented an abandoned youth center a mile from main street. Not so secluded that he could use it for a slaughter house, if that’s what tickled a mobster in his spare time, but it was large enough to store any number of illegal things.

And right on Renegade Souls lawn.

Nothing happened in this town without Rider knowing about it and the flagrant way Grigori was thumbing his nose at Rider’s rules for passing shit through Armado had run on everyone’s last nerve.

Just at the last meeting it was voted that they do something about it.

Seemed like the vote came too late and Grinder was about to see inside the lion’s den sooner than anticipated.

“The girl, she hot,da?” the guy on his left spoke.

Grinder’s fist clenched, otherwise he stayed still and quiet. His eyes looking forward. The one on the right chimed in chuckling. “She has fight in her.”

Grinder snarled low in his throat. The warning was the only one he’d give.

They were goading him into a reaction and the fuckers were about to be granted their wish. He was practically vibrating on the inside with anger.

As that the car pulled to a stopped, the driver immediately jumped out and opened the back door.