Tracking Luxe (Renegade Souls MC Romance Saga Book 3)

by V. Theia

  “I think the best way we’ll find anything is to get a tap on his cell phone. The Russian’s aren’t rocking up to his front door, if he’s talking to Grigori then it’s over the phone.”

  Rider swerved his head and looked at Lawless rolling a coin across his knuckles. “On it.” he told their prez without looking up. Genius motherfucker was scary sometimes with the brain power he had. Some would say he was wasting it in an MC, he could be earning millions on wall street.

  “What aren’t you telling me, Hawk?” Rider spoke finally and all eyes lifted to him.

  They all heard Hawk clear his throat. He was holding something back? Grinder hadn’t picked up on anything. He supposed if anyone would it would be Rider, those two had been tight for years.

  “It might be nothing. I wanted something more concrete before---”

  “Spit it out, brother.” A tick worked Rider’s jaw, almost as if he was expecting what came next.

  “He’s been meeting with your dad regularly. Might be nothing more than two brothers grabbing grub together in a diner. I told you, I wanted more proof of something first.”

  “Noted. Keep on that, Hawk.”

  “I’m gonna.”

  “What do we think the old sod is actually up to by turning up to Ty’s place?” Asked Texas. Impeccably dressed as always. A mix of tough guy and instagram model. Handsome shit did love his hair gel and designer ties. “Can we trace his money? That never fails to give answers. Money will be exchanging hands somewhere along the line if he’s kissing Grigori’s ass, organized crime doesn’t come free.” And that, Grinder smirked to himself, was why Texas was the treasurer. He knew how to make money and how to hide the real dirty kind.

  The former president, a real nasty piece of shit and Rider’s uncle, had been quiet for more than ten years, but every member around that table, whether they’d known him personally or heard the stories of his obnoxious reputation that had almost driven Renegade Souls MC into the ground due to his lack of give-a-fuck on who he did business with, had a feeling a man like that stayed gone only so long. His ego wouldn’t allow him to accept a younger, better man like Rider in his stead.

  Was Rider’s father involved though? That was the better question. Grinder couldn’t imagine having to go up against his own Pop in a gang war. Fuck, he’d die for his Pop and any one of his uncles, they were great men and Mad-Dog, the former VP was the complete opposite. He’d seen how the older man loved Rider’s sister, treating Gia like a princess, but when it came to Rider, those two were oil and water, always coming to blows. Just as well the old man lived in Austin now, having transferred there when Rider took the gavel. Shame really, Grinder had always been family orientated, both blood and those he’d chosen and he could see this new shit bothered Rider more than he let on.

  “He never did like banks, didn’t trust ‘em.” Rider provided. “And we can all bet the house he ain’t having chats with Grigori about baking bread, so yeah, we trace his fuckin’ money, see where that old fucker is makin’ it. Hawk, you good to stay on him a while longer?” Rider asked of his VP.

  It had been over a year now since any of them had clapped eyes on the club’s enforcer. Hawk had initially departed due to a murder and wanting to lie low. “Yeah.” Was his brief reply.

  “Yo, psycho-man. You coming back for the celebration?” Snake called out. Lucky for him Hawk was hundreds of miles away and couldn’t kill the big mouth instantly as he would have for that remark. Grinder and a few others laughed.

  “Might do. But why would I wanna see your ugly face again, Snake, you send me enough fucking selfies as it is, and fucking stop doing that before I come back just to kill you.”

  “Awwww… you miss me, I knew it. You all heard it, Hawk misses me most of all.” Chirped a loud Snake.

  That’s how a table meeting always went. No matter the seriousness of the discussion, one of the men always broke the tension with a few banter jibes to even out the mood of everyone. It wasn’t like they took any of it lightly, knowing the Russian’s had brought their organized crime to town and probably conspiring with the former president was not something to brush under the carpet and every man around the large table knew the ramifications if any partnership between enemies became a genuine worry.

  A few more insults zipped back and forth.

  Until.

  “Oh, fuck.”

  Grinder barely caught Hawk’s exclaim coming from the phone right by Rider’s hand, what with Snake being his usual loud dipshit self, wanting center stage, but one by one the men silenced.

  “Hawk? What is it?” Inquired Prez, his tone somewhat alert since Hawk wasn’t usually given to sparks of Tourette’s. Rider knocked his knuckles on the oak to get everyone to shut their traps. When his reply was only silence he asked again. “The fuck, Hawk?”

  “Nothing. It was nothing, Prez. Spilled my coffee. Look, I gotta go.” And he hung up.

  No one was giving Hawk awards for charm, that was for damn sure.

  Preacher blew out air and slouched in his chair, knocking his skull ring on the table. “So, we know as much as we ever did. Rex is pulling a Dastardly and up to no good.”

  “I want someone on Grigori. Not you, Grinder,” issued Rider. “We need to keep him sweet where you’re concerned, he’s suspicious of somethin’. Once the anniversary weekend is over I’m gonna have a sit-down with our local Russian.”

  “You think that’s wise?”

  “Texas is right, Prez.” interjected Lawless. “If we show our hand too early they see we’re concerned.”

  “They’re openly followin’ one of my men, Grigori wants my attention.” snapped Rider. “He has it.”

  “I could always just ask the clowns tailing me what the fuck they want.”

  “And if it’s to make you their Russian bride, what then?” smirked Snake. “I mean I’m all for a winter wedding, I’ll wear my black cummerbund for you, G.”

  “We shelve it for now. Now get to work, we have a long week before the gathering.” Rising, Rider dismissed the meeting and strode out before any more could be said. It was clear to Grinder and the boys Rider was stressed weighing in the risks to his pregnant old lady. As it stood he had two of the prospects on constant babysitting duty with Zara.

  Following suit, Grinder grabbed his beanie hat, shoving it on his head and strode out with Preacher at his back to head over to the garage, he had a shit ton of work to catch up with.

  ******

  Across the country, in Gem’s Eatery, a mom and pop place that smelled of coffee and freshly baked apple pie, Hawk blinked finally, sure he was seeing a mirage. Trepidation pooled in that place a heart should be located even as it gave one excited gallop. But no, he wasn’t lucky enough to be having a hallucination like a regular person.

  Standing not four feet away from him, framed in the doorway and looking directly at him was Gia Marinos. Baby sister to his president and Hawk’s own nightmarish, filthy obsession.

  Ever since Rider had assigned him to stay in Austin to spy on Rex he’d managed to keep away from Gia. He hadn’t stalked out her home or place of work. Hadn’t ventured near her at all, ever since he’d witnessed her smiling at another man and blood had poured into Hawk’s belly.

  He’d ignored his deviant fixation to just see her. And fuck him, it was the hardest thing of all, to know his little bit of a thing was so close and he couldn’t go and just look at her. He was good at just looking, it calmed him down, it stopped the rage of dreadful need swirling in his chest. Knowing fine well he’d never follow through with what he wanted, the little bit was safe from all his ugliness.

  But there she was

  Jesus wept. There she was. He felt like he was having a stroke.

  With her large eyes, wider with shock, and chewing on her pink lower lip, hair so dark hanging to her shoulders, he didn’t take note of what she was wearing, he was sure it was beautiful, everything on Gia was hot as fuck, but he was transfixed on her face.

  Every night he trespassed on
to Rex’s sprawling land to spy into his mansion with too many rooms and a goddamn butler carrying and fetching shit from the kitchen to the man of the house and he took the risks that came with it knowing if he was caught he’d likely be killed rather than handed over to the cops. Rex was old school, he’d deal with trouble himself, or have his thugs do it, the law was never an option for an MC member, even a former one, but Hawk took the risk and without fear because there was only one weapon he was afraid of, the only weapon that could hurt a man such as him, with no emotional compass to speak of, those had been ripped out of him at a young age, same went for scruples, he had zero to speak of, but the one thing that could hurt a man like Hawk, who people whispered was a psycho in the making, and he was staring right at her.

  “Fuck,” he muttered under his thick beard. “Fuck. Fuck.” The coffee and waffles in front of him forgotten, the call with home a few seconds ago dismissed, hands clawed on the table in front of him. He was trapped in blue wary eyes. His body rigid and growing hard under the table.

  What in the great hell did he do now she’d discovered him in her hometown?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  “Women often get the urge to slap the stupid off a man’s face.” - All women, including Luxe.

  The week ticked by at a fast pace. A few chapters started to arrive in town early for the anniversary celebration that was looking to be the biggest event in Armado in the last half century. Trucks and trailers parked and set up camp around and on the compound grounds. Most nights the club was popping with a pre-party of sorts as people reacquainted with each other, and bragging began of which club was better.

  Renegade Souls MC was fast becoming the biggest MC in the country, the most notorious, for sure, and at the helm as the mother chapter president was Rider who welcomed all the out of towners. Most he knew, and those new to him watched the prez with trepidation and awe, his reputation for how he’d cleaned house a decade ago and hauled the club back into the black wasn’t just stories the oldies told around campfires.

  Grinder grinned and slapped Rider on the back as the pair strode through the clubhouse, heading outside to meet with yet another new batch of arrivals. “Shit, the way they’re all bowing and scraping to you, you’re gonna have an ego the size of Preacher by the time everyone leaves, Prez. Maybe I should get your autograph.” He told the man in charge who only smirked and rolled a shoulder.

  The Renegade Souls weren’t the most violent MC around, that accolade would have gone to the Raging Rebels had they not been disbanded, now the Diablo Disciples were trying to take that title, but as Grinder thought on it while Rider did the meet and greet hand slapping with a pack of members from the Boston chapter, he knew the greatest glue for any club was the fear of the unknown. It was the easiest form of both protection and threat. Enemies feared the unknown and Rider ran a tight ship since taking the gavel and for good reason. They fought and killed, when they needed to, it was the simplest method to get their message across not to be messed with, but what worked ninety percent of the time was the reputation of the RS. Maybe someone on the outside would absolutely look at Grinder and crew and deem them violent thugs, men without morals who shifted the law to their own ruling, men who killed and stole and fought and crossed lines. And he was fine with that.

  He’d rather have an enemy afraid than someone coming at him in the dark.

  Staying back from the crowd, not much of a mixer, he could be friendly when he had to be, but trackers were notoriously loners, he would sometimes spend a month, two months tracking one man and do it on the road alone.

  Now though, he mused, while he supped from a cold bottle, he had Luxe, didn’t he? Somewhere along the way of chasing his woman and tracking her sweet ass down, he’d fallen into this mystery fucking gray area of not wanting to be that lone wolf anymore, of wanting to stay on home ground more often, of not wanting to be gone for weeks on end just in case his thief came by. Thankfully, with the things the Russian’s were starting Rider hadn’t sent him out of town in a while.

  Just as well, he thought, because he had a feeling he would have chicked out and toted his woman along with him.

  And wouldn’t Luxe love that. Fiery thing would probably punch him in the junk.

  Holy fuck. He loved that untameable short fuse of hers.

  He must be damn crazy, but he wouldn’t change anything about her.

  Maybe her location. This long-distance shit was wearing thin. He was about to break and beg her to move, to give her a key to his shitty condo and ask her to live with him, or to get a better place together. Just as long as she woke in his bed every day so he could slide through the sheets and taste his thief before she was fully awake, to tempt her into moaning while it was dark outside and she was wet in their bed.

  Strange how fast things moved but felt right at the same time. Grinder was nearing forty and he wanted his own old lady.

  While he was in his own head a mass of blonde hair came out from the entryway carrying a crate of beers, wind blowing it in her face, Rider growled and broke off from the crowd, instantly going to his woman. No one would dare suggest their president was pussy-whipped, not if they wanted to keep all of his teeth.

  “Jesus, Zara. I thought I told you to delegate this shit an hour ago and rest?” complained Rider striding towards his old lady, he took the crate from her and dumped it on the floor.

  Telling a woman what to do...Oh, damn, if Grinder was gonna be witness to his president’s murder maybe he ought to get his feet to moving, cause he’d seen Z-girl erupt her temper last year on the groupies and that verbal beat down had been brutal. Entertaining as shit, but brutal. Now it was her old man’s turn if the frown on her flushed face was any indication. Like any decent friend would do Grinder parked his ass at the bar and watched. “I’m fine, I want to do it.” She told him, resting her forehead on Rider’s chest when he brought her in, rubbing both her bare arms. Cute as hell Rider’s old lady was wearing her custom pink queen cut.

  “You’re worn out. I’m taking you home.”

  “Biker-man….”

  “Zara. At least pass some of the jobs to the groupies for fucks sake. It’s what they’re here for.”

  “Okay. I will,” a beat of silence. “I miss Tiny. It just hit me earlier when I was in the kitchen that he’s really not here.”

  Damn. Didn’t they all miss him. That giant was missed by all. He would have slaughtered ten pigs and had them roasting by now.

  Rider’s voice softened and Grinder looked away while the prez got gentle with his woman, no one needed to see more of their PDA, or he might hurl.

  Just then he felt the fine hairs on the back of his neck raise, he swerved his head and striding in through the door was his own thief. Fuck. His heart just about galloped as he stepped off the stool and met her halfway.

  What had he been saying again about PDA? He couldn’t think while he had his tongue in his girl’s mouth kissing her hello.

  “Wow. I think you missed me.” She grinned up and ran her thumb against his beard.

  “I wasn’t sure if you were getting in today.”

  “Yeah, had some things change schedule so here I am.” Her dark eyes scanned as she turned in a circle, but it had been days since he’d seen Luxe, he wasn’t letting her out of touching distance any time soon. Though he had duties around the club he was very tempted to drag her home and welcome her back properly.

  And very naked.

  “What’s going on here? Is there some kind of biker convention in town? I’ve never seen so many of you all in one place. There’s a guy outside putting up a hammock.”

  Grinder chuckled. Sounded like One-eye Pete. “Yeah, love. Remember I told you about the anniversary bash this weekend? Liquor, grub and orgies.”

  Her head came up some fast Grinder barked a laugh. “Aren’t you the funny man.”

  It was half-true, but he wasn’t about to enlighten his thief to potential sex shows. Things got wild at any RS party and now there was more than twenty
chapters in town already, days before the main event, and it seemed like the groupies had swelled overnight, it wasn’t gonna be any sedated party, that was for sure.

  For the first time Grinder wasn’t interested in staying around for them. “We can get out of here if you want.” He suggested.

  “And tear you away from your little boy’s club.” She teased, making him want to bite her right there on her bottom lip she jutted out saucily.

  He grabbed her and sat her on his lap.

  ******

  Turns out a Renegade Souls MC party was much the same as an Apollo Kingsmen party she’d been to over the years. Too much noise, liquor flowing by the ocean load and a lot of rowdy men and boobs wherever you looked.

  Only this time she had Nathan to hang with. He kept her by his side most of the evening, sometimes perched on his lap while he whispered wicked things.

  She’d joined one of their card games, noting the sceptical looks from the other guys around the table wearing the familiar leather cut. It was okay they underestimated her, a mere woman, what was she to know about poker? Luxe only smiled and put her money in the middle.

  “Go easy on them, love.” Nathan whispered humor in her ear. She elbowed him and raised her stake. She could handle a bunch of cocky men.

  She won four rounds and a few thousand dollars.

  “They think I brought in a ringer.” He laughed some time later pushing her into his room, shutting them in together. Luxe shrugged and smiled. Not her fault men were stupid and couldn’t get past a pair of tits. She could thank her Mimi for her shark skills, they’d play every night for months when she’d first been dumped on her. Before long Luxe was playing kids at school for their lunch money.

  “They shouldn’t have been so arrogant. I had to teach them a lesson.”

  “Yeah, love, you did.” Nathan was lifting off her tank top, then fingers were at the zipper to her jean shorts. “What are you doing?” she asked growing heated when he slipped his hand inside and cupped between her legs.