Tracking Luxe (Renegade Souls MC Romance Saga Book 3)

by V. Theia

  He sighed and tried to drop his shoulders, they were burning deep in the socket, the chain kept him in place and now his knees were starting to go numb.

  Not daring to look at Luxe, his body unconsciously turned her way, trying with the will of his mind to let her know everything would be alright.

  For the millionth time Grinder wondered what it was about Luxe that made him willing to risk it all, even as the case stood, his own life. He'd thought himself incapable of deep emotional connections, having always chosen pleasure over supposed happiness, thinking that elusive and a damn myth. Not that he didn't love his pop and uncles and even their families, Cameron and Stacie, the brat twin cousins, though he was glad he only saw them every other year for the holidays. But the real deep down I will kill for this person no questions asked emotions he was sure had bypassed him since he'd never experienced them before with anyone, least of all a chick.

  But there it was.

  Drilling a hole in his battered chest.

  The thump was loud enough to deafen him.

  He felt so fucking violently ill that she was here in the middle.

  His lack of finesse was more than apparent, no one can kidnap a woman and claim their reasons are sane ones. He'd fucked up from day one but he'd been trying to fix it. Thought he had gone some way.

  Until tonight.

  This wasn't how it ended between them. It couldn't be. but if there was a chance he could get his girl to walk out of here untouched he'd grab that like a lifeline no hesitation.

  She was worth every risk he could take.

  Swampy, thick guilt trapped inside his ribcage. If he’d been more careful, if his club had planned that robbery better, she wouldn’t be here now being manhandled by people who could only wish to lay hands on something so fucking precious.

  Mine. She’s mine.

  He might have tracked Luxe up and down the country in his spare time this past year. But it was his girl who had finally found him.

  Settled him.

  Fucking owned him.

  And he wasn't about to let one nasally assed motherfucking Russian get in the way of him and his girl.

  “Get rid of the peanut gallery and let’s talk.” He issued through his teeth, spitting blood while he did.

  “I do not think so, comrade. You see…” Grigori split off from his two henchmen, his bigger body dwarfing Luxe when he suddenly turned to her. Grinder met her eyes quickly and felt a stab of pain for what he saw blinking back at him. He shook his head, subtly he hoped.

  Don’t acknowledge me, baby.

  Grigoris grabbed her arm. “Get the hell off me.” She snapped, to no avail.

  “This one is feisty like cat. I see why you crawl between thighs. Da. Let us talk and do business like men who steal.”

  His intent didn’t slip by Grinder. The threat was clear as Grigori turned and smiled sinisterly at Luxe.

  The Russian was going to use Luxe against him to get him in line.

  Over his dead fucking body. No one would lay a finger on her. To imagine bruises on her perfect skin made the bile in his gut slosh from side to side. No. No. He couldn’t allow that to happen.

  “We’ll talk whatever you want to, man, but get this chick out of here. I’m not discussing shit in front of a skirt.”

  Luxe looked down and then back at him as if to say I’m wearing shorts, chico. God, that woman. His woman. Perfect for him. Her dry, biting, sometimes volcanic humor was what kept him on his toes this whole time.

  “You say you do not know her, da?” Grigori chuckled again, this time his two puppets laughed right alongside him. “Funny then we see her coming and going … coming loudly sometimes … from your home.”

  Oh, that shit stain did not just imply they’d heard them having sex. Heard his girl’s pleasure.

  Teeth bared, he had to keep it together, couldn’t let the rage in his brain take over.

  And then.

  “Jesus. You do like a theatrical show, are you all like this?” Luxe blew up in spectacular fashion, almost as if her patience had run out. Grinder’s head reared up, no longer feeling the pain slicing his brain in two. “It was me! I stole from you. It was me, not him. If anyone needs to be battered in chains it’s me, you have the wrong fucking person.”

  Grinder wasn’t even aware he’d made a sound until every set of eyes turned towards him.

  Over his dead fucking carcass that would happen.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  “The devil always offers a man a deal because he reeks of desperation. There’s no way he’d say no.” – Grinder

  “Boss. Should I teach him more lesson to shut mouth?” assface one asked. “I make him cry like baby.”

  “You will keep your greasy hands off him, look at what you did already!” his girl defended.

  Grinder tried to block out the noise and the turbulence. His boys wouldn’t know where he was, this shit was on him to get out of, he had no phone on him for Lawless to trace his GPS. He was literally shit out of luck.

  Fuck him to hell.

  He did what he did best and took stock of the bigger picture, assessed everything through a filter of crimson red.

  Nothing went unseen, he’d weighed up the only possible exit strategy, counted the men, listened for footsteps passing by, noticed the number of vehicles outside. He was fucked and trussed up like a Macy’s parade balloon, but it didn’t stop him working through plan A B C D E F to try and get them free. Hate this. Hate that she’s here.

  The path was dangerous, he’d known that for weeks and ignored the signs. Mobsters were not going to let a matter of theft disappear, not without retribution, he’d known this and somehow a man like Grinder who always thought in terms of three steps ahead for everything had let his guard down. And now he’d given them an IN with the club.

  His mistake.

  This only had one ending.

  “Nyet. I think our guest is ready to cooperate.”

  Seeing Luxe standing next to Grigori was murdering his soul.

  Get away from her. She’s mine. I’ll get you out of here, baby.

  His eyes swept over her, trying to index if she was hurt in any way. The rigidness of her spine and the way her chin was high in the air, lines across her forehead and the tightness in her fist told him she wasn’t hurt. She was pissed.

  Oh, his girl was angry and she never thought rationally when she was in a temper.

  He had to bring the attention back to him. Maybe he could bleed out, the Russian’s wouldn’t want a dead member of the RS on their hands, no matter their blustered threats, this wasn’t about murdering him, but about getting the RS in line like obedient dogs.

  Fuck that. And fuck them. He didn’t bark for no fucker.

  "Touch her and I'll kill you." Grinder spat out between hissing teeth, he didn't care about the blood dripping into his eyes or the flow that didn't feel like it was stopping at all. He wouldn't pull his gaze from Luxe. Stay strong, baby, I'll get you out of here soon, I swear it. Grigori glided forward, laughing with all his teeth on show. "If you know anything about me and my club you know this is a fucking promise."

  "This is what I like about you Americans, steel balls like monkey, da? what will you do if I touch her, my friend?" he asked slimy, deliberately yanking Luxe forward to stand inches from Grinder, giving him front row seats to watch his girl being touched, the arm going around her waist to cage her to his side and Grigori’s hand slid across her belly and down to cup between her legs. The frayed white jean shorts were no protection at all.

  She yanked herself away but it was already too late. Grinder’s brain went fucking nuclear with rage. He didn’t even hear his roar.

  “You were smart, kotik, but not too smart.” The Russian expressed to Luxe. Smiling at her like he wanted to lick her from top to toe and shower her in flowers.

  Grinder didn’t see red, his whole damn vision blinked out with fury, pain blooming the whole of his skull, half of his eyesight had already checked out leaving behind pat
chy black spots.

  "Get off her, you commie fuck." An unleashed animal clawing at the inside of his chest, he couldn’t stand it, every injury was forgotten like it hadn't happened, pain drifted away, his only thought was getting those Russian's hands off his old lady. He breathed through the dizziness inflicted on seeing her manhandled.

  “What is it about men kidnapping me, dios.” Irritation stained Luxe’s tone and it was what checked his brain back online, and if not for his mouth split to hell he would have laughed for her bravado. That’s my girl. “Detained, love.” he husked, her eyes glued to his, he tried to smile at her. And she tried to smile back at him.

  The chains were going nowhere, no matter how he tried to yank them almost to the point his shoulder sockets were ready to pop out, veins standing out on his throat, he would kill that motherfucker twice.

  "Such displeasure for a suka you claimed no allegiance to."

  “Suka? I’m assuming that’s an insult. And you didn’t claim me, Nathan?” she plucked at the leg of one short. Her scowl was for every male there.

  Goddamn, now was not the time for his girl to get on her high horse and gallop around the stables. He filled his lungs, garnering his will, the chains yanking the ball sockets out of his arms were heavy as shit and everything on his body hurt, his goddamn knees were unfeeling now. And his woman was taking a huff over the fact he tried to distance her from him so they wouldn’t harm her. Fuck him now. “Luxe.” He warned as if to tell her to shut her gorgeous mouth.

  “Well don’t you listen to him----” she addressed Grigori directly, her little stubborn chin high in the air. Christ alive, was it a wonder he loved her. His crazy spitfire woman was amazing. But he wished she’d shut the fuck up.

  “Don’t listen to her.”

  “----he belongs to me----”

  “She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

  “----and I belong to him, so if you’re impeding him from leaving then you’re keeping me, too. I already told you I stole from you. I can give you minute by minute specifics of what I did and when and where I sold them. Just get him down from there, it’s fucking barbaric, I thought you were a corporate man?”

  “LUXE!” Heart in his goddamn throat, his emotions were like a torrential rain, he’d never been so terrified of losing anyone before, he roared overriding everything she’d just told the mobster who only looked slyly bemused at their exchange. “Get her out of here, Grigori, and I’ll tell you what you want to know. I took your shit, only I know where it is.”

  At last he spoke. “Oh, comrade, you presume this is about a few measly art items that are not even pocket change to me? Nyet. I forget them already. We have, how you say? Bigger fishes to grill.”

  Was that a good sign the mobster wasn’t about to cut off his fingers because of the robbery? Nah. He’d known already Grigori had the greater deal in mind. The robbery, fuck him, was just the catalyst they’d needed to open the door to having Grinder’s club bow down and accept the Russian’s on their turf.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  He’d have to show signs of cooperation, no other choice.

  When the only woman he’d ever loved was in imminent danger Grinder would have offered up his stained soul in exchange for her safety. His life meant nothing without Luxe and seeing her stubborn chin upturned yet her face pale and worried was a kick to the gut he couldn’t stand. He knew without a shadow of a doubt or a firearm close to hand that he was using the only way necessarily, by fair or foul means, to keep his girl safe.

  “Choices, Mister. Frazier.” The murky tone in Russian came from the left and grated on Grinder’s nerves. Asshole was so enjoying having the upper-hand. “It’s quite simple, da? She can walk free this instance, the matter of stealing from me ancient history, and -----”

  “Do it. You let her go.”

  “No!” his girl screeched. “Nathan, don’t----”

  “Let her go,” he growled again, eyes on the Russian.

  Grigori gave the impression he was a reasonable man. When in reality, he was a viper.

  “Da. I recognize a man’s weakness.”

  “You’ll give me a minute with her first.”

  The Russian inclined his head, again, a show of gentlemanly agreement, knowing fine well he had all the cards in this game, he pushed Luxe forward. Grinder held onto his fury, eyes blazing. “Privately!” he insisted. Grigori cackled and stepped back a few paces, turning his back to speak low to his men.

  Grinder’s eyes implored Luxe to come to him.

  He could endure anything, even death, if he only knew she’d get out of here undamaged. He felt the broken pieces of his heart stir with hope.

  Thank god.

  He was getting his girl to safety.

  ******

  Seeing him made her ill.

  He’d deprived her of the ability to function physically or mentally seeing him so badly beaten he could be unrecognizable if not for the beard, the silver rings on his fingers and the deep-rooted way her body would forever come alive around him, no matter what.

  There was a second when her knees cracked against the cement of the floor to put them on the same level, that she was sure her heart had stopped beating, she wanted to cry, and Luxe was not a crier. She took her fingers to Nathan’s neck, where his pulse was steady on the tips, his life raced beneath her hand then the world fell away. There were no enemies surrounding them, or danger waiting in the darkness, it was just Luxe and Nathan.

  His eyes clung to hers and she saw everything he felt for her.

  “Oh, god. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, chico.”

  Thrumming wildly and fueled by adrenaline and fear, her heart pounded. Unlike hours ago, when her heart thudded for a more pleasurable reason in Nathan’s bed.

  His bloodshot eyes were haunted but what did that big dummy go and do when he managed to lift his head? he smiled at her so beautifully she wanted to weep. Oh, this man. Her lovely, possessive bossy man smiled at her, surrounded by danger he smiled.

  Please don't die. I can't be without you now. Life would be colorless without you.

  It was no longer about ledgers and numbers in the plus column of her checking account. Everything she’d ever stolen came back in a hot rush to sit like concrete in her chest, gurgling her shame, her guilt. If not for her stealing, this man, her beautiful man wouldn’t be tied and beaten until he looked minutes from bleeding to death. She’d asked him to steal for her, hadn’t she? And he’d gone along instantly with it. Used his own guilt against him, knowing on some level the attraction between them would sway him into agreeing and look where they both were now.

  Nothing mattered more in those moments. Nothing. “Nathan,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry. I wish I hadn’t----”

  “You’re not to blame,” he murmured between his split lips throwing an exhale to the ceiling. “Make my own choices, love. You have to get out of here. I’m going to fix this.”

  God. Even now he was trying to take care of her. Besides Mimi no one had ever gone beyond and above for Luxe, certainly not the mother who didn’t know from one day to the next if Luxe was alive and whoever her father was she had a feeling even if he did know about Luxe he wouldn’t care, not like Nathan. The pressure in her heart increased until she thought it would strangle her windpipe.

  “I won’t leave you here.”

  “You have to.”

  “No,” their whispers mingled. “I did this. I’ll get the art pieces back and---”

  “Luxe. Listen to me. This is bigger than the stuff we stole. They don’t want it back. It’s about my club. What they want from my club. So, you see, you have to go and let me handle this. You’ve gotten caught up in my mess, that’s all, not your fault.”

  Luxe’s mouth was so parched she couldn’t swallow.

  Being kept in a back room for an hour, sitting on her own staring at four blank walls, not knowing what was going on or how the Russian mafia would make her pay, she’d been scared, not g
onna lie, she’d been pee her pants scared, how would Mimi know she was dead? Who would tell her? Who would organize her funeral? It all floated through her mind. But that was nothing in comparison to the moment they’d dragged her out and down to the basement to face Nathan.

  Seeing how they’d treated him. Her heart stopped and hadn’t restarted yet.

  “Please. I can’t leave you here. I have money, I can give them money. The risk is worth it. I won’t leave without you. I’ll get more money. Anything they want. I’ll steal for them.”

  “Are you crazy? Your life is at stake here. I’m not chancing that for fucking anything.” His words hushed and weak, his growled intent clear. His big chest heaved and he let the inhale out slowly, she felt branded by his gaze. “Love, you have to and you will.” His arms must be so sore, she wanted to rub his muscles, she wanted to tend to every cut and welt, her fingers reached out to touch and paused, not knowing where he wasn’t hurting, she wouldn’t make it worse. “Touch me.” He croaked.

  She laid her hand on his neck, his pulse was rapid and he angled his head to somehow stroke his blood soaked bearded against her wrist. “Nathan, I’m so sorry. If I’d known this would happen. I should have stayed away from you, never asked you to---.”

  “No.” he growled. “Never that. You’re mine. I don’t regret a fucking thing.” Eyes like steel held hers and that choking emotion crawled into her throat, her knees shuffling an inch closer, all too aware of the men behind her listening and waiting.

  They’d played it well, she thought. Since Nathan wasn’t denying who she was to him, oh, though he’d tried to distance her from him, that big dummy trying to protect her, she’d gotten so angry he didn’t claim her as his. Irrational anger for them being a team no matter what.

  “I forgive you. I forgive you. It’s what brought us together, Sí? So please don’t die, okay?” feelings landed like hard rock in her throat.

  He smiled at her so stunning she leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together.