“You kidnapped a woman … how did you expect this dating 101 to turn out?” – Luxe Reyes

 

Day One

 

 

Resting bitch-face; It was reserved for when women were in states of relaxation and or faced down with a fucking moron who had dared to take them hostage. Luxe's expression was all bitch, nothing resting about it as she stared at the bearded guy. “Is this your first kidnap, and did you have to check out Kidnapping for Dummies from the library?” Disdain, the likes of which was legendary for a pissed off woman, dripped off her teeth. She felt unmoored in her own skin, an inkling of wise fear ghosted her words though she tried in vain not to show what she was feeling.

As quips went it wasn’t her best but not bad for a quick-thinking put down. If only her captor had shown even a facial flicker of response she would feel more victorious in her insult. As it stood, he was stony silent, slouched in the armchair over by the window, fingers drumming on his jean clad legs. Staring at her.  

If Luxe was in one of those popular TV shows on HBO she could almost hear the roughly spoken voice over guy now announcing; Last week in Luxe Reyes’ life. She’d been at the Apollo Kingsmen middle of the week party and suddenly she was grabbed from behind and tossed into the back of a car and driven back to her motel room. This here ends the episode, please watch next week to find out what happens.

How had it come to this that she was tied to a bed with a madman----okay, to be decided on that, but it wasn’t looking good----holding her hostage? He hadn’t even given a reason, except to spout she had something of his. “Look… I’m a thief, I steal things all the time, you’re going to have to be more specific. But chances are I’ve hocked whatever it was I took long ago, too bad, compañero. Check the inside pocket of my bag, there’s cash in there, take it as recompense and you can untie me and we can forget this ever happened.”

He didn’t move, didn’t say a word. Only a muscle in his jaw ticked showed he was still alive.

Jesus, this guy had watched too many Tarantino movies.

When he’d first walked into her motel room, pulled down the blindfold, after leaving her tied up for hours, and she’d seen who it was, dauntingly tall and muscular, Luxe had felt a flicker of relief. She recognized him instantly. Grinder from the Renegade Souls MC. Her first thought had been; thank god it was not an actual madman who would kill her, chop her up into little pieces and store her in his deep freeze for twenty years. She had a somewhat sketchy history with Grinder, in that they’d sorta-hooked up one night without the actual sex happening. It was all very embarrassing and she’d rather not even think about it. But now he was here with his accusing gray eyes all over her and she had no idea what it was he wanted from her.

Irritation flooded her vision. “Are you just going to sit there? I’m tired of this game now.”

Keep them talking. Wasn’t that what the advice says to do in these situations? Make it personable so the kidnapper has a hard time killing you. Yeah, be my best friend and don’t kill me.

No tactic Luxe tried was working and it was just pissing her off.

Their stare off continued for what felt like an age, before he looked down at his phone, took to his feet, slipped into his jacket and strolled over to the bed. Her entire nervous system twitched in anticipation of him growing closer. It was involuntary, not fear as it should be, stupid really, she should be terrified. Disillusioned? Perhaps, but a slither of awareness for Grinder, to know somewhere logical that he wasn’t going to hurt her made her ballsy and loose in the tongue area. “You’re going to un-fucking-tie me right now, Grinder.”

His gray moody eyes flicked up hearing his name, other than that she got no response. He was all talk when he’d strolled in, now he was mister tight lip. She scowled as he pulled the blindfold back over her eyes.

“This is literally the opposite of what I just said,” she hissed, he re-tied both arms to the headboard and like a stunned rabbit she took it.

She heard the pull of fresh duct tape and cursed him out in Spanish right before the tape covered her mouth once more. “I’ll be back.” Was all he’d said before he clicked the door shut and locked it. Fuck you, Terminator! she muffled. She listened for a long time as his feet drifted away and a bike roared to life outside.

That goddamn righteous pendejo had left her here again, tied to her own goddamn bed.

The way he’d tied her wrists, arms crossed together, she couldn’t even get any purchase on the headboard enough to bang it against the wall in hopes of bringing the neighbors. Not that those two sluts next door would care, for hours she’d listened to them going at it like over-acting porn-stars, they’d probably think Luxe was in here fucking as well.

Sighing, she had to gather her thoughts rationally.

He hadn’t hurt her. Yet. Hadn’t hurt her at all, in fact, even when he’d thrown a hand over mouth, tied her wrists behind her and stuffed her into the back of a car, with Luxe cursing him out while he’d driven her here. A caring madman? Whatever. He was a dickhead. While she didn’t think he would hurt her as in beat and rape, she didn’t want to sit around twiddling her thumbs and wait for the worst case scenario.

At the ripe age of twenty-seven Luxe Reyes was adept at many things, not least of which parting people with property they didn’t want to part with. It was a skill she learned early on with a mom who didn’t really have the mothering gene, when one day they’d left their home in Southern Miami, taking Luxe from her school and friends she’d dropped her off at her abuela’s house in New Mexico, a day later her mom was gone out of their lives and Mimi was suddenly responsible for feeding a hungry, growing ten-year-old. Her stealing began small; a candy bar here, a pencil case there until one day she’d taken a wallet hanging out of a rich lady’s purse. It was a spur of the moment decision that pathed Luxe’s whole life.

It became a sport, a thrill, soon her and Mimi had everything they needed.

She called herself a career thief.

Doing jobs for other who paid her clean money. It was the whole reason she was in Armado Springs last year ... well one reason, but the less thought about her dating history the better.

Scowling, she could smell the untouched food he’d brought, probably congealing on the bedside table and wondered if she could use the force to will it to her mouth. She was starving.

Anger and hunger never a good mix, not least of all when she was tied to a freaking headboard.

Wriggling her wrists, testing out the knots, the more she struggled the tighter they became. What was he, a boy scout? Cautiously she tried to slip further down the bed, maybe if she could loosen the bindings her wrists would just magically slide out of the rope…. Great plan, Luxe. Her butt didn’t even budge an inch before she was wedged mid bed, her denim shorts twisting so much more on her hips her private business needed resuscitation. She cursed that fucker so badly in her mind if he suddenly combusted he’d know she was to blame for it. With no choice but to wait this out, she slumped back on the pillows. At least she wasn’t stuffed in a closet, she supposed.

She couldn’t see a silver lining.

Fuck that silver lining.

An hour went by. Two. Into the third she lost count of the minutes, all she knew was it grew darker outside and her bladder was full to the brim.

When Luxe was in serious trouble of peeing herself she heard the lock turn and there he was, she could see the dark shadow through the cloth. Such a violent urge rose inside her. She couldn’t see him, and yet she knew how the width of his shoulders felt under her hands. His intentions clear as his heavy footfalls crossed the room, one steady step after another. She could read him without her vision, sensing no immediate danger, her body still tensed catching his scent in the air, clean and masculine.

It was a bizarre union between kidnappee and dickhead.

She almost cried with relief when he took off her tape and blindfold, shadows bouncing off every wall his size wasn’t masking. “I need the fucking bathroom,” he was carrying a fresh bag of food she noticed as he flipped on the light.  “Who leaves without letting the hostage use the bathroom!” She spat out through clenched teeth watching him take his damn time putting down the bag, shrugging the jacket off. “In your own time…” curses muttered under her breath.

“If you’d answered my questions earlier you could have been using the bathroom all by yourself already,” he answered calmly, approaching like a tiger would a plate full of raw meat.

The sheer size of him had her wanting to shrink back but would she hell show him any kind of fear. In its place, she turned her eyes flat, staring as he leaned over the bed and untied the knots. “So, it’s my fault? Typical kidnapper ricocheting the blame…”

This was it. This was her chance, right? Her pulse increased. She could make a run for it, she’d only need a second head start, her car was parked right outside, just down two flights of stairs and she was home free…

“No funny business, you hear?” He seemed to sense what she was thinking, gray eyes pinned her accusingly precise. “I don’t want to hurt you.” But he would, was his underlying tone.

“Funny business, like juggling? I left my clown shoes at home.” Luxe glowered and for a second she was sure he smiled beneath the dark beard. He wore the same familiar black beanie hat, tight around his skull and loose in the back, two silver rings and a wrist cuff, dark denim jeans clung to his legs and his Renegade Souls MC vest was worn over a long sleeved dark gray shirt.

Oh yeah, she knew of that Motorcycle club, they were infamous in Colorado, they ran most everything, and most of that was illegal. She didn’t judge a man for how he earned his money, but she sure as hell was judging for his behavior.

“Don’t you think this is going overboard? If you wanted to talk business we could have done that easily over a beer.”

She lied.

There was nothing she wanted to talk to Grinder about, not with the history between them she was still embarrassed about. Even as her shoulders stiffened, she gave them a roll once her arms were freed to bring blood back into her limbs, he was standing too close, his scent infiltrated her nose and against her better judgement she took a deep breath.

All man. A scent she remembered.

A swift arousing kick overcame her like an accelerated tide, before she quickly dismissed it, choosing to recall where she was and why. The biker was handsome, no doubting that, but did she like him? Hell, no and forgive him for this? Fuck, no. The urge to punch him and his stupid gorgeous hair was strong as a hurricane rushing through her blood, flexing her fingers.

“Oh, we will talk, thief. Did you think you could stroll into town and I wouldn’t know it? Wouldn’t make a point of seeing you? Use the bathroom, I got all the time in the world for this.” Stepping back, he allowed her to slide off the bed, looking at him warily, wasn’t he going to drag her there, threaten to slice her fingers off if she tried to escape? When none of that came, her brows folded in…what kind of kidnapper was he? Two steps… three… she could smell her escape just through that door.

Her room was on the second floor, she’d risk a broken leg if need be.

“You have two minutes,” he informed with a sly smile. Eyes so penetrating it was difficult looking at him, memories flooded her system. She remembered how good he was at kissing, what his skilled hands could do, besides tying her up.

Fuck.

Don’t think of that.

Don’t think of anything from that night. It had been crazy, so unlike her.

“And Luxe?” her name went through her torso spearing heat. She turned at the bathroom door, looked at him. “I’ve already nailed down the window in there.”

And hope died.

He was standing in a hard stance near the only door of escape, his arms, thick and ropey hanging at his sides like he didn’t have one care in this world.

Rather than reply him, she slammed the door and went to do her business.

Fuck him and his two minutes, she’d sit in there all damn night.

Long after she’d peed and washed her hands, Luxe left the water running and tried to remember every detail from that night a year ago, she could remember the booze, the music, their flirting glances, despite her better judgement she could recount every kiss she’d shared with him, but as for stealing … one theft oftentimes slid into another, it was second nature to Luxe, it was all about poise, to look like you weren’t really about to steal, slight of hand as you went into the abyss, but she couldn’t remember what she’d taken from Grinder. It wasn’t usual to take from individuals, she’d moved on from pickpocketing long ago.

Her mind was blank.

Was that good news or bad she couldn’t recall what it was she was supposed to have stolen? Maybe a case of mistaken identity? She couldn’t be the only thief in town.

She worried at her lip.

He had nailed the window shut as he’d said, it didn’t even budge when she’d tried it. 

Ay Dios mio. What else could go wrong?

He could kill me and feed me to the mountain cats… there was that…

Was Grinder a killer? She would have guessed not. But then she also would have said no to kidnapping two days ago.

She didn’t know him save for a few shared hot kisses.

It had been more than kisses.

Slumping down onto the lip of the bath tub Luxe realized she was shit out of options. Her poor Mimi was at home clueless to what was happening to her granddaughter, probably watching one of her telenovela’s oblivious Luxe was moments away from a possible gruesome end… or worse, a scowl-off with that big gorgeous bastard with his stupid gorgeous hair and stupid perfect beard.

Think, Luxe. Think. There was a way out of this.

She’d seduced him once… or so she’d thought, before the better part of her brain had stepped in and stopped that train and got her the hell out of there. But he’d wanted her, hadn’t he? Cogs turned in her brain.

Could she seduce herself out of here?

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

 

 

******

 

 

Tits so perfect, they both fit into his hands, her cries muffled by his mouth vibrated down to his dick. God fuck, he wanted this woman like no other before her. It was an instant punch of want, the lick of desire more potent than he’d felt before. Hell, she was a revelation. He could feel the hunger emanating from her skin, in the way her fingers clawed at his shoulders. Her eyes had been all over him, he'd felt it, hadn't he? Not giving a single fuck, they were in a packed bar, or that she'd been sitting with Jamie fucking Steele, the leader of a rival ----albeit friendly---- MC, he didn't care if they were married with a school of kids, he knew as he tasted her he would break them up to have her, he wanted this woman under him, grinding her little body until she passed out. "Let me have you. I need to fuck all this heat, Luxe."

Grinder blinked, he hadn’t meant to go down memory lane like that, it still stained to recount those images. It had taken him a whole goddamn year, but he’d finally tracked her down, hadn’t he? Sort of, since she strolled back into town without a care in the world of her own accord. Rolling his neck from side to side, Grinder eyed the bathroom door, his ears straining to the sounds from behind, the water had been running for minutes now, was she trying to drown herself in there? He’d made good and sure before he’d even hog-tied her ass back here that the window in the small motel bathroom was well and truly nailed shut giving her no chance to wriggle her skinny little body through it in her escape.

Not this time, she’d evaded him long enough.

Clearing away the debris of the food she hadn’t eaten earlier, he unpacked the fresh food, this time a vegetarian burrito and a salad with a pink lemonade. Reluctant to leave earlier, but since his brothers had no fucking clue what shit he’d landed himself in when he got the call for a church meeting he’d had to re-tie and leave Luxe for hours, and then he’d faced questioning from Preacher about why he was acting weird. Am I acting weird? he’d fired back with a grin as casual as he could muster.

Yeah, fucking weird alright. It wasn’t every day he snatched a woman to interrogate her. Nothing about this situation since he found out she was back in town had been normal, knowing she was near had sent him into a fucking tailspin he wasn’t recovered from, it made him do dumb shit

It's always the silent ones you gotta be cautious of.

Those soundless types that blend into the background, that become part of the furniture, you don't see them until it's much too late.

The kind that never speak up unless it's necessary and even then, it's too late.

Silent and deadly.

Cunning and deceiving.

Grinder was a quiet type of guy when he had to be. Secrets upon secrets when it was needed and he didn't breathe a word of them to anyone. Such layers of untruths.

No one would know.

No one would guess what was going on. Because he made sure of it. His tracks from the past year and tonight were covered. He’d be shit at his job if they weren’t.

The day after he'd seen her he'd put it all in place, working fast, he'd had to, what with so little time, but that didn't matter now it was done.

Did he feel remorse? No. Maybe. He didn’t know. Shit.

It didn’t go down as he’d wanted. Talk to her, get his shit back, that was meant to be it.

“Luxe.” He called out in warning.

She was stalling.

Prepared to break the door down if needed, he took a step forward right as it swung open and there she was.

The little shorts curved her hips, she’d taken off the denim jacket to reveal a thin cotton tank, she was braless he noticed right away.

Fucks sake, stop staring.

His dick had a mind of its own when he streaked eyes all over her, admiring with that single memory of her that still sometimes plagued his sleeping hours.

Look at her lying lips. They were so fucking pretty, plump and pink and it was all too easy to imagine them wrapped around his thick cock until she choked on it.

He could still hear her first lie. I could do with some company. She’d told him.

And then her second lie came thick and fast off the back of the first, in her smoke brushed voice through those lying fucking lips he’d been mesmerized with. I want you.

Liar, liar, pants on fire. Or… his gaze skimmed down her bare legs, shorts on fire.

Hell, the washed-out denim was skin tight, molded to her thighs and what she had between them.

Grinder felt a hunger crowd his chest.

“You’re not tying me up again, don’t even think of it. You obviously wanted my attention, you went to the extreme, well here it is, you have the floor to say what you want to and then get the fuck out.”

Don’t touch her. Don’t.

He shouldn’t want to reach out and brush the hair back from her flushed face, to see her eyes up close again knowing how dark her irises were, he shouldn’t have any desire in him other than wanting to interrogate the dirty rotten thief for her crime.

And yet.

He had the incomprehensible sense he saw the future in her eyes.

Impossible. Fucking ridiculous. A foolish man’s notion.

He just wanted his property back, not to make a for ever after with her, that’s not how kidnapping works the last time he checked.

Tinder for kidnappers. Yeah, right. He’d get Lawless working on that app.

Swallowing the urge, he kept his stare on her. “You’re under the impression, little thief, that you have a say in what happens.” She didn’t like her nickname, Grinder swallowed his grin.

The fact that she kept up a steady pace of Spanish insults while he stood over her uncapping a bottle of soda amused him, some about his parentage and what he did with zoo animals, if his translation were right. Funny and inventive, he didn’t even think it was possible to do that with a giraffe. Like how would he even reach? She was like a fourth of July firework that had gone rogue from the formation and was firing at will.

“Here, drink, before that mouth gets you into more trouble,” he told her.

The muscles in his belly tightened when their fingers brushed handing her the bottle. Just a second’s touch and he felt the spark jolt through him.

Still there.

Still fucking there.

But that chemistry wasn’t about why he was here, why he had taken her from that Apollo Kingsmen MC party, why he’d bundled her prone body laying her carefully on the back seat of his truck or why he’d carried her struggling and hissing self to her motel room and situated her on the bed.

His dick might like the woman, might want to dig in to see if their sex was anything like what he’d been imagining this past year when his temper was high and he thought about her furiously.

She had something of his and he’d get it back.

He hadn’t misread the signs a year ago, the dirty rotten thief had been feeling him in the same damn carnal way.

But it wasn’t about that. Not now. He just wanted rid of her from his system for good.

As he grasped her chin between forefinger and thumb her body tensed.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he told her gruffly.

“Says the homicidal lunatic sharpening his axe,” she spat back, eyes so dark and deep blazing at him.

Annoyance flared on his face, quickly drowned out by her facial expression shutting down, she calmly used her fingers to move his from her chin before she took a large gulp of soda.

“If I’d wanted to hurt you I would have done it already. I could have done it yesterday, or six hours ago when I watched you stroll into the Kings, or when you were buying tampons and gum at the market.” He didn’t mention her flirting with Jamie fucking Steele. That had been the nail in the coffin, up until that point he only intended his spying to be recon. Then she’d given Steele a smile, one that lit up her face and Grinder had felt something snap in his brain, the next thing he knew he’d been behind her when she’d taken a minute outside, despite the MC being packed, anyone could have seen him grab and palm her mouth, he could have easily been wearing bullets in his chest and still the risk hadn’t stopped him for a second.

“Homicidal and a stalker. Nice, you should put that on your dating profile. Swipe right for lunatics.”

Whatever she meant to convey, the hard, tight-lipped expression only made her lips pucker and for a second he thought about kissing, she looked even younger than the twenty-seven he knew her to be.

He knew everything important, her date of birth, place of residence, even her weight and blood type because he’d made it his business to know every goddamn detail about the thief.

No stone was left unturned in his pursuit and here she was. Perhaps not in the way he’d originally planned, blame this shit on his impulsive nature.

Fuck him, he’d abducted a woman. He could just picture his cell mate.