“I Spy with my tracking eye … I see a mafia minion…” - Grinder

 

 

The first time Grinder became aware he had a tail it was a week later. The feeling of being watched began to niggle him at the base of his neck, hair rising in that way he never ignored because those kinds of clues usually meant something.

He wasn’t doing anything watch worthy, he’d rode over to Fort Springs to grab lunch with Luxe, and then headed back to work. The same black SUV was three cars back behind him. Not thinking much of it at first, eyes gazing in the rear-view mirror he took a left turn and saw it take the same a few seconds later.

Curious, it could be nothing, he kept his speed steady and when it was time to turn again he headed right this time, sure enough the SUV, four cars behind Grinder now, did the same.

A more trusting person would have assumed they were just headed in the same direction, but after leading the car a merry-fucking-dance around Armado, driving down main street twice he knew it was no coincidence.

“I caught a tail just now.” He informed the boys once he was back in the grounds of the club compound, he’d circled around first in the forecourt and saw the black car drive on by.

“Who?” asked Rider.

“Why?” another chipped in.

Grinder didn’t have answers, only theories, but he knew now to stay alert. He didn’t think they wanted to ask him out on a date. The club continuously attracted trouble, even when they didn’t go looking for it, it was the nature of the beast. If it was club related there was better members to tail to garner information. Grinder was the tracker, he wasn’t in charge of the green or any of the businesses, he wasn’t the treasurer in the know of the money. No, he figured this was more personal to what Grinder did recently in a certain Russian party. Now was it because of the stolen pictures or the flash drives he’d pocketed? That was the question of the hour. If he was a betting man he’d place money on all of the above. Either way the Russians were after him for a one on one and he was fucked.

The second time he was aware of being followed a week after that he got more answers, namely because those fuckers came to him. He’d been vigilant, more than usual, and after a few days he was about to put it down to paranoia.

Until Grinder was walking out of the diner, a cake box in one hand, the other carried a paper bag with veggie sandwiches and a coffee carrier with his strong brew he sipped at, he spotted the two Russian’s instantly climbing from their ride, the same damn ride he’d spotted up his ass.

He kept his shit cool, shades masking his eyes, he could watch them approach him without locking eyes.

One said something to the other and he nodded.

Grinder recognized a close-knit squad, those Russian’s were slowly and slyly growing in numbers within Colorado, they had no idea Rider knew this, but the club knew the whole lot going on in their city

And as fast as the Russian’s family was growing, Rider was gathering forces from outside chapters to coincide with the anniversary shindig that was coming up. If the Russians wanted a war then Rider was prepared to give them one. Until then they kept their shit steady.

What the Russians continued to fail to grasp was, they assumed the Souls power was brittle and malleable, as Hades had been and the like before him and before them.

Nothing empowered the Souls MC like having their backs to the wall.

They came out fighting.

And fighting dirty.

Souls were family was Grinder’s foremost thought as the Russian’s approached closer, their dickhead gazes on him. They looked like fucking rejects from The Sopranos.

What these Russian born dumbfucks had failed to realize was the Renegade Souls were more than just a club for aging men to tinker with bikes.

They were family.

And anyone knew family was power, money can open many doors that wouldn’t have ordinarily unlocked for the likes of any of the Souls men in everyday circumstances. With any biker club it was not only who you know, what you know, but who the fuck you were, but as Grinder knew, money greased a lot of palms and would go on doing so because as notorious as his club was throughout Colorado and the rest of the states, they didn’t practice a flamboyant entrance, they didn’t court the media, though sometimes their names were in print and that couldn’t be helped, and they sure as shit didn’t look for the spotlight. Extortion, blackmail, money laundering even, and of every fucker knowing everyone’s business before it even happened and status updates and cyber-finance, the Souls, to some degree still slipped under the radar of normal life, they skirted the laws with barely a twitch of culpability.

The reputation was enough to announce their presence.

Their organization went deeper than motorcycles and wild parties. While people focused on the badass reputation, Grinder and his buddies, with Rider at the helm, were raking in illegal money hand over fist because family knew how to be loyal.

It was the likes of the bratva with their big crime reputation that was more prone to have wiretaps, surveillance and FBI busts. The RS were a little more money wise than that by not involving themselves in the kind of crime that caused a stir within the law. Greedy idiots were idiots. Among the MC world that idiot had been Hades, that shady fucker had been tangled in crime from sex trafficking to hardcore drugs that no decent drug dealer would push through the system, he’d had no moral compass… but worse, no brain power to think his shit through. Now the Russian’s were trying to utilize once more on that open market, needing a third to traffic their shit through and the RS were not playing ball.

The profits would be huge, no doubt about it, climbing into bed with the Russian’s would bring in more revenue than the club had seen in a good while, but as Rider said, and every man around the church table agreed, no amount of profit was worth it to play bitch to a bratva. The Souls didn’t bend over for anyone, least of all dickbags they didn’t even like. It was just not good business.

The Russian’s were pushing.

And Renegade Souls pushed back harder.

Before the money they were family.

And you don’t fuck with family.

His jaw tightened when they were in hearing distance, their language rolling off their tongues in deep tones.

“You are from the Renegade Souls, da?” give this man a coconut. Grinder arched a brow at the one who spoke and then the one who was staring.

Casually he moved the box to the hand holding the baggie, to free up his fighting hand. Just in case. “What of it?”

“Grinder, is it not?”

A trickle of unease ran down his spine. It was broad daylight and gunfire would draw too much attention.

Side stepping Grinder tried to move to the right to continue walking. The silent one moved with him, blocking his path. Smiling sinisterly.

A growl gurgled in Grinder’s throat. “You asking me on a date, man?”

“Funny. The Renegade Soul is funny, Mishkov, da?”

“Da.” The other man agreed. Funny, they didn’t look amused.

“We are very good friends with your boss.” Fucking liar.

“Okay then…” Two Russians blocking his path, he had two choices, go around or through. While he knew it was the same two dudes who had been following him, he didn’t want to cause a scene on the street until he had backup.

Grinder could only speculate it had something to do with the robbery.

Did they know about Luxe as well? His belly filled with cold dust.

He’d destroy them where they stood if they dared step a foot in her orbit. “You wanna get the fuck out of my way?” he issued coldly. Keeping his stare going. Angry blood roared in his ears. He didn’t like being challenged, didn’t like it at all, not from dickheads who thought they had some nefarious secret on him. But now he knew it was no coincidence, not with their open challenge like this in the veil of friendliness. They knew something and they’d wanted Grinder to know they knew it.

After a long thirty seconds both Russian’s moved to the side and nodded. “Be seeing you, Grinder.”

Not if I see you first, fuckwank.

Grinder strode to his car and made a call to the compound before starting up the engine.

Without proof, would they make a move? That’s what he had to assume. It’s what he’d do.

With a tick working his jaw tightly and his mind busy, he set off.

 

 

 

Thirty minutes later after crossing town into the next city he parked his black F-150 in an empty bay, keys shoved in his pocket he grabbed the baggie and cake box and headed inside another MC. He was the right amount of cocky, and he wanted to thumb it at Jamie Steele, not that he felt bitchy about the guy getting into Luxe now he had their full story, but still, he was enough of a piss taker to wear his own club jacket to stroll inside. He nodded to a few guys who looked on over.

His course was set spotting the long black ponytail of his Luxe sitting at a table, her back turned, her head was anchored down looking at something.  

All it took was one look at her and the pit of his stomach went into freefall. He could mount her right there and bang her stupid and whisper all the romantic shit he fancied practicing on her, show these asshats who Luxe belonged to.

Grinder reined that thought in, he was trying to be patient, wasn’t he? Giving her time to forgive him and all that sappy fucking stuff he was working for.

“Holy shit, catch a gander at this, we have a Souls in the house. Lock up the silver, boys!” cackled a Kingsmen he vaguely could put a name to. Grinder shot him a smirk and a friendly finger salute. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, boys. Just dropping off food to feed my girl.”

Yeah, that’s right. My girl.

Luxe swerved in her seat hearing his voice. His heart galloped seeing her instant smile. Three steps he was arched over her kissing her lightly on the side of the neck. Not the kiss he wanted to give, if he did his tongue wouldn’t come up for air for an hour. His palm found her nape. “Hey, love. Got some eats for you.“ The food dropped on the table in front of her.

“You brought me food? Gracias, chico. I’m starving.” Her smile was pure sun.

“Yeah. Thought you’d be hungry after all your stealing.” He winked.

She’d been in his bed all night banging his brains out, a bed he was reluctant to let her leave.

But more than the sex they’d exhausted each other with, there was pockets of time during the night they’d lain awake, Luxe curled into his chest, and they’d talked. Really talked, he loved making her giggle, the sound made his dick ache. He loved learning about her life. Her grandma sounded lively. Grinder was a little scared to meet her, not even gonna front it.

“How’s it going?” he caught a seat next to her. His fingers lightly stroking her inner wrist.

It was the box Luxe went for first, he was glad and waited for her reaction. He’d remembered what she’d said weeks ago.

“Not too bad. I have four Acura’s to collect in an hour.” Collect… Grinder smirked and translated as steal. His girl. Damn he was hot for her in a big way.

“Listen, love,“ arms braced on the table, he leaned in towards her, her scent today was the soap from his bathroom and he smiled to himself before sobering. “Have you been aware of being watched at all?” she instantly became still.

“No. Why?”

He told her.

“And you think it’s because of what we did?”

“Maybe. Not sure yet, it could be unrelated. I wanted you aware of what’s going on.” Ideally, he wanted Luxe on lockdown at his club inside his room there so no one could touch her, ever, but he had rocks for brains if he thought an independent woman as she was would agree to that. He had to bite his tongue not to suggest it. “You’ll call me if you catch a vibe, okay?” he held her gaze. Wanting to insist, to demand, even.

Her brow was folded in the middle. He wanted to kiss the crease off her beautiful face. “Sí.” Grinder had never had the urge to play hero for a woman or anyone before. It’s not that he doesn’t have anyone to care for, he does, a lot of someone’s, but no one evoked feelings in him like Luxe did and he was all out of sorts because of it.

Nudging the box over towards her, Grinder needed a minute to rein in his protective itch.

A second later. “Ay dios mio!” wide dusky eyes full of happiness and surprise lifted to him. “You brought me tres leches!”

She was almost licking the opened box. Grinder grinned and nodded. “I had Paige at the diner make you one. She loved it and wants to add it to the menu.”

“Nathan.” Her voice was sugar and soft.

“You like it, love?” he pulled a black plastic fork out from his inside pocket, handing it over.

“It’s my favorite.” He knew that. He knew everything this woman enjoyed.

“I’ll take you to the diner for dinner.”

She grinned shoving a fork full into her mouth. “And breakfast.”

Grinder laughed agreeing. He’d feed her anything she wanted to keep seeing that innocent joy on her face.

The need to spoil her was strong. Beating a rhythm in his insides.

Catching movement from his left, Grinder looked up to see Jamie Steele striding through. A woman who looked like a groupie and his VP with him. They clashed eyes and Grinder nodded a kind-of greeting. It was the best he could do.

Jamie smirked and rose a brow. “We letting in any one these days, Amos?” he asked his second who cackled. “Seems like Prez.”

“I’ll be at the drop to meet you later, pocket-rocket.” Jamie directed to Luxe and headed out.

He’d given his woman a pet name.

Grinder didn’t know how to feel about that.

He kept himself in check and when Luxe finished eating he asked her to walk him out to his truck.

“Why are you always scowling at Jamie? I told you there’s nothing between us.” She asked after the slow stroll over to his car, her hand caught in his. He opened the driver’s door and leaned against it, wanting a few more minutes with Luxe.

“Because I like to screw with him. His ego can take the hit.” Grinder told her running his thumb over her plump pink lips. She kept them bare, except for that night of the Russian’s party he hadn’t ever seen her wearing makeup. His Luxe was an uncomplicated woman, functionally in what she wore, but sexy and stylish without being flashy. He got a raging boner every time he saw her in jeans and out of them. Hell, she could wear a sack and his cock would rise to say hello. His thumb moved against her cheek, he bit his smile when she leaned into it.  Her face was exquisitely beautiful to him.

So fucking beautiful somewhere in his chest it began to ache.

He had to make her his full time.

Had to, or he’d go insane with these sensations in his gut. These hit it and quit it visits were good, so fucking good his sore dick was addicted, but Grinder was hoping it wasn’t enough for her either, that she’d want more, too.

Luxe chuffed a laugh. “Says the chico with the extra-large ego.” She’d moved slowly and tucked herself into his ribs without him having to pull her there. Grinder grinned to himself and palmed her butt.

“You weren’t complaining about my ego when you were riding it this morning, love. I heard a few oh gods in there.”

That cute nose of hers wrinkled. “I fell on it.”

He burst out laughing, cupped her face and took a kiss he craved, sipping from her lips, brushing the wetness with his thumb.

“Is there more ex's I have to run off, love?” he asked calmly.

She snorted and bit his thumb, called his ego too large in Spanglish.

He liked his ego the size it was. He grinned and didn’t respond.

“I thought not, so I get my kicks with Steele.” Grinder was a petty fucker.  Why do I even care? Fuck this was annoying that he wasn’t bothered he cared about laying the foundation of his claim on her, it didn’t give him a twinge of panic or irritation that he was thinking of someone else before himself.

Preacher, that self-proclaimed dickhead in love expert would tell him it was the beginning of the end.

Fire swept through him every time she put her hands on him as she was now, stroking up his chest. With his eyes hooded, listening to Luxe tell him her schedule for thievery for the rest of her day he didn’t even know if she was aware she was petting him, but fuck if it didn’t feel good when she swept over a nipple, air expanded his chest. In and out. Those nimble fingers that poke into things which didn’t belong to her and she was so damn good at it, too, was stroking him, tempting him to drag her into the back seat of his truck and show her what his fucking soul already knew.

Luxe was his girl.

Could all these emotions give him a heart attack?

He had one more day with her before she was out of town again.

One day to fit everything in that he was feeling.