Page 111 of Tracking Luxe

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, inGem’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 hislittle bit of a thingwas so close and he couldn’t go and justlookat 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 onto 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 theDiablo 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.

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