Page 120 of Tracking Luxe

More than half dead, Grinder felt every jar of his bones when they each grabbed him under the armpit and bodily dragged him, his legs scraping the ground, he was unable to sustain his own weight, he just wanted to fucking vomit up a lung, breathing past the pain, he could tell already his ribs were either broken or fractured, fuck the pain was making his vision blank in and out, he blinked blood out of his eyes as he was dumped on the cold floor, he balled his knuckles, tried to push himself up.

He’d fight these bastards on his own two feet if it killed him, he just needed a minute, needed a good lungful of air that didn’t taste like he was swallowing blood and for his vision to check back in line.

Fucking Russian mobsters, all of them untrustworthy cunts. “I’m---- “ he spat out blood. “I’m guessing we ain’t here for a late night romantic supper.”

Pristine leather shoes came into focus, slowly striding towards him, and Grinder had the out of place thought about how this fucker kept his shoes so clean. “Let us secure our guest so we can speak.” He commanded and despite trying to fight with his noodle arms he was grabbed once again, taking more blows to his already broken body and another to his temple, the pain had him seeing stars, thick chains roped around each wrist and he was hoisted up off the floor with just his boot tips barely scraping the ground before he was secured and allowed to fall onto his knees, arms spread and held aloft at both wrists. They’d fucking Jesus’ed him. “You motherfuckers don’t even know what you’ve done. Your death warrants have been signed.” He breathed in his own blood. It was wet in his throat. “Big fucking mistake, dickbrains.”

“Still with big balls after my men made your face into meat.” cackled Grigori walking into the light he faced Grinder. “I admire a stupid man,da? A man who walks into my home and steals from under my nose. A stupid man who flaunts his crime and assumes I would not figure it out.”

Grinder rolled his one good eye and regretted it when pain shot through his eye socket. “Congrats, man, you aren’t so dumb after all. I’d clap but…” he rattled the chains keeping him attacked from the ceiling. “You see my fucking predicament with that.”

Nausea dogged Grinder’s every breath. He was seriously in danger of passing out.

Grigori laughed without humor. His nasty face read anything but amused, he had eyes like the cold, calculating cunt the MC knew him to be. It might be the concussion talking but Grinder suspected he’d pissed these morons off.

He wanted to ask about Luxe.

Jesus. Please, God, don’t let her be here.

“Why don’t you say what you got to say so I can get on with digging your graves.”

All three men laughed.

The MC had waited too long to plug up the Russian annoyance in their town. Maybe they’d taken their eye off the ball for a second, giving them a slither of light to slink their cold asses in. Now there was the added variable of Grigori having the advantage over him with possibly the biggest weakness of all to use against Grinder.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He’d literally walked himself to his own fucking death, and no one knew he was here.

He needed to think of getting himself out of here somehow, but all that was filling his brain was thoughts of Luxe.

Grigori nodded to both men who slunk off. Oh, Grinder would remember those two bastards, if it took a life time he’d be the one to dig their shallow graves.

Wearing a long brown overcoat, Grigori circled around Grinder. “I find, and correct me if I am wrong, but when conducting business, it is of best interest to present something in which the other party cannot refuse,da? That is how you Americans like it to be,” around and around he went. “I dislike this discord we have with Marino’s organization. How you treat me with, how you say, the cold shoulder. Plenty would gladly take my business.”

“Then go fucking do your shady deals with someone else.” Grinder spat a mouthful of his own blood onto the floor, his tongue worked around his teeth and miracle of miracles none of them were loose. “You think my club will have anything to do with you now?”

“Ah, but I do.” The mobster, with all his pomp and threatening glare carried awareness withhim, foisting it on everyone in his surroundings, daring them to bow down and worship his narcissistic importance. Grinder and the rest of his boys had seen it for months, years, when the Russian’s had first arrived in Colorado, that vanity of his as he’d strode in to introduce himself as though every man should be grateful to accept his authority over them.

Fuck that.

They could beat him to death and he’d still tell them to go fuck themselves with his last breath. He bought no stock in their egos.

Insufferable dickheads.

“Shall I tell you why,comrade?”

A door opened.

Grinder heard feet behind him.

“Do whatever the hell you want. What am I gonna do, refuse to listen to your blustered bullshit? ” He tilted his head, tried to see behind at who had entered the basement.

“How I am going to break you. They all break in the end.” The elder man laughed sinisterly, glancing only once behind Grinder but it was in that one second that Grinder’s belly sunk in and went hollow because fuck him, he knew, he knew just how Grigori was going to break him. It would be easy, he knew it, there was zero denying that if he did have the right blackmail, Grinder would allow himself to be broken into a million pieces.

Tethered like meat, he met the mafia underbosses dark eyes. “Call this my pre-emptivefuck you.”

And then he saw her.

Oh fuck. Sandwiched between the two meatheads and Grinder wanted to throw up and kill three motherfuckers.

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