Page 122 of Tracking Luxe

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 isfeistylike 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 sayI’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 loudlysometimes … 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.”

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