Page 2 of Tracking Luxe

That goddamn righteouspendejohad 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 herabuela’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 talkbusinesswe 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.

---