Page 57 of Tracking Luxe

Gia’s bedroom, to be more precise.

Maybe she was up there napping. He only intended to stop to grab a coffee and a sausage bagel from the local diner for breakfast.

Somehow his bike brought him here.

Again.

He was a Groundhog Day kind of creeper.

No point in denying it at this point, not since he’d been in Austin for weeks and had no immediate plans to leave.

When he’d arrived recently on a mercy mission, his heart all out of fucking whack with worry, he’d camped out at Henry Memorial hospital and hadn’t moved for days. He’d discreetly watched his best friend and his old lady coming and going, their connection to one another palpable, something Hawk hadn’t had a chance to witness growing since he’d been away from his club for nearing a year now. In that time, the Preacher had gotten himself hitched and with a kid. Fuck, he missed home.

He’d watched the blowhard Mad-dog, real name Ajax Marinos, arrive at the hospital with Rider’s mom, it was with an unguarded moment to see the old man looking worried for one of his kids, Hawk had never seen the man other than pissed off or chewing at Rider for something or other.

Managing to keep out of sight, Hawk ventured down the long hallway of the hospital to Gia’s private room when he knew everyone had left for the night and she would be sleeping. One night after her burst appendix was taken care of, he’d been approached outside of her room by a doctor who looked concerned, probably because of Hawk’s menacing appearance.

For what it was worth he already knew he resembled a pissed off serial killer most of the time, he was completely fine about it, it kept people away. But as the doctor looked a second away from calling security Hawk had gruffed he was Gia’s husband and wanted to know how she was.

Husband. Even weeks later he was still churned up. Why hadn’t he said brother? Cousin? Best friend? Next door neighbor? Husband rolled off his tongue like it was meant to be there.

What a fucking delusional jackass.

There was a padded cell somewhere with his name on a strait jacket.

He was too much of an ornery bastard to give into madness, but oh, he teetered daily.

Case in point, sipping on hot coffee in the heat of late August staring at a house he’d never seen inside or was ever likely to.

But knowing there was nowhere else he wanted to be.

He felt at peace knowing hislittle bit of a thingwas safe and recovering inside.

She’d been home more than a week now, she’d only ventured outside a couple of times, his filthy fucking eyes eating up the sight of her dark hair and little cut off shorts, she was yet to return to work. Yeah, he was the creeper who knew her schedule.

Fuck the guilt.

She had no clue he was here and wouldn’t, he was not ringing that doorbell for anything.

It had been a sore in his gut when he’d learned she was having emergency surgery. It became a done deal instantly that he’d travel to Austin.

Why was he still here?Stupidity.

Why wasn’t he leaving?Delusional.

She was fine and healthy again. He’d seen with his own eyes. He’d done what he came for.

Leave, fucker.

Five more minutes, he told himself just as his phone buzzed. Ditching the coffee, he looked up and down Gia’s quiet street before he answered.

The club owner was on the line. “You’re still alive then. I wondered.”

“Dramatic as ever, Rider,” his mouth twitched with maybe a smile. It had been a while, he wasn’t sure, could be the beginning of a stroke with his luck. “How’s it going?”

“I don’t hear shit from you all month, Snake’s wearin’ mourning black.” Joked his president.

Rider might not have heard from Hawk, but Hawk had seen him recently talking to Zara when they were in Austin discussing some baby shit like two overly happy dickheads.

---