Page 65 of Tracking Luxe

Rider scowled his mean prez scowl. “Why the fuck do you assclowns descend to talkin’ about your dicks? Can we have one church without dicks as the main topic? Thank-fuckin’-you,” he waited a second for the roars to calm down. “As I was sayin’ thought the guy might be talkin’ out his ass, they’re careless, not carin’ who sees what they do, but Jed reported he’s been followed twice this month. Looks to be an unmarked car.”

The table erupted in loudwhat the fucks. Grinder sat up straighter in his chair. Who the hell was messing with Uncle Jed? One of the senior retired members who hung around couple times a week and besides switching up his coffee recipes he was straight as they come, Rider didn’t involve the old man in anything other than being a confident.

“Do you think they’re still watching us because of Hades?”

“Grinder?” Rider turned eyes to him and Grinder shook his head.

“From what my guy in the bureau said his case is mostly open and shut, they assume he’s took to the wind in light of them thinking he torched his own club and killed everyone inside. Only those around this table and Hawk, know Hades is dead and not being found any time soon. Speaking of which, I need the readies to pay my guys.” Rider nodded towards the treasurer giving him the okay to sanction the sort of cash that was requested. Grinder greased a lot of hands for info.

“So, we’re back to what … the ATF are watching all MC’s for fun, on the off chance we slip and fall on our faces with a confession?” Asked Pretty-boy. If there was anyone who was too normal-looking to be attached to an outlaw set up it was Mace, and yet, Grinder thought, the guy was absolutely one of them. The deep rumble of his tone showed just how irritated he was. Same went for every man around the table. Cops were so fucking nosy.

Not the first time they had the law after them, not the last, he reckoned, but with the Russians in town it was possibly the last thing they needed. It meant they had to be extra cautious with just how they dealt with Grigori.

From the opposite side of the table, right next to a silent Texas, Capone posed a question Grinder and Rider had discussed many times. “Hermano, can you get anyone inside the ATF?”

“I’ve tried. They’re locked up tighter than Snake’s jockies.”

Guffaws.

Texas cleared his throat, his head hanging over his clenched fists, otherwise he didn’t chime in. “Something to add, treasurer?” Asked Rider.

All eyes turned to Texas who took about a week to reply. “No, Prez.”

“Okay. So, be extra vigilant, you got it? I ain’t bailin’ one of you jokers out. That goes for you, Law, you’ll just have to make someone your prison bitch.” Directed Rider with a dirty smirk.

To which Lawless fired back. “I don’t mind. Might be nice for a vacation. Do you think I’d get a double cell?” He was such a freak.

The meeting broke up after jobs for the day were handed out.

Grinder was working in the shop all day. He’d rather be working under Luxe, without it being an option he was stuck with engines.

Scowling to himself for putting the dirty rotten thief back in his frontal lobe he got to his feet and made his way to the door, only to be nearly floored by Texas shoulder checking Grinder in his haste to get out. “Watch the fuck out, brother, I like having two shoulders.” He laughed lightly.

Texas turned ruddy, swerving half of his body. “Hell. Sorry, Nate. Just in a hurry for ... Catch you later, yeah?” and he was gone in a long-hurried stride. Damn, maybe the treasurer was on a pussy promise. About time since he never saw him play with the chicks.

Even Grinder would power walk if he had a call from Luxe.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“She’s not you, love.” – Grinder

The strains ofDef Leppard -Pour Some Sugar on Meboomed from each of the wall speakers. Through his drunken stupor, Grinder could feel the vibrations travel into his boots, up his legs, that shit pounded in his chest with a steady thrum. One of the prospects in charge of the music at least had good taste. If Capone was doing the tunes, fuck, they’d all be doing the salsa.

He swayed and it had nothing to do with the music. The floor shifting under him in sticky undulations.

Maybe he’d lay off the booze and switch back to the green, he’d have a couple more smokes and crash out.

Taking the tilt out of his body, Grinder leaned his bulk up against the edge of the chrome bar, slow blinking sleepy eyes surveying his club and everyone in it. Tonight, had been crazy as fuck, no one threw a party like an MC. A whole half of a hog had been roasted outside in the custom-made pit, someone had found fireworks in September from a guy he knew, wisely, everyone had stepped back out of the way when Pretty-boy let those things off in case a stray wanted to fly into the crowd, he’d tested so much green he was now tasting colors.

Liquor flowed like that Jesus river Ruby had told him about that one night they sat around at Preacher’s house after the game, he didn’t remember which river, but it was a lotta fucking booze he knew that, he’d taken full advantage until his belly felt as though with every step he took was sloshing inside his skin, he was gonna be pissing out pure whiskey. Groupies congregated everywhere as f a brother had bussed in more than usual, most he didn’t even recognize to put a name to them, tits and ass for days.

The party was jam-packed. If they cared for the law, the local fire chief would probably close the place down for over capacity, the locals, retired members and their old ladies mingled with the patched in boys. An MC sure knew how to enjoy every hedonistic second.

Grinder tapped his ring fingers on the bar, noticed Lawless skulking like a shadow over in one of the corners, these sort of club parties were never his scene, he preferred to keep himself to himself, though he lurked on the fringes sipping his one drink and watching.

Rider and Zara down the other end, cozier than he’d ever seen them, and for a pair who were big on the PDA that was saying something. Zara was whispering something to the prez, he was leaning down to reach the tiny woman he loved, both were grinning. Intimacy all over their faces.

Something like jealousy slicked through Grinder’s full gut. He had to shift his eyes away when Rider moved his hand and cupped Z-girl’s rounded belly. A possessive papa already.

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