Page 73 of Tracking Luxe

Some would have said her happy sex vibes should have gone some way to decreasing her anger issues. Who could get mad when they were having self-induced orgasms every night just from the memory of that one fantastic night, right?

Wrong.

Everything lately was bugging Luxe, more so than usual. The baby-boy barista, no older than kindergarten from the fuzz on his chin, who served her morning drinkstilldidn’t spell her name right. It was four fucking letters and she’d spelled it for him no less than five times already. And the angry irritation didn’t stop today when she climbed out of her car to refuel, the jackass in the car behind honked his horn.

Fucking honked at her to hurry. She turned and glared at the young kid through his Camaro windshield. Her glare was about as violent as it could get while she was holding a pipe full of gas. Maybe boy-racer sensed danger because he shrank back and lifted his hands in surrender.

What in the hell did he want her to do, pump the gas faster? Right,chico.

She couldn’t afford more court dates and anger management classes, if anything those things pissed her off more, can’t a person just be naturally cross and not have do-right citizens crawl up her butt about it? So, with her temper in constant check she didn’t do what she wanted to do by reaching through his window and throat-checking him with her palm.

She paid and drove off without getting into a fight; fist or verbal. Yay, progress. Mimi would be so proud.

After delivering the sketches into the grasping hands of an art collector, she’d mentally set that aside ready for the next job. It was the criminal circle of life. Luxe knew some questionable people and because of her flare for flying off the handle when things didn’t go according to plan …. well … she was one of those questionable people to some who had encountered the sharp tongue of her temper. She thought nothing of cursing someone out if they were in the wrong or trying to scam her no matter their place in hierarchy in the underground circles. If you were a dick then Luxe was going to call it like it was.

She didn’t suffer fools lightly and never stood for anyone trying to make her into one either.

In her profession, it was better they think she was a crazy bitch and to tread carefully when dealing with her, than for them, criminals and thieves alike, to assume she was a pushover. Women got such a rough fucking deal in this world without allowing people to treat her like a hallway rug. All she wanted to do was earn her money fair and square (and illegally) only among thieves honor was thin on the ground, she had to keep her wits about her.

Her bank balance was all the fatter since she’d supplied the sketches and now she was heading back to Colorado, after the brief stop to check in with herabuela, to help Jamie with his new chop-shop.

The latest news on Mimi was she’d dumpedoneof her gentlemen friends when he dared suggest they become exclusive. The nerve of the old man, it was as though he didn’t know Mimi at all.

Luxe had to laugh, her Mimi was a pill, if not a little bit of a wild player.

The decision as to where she was going first was fast approaching, she put a call through to Jamie on speaker. “Yo, pocket-rocket. Thought you’d be here by now.”

“I’m not getting into the saga of the slow bastard I was stuck behind. I’m nearly there. Am I good to drop my bag at the apartment?” she asked.

“Sure. But I’m over at Rider’s place in Armado right now. Can you let yourself in?”

Rider? The cogs in her head went through the series of names and places she knew and found who she was looking for. “You’re playing with another MC, Jamie? Did we all die and fall to Hell?” Jaime Steele wasn’t knowing for his friendliness with another MC.

She went on. “I dropped the key with Amos before I left last time.”

“Okay, swing by, I can give you mine.” She caught him ask someone if that was okay. The deep voice answeredsure. “You know where the Renegade Souls compound is?”

Oh god. Nathan. Everything clutched all at once, her pulse sped up and she felt the beginning stirring of desire in her belly. She was going to see him sooner than anticipated after all.

And that tender ache she was experiencing suddenly turned into a fresh wave of sticky hell between her legs.

Her breathing became a little shallow.

She hadn’t stopped thinking about him in two long weeks.

Walking through the double doors ten minutes later, she ignored the rising anticipation of seeing the stud-biker bubbling within her skin, he’d done the impossible with his sex, and made her want more of it. Sex was fun and all, but Luxe never became addicted.

Why then were her eyes skimming left and right, not taking in her surroundings, but searching out the heads of people in hopes it was him she saw?

“Your boy is through there.” An old guy with silver hair pointed his thumb right as Jamie came out of an office, flanked by the RS president himself.

******

“You might wanna drop the drill and head inside, G.” Preacher called out through the noise, walking back into the garage, can of soda in one hand and a shark smirk on his face. If he was about to brag he’d just got laid on his lunch break Grinder was likely to punch him.

“I got more shit to do before this gets collected tomorrow.” It was only his sex life taking a dive, bikes he could fix in his sleep. With oil coated hands, he hunkered down again to work on the carburetor.

“Okay. If you don’t wanna see your girl.” Whistling, Preacher began pulling on his overalls.

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