by V. Theia
Table of Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
EPILOGUE
BONUS EPILOGUE
TRACKING LUXE
* * *
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Names and characters are the property of the author and may not be duplicated. The use of any real company and/or product names is for literary effect only. All other trademarks and copyrights are the property of their respective owners.
Any use of the law or medical jargon is used loosely for entertainment purposes only, and not a true representation.
TRACKING LUXE
ASIN: B076FGTF9F
Cover photo: istockphoto.com
Cover Design: V. Theia. ©2017
Published by V. Theia 2017.
All Rights Reserved.
Table of Content
DEDICATION:
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
EPILOGUE
BONUS EPILOGUE
COMING NEXT:
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:
MORE FROM V. THEIA:
DEDICATION:
For anyone who strives to make a dream come true. This is for you.
PROLOGUE
Several Hours Ago
Footsteps approached.
Luxe knew it was different than all the foot traffic she'd heard for the last however long it had been, it felt like hours, could be longer still. She knew it was him coming back. The hard-heavy shuffle grew closer to the door and then stopped. Her hearing strained.
The way her heart rate increased had nothing to do with fear and all to do with wanting to murder, maybe not murder, she'd seen a season of Orange is the New Black and she didn't figure she could make it in prison, even if she did have connections with Jamie Steele who would more than likely help her dispose of an asshole body, for a hefty price. Too much like hard work. But assault and battery with a motel bedside table? now that she could get with.
The key turned in the lock, behind the blindfold she saw the light enter the room before a shadow stepped in.
Smelling food, she stayed perfectly still, not a hair moved, nor a muscle flickered, though her pulse increased steadily catching a masculine scent in the air that hadn't been there a minute ago, she evened out her breathing, let him think she was asleep, like she didn't care what was going on.
"I know you're awake." The deep voice went right through her like burning ice. Rich baritone, the kind of voice smokers had at the end of the night.
Fuck you.
And fuck you, asshole.
Abruptly the blindfold was pulled down, left hanging around her neck. Blinking against the fluorescent lighting above, her vision refocused and then she looked at her captor.
Him.
Ay Dios mio. My god.
CHAPTER ONE
“You kidnapped a woman … how did you expect this dating 101 to turn out?” – Luxe Reyes
Day One
Resting bitch-face; It was reserved for when women were in states of relaxation and or faced down with a fucking moron who had dared to take them hostage. Luxe's expression was all bitch, nothing resting about it as she stared at the bearded guy. “Is this your first kidnap, and did you have to check out Kidnapping for Dummies from the library?” Disdain, the likes of which was legendary for a pissed off woman, dripped off her teeth. She felt unmoored in her own skin, an inkling of wise fear ghosted her words though she tried in vain not to show what she was feeling.
As quips went it wasn’t her best but not bad for a quick-thinking put down. If only her captor had shown even a facial flicker of response she would feel more victorious in her insult. As it stood, he was stony silent, slouched in the armchair over by the window, fingers drumming on his jean clad legs. Staring at her.
If Luxe was in one of those popular TV shows on HBO she could almost hear the roughly spoken voice over guy now announcing; Last week in Luxe Reyes’ life. She’d been at the Apollo Kingsmen middle of the week party and suddenly she was grabbed from behind and tossed into the back of a car and driven back to her motel room. This here ends the episode, please watch next week to find out what happens.
How had it come to this that she was tied to a bed with a madman----okay, to be decided on that, but it wasn’t looking good----holding her hostage? He hadn’t even given a reason, except to spout she had something of his. “Look… I’m a thief, I steal things all the time, you’re going to have to be more specific. But chances are I’ve hocked whatever it was I took long ago, too bad, compañero. Check the inside pocket of my bag, there’s cash in there, take it as recompense and you can untie me and we can forget this ever happened.”
He didn’t move, didn’t say a word. Only a muscle in his jaw ticked showed he was still alive.
Jesus, this
guy had watched too many Tarantino movies.
When he’d first walked into her motel room, pulled down the blindfold, after leaving her tied up for hours, and she’d seen who it was, dauntingly tall and muscular, Luxe had felt a flicker of relief. She recognized him instantly. Grinder from the Renegade Souls MC. Her first thought had been; thank god it was not an actual madman who would kill her, chop her up into little pieces and store her in his deep freeze for twenty years. She had a somewhat sketchy history with Grinder, in that they’d sorta-hooked up one night without the actual sex happening. It was all very embarrassing and she’d rather not even think about it. But now he was here with his accusing gray eyes all over her and she had no idea what it was he wanted from her.
Irritation flooded her vision. “Are you just going to sit there? I’m tired of this game now.”
Keep them talking. Wasn’t that what the advice says to do in these situations? Make it personable so the kidnapper has a hard time killing you. Yeah, be my best friend and don’t kill me.
No tactic Luxe tried was working and it was just pissing her off.
Their stare off continued for what felt like an age, before he looked down at his phone, took to his feet, slipped into his jacket and strolled over to the bed. Her entire nervous system twitched in anticipation of him growing closer. It was involuntary, not fear as it should be, stupid really, she should be terrified. Disillusioned? Perhaps, but a slither of awareness for Grinder, to know somewhere logical that he wasn’t going to hurt her made her ballsy and loose in the tongue area. “You’re going to un-fucking-tie me right now, Grinder.”
His gray moody eyes flicked up hearing his name, other than that she got no response. He was all talk when he’d strolled in, now he was mister tight lip. She scowled as he pulled the blindfold back over her eyes.
“This is literally the opposite of what I just said,” she hissed, he re-tied both arms to the headboard and like a stunned rabbit she took it.
She heard the pull of fresh duct tape and cursed him out in Spanish right before the tape covered her mouth once more. “I’ll be back.” Was all he’d said before he clicked the door shut and locked it. Fuck you, Terminator! she muffled. She listened for a long time as his feet drifted away and a bike roared to life outside.
That goddamn righteous pendejo had 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 her abuela’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 talk business we 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.
“You have two minutes,” he informed with a sly smile. Eyes so penetrating it was difficult looking at him, memories flooded her system. She remembered how good he was at kissing, what his skilled hands could do, besides tying her up.
Fuck.
Don’t think of that.
Don’t think of anything from that night. It had been crazy, so unlike her.
“And Luxe?” her name went through her torso spearing heat. She turned at the bathroom door, looked at him. “I’ve already nailed down the window in there.”
And hope died.
He was standing in a hard stance near the only door of escape, his arms, thick and ropey hanging at his sides like he didn’t have one care in this world.
Rather than reply him, she slammed the door and went to do her business.
Fuck him and his two minutes, she’d sit in there all damn night.
Long after she’d peed and washed her hands, Luxe left the water running and tried to remember every detail from that night a year ago, she could remember the booze, the music, their flirting glances, despite her better judgement she could recount every kiss she’d shared with him, but as for stealing … one theft oftentimes slid into another, it was second nature to Luxe, it was all about poise, to look like you weren’t really about to steal, slight of hand as you went into the abyss, but she couldn’t remember what she’d taken from Grinder. It wasn’t usual to take from individuals, she’d moved on from pickpocketing long ago.
