Page 14 of Treachery

After that fucking shitshow at the clubhouse, where the woman he loved all but told him she never wanted to see him again—understandably—and where his prez had forbidden him from pursuing Nadia, he’d taken a breather. Since he’d just come off a club run, he had a few days to himself before he was on club duty again, so he’d tucked in to his apartment, and plotted out how he was going to get his woman back. Yeah, he knew he was on the edge of flat-out disobeying orders, but prez was under the mistaken impression that what Locust felt for Nadia would fade with time. Utter fucking goddamn bullshit. He’d damn well figure out a way to win his woman back without crossing any lines. It’d be tricky, but he couldn’t fail, not when his heart and soul were on the line.

So, he’d settled into following her, watching over her, waiting for an opportunity to “speak” with her. He wasn’t contacting her, talking to her, or getting within twenty feet of her, so he wasn’t exactly disobeying the prez’s orders. Frost had commanded thatLocust leave Nadia alone, but that order didn’t say shit abouthercoming tohim, or contactinghimfirst. So, he’d wait, watch, tease her with glimpses of him, and eventually, she’d get pissed enough to seek him out. And once she did, all bets were off.

Because Nadia was the concierge and front desk manager at Emerald Greens, he knew her schedule rarely changed, which meant she would be heading back to the club once lunch was over. That meant, he had some time to put the next step of his plan into action.

Sliding from the shadows of the bank building across from the bistro, he let his gaze drift over her once more—and she must have felt the intensity of it, because, at that moment, she lifted her head from her plate, and their gazes collided.

His breath slammed from his chest as he looked into the mesmerizing blue gaze of the woman he loved for the first time in four days, seven hours, sixteen minutes.

Anger, anguish, betrayal, longing, desire, lust—it was all there in her remarkable eyes, eyes that hid nothing from him, and never had. Nadia was easy to read, her expressions, her body language, her eyes…. And right then, her eyes were screaming at him, enraged…and yet in such pain. Like she was being flayed alive.

And he’d done that, made the most precious woman he’d ever known feel such rage and hurt.

But he’d make it right, he just needed the chance.

Just when he didn’t think he could stomach more of the pain in her eyes, she ripped her gaze from him, leaving him feeling all the emptier. Alone.

It’s your own fault, fucker!

Knowing it wasn’t a good time for his plans to succeed—he wanted her alone when she approached him—he turned from her, checked his watch, and headed down the sidewalk to where he parked his bike in front of Bucked Up Ink, a tattoo parlor.The owners were friends of the Unchained, so he knew he could trust his ride to them. Throwing a wave to Buck, the eponymous owner, through the large glass window at the front of the studio, Locust mounted his bike, and pointed his beast toward the little house where all his dreams had begun.

It took him thirty-five minutes to get to Nadia’s house just outside Wilkes-Barre in Kingston, and he parked his bike two blocks over and one block up just to make sure no one spotted him, his ride, and his not so inconspicuous kutte.

Reaching down, he grabbed the equipment he’d stored in his saddle bags, then hurried through the back alleys between the fenced properties that lead to the very back of Nadia’s property. She had a tall wood slat fence surrounding her small but well-maintained backyard. There was a backdoor that faced the yard, and that was his way in. With little effort, Locust climbed the fence, and landed easily in the grass. He waited for a few minutes to hear if anyone raised alarms, but when he heard nothing, he grinned.

He knew from experience Nadia left the backdoor unlocked, thinking that the fence was enough to keep possible intruders out. He couldn’t remember the number of times he’d told her to lock the goddamn door, but now he was thankful she was forgetful.

Turning the knob, he grinned wider when the door opened soundlessly. She was at work, so it didn’t matter how much noise he made, but he couldn’t be too careful; what he was doing wasn’t just illegal, it was morally gray. He grunted at that thought; his lack of morals was what got him into the mess with his woman. Then again, if he hadn’t been such a moral-less dick, he’d never had met Nadia I the first place, and that was absolutely unacceptable. Yeah, he was in the shit right now, but once he cleared things up with her, got her to forgive him, she’d be in his arms, he’d be between those thick, milky legs, andthey’d have their motherfucking happily ever after, just like be goddamn needed.

Dropping the duffel bag at his feet, Locust sucked in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the scent of his woman—lemon, sunshine, and French vanilla.

Fuck, he loved that scent and couldn’t wait to drag his nose across the warm flesh of her belly, and down to the heaven between her thighs, to fill his mouth with the sweet and tangy taste of her.

Shetasteslike French vanilla, too.

At that thought, his cocked thickened, growing hard in his jeans.

“Shit.” Now wasn’t the time.

Readjusting his aching dick and giving it a squeeze, he set to work, his body thrumming with the knowledge that he wouldn’t be apart from his woman for much longer…and that she’d never he out of his sight again.

SEVEN

It had beena week since she’d last seen Locust, and she didn’t know if she should be grateful or suspicious. It wasn’t rocket science to realize that he was following her because his prez wasn’t satisfied with the cellphone she’d given him. He probably thought she was lying, and that she was aiding and abetting her slimeball stepbrother. But what could she do to prove that she had nothing to do with Elijah, nor did she know what the moronic asshole did with the money he’d stolen?

At least she knew Locust wasn’t following her around anymore, not that she didn’t still feel his eyes on her. But when she’d look, she didn’t see anyone. And then there was the weird vibe she got when she was home now. It didn’t start until a week ago, when she came home, got into her relaxin’ clothes, and made dinner. The moment she sat down on the couch to eat…it was like all the little hairs on her body stood on end all at once. It was creepy as hell. She spent that night, wide awake, with all the lights on in the house. Had someone been looking in a window? Had Locust or one of the other Unchained been lurking around her house?

She was anxious all the time, heartbroken, grieving, and yet valiantly trying to move on, to live her life, to just be the Nadiashe knew she could be. And that meant ignoring the ridiculous disappointment she felt when she realized Locust wasn’t following her anymore. Yeah, she realized what a hypocrite she was—angry that he’d been following her, but also pissed he stopped.

Rolling her eyes whenever she checked and rechecked her rearview mirror every morning to see if she could spot his bike, she gritted her teeth and swore under her breath, and pushed on with her day.

Her chest still ached, her heart still reeling from his betrayal, she determined to get the hell over him, and now that he wasn’t popping up around every corner, she could.

Right?

Now, sleep deprived and starving—because she missed breakfast after sleeping through all five of her alarms—she was definitely not in the mood to deal with a bridezilla who was on the warpath because the one florist she’d hired didn’t have the flowers she suddenly wanted two days before the wedding. Nadia wasn’t the event coordinator, but she was still in charge of member services, which meant she was left to deal with the screaming bride while, Janice, the wedding planner, called around, desperately trying to find a local florist with the special orchid the bride absolutely couldnotget married without.

“Ms. Rogers, I can assure you that Janice is doing everything she can to ensure that your wedding day is as beautiful and magical as you’ve always dreamed,” Nadia offered, placatingly. What she really wanted to do was wipe the fifty layers of makeup off the woman’s face, then slap her with the Emerald Greens’ Event contract she’d signed when she’d given the deposit check. “However, you must, per our policies, give all coordinators at least 48-hour notice of any changes to the event.”

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