Page 9 of Treachery

“I work because I can’tnotwork. I like being around people, and I like knowing I’m making my own way. The money is a nice security blanket, but everyone knows three million dollars isn’t going to last a lifetime.” She shrugged. “I make money for day to day, and I save the windfall for rainy days.”

Finally, after long moments of uncomfortable silence, Frost sighed, then picked up the bank statement. Nadia watched as he read over it, his gaze catching on certain things, before he got to the last page of the two-page statement—she’d barely touched the money, so there weren’t many transactions to see. Heaving another sigh, he dropped the statement on the bar, and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as if in pain.

She watched this all, holding her breath, waiting to see if she’d just handed him her means of escape, or if she’d walked herself into her own death.

“Shit,” Frost grumbled, then dropped his hand to the bar. “When did you last talk to your brother?”

Exhaling, she answered, “Eight months ago. He texted, asking for money, and I sent him some.”

“Did he say where he was?”

She shook her head, suddenly angry as hell at her step-brother, again, for bringing her into this mess. “No, and I didn’twantto know. Elijah burned most of his bridges years ago, and the only reason I even looked at the text was because it was an unknown number, and I was waiting to hear from a colleague about work related things, and their number wasn't in my contacts yet.”

“So you’re saying you have no contact with your brother,” Frost drawled, his tone incredulous.

“No, I do not. He’s mystep-brother. His father married my mother when I was twelve. Elijah was already twenty, living away from home, getting into trouble all over town. By the time I was graduating from high school, he’d already been in and out of prison four or five times. Our parents didn’t want him coming around, and when they died in a drunk driving accident, I had to sell the house to cover some of the debts they’d racked up bailing him out all the time.” She’d spent the next six years continuing to pay down those debts, and, more often than not, she’d gone to bed hungry and terrified because some goon in a suit stopped by her trailer looking for her brother or looking for the money he owed them. If she didn’t pay,she’d pay, so she gave all she could, then prayed it was enough until the next time.

For a moment, Frost just stared at her, his eyes penetrating, chilling, digging down to her bones and marrow. What did he think he’d find? She had nothing to hide, unlike the Unchained, who targeted innocent women.

Tapping the bar top, Frost pushed the picture and the bank statement toward her. Hands trembling, she retrieved them, andplaced them back in the box. Remembering what else she had in the box, she pulled it out, and slapped it onto the bar.

Frost’s gaze dropped to it, his expression turning curious.

“This is the only thing I have of his, and the only reason I still have it is because it was shoved in the back of my desk drawer.” Honestly, she was surprised Locust hadn’t found it. It wasn’t like he hadn’t snooped through everything in her house, and she didn’t lock her desk drawers. Probably, he had trouble opening the drawer far enough to get to the back; the drawer got jammed because it was old, the sliders along the side stuck, and she had a bad habit of cramming it full of stationary. She had a thing about colored gel pens….

Frost picked up the old cell phone, flipping it over in his hands. “This your brother’s?”

She nodded. “It was in a box of stuff someone mailed me from an apartment in Erie. He was evicted, and the management was kind enough to forward his junk to me, like I’d want it.”

“What else did you get in the box?” Frost asked, his eyes keen.

“Just some old clothes, shoes, a few bongs, and that cell,” she answered, pointing to it.

Reaching into his pocket, Frost texted someone, then shoved his phone back in his pocket.

“We’ll keep this,” he informed her.

“I don’t want it. I didn’t want any of this—” her voice caught as the press of emotions she’d been holding back formed a crack in the protective wall around her heart and soul.

She was falling apart—she’d shatter to pieces if she didn’t get out of there.

So she could shatter alone.

God, will I be alone forever?

Just the thought of that, of living without ever knowing the beauty and depth of true connection…it tore at somethinginside her, something already too vulnerable. Too battered and bruised. But why would she want to know true connection, if it left her open to feeling what she was feeling now: pain beyond imagining? And who was to say that every man she met in the future wouldn’t just be another Locust, looking for a warm hole to fuck when he got lazy? Would she be able to tell who was real or who was hoping to slip into her bed so he could slip into her wallet? At least Locust wasn’t after her money, just her trust—and he’d stolen it…along with her heart.

Would she ever recover? Could she ever trust her own judgement again? A pang of self-loathing made her jaw clench.

Fool me twice…shame on me….

“Why did you do it?” she asked as the first tear fell. “If you had just asked me about Elijah, I would have told you everything I knew. I have no loyalty to him; he has none for me. You didn’t have to send Locust to charm me, to go digging through my life…to fuck me and make me fall for him so I would tell him whatever he needed to know.”

Somewhere behind her, a “Shit!” in an unfamiliar voice penetrated her thoughts, but she kept going.

“What you did…was cruel. I was innocent, a victim of my step-brother already. You didn’t have to make me a victim of the Unchained, too. Since moving here, I’d only heard good things about your club; you do good work, give to charity, help those in need, protect those who’re in danger, run legitimate businesses, and give back to the community. I never would have thought that men who do charity rides for women escaping domestic violence, would choose to target a woman with your schemes.”

From the pinched look and creeping red on Frost’s face, he didn’t like what she was saying.

---