Page 10 of Treachery

Well, fuck him!

Swiping at her tears, Nadia snatched the bank statement and picture from the bar, dropped them in the box, slammed on thelid, and slid away from the stool. She was ready to break, to fall to pieces, but she couldn’t to it here; she couldn’t allow herself to be vulnerable surrounded by those who’d hurt her for their own gain.

It would never happen again, she determined, but her traitorous mind flashed images of a grinning Locust behind her eyes. He’d seen her at her most vulnerable, he’d lain beside her in her bed, listening to her speak of her dreams, her fears, everything that made her who she was.

And he’d been a knife at her back the whole time, waiting for the chance to plunge the blade into it. He wasn’t first to use her for what he could gain, but God, his betrayal hurt the most.

“Once she gives me what I need, I’ll dump her, bathe in a vat of acid, then come here, get drunk, and fuck someone who actually knows how to pleasure a man….”

God, he hadn’t even wanted to have sex with her; he’d found her repulsive, but he was so goddamn loyal to the Unchained, he’d closed his eyes, imagined he was banging some clubwhore, and did his duty. She’d thought he was making love to her, but he was silently hating her—only someone who hated her would be willing to do what Locust had done.

“Now, let’s not go speaking about things we don’t know shit about,” Frost growled, standing to his full height—which was massive compared to her five-foot-six.

“Prez,” a voice barked from behind her, a voice she recognized to her soul. “What the fuck is going on here?”

Nadia could feel him come up behind her, and when he went to put his hand on her waist, she jerked away.

He cursed. “What the hell happened?” She didn’t know if he was talking to Frost or her, but she refused to look at him to find out. Shecouldn’tlook at him, at those eyes and that smile that had lured her in, that had fooled her with his false faces.

FIVE

Locust had just pulledin through the gates of the compound when his cell dinged with a text. He’d spent the morning looking for his woman, but she was nowhere to be found. If she’d answer his fucking calls or texted him back, he’d get to see her, touch her, then smack her ass until it was red for ignoring him for going on seven fucking days!

He’d driven by her house, but her car wasn’t there, so he’d gone to Emerald Greens, that bougie country club where Nadia worked the front desk, but everyone took one look at him in his jeans and kutte and dismissed him. The lady behind the front counter—her nametag read Brittani—gave him “fuck me” eyes, but when he’d asked about Nadia Thompson, she’d curled her lip at him, told him Nadia was off that day, then proceeded to flirt with him—like he just hadn’t asked about another woman.

A woman who owned every goddamn inch of him. Remembering the last time they’d been together…how she’d touched him, kissed his chest, abs, and then took his hard cock into her mouth…then she’d ridden him until they were both yelling each other’s names into the ceiling. He hadn’t come that hard before in his life. And he was determined to get inside her again as soon as fucking possible—if he could fucking find her.

He parked his bike right as his cell dinged again, and he pulled it from the pocket in his kutte, hoping it was a certain blonde.

Reading the screen he cursed; it was a text from Redtube telling him that Frost had texted and wanted Redtube and Locust to get their asses to the common room. He didn’t say why, and Locust didn’t bother asking because he was right outside.

Dismounting, he headed inside, immediately catching sight of Redtube standing just inside the door, his hands planted on his hips, his face in a glower—and the man could glower. It wasn’t until he glanced across the room that he realized something was definitely fucking wrong.

He’d been looking every-fucking-where for Nadia, but she was at the bar with a pissed off looking Frost.

What the fuck was happening?

Concern and anger in equal amounts suffused him, making his heart stumble. Striding across the hardwood floor, he stopped by Nadia, his gaze pinned to her profile, his eyes taking her in like she was a fountain of cool water, and he’d been dying of thirst. Desperate to feel her skin against his for the first time in too long, he reached out to touch her for the first time in seven days.

She flinched and jerked away from him, stunning him for a moment, before his gaze snapped to Frost’s. Not once in the time they’d been together had Nadia rejected his touch—she’d all but begged him with her words, her hungry gaze, and her flushed, curvy body. And he’d given her everything she’d begged for, because he’d wanted it just as badly as she had, if not more. Never in his life had he felt such a connection, such chemistry and attraction to a woman, and he’d be damned if she took that from him now.

But something was very wrong.

Frost was red-faced, his chest puffed out like he was ready to tear someone’s asshole out.

What the fuck?

“What the hell happened?” he growled, and Frost gave a shake of his head, which told Locust fuck all.

Beside him, Nadia tense as fuck, spoke, “Now that our business is concluded, I’d appreciate it if you and your club stayed away from me. I don’t want to seeany of youever again.”

He was struck by her tone first—cold and flat, like he’d never heard it before—but then her words landed on his chest like a ton of bricks.

“Nadia?” he croaked, unable to breathe through the panic rising into his throat. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

She didn’t even bother turning to look at him when she burned him to ashes with her next words, “Congratulations, Locust, you can take that acid bath now, then you can fuck whichever clubwhore you want. Mission accomplished, you fulfilled your club duty, and now you never have to get drunk to fuck the fat, ugly prude.”

Without another word to anyone, Nadia turned and walked from the clubhouse, not looking back once.

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