Chapter 6
SIX
Nadia grimaced at the look on her best friend’s face; it was a cross between constipated duck and belligerent moose.
Vicki Epply was one of the first people to befriend Nadia when she moved to Wilkes-Barre, and got a job at Emerald Greens in Abington Heights near Clarks Summit. Vicki was the head of housekeeping, and her job was demanding and sometimes thankless, but she was a badass boss lady who took the shit from the club members, did the job, and didn’t let it ruin her day. She was a ray of freaking sunshine most of the time, shy, a bit of an introvert, but she’d fuck shit up for people she loved, especially her twelve-year-old daughter, Sylvia, who—according to Vicki—was the only good thing that came out of having sex with her ex. Vicki engendered trust and devotion, because she was loyal and thoughtful to her friends and family.
And Nadia couldn’t thank the woman across from her enough for her friendship and support over the last three years.
“Say something,” Nadia squeaked, twisting her hands in her lap.
Vicki slowly shook her head, her eyes shimmering with unshed angry tears.
“You should have told me days ago!” Vicki demanded, slamming her hand down on the bistro table. They were having lunch at Clarks Street Grill, a small but popular, indoor/outdoor restaurant abutting the busy main street. Nadia had asked Vicki to meet her there, knowing she couldn’t keep avoiding her bestie, especially since hiding in her office at work or clumsily rushing into the coat closet when she saw Vicki coming was starting to rankle. She was frustrated with herself for being such a coward. Vicki wouldn’t hurt her, she’d be angry, but then she’d mount a posse to go hunt down Locust for a good ol’ fashion hangin’. Vicki was sweet as a fuzzy Mogwai most days, but she could flip a switch and become a crazy ass gremlin when it came to liars; she hated liars.
And Locust was a big, fat liar.
“I know, but I was devastated, Vic, I just needed….” Nadia swallowed thickly, reaching for the ice water with lemon on the table in front of her. She barely took a sip before Vicki reached out, planting a gentle hand on Nadia’s wrist.
“I’m sorry, hon, I know I get a little worked up, and that’s why you kept throwing yourself into coat check like a crazy person whenever you saw me coming….”
Nadia grinned sheepishly.
“But I really am sorry that asshole hurt you, that his intent was to hurt you all along,” Vicki murmured. Meeting Nadia’s gaze, she offered her a soft smile. “How’re you doing, really? Girl’s night? I can have Jerry watch Sylvia Friday night. We can do margaritas and The Witcher until we’re seeing three Henry Cavills—one for both of us.”
Raising an eyebrow at her friend, Nadia snorted. “What about the third one?”
Vicki smirked wickedly. “He can watch.” She wiggled her eyebrows, making Nadia snicker.
God, it felt good to laugh, even if it was half-hearted. After she’d overheard Locust and he’d torn the heart from her chest at his words…she thought she’d never breathe again, that she’d never see the sun again, that her heart would never beat again. She was mostly right.
It hurt to breathe because she couldn’t shake the words she’d heard that morning; they kept repeating, over and over, slamming into her brain no matter what she was doing, no matter what she did to occupy herself. She’d be standing at the reception counter at work, inputting data for the daily report, and “once she gives me what I need, I’ll dump her” would fill her thoughts, stealing her breath, crushing her spirit. Draining her of all the strength she’d mustered to leave the house that morning. The man had used her, violating her body and her home—her safe space—out of duty to his club. Not once had anything he’d said or done been real.
Getting out of bed every morning…a bed she’d shared with Locust for months, was like pulling against hooks embedded in her skin, trying to drag her back onto the mattress that still smelled of him—motor oil, cedar smoke, and aged whiskey. But she couldn’t stay in bed all day, even if her body and mind wanted to give up, lay down and stay down, because she had a life to live, one she refused to let anyone take from her.
Even if her heart still stumbled every once in a while, especially when she thought she saw him in the distance, around the corner, in the crowd, in the next aisle at the grocery store, or standing outside of her house in the shadows just on the edge of the light from the streetlamp.
But she didn’t believe her eyes, because she knew her heart was aching for him, and her mind was conjuring up what the heart wanted just to survive the day. Her poor, confused heart. It had really believed that what she’d had with Locust was real, that it had finally found its mate, that it had the irrevocable, fabled connection she’d only read about in romantasy novels.
It had all been make believe, that’s for sure, unfortunately it had all been all too real to her, because her real life was affected.
Shake it off, get out from under this…don’t let him break you.
And she wouldn’t. She’d endured the pain of losing both her parents, her home, and the betrayal of friends—the ones who saw her fat check and came in blazing, their hands out for a handout. And she’d survive this betrayal, too.
Nadia forced a smile. “A girl’s night sounds great, though let’s do margs and Supernatural . I’m in the mood for Dean Winchester hotness.”
Vicki grinned, nodding. “Hell, yes. Jensen Ackles is my hall pass.”
Furrowing her brow, Nadia remarked, “But you’re single; you don’t need a hall pass.”
Vicki waved away Nadia’s words. “Single in reality, but you already know Henry Cavill owns my heart.”
For the first time in too long, Nadia threw back her head and laughed.
Her aching heart lightened a little; the knowledge that not all of her joy had been sucked from her body was a relief.
Smiling when the waiter brought out her chicken salad sandwich and side salad, Nadia thanked him and gazed down at her plate, thankful for the extended lunch she’d taken in the guise of a head of department meeting. As head of front desk and concierge, and with Vicki as head of housekeeping, they’d often taken longer lunches to discuss business. Today, however, their extended lunch had nothing to do with work and everything to do with Nadia’s need for her friend.
Her mouth watering, Nadia looked down at her plate—as if pricked with a thousand needles, something like awareness of danger brushed against her senses.
Someone was watching her.
Lifting her head, her gaze immediately landed on someone she never thought she’d see again, someone she’d hoped to never see again.
Liar.
There he was standing there on the sidewalk, barely bothering to hide the fact he was watching her like a fucking creeper. God, why couldn’t he be ugly? Why couldn’t his outsides match his insides—festering and hideous? But noooo , he had to be sexy as hell, standing there, thick arms crossed over his broad chest encased in a black t-shirt as tight as a second skin, showcasing every taut inch of his chest and torso. His long, muscular legs were spread, the material of his well-worn blue jeans barely holding together at the seams, because the man was big all over—she fought the urge to drop her gaze to his crotch, where she knew he was exceptionally big. Swallowing, she flicked her gaze to his face, his eyes dark and trained on her, his head covered by his usual black bandana, and that delicious dark scruff on his jaw….
Yes…he was a beautiful man, but he was wrong, all wrong for her. He’d hurt her all the way down to her atoms, rewriting her code, twisting her, reshaping her, until she was a wholly different woman, one who lost the ability to trust…to love. He’d mutated her, like a living, breathing toxic bath, drowning her in it.
And she’d never forgive him for that.
Struggling to contain the rage and sorrow and grief and hatred that hit her one after the other, Nadia forced her gaze back to her plate, her appetite gone.
Locust stumbled and nearly fell, barely catching himself in time before he collided with the Mercedes parked in front of where he’d been hiding for the last fifty minutes.
Watching.
Nadia had smiled, and two things happened simultaneously; his lungs seized up, and all the blood in his body abandoned his brain to flood his cock. He nearly blacked the fuck out, and all she did was fucking laugh.
But that wasn’t all she did…not to him.
That was the first real smile, real laugh he’d seen since he’d started…following her.
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 that Locust leave Nadia alone, but that order didn’t say shit about her coming to him , or contacting him first. 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, and they’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.
She tastes like 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.