Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
She didn’t know what made her look, but there was something on her periphery that made her turn to look at the trees along the sidewalk outside the bank. She’d needed to order more checks, but the website had been down, and so she’d had to trek over to the bank twenty minutes from her office to order them before her lunch hour was up.
Nadia was glad she’d looked because she would have missed seeing him otherwise.
Stunned, she blinked, shocked that the image of him didn’t dissipate.
“Elijah?” she called, both wary and relieved, her voice heavy and yet wispy at the same time. “Is that you?” He wasn’t the best step-brother or person in general, but he was still her only remaining family, so seeing him was like a kick in the chest.
Her step-brother, a man she hadn’t seen in person in three years, slunk out from behind a tree, his tall, skinny frame accentuated by his clean, but worn, baggy clothing, and the way he’d shoved his hands into his pockets. His shoulders were up by his ears as though he were making himself look small, his overlong, dark brown hair curled near his jaw, and a face that was once so much like his father’s was now gaunt, a sickly white, and there was a yellowish bruise on his cheek and around his eye.
“Nadia,” he mumbled, his blood shot brown eyes filled with so many emotions, she was dizzy with it.
“Elijah,” she said again, grasping her purse strap and holding it tightly, her gaze flicking around, checking to see if one of the Unchained was around. “Are you…are you okay?” Lord, she sounded like an idiot. “I mean…why are you here? Last I heard the Unchained fixed your mobster problem.” She couldn’t help but sneer. She wanted to ask him what the hell he’d been doing getting involved with drugs, then stealing money, then working for gangsters, but she knew that people who needed a fix were willing to do anything to get it.
Elijah stepped out of the shadow of the tree, she could see him better. He looked…tired. Older. Worn out. He was only thirty-five, but he looked twenty years older than that.
“Red has a tracker on me…if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m not here to hurt you, Bug, I’m here to talk to you about something.”
Bug. That’s what he’d started calling her when they first met. At first, she’d thought it was cute because she’d been in a ladybug and butterfly stage, but once he’d told her he called her that because she bugged him, it wasn't so cute anymore.
“Don’t call me that, Elijah. If you’re going to be an asshole, just leave; I’m already pissed at you enough as it is,” she grumbled, remembering that it took her two days to clean up the mess he left of her closet. “You owe me for wrecking my stuff.”
Elijah seemed to curl further into himself, and she couldn’t stop the surge of remorse. Shit.
“Yeah, I do owe you…and I’ll make it up to you, I swear,” he offered, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, like he was trying to shrivel up and disappear. “I just…there’s something I need to do first—but I wanted to talk to you.”
Sighing, she sensed his sincerity, something she’d never seen in him before.
“Fine, let’s sit there.” She indicated a bench a few feet away and headed toward it. She sat down, and when he sat down next to her, she tried not to cringe at the scent of stale sweat. Once both of them were seated, she knew she only had so much time left before she had to get back to work, but she felt that this—him approaching her—was something that needed doing. For them both.
“Go ahead,” she prompted, “what is it you need to tell me?”
Elijah slumped, his shoulders high, his head low, and his hands were in fists on his knees.
He sucked in a slow breath, lifted his head, and met her gaze.
Remorse, self-loathing, anger, regret, and sadness—it all hit her in the belly, making her gasp.
“I wanted to tell you I’m sorry—and not just for what I did to your closet.” Rubbing at his face, he sighed. He was silent for a moment, and she remained quiet, sensing that he needed this. And she’d give it to him. “I’m sorry that I was such a shitty brother to you, Bug—I mean—Nadia. I’m sorry that I was such an asshole to you growing up, and my only excuse was that I was jealous of you.”
She scrunched up her face, confused. “Jealous? Of me? Why?” She was truly flabbergasted.
He chuckled without humor. “When my dad first got with your mom, I was excited about having a sister; I’d been an only child, and the idea of having someone closer in age, who’d be my friend…it was appealing. Then Dad brought you home, and you were this bright, happy, sweet thing. I felt like you were clean and good, and I was ugly and dirty?—”
“What?” she gasped. She pressed a hand to her chest. “Elijah, that’s not true?—”
“Come on, Nadia!” he effused, his eyes glittering with unshed tears. “I’d already been up to my neck with trouble, in and out of juvie three times, and then this goodie miss two-shoes comes along, all smiles and glitter, and I felt like a piece of toe jam stuck in some hobos ass crack.”
She shook her head, disgusted at the image he’d created—about himself.
Nadia opened her mouth to disagree, but he raised his hand, shaking his head.
“I know how I was, sis. I was a jealous asshole, and it only got worse when I started hanging with CJ and his crew. They got me into petty crimes, drugs, and CJ’s cousin, Marcus, introduced me to the Bone Dogz. They were a one percent club back then, all the blow, booze, and bitches I wanted….”
She held her breath, waiting for him to continue. If Evander Bengwell had a problem with her being late from her lunch hour, he could kiss her ass. Elijah was her family, and in that moment, they needed each other.
“I wasn’t thinking about you when I stole that money from Mad Dog, and even before then, I wasn’t thinking of you when I took those pictures….”
The pictures, she knew, were of documents Elijah had stumbled upon while he was running drugs for the Souci’s in New York City. He’d taken the pictures, thinking he could use them to blackmail the mafia family for more money. When they’d sent goons after him, he’d fled, hiding the phone. Then he got with the MC in Erie, got more addicted, more reckless, forgetting about the phone for two years, until he ran into an associate while on the lam from the Bone Dogz. Elijah realized getting the phone back was the only way to save himself. Unfortunately, the apartment where he’d left it had been emptied, and when he traced his belongings to her, he broke into her house to get it back.
“Are they…still after you?” she asked, terrified of the answer.
He shook his head frantically. “No, no—your friends took care of that. Red got the pictures off the cell, and let the Family know I wasn’t a problem for them anymore.”
She furrowed her brows; there had to be more to it than that.
“How’s that possible? They went from wanting you dead to just letting it slide?”
Elijah dropped his gaze, scratching at his shirt sleeve, under which, she was sure, were track marks.
“The club vouched for me, promised that I’d get clean, and that I’d never say a word about what I saw.”
She pursed her lips, realizing what he’d said.
“Get clean?”
For the first time, a new emotion glimmered in his eyes.
Hope.
There was hope in Elijah’s eyes.
“Your man…he got me into a program in the Poconos at Mountain Strong. A facility that works with people addicted to drugs and other vices. My other vice is gambling…but you know that.”
Speechless, she could only breathe out, “What?” Her man. Locust. He’d helped her step-brother, the very man he’d betrayed Nadia to find. The man he’d wanted to kill not more than two weeks ago. That Locust?
Shaking her head in dumbfounded disbelief, she asked, “How did he help you?”
His eyes glowing, his smile growing, Elijah replied, “He knew someone who knew someone who could get me past the two-year long wait list. One of the Unchained is driving me up there in two days.”
Mountain Strong Rehabilitation Center…she’d heard of that place—anyone who worked around rich, entitled people with more money than morals would hear about rehab centers—and she knew it couldn’t possibly be cheap. Sure, she could pay for it, but?—
“How you’re paying for it? Are you using the money you stole from the Bone Dogz?”
Elijah snorted, his cheeks turning pink. “Er…uh, that money is long gone, sis.”
“Then how?—”
“Your man is paying for it. Said he got the family discount, or some shit like that.”
Locust got a family discount ? What the hell did that mean?
Something buzzed in Elijah’s pocket, and he pulled out an old Motorola flip phone from the 1990s.
“Shit…Horde wants me back,” Elijah muttered, his expression sheepish. He looked at her again, his eyes growing sad. “I really am sorry, Nadia. For everything. And once I’m done at rehab, I’ll come back. I’ll build you a new closet, or something.” He grinned, looking, for the first time in years, like the young man who’d first hugged her, when Jack brought her home.
Without a word, Elijah yanked her into his embrace, gripping her tightly against his wiry chest. God…it felt good to hug him, to know he was alright, safe, and that he was doing something good for himself. Something right.
Something he couldn’t to do without James’s help.
They parted then, him back to the clubhouse, and her back to work. And during the twenty-minute drive back to Emerald Greens, Nadia couldn’t stop thinking about what it all meant—why had Locust…James…helped Elijah?
And what did that mean for them?
Locust tried like fuck to ignore Frost’s glare from across the common room, but it was getting more and more difficult. The man was pissed that Locust had defied him, but once Locust had explained why he’d gone to Nadia’s house—the break in—Frost couldn’t say shit about it. Then again, the man was still steaming from his wife finding out about how Frost had ordered Locust to seduce Nadia. To say that Emily was still pissed was an understatement, but Locust didn’t have the mental bandwidth to deal with Frost’s personal life as well as his own.
After Horde and Tornado had finally snagged Ratchet on his way out of the casino, they’d brought him to the club house where he spent 72 hours detoxing—the hard way. Once he showered, downed some beef stew and three bottles of water, he was more than willing to tell Locust why he’d broken into his sister’s place and ransacked her closet. He had been looking for the phone, and the reason why nearly made Locust strangle the asshole with his own intestines. They’d known the fuck-face was into it with the mafia, but they hadn’t known he’d tried to blackmail them.
It had taken every connection Locust, Tornado, and Frost had to get a sit down with Matteo Souci and discuss that fuck, Ratchet, and it had taken promises in blood, and nearly $200,000 of Locust’s money in palm greasing, to get the Souci’s to “forget” all about Elijah Tate. Once that was done, Locust took his time “talking” to Ratchet, and once that was done, they sat down with a couple of Cokes and Locust told him how it was going to be.
Surprisingly, Ratchet agreed with everything, even going so far as to demand to talk with Nadia on his own. Locust didn’t like the idea of him seeing Nadia alone, but he understood—on a personal level—what it would mean for Ratchet’s recovery. Redtube kept tabs on Ratchet, making sure the ass wipe didn’t run off, and that he didn’t do anything shitty to Nadia during his chat with her.
Waiting for that night when Nadia would finally be in his place was like watching the clock tick down to midnight on Christmas; he was giddy as fuck, but he was also terrified that she wouldn’t show up. He knew he’d hurt her, and he deserved to never have a second chance with her but, fuck , he wanted one.
And what he wouldn’t give for a total do over…though he’d never want to do over their first night together. The first time he tasted her on his tongue. Even now, his mouth watered for her….
“Oh, God, James!” she called out as he wrapped her legs over his shoulders. Fuck, she was a goddess, spread out before him like a wicked offering to her worshippers. But she would only ever be worshipped by him, her loyal, dedicated, faithful acolyte—and he’d bow before her for the rest of his life. His goddess. His woman.
Thrashing her head from side to side, Nadia wailed, “James, I can’t—I can’t ? —”
He couldn’t wait another minute—he leaned down and licked her clit, circling it with the tip of his tongue, taking her taste, her nectar into his mouth. She cried out, and he groaned, intoxicated on the heady mixture of arousal, womanhood, and a flavor that was wholly Nadia. Fuck, he could eat her for every meal.
“Fuck, baby, you taste so good,” he said, moaning into her swollen folds as he continued to feast. She writhed beneath him, her fingers clutching chunks of his hair as she mindlessly held him in place, thrusting her sweet, hot pussy into his face as he thrust his eager tongue into her tight hole. He felt the walls of her pussy undulating, and he knew she was close. “That’s it, baby, give it to me. Come in my mouth, give me your pleasure!”
As if on command, she screamed, her body jerking and pulsing as she came. Cum spilled from her soaking wet pussy, and he swallowed every drop, lapping up all she gave like a man dying of thirst.
Boneless beneath him, she moaned as he crawled over her, notching his rock hard, aching cock at the entrance to Heaven ? —
A hard punch to his arm tore him from his memories, and he turned and growled at the motherfucker who ruined his fantasy.
Tornado stared at him, a single golden blond eyebrow arched in a “what the fuck are you gonna do?” expression.
Tornado opened his mouth to speak, but the sound of the clubhouse door slamming open made them both turn to see a visibly enraged Redtube stomp across the room, headed toward his bedroom, a bedroom he hadn’t been sleeping in for months. The man had been noticeably distracted lately. Though he hadn’t slipped in his duties yet, it was easy to see that something was on his mind. He didn’t speak a word about it, though, and since Locust had his own drama, he wasn’t going to ask. Not his circus, not his monkeys—or whatever the fuck. Unless it directly affected the club, he’d keep his nose out of it.
Shaking his head, Locust turned back to Tornado, and groused, “What the fuck do you want?”
His silver eyes intense as fuck, he said, “Never seen you look so broody. The girls not doin’ it for ya?” The ass lifted his chin, indicating the three club whores—Marci, Kiki, and the one who’d been cozy with Frost in his office—chatting and giggling in the corner. Locust hadn’t given them a single millisecond of his attention.
Glowering, Locust fought the urge to back hand the fucker. “I haven’t touched a club slut in months, and you fucking know that.”
Tornado smirked, though it looked strange on this usually stoic face.
“You get the specs for the engine for that Low Rider El Diablo yet?” he asked, going right into business like he hadn’t just offended Locust’s sense of integrity.
Once again, shaking his head, Locust replied, “Yup. Gonna start work on it next week.”
From there, conversation went from engines to the Phillies, and finally Tornado headed out to meet up with some chick he’d met at Cool Hands the night before.
Alone once more, Locust checked the time, cursing.
He still had three hours to kill before Nadia would be at his place.
Did I clean? Do have enough to drink? Anxiety made questions spin in his head until finally he headed out, wanting to make sure everything was 100% perfect for Nadia’s first time in his place.
Everything needed to be perfect, because if he had any chance to get his woman back, he needed to pull out all the stops.
All of them.