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  Traitorous Heart, #1

  Traitorous Heart, #2

  Traitorous Heart, #3

  TRAITOROUS HEART

  Volume 4

  Breena Wilde

  Breena Wilde Books

  www.breenawilde.blogspot.com

  COPYRIGHT

  Traitorous Heart: 4

  Copyright © 2014 Breena Wilde

  Breena Wilde Books

  Kindle Edition

  This book in its entirety is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard word of this author.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written consent of the author, Breena Wilde, P.O. Box 1408 Bountiful, UT 84011.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the creation of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover by: Steven Novak www.novakillustration.com

  Edited by: MJ Heiser www.cleanleaf.weebly.com

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to rock star groupies and to those who thought life would turn out one way, but it ended up totally different.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Afterword

  About the Author

  Breena’s Books

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Special thanks to my awesome cover artist, Steven Novak. To my editor at Clean Leaf Editing, Mary Johnson Heiser. To Timi Heiser for the lyrics, and especially to my family. You’re all rock stars to me.

  Sex with a rock star + a murder = Katie Jayne’s life.

  Summary:

  Griffin is supposed to be leaving. He and his band Crushed Velvet have a meeting in L.A. with Warren Records.

  Birdy is still in jail, accused of murder.

  Katie cares for them both and wants them to be happy, but the deeper she digs the more she learns about the people she thought she knew, and it isn't pretty. It's traitorous, in fact, and Katie isn't sure how to handle what she discovers.

  Except maybe by losing herself in Cage Devereux’s embrace.

  TRAITOROUS HEART

  Volume 4

  CHAPTER 1

  Katie

  My first coherent thought was the jackhammer pounding somewhere nearby. Or, no, it wasn’t close. The noise came from inside my head. At the realization the noise banged harder.

  I worked to recall what’d happened last night: I’d gone to The Attic. Met Cage there. Griffin and I fucked in the girls’ bathroom.

  Remembering the two of us together lit my thighs on fire. The Rock God knew how to make my body melt¸ moan, and feel amazing.

  He and I had gone back to the table. Cage and Griffin introduced themselves to each other. It’d been like watching two roosters vying for the same set of hens. They crowed and beat their wings. It was horrible.

  After what seemed like forever, Griffin took off to perform another set, leaving Cage and I alone.

  The waitress came by to take our drink order. The cruel twist of her lips should’ve been a warning, but how was I to know she had information about Griffin? The waitress had smirked and told Cage and I the news. Griffin was taking his band to LA.

  Despair ate at my insides, even though I had no right to feel that way. We weren’t together as a couple. We were just two people who enjoyed fucking each other. I tried to tell myself that over and over.

  By the ninth shot I started to believe it.

  As I lay in bed, begging my stomach to forgive me, I knew it was a lie. For me, Griffin was more than just a great fuck.

  I moaned, rolling on to my side. I needed to get ready, but the movements made my stomach churn. My head spun. Swallowing the gravel in my throat, I moved so I lay flat once again, sticking one foot over the edge of the bed: a trick I’d learned in college to help with the morning after hangovers.

  My throat was scratchy and my tongue had swollen to the size of Texas. I needed some water. I needed a shower. There was work to do, like prove my best friend, Birdy, innocent.

  I opened my eyes and immediately knew I wasn’t in my own room. “What the hell?” My heart thundered as though it were waking the dead. The light fixture in the center of the high ceiling was fancy, way fancier than the regular light in my room.

  “You’re awake. Good.” Cage spoke from somewhere out of sight.

  My pounding heart stopped. Froze like ice.

  I was with Cage.

  At Cage’s house.

  Where the fuck was that?

  How did I get here?

  Had Cage and I— I couldn’t finish the thought. The idea that Griffin and I… And then Cage and I… In the same night. “Oh, God.” I was positive I was going to puke all over myself.

  Over the years I’d done many embarrassing things—like the time I walked into a courtroom with my skirt tucked into the top of my black thong underwear.

  But this was… it wasn’t even embarrassing. It made me sick. I wasn’t that kind of girl. And Griffin had asked me to stop by his apartment. He said he needed to talk. Even with a hangover I figured he’d wanted to tell me about LA. But I hadn’t gone to his apartment. I’d gone home with Cage.

  Whore, I told myself. My breathing picked up. Sweat prickled along my hairline. “I’m going to be sick,” I panted.

  Cage came into view, his exquisitely handsome features scrunched in concern. “Hang on.” He lifted and carried me into the bathroom.

  I jumped out of his arms, slid to the porcelain white toilet, and hung my head in shame over the bowl as I dry heaved.

  From behind I heard water running. Then wringing. “I’ve got a cold washcloth. I’m going to apply it to your neck.”

  Another spasm of sickness wracked through my body. Cage pushed my hair off my back and placed an icy cold washcloth against my neck. I immediately felt better.

  “How’s that?” he asked.

  I nodded, grateful something so simple worked so well. “Better.”

  “There’s a new toothbrush sitting on a pair of workout shorts and a tank over on the counter. Take a cool shower. It’ll help. You can change into the clothes and then come into the kitchen. I’ll whip you up a secret family recipe that’ll settle your stomach.”

  He left before I could respond, closing the door behind him. I sighed, grateful he was gone. The idea of talking to him, looking him in the face, and saying even a single word made my stomach sick again.

  Finally, I stood and went to the sink, where I washed my hands and rinsed out my mouth. I looked like hell. My eye makeup was streaked down my cheeks. My eyes were bloodshot. My hair would’ve made the perfect rat’s nest. And my clothes… Holy shit. I wasn’t wearing any.

  Without thinking I glanced around. I’d been wearing my favorite blue silk shirt and a black skirt. All I had on now was my black bra and matching lace panties.

  “Great, and he’s seen you naked.” I focused my atte
ntion on opening the plastic and cardboard around the toothbrush. When I got the damned thing open I brushed my teeth, paying special attention to my tongue. After swishing some mouthwash, I felt a little better.

  Escape, I thought. It was at the top of my list. I didn’t want to be there a second longer. Cage had said I could shower and, while that sounded great, I wanted to do that at home. Still, I would borrow his clothes since I couldn’t find my own. And I needed to call a cab.

  “Where’s my fucking phone?” I turned in another stupid circle. The bathroom was nice-sized. The floor and walk in shower were made of black quartz. The countertops were a stark contrast of pristine white. The double sinks were brushed silver. Black and white towels hung on the racks. A remarkable black, white, and gray plant decorated the top of a cabinet. The cabinet doors were frosted glass, making it possible to see what was behind them.

  But neither my clothes nor my purse were nearby.

  I racked my brain to remember how I’d ended up at Cage’s. We’d drunk a lot. I’d been flirty, but not overly so. There had to be a clue. As a glanced at my reflection I knew I wasn’t going to find it in Cage’s bathroom.

  I needed to get the hell out of there. I pulled on the baggy black shorts and the matching black tank, then I opened the door.

  His bedroom was even classier than his bathroom and decorated in the same color scheme: black, white, and gray. The king sized bed wore a gray silk comforter and matching pillows, and was made; no evidence that I’d been sleeping there just a few moments before. Dark cherry wood tables stood on either side of the bed, topped by brushed pewter lamps with white shades. One side had a black alarm clock. I scanned for my clothes or my purse or my shoes. They weren’t there, which meant we probably got naked in another room. I was too mortified to be embarrassed. It was beyond that.

  CHAPTER 2

  Katie

  I opened his bedroom door and peeked out. At that exact moment, Cage lifted his head from whatever he was doing in the kitchen. “Hey.”

  I needed a hole, a deep dark crevice where I could hide for eternity.

  “This is almost ready.” He smiled.

  I grimaced, moving out of his bedroom and into the living room.

  The kitchen was directly across from where I stood. In between was a large sitting area with two contemporary gray couches and overstuffed chairs in bright yellow and white. A large black wood coffee table rested in the center.

  Cage was in the kitchen, chopping and pouring different items into the blender.

  Like a hot chemist, I thought.

  Except he wasn’t a chemist. He worked for Birdy’s dad. A lawyer.

  “Cover your ears,” he said, turning on the blender.

  I did, but the noise infiltrated my skull. Focus on other things, I thought breathing deeply.

  Personal decorations were sparse. There were no pictures of family or even a girlfriend.

  Cage wore a crisp baby blue shirt and a red power tie. His cropped dark hair was combed perfectly. He’d shaved. Basically he looked like a GQ model who’d had eight hours of sleep the night before. Certainly not a man who’d been drinking tequila shots all night.

  Jerk!

  I needed to find the front door. A few steps encased by a brushed silver rail led up to a door. A coat rack stood beside it, an umbrella in the stand. That had to be the exit.

  I bolted for it... But stopped. I needed my purse, my shoes, my fucking clothes. “Do you know where I left my purse… and my clothes?” I asked when the blender went off.

  Cage poured whatever he’d been mixing into a tall glass and came over. “Don’t you remember?” He thought he was being charming, but I wasn’t in the mood.

  “No. I don’t.” I thought it might be a good idea to let him know up front that I didn’t remember a damn thing after drinking at The Attic. “What time did we leave the club?”

  His mouth popped open. “You can’t recall one of the most incredible nights of your life?” He handed me the glass. “Your words, not mine.” He shrugged. “Last night was great for me too, Mrs. Devereux.” He winked.

  “What?” I glanced at my ring finger. It was empty. Thank God. I took the glass, even though I had no intention of drinking its contents. It was dark red, like blood. My stomach churned. Cage was rubbing in what’d happened last night. “You’re cruel and I’m in no mood for playful banter.” I pulled on the door handle but it was locked.

  Cage touched my elbow. “Dandelion, nothing happened.” His demeanor changed to sincerity. “Now drink that.” He pointed to the glass. “I promise it’ll help you feel better.” He walked over to a closet and took my purse from off a shelf. “Here’s your purse.”

  “And my clothes?” I asked, bringing the liquid to my nose and smelling. It stunk something awful.

  “Oh, don’t smell. Just drink it.” He tucked my purse under his arm, like it belonged there. It definitely matched. Now that I could see the bottom half of him, I noticed he wore black dress pants and shiny black shoes.

  “I don’t think I can.” I wrinkled my nose.

  “Chug it. The whole thing. Don’t think about it, just do it.” He forced the glass toward my lips.

  I smirked but did as he said. It was thick and had a slight tomato, Worchester, slimy raw egg feeling. When it was gone I shuddered, forcing myself not to think about what I’d just put in my body. I handed him the glass.

  “I should go.”

  He took the empty glass and went to the sink, where he rinsed it out.

  “My clothes?” I asked again.

  After he’d cleaned and dried the glass, he looked up. “I sent them to be dry cleaned this morning.”

  “What? Why? I would’ve done that.” I couldn’t leave yet. Cage still had my purse under his arm.

  He shrugged. “I was sending out my stuff and thought I’d send yours as well. No big deal.”

  “I’ll pay you back.” I reached out, indicating he should hand over my purse.

  Cage held it out. “You want this?” His gorgeous, un-bloodshot eyes twinkled with mischief.

  And he’s back to playful, I thought.

  I moved to grab my purse, but he yanked it away at the last minute.

  “Real mature, Cage.”

  He chuckled, then stuck it out again. I hesitated, but only a moment. When I went for it again, he didn’t move. I yanked it away.

  I unlocked the door and pulled it open.

  “Nothing happened last night, Dandelion.”

  I wanted to believe him. Closing the door, I turned back. “Promise?”

  “If you and I ever have the opportunity to be together like that I want you to remember it. Call me cocky, but I’ve no doubt you’ll enjoy every second.” He smiled.

  I returned his smile with a genuine smile of my own. So relieved. My legs suddenly felt like they were made of rubber. Up until I’d gotten so sloshed I didn’t remember anything, he and I had been having fun. He was easy to talk to, probably because, even though he was hot as hell, I hadn’t placed him in the Rock God category. It made him more approachable. “That’ll never happen.”

  I could see by the look on his face that he didn’t believe it. I glanced down. I needed my shoes. New York with shoes was fairly dangerous. Without shoes? That was just asking for trouble. Who knew what I’d catch. Last night I’d been wearing high-heeled black ankle boots. They wouldn’t look good with the oversized basketball shorts and tank, but they were better than nothing.

  “My shoes?” I asked.

  He went to the same closet my purse had been in. My shoes were standing on the dark wood stained floor that covered the whole apartment. Cage picked them up and handed them over. “Why don’t you let my limo take you home? It’ll be better than riding in a cab. If you want to change and get… presentable…” He winked. “You could ride in my limo to the courthouse.”

  I’d spaced Birdy’s hearing. “Shit. What time is it?”

  He looked at the silver watch on his wrist. “It’s only eight thir
ty. You have plenty of time.”

  A loud beep interrupted him. Cage went to the short wall next to the door and pushed a red button. “Yes?”

  “Your limousine has arrived, Mr. Devereux.”

  “Very good. Thank you. I’ll be down in five.” He let go of the button and went to the same closet my shoes had been in. He took out his briefcase and a suit jacket, which he carefully laid over the arm holding the briefcase. “Ready?” he asked when he reached the door.

  I slid on my boots. “Yep.” I might as well take him up on his offer. I certainly wasn’t rolling in the money. The ride would be nice.

  We walked to the elevator in silence. The complex looked new. Inside the elevator Cage pressed the L for lobby. I realized we were on the top floor. There were fourteen. Swanky.

  Cage leaned in. I smelled his aftershave. It was subtle. I thought, Yum.

  “That’s the sexiest damned outfit I’ve ever seen on a woman,” he whispered, even though we were alone.

  “Whatever,” I said, lowering my head to hide the fact that his words had me blushing.

  “Serious. My shorts and tank have never looked better.” His eyes grazed over my body. Slowly. Deliberately.

  I pulled on the shorts. They were so baggy they almost looked like a skirt. The only reason they were still on was a string used to tie the waist tight.

  “Sexy,” he reiterated.

  I shook my head. Whatever, I thought.

  The elevator reached the bottom and dinged, then opened. We walked through the beautiful yet simply decorated lobby. As with his apartment, the furniture was contemporary with small pops of color. Bright yellow chairs. Gray loveseats. A dark cherry wood desk. The man who told him his limo was ready said, “Have a good day, Mr. Devereux.”

  “Thanks, Sam.”