Eternal Temptations (The Tempted Series Book 6)

by Janine Infante Bosco

  “Looks like our man Vic got the job done,” Jack says pointedly.

  “Did you have any doubt?” I counter, shoving my hands into my pockets. There is a lot to be said about Vic. I myself, have put labels on the man but no one can deny he was a man of his word when it came to business.

  Like everything else, Vic’s last hit was just as epic as his life.

  “Church,” Jack bellows. “Now.”

  Staring at Jack, another powerful ruler, I cross my arms against my chest, watching as his men, dressed in leather, file into their chapel on command. I took in the way his jaw was clenched, the storm plowing through his eyes and his hands balled into tight fists.

  The difference between him and Vic was obvious to my eyes. Vic was a mystery, you never knew which way he was going, what he was thinking, he was calm and cool always, but Jack wore his torment on his sleeve. When the shit was about to hit the fan, everyone knew because he morphed before your very eyes into the Bulldog. His anguish, his anger, his torment was just as visible as the patch sewn into his cut, declaring him the president.

  Riggs reappeared, coming down the stairs with Blackie following behind him, fitting his arms through the sleeves of his shirt.

  “Fucking hell,” Jack seethes.

  “Jack,” Reina scolds, giving a slight shake of her head.

  “What happened?” Blackie questions, ignoring Jack and looking to the plasma screen hanging over the bar.

  “We are live in front of Bennettsville Federal Prison with the warden, Richard Olsen. Warden, can you give us an update on the situation?”

  “As you have already reported there have been two casualties. I can now disclose the names of the two inmates who have died. One is, Owen Richards, and the other is Thomas Gregorio also known as the G-Man. The riot squad is diligently working to secure all inmates back to their cells and safely remove the correctional officers that were on active duty when the riot broke out.”

  “There is a lot of talk about Mr. Pastore and the G-Man being rivals, can you comment?”

  “We have apprehended Mr. Pastore and have brought him into solitary. That is all the information we have at this time.”

  “It’s over,” Blackie says, eyes glued to the screen.

  “It’s just getting started, brother,” Jack corrects. “Chapel. Now,” he orders, before pointing a finger at me. “You. Stay here. Don’t fucking move, Bianci.”

  I glance around the room, spot Reina and Lacey in the corner.

  I left my women to sit with Jack’s women.

  What the fuck?

  I step around the bar, snatch a bottle of bourbon and take a seat at the bar. Lifting my eyes and my glass to the mug shot plastered on the television.

  “Here’s to you, Vic,” I toast, throwing back the shot.

  Victor Pastore.

  The mobster.

  The legend.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “He’s fucking gone,” Blackie comments beside me, glancing down at his left hand, rubbing his thumb over the spot on is finger a wedding band once lived. Slowly, cautiously, his eyes lift and turn to me. “It’s over,” he repeats. “That motherfucker can’t touch another soul.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek as I studied him, trying to figure out if he was asking me or telling me. Not having the heart to burst his bubble I let him hang on to the retribution Vic has given him by killing the G-Man a little longer and turn my gaze to the other end of the table.

  If they were still drunk from the restaurant, they hid it well with the attentive stares they fed me.

  “Where’s Stryker?” I question, tipping my chin to the empty chair in the corner.

  “He went home with some broad,” Linc answers. “Been calling him but his phone is off.”

  “He didn’t have a chance to charge it. I took it from him from the can to the restaurant,” Wolf explains, averting his eyes back to me. “We’ll clue him in but why don’t you do us all a favor and clue us in.”

  “Riggs, pull up the G-Man’s mug shot,” I order, leaning back in my chair, stealing a glimpse of Blackie out of the corner of my eye. His eyes were still transfixed on his ring finger but slowly he comes around, turning those tortured eyes onto me.

  “You’re fucking kidding me, right?” Riggs screeches, sliding his phone across the table at me. “That ain’t no coincidence, Prez.”

  Leaning forward, I reach for the phone but Blackie beats me to it, closing his paw over the iPhone, flipping it over to stare at the G-Man’s photo. Many of us had a lot riding on Vic getting the job done, we were banking on it to clear our consciences, but for Blackie it was closure on Christine’s death. With the G-Man gone, Christine could finally rest easy in his eyes and the burden of guilt would lessen for him too.

  “I fucking knew it,” Blackie spits, dropping the phone onto the table before viciously raking his fingers through his hair. “I’ve been beating myself up, driving myself mad trying to figure out what the fuck Charlie had up his sleeve.”

  “You two assholes better start talking,” Pipe grunts.

  “We’ve been trying to piece together Charlie Teardrop’s connection to Brantley and where his bank roll has been coming from,” I recap.

  “Sending that schmuck into the Bastard’s clubhouse turned out to be a dead end,” Riggs adds. “He cries as much to them as he does to us, always looking for a handout.”

  I turn the screen toward everyone sitting at the table and enlarge the image of the G-Man’s mugshot.

  “Three teardrops,” I reveal, passing the phone to Pipe for a better look. “Just like Charlie’s.”

  “What’re you saying, Bulldog? This motherfucker built his club while being backed by the G-Man?”

  “That’s exactly what he’s saying,” Blackie answers for me. “The G-Man funded the rebirth of the Corrupt Bastards which means he planned something with Charlie, something big, something that would give him control over every operation we’ve taken from him.”

  “This can go one of two ways,” I begin. “Either Charlie will pull a Jimmy Gold, and take control over all the G-Man’s assets and operations, go buck wild and get high on power, trying to turn these streets into his. Or, he will avenge his ally’s death because the G-Man dying wasn’t part of his plan.”

  “Either way, we’re fucked. Charlie and his club will be pushing in on our territory,” Pipe finishes.

  “Everything we’ve buried over the years working with Vic will be resurrected. The drugs will pollute the streets, our streets, and the body count will double in size. I’ve lost one woman, got the blood of a bunch of innocent kids on my hands, not looking for anymore grief, Jack,” Blackie protests, clenching his fists as he closes his eyes and tries to gather his composure.

  “Wait a minute,” Wolf demands, slapping the palm of his hand against the wood of the table. “Wait just a goddamn minute. The mob took out the G-Man, Pastore whacked that son of bitch, not us. How can we be so sure this cocksucker will retaliate against the club? This shit ain’t our gig.”

  “You’re forgetting, Vic didn’t just avenge his underboss’ death by killing the G-Man, he avenged Christine’s too. He made that motherfucker pay for every fucking funeral we were responsible for under Cain’s ruling,” Blackie rasps, pushing his hair away from his face.

  “Even if we’re not the target Vic’s family most definitely will be,” Pipe says pointedly. “And as much as I hate playing nice with them Italians, Vic did what he promised he’d do. He was as loyal to our club as any of us that wear a patch,” he huffs, turning his gaze back to me. “So is that poor bastard outside this door.”

  “You’re giving Charlie too much credit. I don’t think the cocksucker knows jack shit about us being in cahoots with Vic on the hit.”

  “If I was Charlie, I’d want to make a play, a move that both avenged the G-Man’s death and gained me control,” Blackie says, not paying attention to anyone as he works out the thoughts in his head. The room
grows silent and we all watch as his eyes narrow and stare blankly at the table. “I’d look for the common link between the club standing in my way and the organization that killed my ally,” he continues, raising his head and piercing me with a look.

  Glancing around the table, Blackie’s words slowly sink in, not only for me but for everyone sitting around this table, everyone except Riggs.

  “Why don’t I go grab our boy Ronan, send him into the clubhouse to see what the fuck is going on?” Riggs starts as he fiddles with his phone. “Throw that bitch into the fire and see if he comes back with any intel. If the Bastards are looking to strike, their clubhouse will be up in arms with the news coming in that their boy was murdered.”

  We remained silent, causing his head to lift and his eyes to scan all of our grim faces.

  “What? Did I miss something?”

  “If I was Charlie, I know exactly who I’d go after,” Blackie continues gravely.

  “Me?” Riggs screeches. “What the fuck do I have to do with any of this? No offense guys but this shit you’re talking about went down before my balls even dropped!” He shouts incredulously.

  “You married the mob, boy,” Pipe mutters. “Black’s right, this is all you, brother.”

  Riggs’ shoulders slump as he shakes his head in disbelief. It doesn’t take him long to snap, something wild born in his eyes as he glares at me.

  “Tell me what to do,” he growls.

  “Relax, brother,” I try to calm him down, but he slams his fist against the table and rises to his full height, knocking over the chair he was sitting in.

  Don’t fucking tell me to relax,” he shouts, pointing a finger to Blackie. “You lost your wife over this shit and I’m sorry, man, real fucking sorry but I almost lost my Kitten and my kid too. I lost fucking Bones. My people did their fucking time for this club. I won’t let anyone else I love hurt over the fucking patch on my cut.”

  He swallows hard, his jaw ticking with anger as he glares at me.

  “Tell me what to do, Jack,” he insists. “Tell me how I keep them safe from this hell we all chose.”

  Leaning forward, I plant my elbows on top of the table and rub my hands along the scruff covering my face.

  “Tell me!” He shouts. “Or so fucking help me, Jesus, I will just start fucking shooting them motherfuckers until their threats don’t exist, until their blood pours out and their bodies turn cold. Tell me!”

  “Time to make nice with the oil diggers, Richie Rich,” I mutter, pulling my hands away from my face. “You pack up Lauren and the kid and get the fuck out of here until I or any one of the men at this table tell you it is safe for them to come back here.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Dead serious.” I nod.

  “And the rest of them?” He questions. “Bianci’s family, what about them?”

  Pulling off his hat, he throws it onto the table and points to the door.

  “You put me on that man out there, told me to protect him and his family,” he argues.

  “I will handle it,” I say, giving him my word, turning my attention to the nomads across the table. “One of you go grab Ronan, send him to the Bastards and see what he comes up with. The rest of you, eyes open—wide fucking open,” I grunt before looking back at Riggs. “Call the folks, Riggs, and whatever you need to do to get your family out of here you let us know and we’ll make it happen. But before you do that, go get your brother-in-law so we can fill him in.” I slam down the gavel.

  The chairs scrap against the floor as everyone, except Blackie, solemnly move to file out of the room.

  “Bianci,” Riggs calls from the doorway. “Get your ass in here.”

  Bottle in hand, Bianci strolls in and takes a seat across the table from me.

  “You rang?” He questions, narrowing his eyes as Riggs sits to his left and swipes the bottle out of his hand, guzzling bourbon as if it would erase everything we told him.

  Bianci keeps his concentration on Riggs as I proceed to tell him what we suspect will happen with the Corrupt Bastards, and to my surprise he doesn’t even flinch at my words.

  He grabs the bottle from Riggs and taps his hand on the table, demanding his brother-in-law’s attention.

  “You do as he tells you, take Lauren and Eric to your parents’ house and you wait it out. You stick to her and that boy like glue and don’t let anyone fucking near them,” he says, not as a threat but as his brother-in-law, as his family.

  “You hear me?” He questions.

  “I hear you,” Riggs assures, taking another swig from the bottle.

  I watch as Anthony nods his head, accepting Riggs’ vow to keep his sister and nephew safe before he turns his cold blue eyes to me.

  Fucking Ice, no, glaciers, stare back at me like this is my fucking fault.

  “Appreciate the heads up but I ain’t the one who should be sitting at this table with you and we both know that.”

  I hold his gaze as I pull a toothpick out of my cut and shove it between my teeth.

  He’s right but I’m not ready to break bread with Rocco Spinelli.

  “Victor knew this would happen, he prepared for it by putting Rocco in charge of his organization. Now, you need to respect that and get on board before you have a blood bath on your hands, one you can avoid,” he informs, leaning back in his chair as he shrugs his shoulders. “Since, I’m so good at being the go-between, I’ll take you to the boss.”

  Leaning into Riggs, he pulls the bottle from his hand and takes a hefty gulp of the poison, cringing as it burns his throat. He tips the bottle toward me and swallows.

  “But motherfucker you’re driving because I’m wrecked,” he declares, throwing back his head as he takes another shot.

  Blackie turns to me.

  “This how we gonna play this?” He whispers harshly. “I know I said I was all for you giving this guy a chance, but now, at this particular moment, I’m not sure I want to entrust this to him,” he admits.

  “Rocco may have learned how to be a boss from Victor but he’s going to learn how to lead from me,” I declare, pushing back my chair and standing up. “Let’s go, Bianci,” I order, pointing to Blackie. “You take Reina and Lacey home,” I say then turn to Riggs. “Make the call, pretty boy,” I tell him one last time before following Bianci out of the chapel.

  Reina’s worried glance is the first thing I see when I step into the common room, followed by my daughter’s fearful eyes that are pinned to the man behind me.

  I grab Reina’s hand, pull her against me and snake my arms around her waist.

  “I’ve got to head out. Blackie is going to take you and Lacey home and when I’m done I’ll come home,” I tell her, pushing her blonde hair over her shoulder. “Don’t look at me like that, Sunshine…everything’s all good,” I lie.

  “Parrish, I know that look and you…it’s not fine.”

  “It will be, I promise.”

  Reluctantly she stares back at me as I bend my head to kiss her but her mouth doesn’t respond and I lean back to better assess her, watching as she chews on her lower lip nervously.

  Oh, hell.

  “Maybe we should postpone the wedding,” she suggests, biting back the frown that’s fighting her mouth.

  Without hesitation, I take her face in my hands, bending my knees to be eye level with her, I shake my head.

  “Listen here, Sunshine, ain’t nothing stopping me from marrying you,” I vow, determination laced heavily with every word. “Not a thing,” I repeat.

  “As long as you’re sure,” she says softly, closing her hands around my wrists before touching her lips to mine.

  “Never been sure of anything in my life but I’m sure as hell marrying you.”

  And I was.

  Come hell or high water.

  I was marrying Reina DeCarlo.

  Nobody, no war, nothing would stop me from making her property of Parrish.

  Except death.


  And I’m not dying anytime soon, there’s a lot of life left inside this body, a lot of good buried under the bad and I want the chance to give the good to the people who deserve it. Reina, Lacey and that baby I’m going to love, that baby is my second chance.

  I kiss Reina again, putting a sliver of that good into it, hoping it’s enough to ease her fears. I give Lacey a hug, promise her both men in her life will stay safe and finally, I lock eyes with Blackie.

  We got this, brother.

  Riggs, Anthony and I drive over the Verrazano Bridge to the Todt Hill section of Staten Island. Bianci instructs me to turn onto Circle Drive and the gated mansion comes into view. Conveniently the front gate is open leading to a winding cobblestone driveway and a massive entryway. I park my truck haphazardly next to the Maserati, leave the engine running but throw it into park before I jump out of the truck.

  I slam the brass knocker against the door and ring the bell three times. I count because it’s taking forever for Riggs to drag a drunk Bianci out of the truck. The door opens as Riggs gets Bianci to stand upright and I am greeted by Rocco.

  “What can I do for you Parrish?” He questions, tugging on the knot of his tie. I study him for a moment, take in the draining look in his eyes, the dark circles beneath them and five o’clock shadow outlining his features.

  “Rough night, boss?” I taunt.

  “What do you think?” He clips, glancing over his shoulder at Bianci. He’s got his eyes pinned to Rocco as he snarls.

  “Better be up for the challenge, cuz,” he sneers.

  “Yeah? What challenge might that be?”

  “The one I’m here to deliver to you,” I say, interrupting their pissing contest. “Vic put you in charge for a reason Spinelli, more importantly he sent you to my doorstep for one purpose and now that purpose is clear. Vic knew the consequences, fuck, he expected them that’s why he made Bianci bring you to my club, it’s why he asked me to stand with you and not against you. Vic wanted me to deliver my new ally a message and so, here I am. This city, my city, is about to become a fucking war zone now that the G-Man is off the streets. You want a place in my streets, do as I say. Your only job now is to protect Vic’s family, not his organization. Nothing else exists except for his wife, your aunt, and your cousins. Forget making scores, climbing the ranks and ordering hits. I’m telling you that shit don’t matter. Your sole purpose, your number one priority is making sure everyone in Vic’s circle keeps breathing.”