The Tempted Series: Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  “Whenever you’re ready Blackie,” Jimmy crooned.

  More silence.

  A slap.

  More silence.

  “There you go,” Jimmy said. “Just a little more,” he added. “All done.”

  Something fell and sounded as if it rolled across the floor. It was so quiet that for a moment I thought they left until there was another voice.

  “All good,” he drawled.

  “I’ll be in touch,” Jimmy said, before I heard the legs of the chair scrape across the floor. I stilled, listening as their shoes danced across the wood, before the door opened and closed. I waited a moment, making sure they were really gone before I turned and stepped back into the common room.

  I quickened my pace when I spotted Blackie hunched over the table.

  “Blackie?”

  He lifted his head, and that’s when I noticed his sleeve rolled up, a yellow band knotted around his arm and a needle hanging out.

  “Oh my God,” I rushed to him but froze in my tracks when he bent his head, pulled the needle out with his teeth and spat it onto the table. He proceeded to untie the knot over his arm and let the rubber band fall to the floor. He lifted his blood-shot eyes to me, baring his tortured soul in his gaze.

  “Earned your keep, Reina,” he slurred, swaying slightly in his chair as he lifted his ass and pulled out a keyring from his back pocket. “My car is out front, Ford Expedition. Go find your man,” he said, throwing the keys in the air.

  I caught the keys in the palm of my hand and took a step closer to him. “What about you?”

  “Just go,” he mumbled, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes.

  “I don’t know where to go,” I said hoarsely.

  “Try the house,” he offered, his words becoming less clear as he continued. “Kid’s birthday is today, on a mission to join him like he is every year on this day.”

  I watched as he laid his head on the table, opened his eyes and stared at the needle, a lone tear falling down his cheek.

  The men of Satan’s Knights were living in Hell regardless of who tried to save them but it wasn’t up to me to heal all of them, just the one that claimed me. Just my Jack. I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat leaving one tortured biker to rescue another, praying to God I wasn’t too late.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It’s a distinct moment in one’s life when they realize they’ve found a person who makes them whole, a solitary moment in time, you never forget. The moment I pulled in front of Jack’s house and spotted his motorcycle in the driveway, I released a breath I wasn’t aware I had been holding and it dawned on me. I could live without Jack, been doing it for twenty-eight years, but the missing piece, the part of me I thought was lost in the fire, actually wasn’t. I hadn’t found that missing piece until Jack. It didn’t matter what I had seen, what his club was about or the things he had done that were horrible, he was my missing link. You don’t throw that away no matter how imperfect. No, when you find that, and only the lucky ones do, you hang onto it with all you have.

  Blackie’s warning rang in my ears, a reminder that the man who stole my heart, was hurt, damaged beyond repair, and looking for a way out of this crazy world. I have endured loss, mourned a mother I barely knew, grieved for my grandparents, and lived through the wounds of Danny’s death but I never lost a child. I couldn’t imagine how that weighed on a parent but I could imagine the guilt and knew that could work a person over. Imagine a person that was ill. I didn’t know the extent of Jack’s illness but I was sure being a manic-depressive didn’t work for a person who lived life haunted by the loss of a child.

  I ran up the front steps, my heart in my throat, scared of what I’d find but determined to be the one that healed him. I knocked on the door, rang the bell, and called his name. He didn’t answer, and I felt the tears surface.

  Please let me be the one.

  Please don’t let me be too late.

  I tested the doorknob, lifted my eyes to the sky and thanked God it was unlocked.

  “Jack?” I called, slamming the door behind me, my eyes taking in the living and dining rooms. The place was so tidy the last time I was here, making it obvious that Jack barely visited his home but that wasn’t the case now. The frames that lined the mantle of the fireplace were gone, shattered in a million pieces, decorating the wooden floor. The picture that had once hung over the buffet was gone, displaying a gaping hole in the Sheetrock but that wasn’t the only one. The walls that were covered with pictures, sconces, art, were all bare except for the holes that marked them. I took a closer look and noticed there was no Sheetrock on the floor, that the holes weren’t fresh but had been merely covered by the decor.

  “Jack,” I hollered, my voice cracking as I peeked into the empty kitchen. Not wasting another second, I hurried up the stairs and opened every door in the hallway. He wasn’t in his bedroom or the bathroom. Lacey’s bedroom empty as well.

  I froze, my hand still on the doorknob of the last room, as I braced myself for what I’d find. I prayed to God and slowly turned the knob. Peering my head into the room I took in the pale blue walls and the sports themed border that spanned the room. There was a toddler bed on one wall, perfectly made with a comforter matching the rest of the theme. There were toys on the floor as if a child had just dumped them out and played with all of them. The blinds were closed, the room only lit by the television. I lifted my eyes to the screen, a frozen image of a video. The screen illuminated by a baby in front of a birthday cake.

  Such a beautiful boy.

  I tore my eyes from the baby’s face and stepped further into the room toward the glider that sat cornered in the room, the back facing me. I walked around the chair as the television came to life and the people in the video sang happy birthday to the baby.

  A breath escaped my lips, a sigh of relief as I took in my Jack—the torment etched along his face and the gun he held to his temple. My sigh lost its way and was replaced by a gasp. His eyes fixated on the screen and tears streaming down his cheeks.

  “Jack?” I whispered, stepping in front of him, blocking his view of the television.

  His eyes met mine but I was lost to him, just an object, an obstruction to the view he craved.

  “Move,” he yelled.

  Blow out the candles, Junior. I heard a voice boom through the speakers of the television.

  Jack’s voice.

  Come on, baby. You can do it! Lacey help your little brother. I heard Jack continue on the television.

  In a blink of an eye the barrel of the gun moved from his temple and toward me.

  “I. Said. Move,” he shouted, eyes wild as his finger wrapped around the trigger of the gun.

  “No,” I whispered, my heart pounding in my chest as I stared at him. “Give me the gun, Jack.”

  He was on his feet in a flash and I subconsciously took a retreating step backward as he closed the distance between us and placed the gun to my temple.

  “You think I won’t shoot you? I said move the fuck out of the way,” he roared.

  I blinked rapidly forcing myself to stay calm, fighting back the tears that threatened and lifted my hand to his cheek.

  “Let me help you,” I pleaded.

  “You going to bring that boy back from the dead?” he questioned, pointing the gun toward the screen behind me, his eyes softening as he stared over my shoulder at his son. “You can’t help me, only he can,” he ground out, his gun falling to his side as he stepped around me and moved to the television, his trembling fingers reaching out to touch the screen.

  I wiped at my cheeks as I watched him cock his head to the side, staring at the screen as it went black.

  Video over.

  His head bowed in defeat, his grip tightened on the gun as he wept.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he mumbled.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I said adamantly, walking to stand beside him. “Tell me about your boy, Jack, introduce me to him, share him with me,”
I pleaded, bending my knees to peer up at him.

  He stared at me blankly and I wasn’t sure what to do. Should I reach for him or let him be, push him or give him a minute?

  “Did you and his mother know he would be a boy or was it a surprise?”

  “We knew,” he whispered.

  I smiled a little, reaching out to touch his hand.

  “I bet you were so excited,” I said, interlocking our fingers and squeezing his hand.

  Stay with me.

  “Was he a good sleeper?” I continued.

  “He was perfect. Everything he did was just perfect,” he recalled, his eyes dropping to our hands.

  It’s okay to be broken.

  “What was his first word?” I asked, reaching for the gun with my free hand.

  “Dada,” he whispered, closing his eyes as my hand closed around the barrel of the gun.

  “He would’ve been fifteen today,” he said, exhaustion in his eyes as he lifted them to mine. “Missed thirteen birthday cakes, never got to blow the candles out on his own,” he continued. “Not fair, Reina. It’s not fucking fair,” he cried. “I’ve cheated death a thousand times and I don’t understand why he couldn’t.”

  “No, it’s not,” I agreed, as he glanced down at the gun we were both holding now. I dropped his hand from mine and lifted his chin so his eyes found mine. “Do you believe in God, Jack?” I asked.

  “No,” he replied.

  “I do,” I whispered, as I shrugged my shoulders. “Sometimes,” I corrected. “Times like this I believe in God,” I continued. “God is watching over your son, Jack. He’s saved him from all the ugly things we see every day. I know you don’t want to hear it and my words won’t mend your broken heart, but Jack is safe. He’s happy, and he’s free, free to look in on his family, free to explore without injuring himself. He can do whatever he wants. He’s invincible. He’s the superhero little boys dream of being,” I said, brushing away his tears with my free hand. “I bet he loves checking in on his dad, and when he sees his favorite superhero of all I bet he smiles as wide as he can.”

  “I’m nobody’s hero, Reina,” he muttered.

  “That’s not true. I’ve seen the way your daughter looks at you, Jack, you’re everything to her—the man she will measure every other. And you are your son’s hero, believe that, trust it, because that little boy wants you to know that surviving the things you had no control over is what badass superheroes are made of,” I said, watching his eyes glisten and tears trickle out the corners. I took a deep breath as I stared into his eyes. “You’re my hero,” I whispered. “You’ve rescued me from my own hell without even trying.”

  His eyes peered into mine and for a moment I saw the struggle reflected in them, the fight against doubt raging with admitting to the truth. His fingers loosened around the gun and I took the opportunity to ease it away from him. He let the gun fall into my palm, pulled his hands back before lifting them to his face.

  This beautiful man, tortured, tormented and exhausted by his guilt and the scars marking his soul resigned from his madness. I gently placed the gun on the dresser and turned back to him, his head in his hands.

  “Let me help you, tell me what I can do,” I said, placing my hands on his shoulders.

  He moved his hands from his face and for the first time since I came to him, he really looked at me. I wasn’t an object or someone who stood in his way. I was his sunshine.

  Sunshine.

  “I’m tired,” he murmured, defeated.

  Dropping to my knees, I took his hands and urged him onto the floor with me. I leaned my back against the toddler bed and patted my lap.

  “Lay your head down,” I said.

  He looked at me skeptically, before maneuvering himself onto the floor and wrapped his arms around my waist as he rested his head on my lap. I glanced down at him, ran the back of my hand over the stubble that lined his jaw and bent my head to press a kiss on my wounded warrior.

  “Close your eyes,” I whispered against his lips.

  “Like looking at you,” he mumbled. “Look like an angel sent to rescue the devil,” he added.

  “You’re no devil, Jack,” I stated. “Close your eyes,” I repeated, as I ran my fingers through his hair. “Dream of your boy,” I said, clearing my throat before I started to sing a lullaby. I meant to sing it to the man who needed healing, but I sang it to both the man haunted and the son lost, hoping that sweet boy heard my voice.

  “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You’ll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away,” I sang softly, watching as Jack struggled to keep his eyes open, slowly letting them close.

  “In all my dreams, dear, you seem to leave me. When I awake my poor heart pains. So, when you come back and make me happy, I’ll forgive you dear, I’ll take all the blame,” I hummed the tune softly, forgetting the rest of the words and when his breathing labored and sleep fell upon him I sang the chorus again, whispering in his ear how much I loved him.

  Today I believed in God.

  I stared into the green eyes of the young man wearing the baseball hat, the smile on his face temporarily repairing my heart that’s been broken since the day he left this world. Then he said the words that would permanently heal my soul.

  “I’m okay, Dad,” he whispered. “I’m safe now.”

  He turned around and walked into the light beckoning him away from me as I heard the faint sound of a woman’s voice as she sang the sweetest lullaby.

  You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I opened my eyes, blinked against the darkness and tried to focus. I was laying on the floor in Junior’s room, my head in Reina’s lap and hers perched against the toddler bed. I was hurting all over, and I could only imagine how she must’ve felt. Carefully, I moved off her, my limbs like lead as I sat up. I reached out and brushed away the hair from her face and swallowed against the lump lodged in my throat before I moved to sit beside her. I glanced around my boy’s room, trying to filter through the fog and recall my actions from the night before. It was like holding my head under water, trying to breathe.

  Bits and pieces came to me, the cemetery, the holes in the wall downstairs, sitting in the chair watching Jack blow out the candles on his first birthday cake. I remembered holding the gun to my temple and then she came—pulling me slowly away from my hell and bringing me back to life. I looked back at her and couldn’t help but wonder why she stayed. Why she didn’t run for the fucking hills when she saw the destruction I was capable of.

  I repositioned myself, gently lifting her into my arms and carried her toward my bedroom. I hadn’t brought a woman into my home since Connie. Sure, as hell never brought someone into my bed, but Reina belonged in my bed. She belonged in my home and she belonged in my fucking life. Anyone who could put up with my shit deserved a goddamn medal. She deserved more. She deserved anything I could give her.

  She barely stirred as I laid her down on my bed. I felt something tug inside of me, an unfamiliar yearning, and as I brought the covers up her body I realized what it was. I wanted to take care of Reina. Not because she was mourning my brother, not because she was some damsel in distress but because she was strong enough not to need someone to take care of her. She most likely didn’t even realize her strength or her courage—she just pushed through, kept moving forward whenever something tried dragging her down.

  She sighed, stretching her body before her eyes fluttered open and groggily met mine.

  Realization must’ve set in because her features became more alert as she sat up and studied me closely, concern etched into her face.

  “Hey,” she whispered, reaching out and touching my cheek. “You okay?”

  I lifted my hand, wrapping it around her wrist and offered her a smile as I nodded.

  “Yeah, Sunshine, I’m all right,” I assured her, taking her hand from my face and lacing our fingers together. “You’re t
ired, why don’t you get some rest?” I asked huskily.

  “Jack…”

  “Reina, last night…”

  “Stop,” she interrupted, placing a finger to my lips to silence me. “Look, if you want to talk about what happened that’s fine but if you feel the need to explain yourself you don’t have to.”

  She caught me off guard with her words.

  “I don’t?” I asked, never wanting to discuss my illness before but feeling compelled to do just that.

  “No, Jack, you don’t. I don’t need an explanation. I mean I’d like more insight as to what goes on with you so I can help but only if you’re ready,” she stated.

  “Don’t know why you stayed, but real glad you did,” I admitted honestly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. I leaned over, my elbows on my knees and rubbed my face tiredly.

  “Leaving you isn’t an option for me,” she whispered. I felt her move behind me, felt the dip in the mattress and then felt her warmth against my back. She placed her hands on my shoulders rubbing her thumbs into the knots she found. “I’ll stay with you until you tell me to go and even then, I’ll fight you because there is no place else I’d rather be.”

  She leaned over my shoulder, pressing soft kisses against my neck and I felt my guilt rise to the surface.

  “You…” She whispered against my skin. “You’re my guy, Jack,” I dropped my hands from my face and straightened my back, glancing over my shoulder at the beautiful soul who wasn’t vowing to change me or try to fix me. In that moment I saw the woman who accepted me—broken and all. I’d be a fool to let someone as good as her, someone as fucking pure as her, slip through my fingers. I was no fool.

  Or maybe I was the biggest fool of all because I would lose her once she realized I was Danny’s brother.

  But I had her now.

  “It doesn’t happen often, the medicine usually helps control my moods and levels me out,” I explained willingly, as her hands stilled at my shoulders. I turned slightly, taking hold of her hips and dragged her onto my lap. Her legs wrapped around my waist as I brushed her hair from her face and continued. “I didn’t take my medication yesterday,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “Is that why I had an episode? Probably not, it would’ve happened with or without the meds, but still, I chose not to take them because I wanted to remember. I wanted to be back in that state of oblivion, the same way I was the day Jack ran into the street and was killed,” I admitted, giving her my truth. I was too much of a coward to give her the truth that would free her of me.