“Where is who?” Blackie responded calmly.
“The daughter!”
“How the fuck should I know. She wasn’t here when I got here,” he said.
“What are you doing here?”
“What the fuck is it to you?” Blackie growled.
“Don’t play games with me Petra. I asked you a fucking question.”
“You know I’m getting sick and tired of you all up in my business, Gold,” Blackie sneered. “First you walk in on me getting head and now you charge in here when I’m looking for Connie,” he added.
I knew in that instance why my father shielded me from his world. It was ugly and unapologetic.
“Connie. That’s Jack’s wife.”
“Ex-wife,” Blackie corrected.
“You have a thing going on with Jack’s ex-wife?”
“What? You going to sit there and tell me you haven’t thought about banging Grace Pastore from time to time? I saw Vic’s old lady, man, she’s quite the piece of ass, even at her age. Tell me, how many times have you tapped that shit?”
There was silence.
So very ugly.
So very unapologetic.
“Come on Gold, tell me. Oh, you poor bastard you never got a taste did you?” Blackie continued.
“Shut him, up!” The other voice roared.
“Come on, man…” Blackie started.
“You’re going to understand something Blackie. You and your club aren’t calling the shots anymore. It’s time to teach Jack Parrish who the fuck the boss is, and it’s time for you to become my puppet,”
“Not the needle. No more drugs, man,”
“But this is what you want. This is what you know. You said so yourself,” the man taunted.
I heard Blackie groan and my heart shattered into a million tiny pieces. I closed my eyes and pictured his face, the pain that was always so evident in his features, and the tears escaped from the corners of my eyes.
“That’s it, all done,” the cryptic voice said.
Silence.
Then a thump.
My body shook as I envisioned the scene beyond the door.
“Grab him and let’s go,” the man ordered.
I heard Blackie moan one last time before I heard nothing at all.
I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out.
He’s gone.
You lost him before you ever had him.
He will finally go to the one he wants.
The one he loves.
The one he misses.
Christine.
You’ll never have him.
Hang on to the smile.
Hold tight the kiss.
It’s all you will get.
“Shut up,” I begged, dropping the gun on the floor and lifting my hands to my ears. “Shut up,” I repeated over and over again as my maker teased and tormented me.
He only came here because your father sent him.
He sacrificed himself because he wants to be reunited with her.
You’re nothing to him.
He doesn’t care.
Stupid, stupid girl.
I opened my eyes and glanced down at the gun as my mind continued to race, speaking all the cruel things my maker told it to.
He gave you his gun.
You should’ve helped him.
You should’ve opened the door and shot the man before he could hurt him.
But you didn’t.
You did nothing.
Just like you did nothing to help Jack Jr.
I lifted the gun from the floor, my hand trembled as it wrapped around the trigger. Tears cascaded down my face as I cried for my brother, for Blackie and for the two people I sat back and didn’t protect. I lifted the gun to my temple.
If anyone fucks with you, shoot them. Don’t fucking think, just shoot them.
“Lacey!” Someone shouted in the distance.
I ignored my name being called, closed my eyes, and allowed the memory to drive my courage to pull the trigger.
“No, no, no,” my dad cried. “Lacey, call 911!”
I remained perfectly still, watching as my dad held my brother’s lifeless body in his arms. Blood poured from the back of his head, staining my father’s jeans as he rocked him softly and screamed up at the sky for help.
“Lacey? Baby is that you? Where are you?” My father’s frantic voice shouted, pulling me away from my memory, away from my demented head. He already watched one child die. This was my chance to do something for someone I loved. This was my chance to save him and spare him the mess of my death. I lowered the gun to my side and kicked the door over and over again until it flew open.
I wailed, charging out of the closet, tripping over my own feet as I tried my hardest to get to my father. He turned around as I ran from the master bedroom and into his arms.
I was out of control, out of my mind, hanging on by a thread.
“It’s okay, daddy’s here,” he said, soothingly. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised.
Blackie.
I pulled back, trying to gain control, sobbing hysterically as I rambled.
“They took him. He was here and I wouldn’t listen to him…I told him to leave…that I didn’t want to see him but then they broke into the house. They took him,” I shouted, mixing the events from earlier when he came and with the visit that just transpired when he handed me the gun. The gun I was poking into my father’s chest.
I glanced down at the gun, spreading my fingers wide and allowed it to drop from my hand.
My dad’s eyes remained on me as he kneeled down and retrieved the gun.
“Slow down,” he coaxed, lifting the gun. “Blackie gave you this?”
“Yes,” I said through my sobs. “He gave me the gun and told me to go hide in the closet.” I dropped my head into my hands, groaning as I relived the horrific sounds of Blackie signing over his life to some faceless monster. “I heard him tell them no, I heard him beg them not to put the needle in his arm and then I heard nothing.” I dropped my hands from my face and stared at my father. I wanted him to tell me it was okay that Blackie would be okay and that he would make things right. But staring at him, seeing the look of defeat, the same look he had as he held my brother’s body, I realized this was just another day in the life of Jack Parrish. He was used to the turmoil, the violence and, the death. This all came as naturally as breathing did.
I stared back into my dad’s eyes.
Dark.
Unapologetic.
This was the life of the Satan’s Knights.
Welcome.
Chapter Seven
“I Christine, take you, Dominic, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do us part,” she vowed, her eyes shining back at me as she smiled.
I couldn’t stop staring at her. She always looked beautiful whether she was wearing sweats or nothing but my cut, but put a wedding dress on her and she was the most gorgeous girl I ever laid eyes on. And me? I was the lucky bastard who got to marry her.
“I Dominic, take you, Christine, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do us part,” I said, glancing at priest. “Can I kiss her now?”
The best day of my life.
A new beginning.
The beginning of the end.
You wanted me to visit you, but I’ve never really left you, have I? How could I when you won’t let me…
I heard her voice but couldn’t see her. I needed to see her. I needed to look into her eyes just one more time so I could memorize all the features fading from my memory. I heard muffled voices, a man and a woman bickering, then I felt the sting on my cheek. I knew that burning sensation— someone was fucking with me, laying their hands on me.
Christine’s voice sounded in my head.
Open your eyes.
“I
sn’t that right? Tell her how you’re a pussy who can’t bring himself to take his own life,” the man said. “Tell her,” he shouted.
I matched the voice with the face and forced my eyes open. I could barely hold my head up as I tried to focus my eyes on him.
“I’ll tell you whose life I’m going to take,” I slurred.
Fight!
It was like we were sixteen year olds and I was fighting some punk ass kids in the school yard, while she stood behind the gate, shouting at me to fight.
I tried to grin but I couldn’t feel my face. Still, I kept my eyes on Jimmy Gold as I promised to kill him.
“Yours,” I promised.
And I would kill him. I’d fucking make it my life’s mission to make this motherfucker suffer.
“Feeling bold are you? Maybe we should fix that,” Jimmy crooned.
Fuck you.
I closed my eyes to stop the room from spinning and I heard Christine’s voice calling out for me.
Blackie, I want you to listen. For once in your life please listen to me.
Where was she? Why couldn’t I see her? I need to see her.
Just one more time.
Her voice faded, leaving me in silence until I heard Jimmy shout. I was torn in two, one half of me willing to succumb to the oblivion the drugs provided, the drugs he injected into me. The other half struggled against the poison, reminding me I had a duty to my club and to Jack. I needed to fight.
Fight.
No one fights harder than you.
For what? What am I fighting for if you aren’t here?
Her. The girl you’re trying so hard not to fight for. The girl you won’t let in but the one that can make you better. Fight for her.
My eyes opened wide as Jimmy reared his hand back and slapped Reina across the face.
Stupid prick.
“YOU SPEAK TO ME WITH RESPECT,” he yelled.
“He will kill you,” I slurred, fighting with whatever strength I had left to keep my eyes trained on him. “Joke’s on you, Jimmy,” I managed.
That’s it, stay in the game. Keep fighting.
“What’re you talking about?” Jimmy laughed.
“She’s not some whore we take chance a piece on,” I said, licking my dry lips as I tried to form a grin. “You just laid a hand on the president’s old lady.”
“What’s he saying?” he asked Reina. She turned her head toward me and I closed my eyes, working up the strength to give her a nod.
“He’s saying you’re fucked,” she said. Then she called him a pussy and so help me God if I wasn’t half dead I would’ve laughed.
“In case you haven’t realized you’re tied up at my mercy, the only one who is fucked is you,” Jimmy sneered. I guess she insulted the motherfucker. “Well, maybe not quite yet but we can fix that,” he continued, before snapping his fingers. “And I know just the person to give you one last fuck,” he said, turning around and smiling as his eyes met mine. “It’s brilliant!”
I lifted my head as he stalked towards me, kneeling in front of me before he cupped my chin and forced me to look him in the eye.
“You want to play me, try to fool me? I’m no one’s fool. What was it you said? That you were just having a go at her before Jack came and finished her off? Yes, I believe that was it,” he said proudly. “Going to make your lies become your truth,” he warned. “And that’s how we’re going to deliver my demands to Mr. Parrish,” he released my face and turned to his henchmen. “Let’s go boys, need to set the mood!”
I drifted out, falling into the darkness that beckoned me. His voice loomed in the air. His threats and his promises echoed off the walls as I remained paralyzed by the drugs, unable to defend, to fight, to wage war against this motherfucker.
I became incoherent to whatever he said next as everything faded to black.
“Don’t lay down and die,” a voice whispered, but I was too far gone to decipher if it was Reina’s voice or the ghost of my dead wife.
In the darkness I searched for her, desperate to see her one more time, hopeful that if I did it would erase the image of her lifeless body in my arms. I’d kiss her one more time and her lips wouldn’t be cold like they were the last time they touched mine.
“Christine? Chris! We have to talk,” I shouted as I stalked through our apartment, searching for her. I needed to fix this shit with her, needed to know how deep she had become with that douche bag Brantley. I prayed to God I wasn’t too late that she didn’t turn her back on me, that she didn’t give me or my club up to the cops and more than that I prayed she didn’t give up on us, on who we used to be before I became Satan’s soldier.
Before I sold my soul to the devil.
I heard the water running in the bathroom and started down the hallway, glancing down at the water that saturated the floor. My boots sloshed through the water as I followed the stream to the bathroom and watched as it poured from the saddle of the doorway. I lifted my hand, tried to turn the doorknob, but it was locked.
“Chris!” I shouted, pounding my fist against the door.
Nothing.
I didn’t hesitate as I took a step back before charging forward, driving my shoulder into the door, tearing it off the hinge with hardly any effort. I pushed the door out of my way as the water made its way past my boots. I turned my head and then I saw her.
My world stopped.
She was faced down in the tub, her arm dangling over the edge with a needle hanging out of it.
“No, no, no,” I cried, pushing my legs through the water before bending down and lifting her body from the tub. I dropped to my knees, holding her as the water continued to run, overflowing the bathtub, drenching me. I turned her over so, her face was visible and noticed the shade of gray her skin had already turned.
“Oh, God,” I whispered as my eyes filled. I blinked through the tears, clearing my vision so my eyes could do a sweep of her body, hoping to find a shred of life left. My eyes fell on the needle still sticking out of her arm, the rubber band tied tightly around her bicep.
A nightmare.
I was living a nightmare, the same one I inflicted on the parents of those young kids that overdosed on my product. Did they find their children with my needle still in their arm? The blood stopped flowing for those kids but the poison stuck. Their hearts stopped, but the needle stayed.
Just like the woman in my arms.
The one I vowed to love, honor, and care for all the days of my life.
Until death do we part.
Until now.
I bent my head, closing my mouth around the needle and pulled it from her arm with my teeth, spitting it onto the floor.
My needle.
My product.
I untied the band from her arm before leaning back against the wall of the tub and cried.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered to her, leaning forward to kiss her ice-cold lips.
I woke, thrashing violently as the nausea worked me over and I vomited.
“Blackie, look at me,” Reina pleaded.
So this isn’t hell.
I’m still fucking here.
“Look at me, damn it,” she ordered.
There was nothing left, yet still I felt like I needed to get something up. I dry heaved over and over until my body calmed down and I could turn my cheek, wiping my mouth against the leather that covered my shoulder.
I lifted my beady eyes to Reina’s.
“You’re okay, you just need to remind yourself you’re okay,” she said, softly.
I closed my eyes.
I was okay.
But why?
Why me and not her?
I opened my eyes, blinking as I focused my attention on Reina.
“I’m not a junkie,” I whispered.
People can change whether it’s a choice or a result of circumstance… it’s possible. Picking out a grave, figuring out the words to carve into my wife’s headstone, deciding what she would wear when she was laid to rest, those were the th
ings that forced me to change. I did the detox thing, suffered the withdrawals, thought, I was dying, prayed for it... but it never came. God didn’t spare me and take her. He made me the survivor but he didn’t grant me any favors. He knew the game he was playing when he took her and left me here. He spared her from me, granted her peace, leaving me behind to suffer without her.
Life.
It was his revenge on me.
Live.
Breathe.
A burden bestowed on me from the almighty maker of heaven and earth. Life wasn’t some divine gift, it was my punishment.
“I know,” she said. “Why is he doing this to you?”
“Because I deserve it,” I admitted, turning back to her.
Jack will lose it if anything happens to her. He deserves some kind of good after all that shit he suffered. Losing your mind is one thing but losing your child is a whole different story. That man lived a lot of life, did a lot of penance and finally was granted his divine gift and I was staring at her. I wanted to do my job, to be able to protect the club, and protecting the club meant protecting its property and Reina? She was property of Parrish but reality set in and it settled fast. I didn’t have the strength to save her in the state I was in right now. I didn’t know much about her but I knew enough to know she was a fighter.
A survivor.
Her own hero.
“Listen, Reina, you need to keep your head because as long as he keeps feeding me that shit, I’m useless. Jack’s on to him so it’s only a matter of time before he and the club gets to you.”
“To us,” she amended. “He will not leave you behind, you’re the closest thing he has to a brother. A real brother,” she added.
Brothers.
“Right,” I replied, closing my eyes. “Reina, do me a favor?”
“I’m kind of tied up right now,” she said, forcing a laugh.
I smiled slightly before the wave of nausea washed over me again.
“Oh God,” I moaned. “I need to throw up,” I mumbled, hanging my head waiting for it to pass.
“Blackie, focus, if you let that shit control you, then the poison wins,” Reina pleaded, pausing for a moment before she began again. “Tell me your real name. Blackie is your club name, right?”
The Tempted Series: Collectors Edition Page 128