The Tempted Series: Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  The lawyer was able to get inside and talk to him but when he came back out of the interrogation room he shook his head and added another three grand to the bill. Blackie wasn’t talking, not to him, not to the cops…no one.

  He’d talk to me.

  I wouldn’t give him a choice.

  I needed answers.

  There are two things in this world you don’t fuck with when it comes to me and that’s my family and my fucking respect.

  Someone fucked with my daughter tonight.

  Someone hurt her real bad, violated her and disrespected her.

  And someone saved her.

  Blackie, the man I trusted with my daughter’s life but never thought to trust him with her heart.

  Or her mind.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Reina called her shrink and asked for an emergency house call—all I kept thinking was my father told me I wasn’t crazy and I shouldn’t let anyone make me think I was.

  What a joke.

  It doesn’t get crazier than a house call and a tranquilizer.

  I suppose I should be thankful for the reprieve because without the sedative I would still be reeling—picturing Blackie’s face as he was arrested, recalling the blood on his hands.

  Or fighting with my father to do something, anything, just make it right. Blackie didn’t deserve to rot in a jail cell over me but for some reason my father is dismissing me and insisting on taking care of it his way

  It’s my word that will free Blackie.

  I’m the one who was attacked so why am I sitting here with Dr. Spiegel going over my moods, behaviors and introducing her to my fucking maker.

  “You seem distracted,” she commented.

  “I’m sorry I was nearly raped less than twenty-four hours ago and watched the man I love get arrested. Oh, and let’s not forget I’m crazy,” I said sarcastically.

  “You’re not crazy, Lacey,” she said softly.

  “Right, says you,” I crossed my arms and peered at her. “What else do you need to know? I think I laid it all out there for you, no? My father was diagnosed when I was five with bipolar disorder. I watched my little brother get killed and was never the same after that. I have the ability to be happy until my mind casts a shadow of doubt and I come crashing down. I feel like I’m fighting a losing battle and I’m exhausted all the time. Sometimes I’ve gotten so deep in my mind that I have even contemplated killing myself because I can’t bear it any longer. I’m ashamed that I’m not normal and I don’t want to disappoint my parents because I’m all they have left. So doc, tell me, are you sure I’m not crazy? Not even a little?”

  “Bipolar disorder can be treated, ignoring it is the problem, and you’d be surprised by how many people are just like you,” she affirmed. “We will make it manageable Lacey but you’ve had an emotional few days. Tomorrow, I want you to come into the office and we will do a full work up so we can start treatment. I’d like to talk about what goes on when your ‘maker’ calls to you,” she continued, using her fingers as quotes when she mentioned my maker.

  I heard the front door slam shut, and I glanced over her shoulder, trying to get a look at who had walked in but I couldn’t see shit. I turned my eyes back to Dr. Spiegel.

  “Are we done for today?”

  “That depends on you,” she replied, cocking her head to the side to study me like I was a science experiment or something.

  “I’m all talked out, Doc,” I said as I continued to divert my eyes towards the hallway and struggle to listen to the voices talking in hushed tones.

  “And you’ll meet me at my office tomorrow?” she stressed.

  Damn, how did my father do this?

  He has no patience.

  Like none.

  It was almost comical imagining him sitting in a chair, in front of a shrink firing questions at him. I bet he motherfucked a lot during his sessions.

  “I’ll be there,” I promised, rising from my chair. “I appreciate you coming to see me,” I added.

  I don’t know if I should be grateful that my family had shrinks on call like this or absolutely terrified that we were all fucked in the head. I’m going to go with grateful since I didn’t feel like I was ripping apart at the seams anymore. I was relatively calm, albeit a medicated calm, but whatever works right?

  I left Dr. Spiegel in the living room and followed my father’s voice towards the kitchen. I stole a peek and spotted my father hunched over, his hands braced against the edge of the counter as he spoke.

  “Just lay it on me,” he demanded.

  I looked to Riggs, watching as he pulled off his hat and ran his hands over his hair roughly.

  “I went to the hospital like you told me to and checked on the fucking kid,” Riggs hissed.

  “Please, tell me the little shit’s alive,” my father interrupted.

  “Barely, he’s on life support,” Riggs muttered. “You might want to sit down for this one,” he suggested.

  “Just tell me!”

  “All right but I warned you,” Riggs grunted. “As I was leaving, I saw the kid’s father arguing with someone in the hallway. The name Boots ring a bell?”

  “Boots? That’s the president of the Corrupt Bastards,” my father said, a vein bulging from the side of his neck. “He was at the hospital visiting the little cocksucker who tried to rape Lacey?”

  “No, he was threatening the father,” Riggs clarified. “Apparently, they had some deal going on and the father was angry because the deal didn’t include his son winding up in a coma.”

  “What deal? Riggs! Get to the point!”

  “I don’t know all the details but after the father went on a rant about his son dying because of some debt he owed the Bastards’—Boots told him, his son was never supposed to rape Blackie’s girl and whatever deal they had with him was now off the table,” Riggs words trailed off.

  “Blackie’s girl,” my dad drawled as if he was testing the two words out to see how they sounded coming from his mouth.

  I swallowed hard, watching as he swiped a hand across the counter and sent everything crashing onto the floor

  “Jack,” Riggs tried.

  “Blackie’s girl,” he repeated.

  “Jack!”

  “You telling me my daughter nearly got raped last night because of some shit with a rival club or are you telling me she was attacked because Blackie’s got a claim on my daughter?”

  “I think it’s both,” Riggs admitted.

  It was hard for me to wrap my head around Riggs’ words. Brandon was just some frat guy who thought his dick was holier than thou. But he wasn’t. His father had connections to another motorcycle club, and he was using me as a pawn to stir up trouble only Brandon couldn’t follow the fucking plan.

  If I wasn’t sure I was mentally ill before I’d start to wonder.

  As for my father? I hope he took his meds today.

  Add the truth of me and Blackie being dumped on my dad and I’d say he was ten seconds away from blowing his top.

  “I’ve seen them together,” Riggs blurted.

  Goddamn Riggs.

  Riggs held up his hands in protest as my father’s head snapped and his eyes narrowed at him.

  “Before you kill me, hear me out,” he protested, and I watched as my dad remained perfectly still.

  Man if looks could kill, poor Riggs would be six feet under.

  “He loves her,” Riggs continued.

  I didn’t care about my father’s reaction, too wrapped up in the three words Riggs blurted.

  Blackie loves me.

  It was a bittersweet moment for me, knowing that his friends saw the love he had for me, and that I wasn’t alone in witnessing it. Riggs gifted me the medicine no doctor could. He gave me peace of mind, he shut down the skepticism of my maker by affirming what I knew in my heart.

  I wasn’t wrong about him, about us and last night when I looked into his eyes and saw them full of love, I hadn’t imagined it.

  It was all real.<
br />
  The story.

  The moments.

  The love.

  It really happened and those three words were all I needed to hang on. I’d savor them, rely on them when the doubt surfaced and I would use them to bring me back to life.

  “The poor bastard don’t even know it but that girl of his, or yours…whoever she belongs to…Lacey healed Blackie,” Riggs continued. “He’s falling apart, dropped off his program and turned his life to shit again because he doesn’t think he deserves her. He’s afraid like hell he will fuck it up and lose her or worse, he’s terrified he will cause her harm.”

  “Blackie told you this?”

  “No. I’ve got eyes man, and I got a woman I pushed away because I’m feeling all those things. It’s easy for me to spot what I’m going through in someone else.”

  “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. Blackie wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t get involved with my daughter. He’s my goddamn vice president, the man I chose to sit at my left, he’s my fucking brother,” he roared.

  “Heart,” Riggs said.

  “Ain’t got shit to do with what you’re talking about!”

  “It’s got everything to do with what I’m talking about. You told me months ago Blackie’s heart beats for a woman he lost a long time ago and he’s just waiting for the day he is reunited with her. You and I both know that man has had plenty of opportunities to end the nightmare he’s living, but he doesn’t,” he shouted, advancing toward my dad. “He keeps on pushing through because he’s got heart, something that keeps him here and not in Green-Wood cemetery. If he’s your brother, you’ll ease that man of the burden of his conscience. Now, if you’re going to kill me, do it now and make it fast and painless. Or you could let me slide because I’ve got a kid on the way and I’d like to get the chance to love my kid as much as you love yours.”

  Riggs reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper before sliding it across the counter at my father. He didn’t lift his head as he placed his palm over the paper.

  “The Corrupt Bastards run an online gambling site. The kid’s father owed them a hundred grand. That’s his account profile,” Riggs said before turning around.

  I stepped into the kitchen, blocking him from leaving as I stared back at him.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, wiping the tears that had fallen from my eyes.

  “You’re not welcome,” he hissed, glancing over his shoulder at my dad. “Got your work cut out for you Little Miss Defiant, going to take a whole lot of glue to patch him up,” he grunted before stepping around me and leaving me alone in the kitchen with my father.

  “Dad,” I whispered.

  He kept his head lowered as he peered back up at me.

  “Not now Lacey. Not now,” he warned.

  I felt like I should apologize to him but I wasn’t sure what I was apologizing for. For breaking his heart? If it wasn’t Blackie who I fell in love with would he still be this upset? Is it because I’m his daughter or because Blackie is his brother?

  I saw him break, his knuckles whiten as he gripped the counter and I feared what was running through his head right now.

  Silence.

  Please.

  “Dad, please look at me,” I pleaded.

  He waited a beat before releasing his hold on the counter and crossed his arms against his chest as he finally looked at me.

  “Make this right,” I demanded, quietly, taking a few more steps closer to him. “You have to help him get out because if you don’t I will. I’m not leaving him in there to rot after what he did for me and you shouldn’t want to either.”

  “Don’t tell me how to handle my business Lacey,” he ground out. “Time for you to take a step back and concentrate on your own issues and leave Blackie to me,” he said, clenching his jaw as he spoke.

  He unraveled his arms, continued to stare at me for a moment before he shook his head.

  “Fucking, hell,” he muttered, brushing past me before leaving me alone in the kitchen.

  I closed my eyes when I heard the front door slam.

  Daddy’s little girl just broke her daddy’s, heart.

  Actually, Riggs did.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  I scrambled off my cot, taking three steps towards the metal toilet and dropped to my knees. I’ve been here nearly a week, one fucking week with no junk to shoot, snort, or swallow. I was denied bail and charged with attempted manslaughter but if the fuck dies the D.A. will change it to murder.

  I was wishing for death.

  That’s why I’m not cooperating with the club’s lawyer too much. After, sitting down with him when I was held at the police station he told me he was going to use Lace to testify. I decided to just let it all be. Whatever happens, happens. I’m not putting this shit on her, she didn’t ask that fuck to touch her…just let it be. Let it be over for her.

  Brantley thinks he won, that I’m threatened by the charge murder in the first degree.

  Bring it, cocksucker.

  I’ve got nothing on the outside.

  These walls and these bars are it for me. That’s okay because when I’m not violently throwing up from not having my drugs, I relive the memories of my life.

  The good.

  The bad.

  The ugly.

  Then I think of her.

  And I momentarily wish for the kid to live, for a way out of here or a goddamn miracle. Then reality sets in and I’m stuck in the memories because it’s all I’ve got and all I’ll ever have.

  I’m not just Satan’s Knight, I’m his fucking predecessor, here on earth.

  And this is my hell.

  I started going through withdrawals the morning of my arraignment. I hadn’t snorted or taken anything since the bar and I was feeling it. After I broke things off with Lacey for good, I stopped going to the clinic and getting my dose of methadone. I replaced the fake heroin with the pills, crushing and snorting them to get my fix but, after I was shipped here they started me on the program again.

  The C.O.’s bring me to the medical building every morning, I get my dose; they check my vitals, and send me back to my fucking cell to rot in hell.

  It’s not enough.

  Never enough.

  But as long as I have a pulse, they don’t give a fuck because their job is to keep me alive so I can pay for my sins. Every inmate sent here, the government pays for, actually the taxpayers pay for. So, you over there with the fat check and nine-to-five job, you’re the one paying for the methadone in my bloodstream right now and the ham and cheese sandwich I’ll eat for dinner but won’t manage to keep down.

  I’m close to caving and finding a way to get the drugs I need. People think a man gets locked up, and he’s at the mercy of the state, you become their property…what a fucking joke. You may lose your name and get a number when you get locked up but you can score whatever the fuck you need in jail. The correction officers here are more corrupt than the streets they pulled me from. As long as you give them a cut, you can sell, trade, or steal whatever the fuck you want.

  And right now I want a fucking needle and the shittiest heroin I could get my hands on. While I may be able to score drugs, it ain’t the pure shit like I’ve been used to. It’s the bottom of the barrel shit, that’s been cut down to basically nothing but beggars can’t be fucking choosey.

  “Petra, on your feet!” The C.O. patrolling my cell block shouted as he rattled his keys, trying to find the one to unlock the bars that confine me. I leaned back on my haunches, swipe my mouth clean with the sleeve of my shirt before standing on my wobbly legs.

  “It fucking stinks in here,” he commented as he stepped inside my cell.

  I wish I didn’t throw everything up into the toilet, I’d love to fucking bless this prick and his smug face.

  “What the fuck do you want?”

  “You’ve got a visitor,” he said, twirling his key ring around his finger.

  I peered at him, running my fingers through
my hair, pushing it out of my eyes and away from my face.

  “Let’s go,” he said, leading me out of my cell and down the cell block.

  Jack and Wolf showed up at my arraignment but I didn’t pay my brother’s any mind. I wasn’t ready to talk to Jack about business or more importantly what had happened that landed my ass in this mess. I didn’t trust myself with him.

  The last couple months I’ve been lying through my fucking teeth to him.

  And to myself.

  I walked into the visitor’s room and spotted Jack instantly, the patch we worshipped stitched proudly into the back of his cut. I should’ve turned around and denied the visit but I’m a glutton for punishment and man, did I deserve my punishment.

  I walked to the table, dropping into the chair in front of my president and slowly lifted my eyes to his.

  Get your game face on Blackie.

  “Christ, you look like shit,” he growled as his eyes raked me over.

  “Good to see you too,” I retorted, dropping my head into my hands because it felt like it weighed more than my neck could hold.

  “Are they fucking with you in here?” he asked as he glanced over his shoulders at the correction officers guarding the room.

  I spread my fingers across my face and pierced him with my dark eyes.

  “Why are you here?” I questioned, wanting the visit to be over before it even began.

  “I’m here because you’re my fucking brother. You saved my daughter from getting raped,” he hissed, meeting my gaze as I dropped my hands and leaned back in the chair. “If you hadn’t been there…well, I don’t think I have to tell you, we both know what would have happened.”

  Fuck.

  Don’t thank me. Don’t fucking thank me.

  I didn’t do it for you.

  I did it for me.

  “She okay?” I asked, tearing my eyes away from him.

  It’s been driving me crazy that I left her to deal with the repercussions of that night by herself. She’s all I think about and I’m going mad thinking that prick hurt her before I managed to get to her.