Lethal Temptations (Tempted #5)

by Janine Infante Bosco

  Blackie knew.

  I ran down the stairs and nearly collided with my mom. So much for trying to slip out of the house without her noticing the ‘new’ me.

  “What are you wearing?”

  “I found it in the attic and it fit,” I said, shrugging my shoulders as I dropped a kiss on her cheek. “I’ve got to go, we’re late.”

  “Lacey, wipe that shit off your face before you see your father,” she warned.

  “It’s just make-up,” I argued. “I’m fifteen years old, most girls my age have already dyed their hair six times by now.” I left out that nearly all my friends dyed their hair and lost their virginity in the same week. “Love you,” I called as I hurried out the front door as any typical teenager would do, leaving her mother in the dust behind her to chase after the guy of her dreams.

  She was my age once.

  She gets it.

  Blackie was leaning against his truck smoking a cigarette when he lifted his head and his eyes met mine, causing me to stop in my tracks and stare at him. Dressed all in black, like always, black loose fitting jeans that hung low on his waist, a black t-shirt that stretched across his shoulders and chest and his leather jacket that hid all the tattoos that decorated his muscular arms. He hadn’t shaved, scruff lined his jaw, making him look even more lethal than usual. He had hazel eyes, and they varied in color, sometimes they were brown and at others they were green. I couldn’t help but wonder what caused the change, what made them one color one day and another the next. He had grown his hair out and wore it slicked back, the ends curling at the base of his neck.

  For the first time I felt intimidated by him, like he was completely out of my reach, like I was just a fifteen-year-old girl with a crush on an older guy.

  And like any teenage girl I wanted what I couldn’t have.

  “Get in, I got you your favorite,” he said, pushing off the truck and walking around to the driver’s seat.

  “My favorite?” I asked as I climbed into the passenger seat, immediately spotting the large white Styrofoam cup sitting in the cup holder of the console.

  “Chocolate milk shake,” he declared, handing me a straw as he turned the key in the ignition. I was allowed at the Satan’s Knights clubhouse a handful of times, special occasions, like bring your daughter to work day, that was fun, and Pipe’s wedding to some foreigner that didn’t even know how to say ‘I do’. But each time my dad always had an ice cream truck parked on the lot and Wolf always handed me a chocolate milkshake or some days an ice cream cone.

  Chocolate milkshakes.

  One of the good memories of my childhood.

  One of the few.

  Still, to this day a chocolate milkshake will always make me smile.

  I took a sip of the chocolaty goodness as Blackie started up the truck and peeled away from the curb. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye as my teeth clamped down on the straw and I smiled mischievously before pulling the straw from between my teeth and extending the cup toward him.

  “Take a sip,” I ordered.

  “No,” he replied, keeping his eyes straight ahead, but I didn’t miss the slight arch of his eyebrow.

  “No? Who says no to chocolate?” I asked incredulously, treating him to a dramatic roll of my eyes. “Take a sip,” I demanded.

  “Lace,” he warned, taking a hand off the steering wheel to reach behind him and cup the back of his neck, the leather of his jacket stretching across his biceps, threatening to rip at the seams.

  “Lace? Oh we’re doing the nickname thing?” I cocked my head to the side as I continued to hold the milkshake out for him. “Fine. C’mon Leather, live dangerously,” I coaxed.

  “Leather?” He questioned, briefly turning to look at me.

  “Leather and Lace. You and me,” I smiled as I shrugged my shoulders before reaching out with my free hand and touching the leather that covered his arm. “Now, take a sip of the shake, you big brute and maybe, just maybe you’ll crack a smile.”

  He rolled the truck to a stop and for a split second my smile faltered and I dropped the hand that was still touching his arm. I looked ahead to see the red traffic light in front of us, realizing that was why he stopped and sighed in relief, reclaiming my bravado.

  “Used to be able buy you ice cream and you would shut up for a while,” he grunted, taking the shake from my hand. “What happened to the little Lacey Parrish you could bribe with ice cream and candy?” He muttered as he brought the straw to his lips and took a gulp.

  I grinned widely, watching his throat as he swallowed before he shoved the cup back at me.

  “She grew up,” I said, taking back the shake.

  “Hardly,” he commented, turning his eyes back to the road. I ignored that comment and relished in the slightest quirk of his lips.

  Leather and Lace.

  That was us.

  I felt someone’s hands on my shoulders, shaking me as a familiar voice called my name, interrupting my dream and disrupting my sleep. My eyes fluttered open and locked with the same hazel eyes that starred in my dream.

  “Get up,” he demanded, pulling my arms, forcing me to sit up.

  “What?” I asked groggily, lifting my hands to my head that felt as if it was about to explode. “You came back…”

  “Lace, get up and get dressed,” he ordered. “Now!”

  I stared up at him as bits and pieces of my memory flashed before me. I remembered wishing he wouldn’t show up but knowing it was inevitable. I remembered battling with my maker for control. I remembered the thoughts that filled my head and most of all I remember Blackie. I remembered him holding me. He didn’t turn me away and when I asked him to dance with me, he did. He left but I could tell he didn’t want to, that, it pained him to walk away.

  I was exhausted from the war within my head and succumbed to sleep easily, falling into a sweet dream of when things changed for us. Well, for me anyway. I like to think after that car ride to Riker’s Blackie began to see me as more than just Jack’s nuisance of a daughter. Still, it wasn’t until last night when I felt he really saw me, the woman not the girl, the damaged soul and not the happy-go-lucky person I portray myself as to the world.

  “Lace, I need you to listen. There’s not a lot of time so you need to snap the fuck out of it and throw some clothes on,” he ordered, glancing around the room, picking up a pair of my mother’s sweats folded in the laundry basket at the foot of her bed. “Here, put these on,” he ordered.

  “What’s going on?” I questioned as I threw my legs over the bed and studied the hard lines of his face and for the first time I noticed the gun he was holding. I stared at the gun for a moment before lifting my eyes to his.

  “Did something happen? Blackie you need to tell me! Is it my father? Did he ever show up after yesterday?” I rambled, hurrying to my feet despite the headache I was experiencing. I still hadn’t heard from my father, for all I know he succeeded in joining Jack Jr. on the other side. I felt the fresh tears sting my eyes, and I lurched for Blackie, grabbing his cut with my hands.

  “Answer me goddamn it! Is he okay?” I heard my gasp immediately follow the question as he dropped his free hand to my hip, his fingers gripping me through the thin fabric of the t-shirt I was wearing. How was it that just a simple touch of his hand provoked feelings throughout my entire body? “Oh God,” I said, glancing down at the gun he held in his other hand. “He found out. He knows about us. Is that it? That’s why you came back,” I reached up, covering my mouth with the palm of my hand as nausea washed over me.

  “For fuck’s sake,” he growled, lifting his shirt and tucking the gun into his jeans, freeing his other hand. He took my face in his hands and bent down so our eyes were level.

  “Get yourself together,” he demanded.

  “Blackie, I don’t care— “

  “He don’t know shit,” he seethed. “Club is on lockdown which means your sweet ass needs to get to the clubhouse. Now, pull yourself together Lace, and let me do my goddamn job,” he
hissed.

  I stared at him quietly for a second.

  “You with me, Angel?” He asked calmer, his voice more concerned than agitated.

  I opened my mouth to answer, but the words became lost on my tongue when we heard a loud noise from somewhere downstairs.

  “Shit,” he said, dropping his hands from my face, reaching for his gun before his long legs swallowed up the floor space and he made his way to the window. I watched as he peered out of the mini-blinds.

  Everything about his demeanor changed and I knew that was my cue to haul ass. I grabbed the sweats and shimmied them up my legs as he cocked his gun, pulling back the safety he crossed the room and listened at the door. I tip toed across the room to where he was standing and he turned around, piercing me with a look.

  He closed the distance between us and bent his head so that his lips were just a breath away from mine.

  “I want you to listen carefully, Lace. Can you do that for me?”

  “Don’t talk to me like a child,” I whispered angrily.

  “Quit acting like one then and pay attention,” he snarled, grabbing my hand and dropping his gun into my palm. “Take my gun and hide in the closet. Do not come out until it’s quite,” he instructed, his cold stare penetrated through me.

  “What? No! What about you?” I fired at him.

  “Lace, now!” He demanded, pushing my shoulders toward the closet. I shook him off, spinning around on my heel so we were face to face.

  “Blackie— “

  My words died as his mouth covered mine and his hands fell to my shoulders. My lips worked frantically to keep up with his pace as he expertly worked them until they parted. His tongue slid into my mouth as he walked me backwards until my back hit the wall. I moved to wrap my arms around his neck and deepen the kiss but his mouth abruptly left mine. He pushed me into the closet.

  “If anyone fucks with you, shoot them. Don’t fucking think just shoot,” he demanded.

  “I can’t do that,” I cried, my hands trembling as I gripped the gun and stared into his eyes. They were changing color as we spoke, turning a fascinating shade of green I had never seen before.

  “You can and you will,” he said, crouching down before me. “You do whatever it is to save yourself because when this shit is over I’ll be waiting to see that smile of yours,” he whispered, reaching out to run his fingertips down my cheek. “Need that smile in my life, Lace… need it like air,” he ground out.

  I cried or maybe I whimpered, reaching for him but he was quick on his feet. He lifted his finger to his lips, silencing me before he treated me to a wink.

  “Thanks for the kiss,” he added, before he closed the closet door and left me in the darkness.

  I covered my mouth with one hand and held the gun close to my chest with the other. I didn’t know what was happening, but I knew the unfamiliar voices were enemies of my father, of Blackie’s—everything my father tried to shield me from was right on the other side of the door.

  “Where is she?” An unfamiliar voice shouted.

  “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.