Lethal Temptations (Tempted #5)

by Janine Infante Bosco

  The first douche bag un-cuffed me and pulled me up. On my feet, I stumbled, barely able to hold my head up…. but I wasn’t a pussy.

  And motherfucker, I’m not ready to drown.

  “What are you doing?” I asked as he dragged me across the room to the slop sink. He turned the faucet on and I lost my fucking shit, at least I think I did. I struggled to fight, pushing back against his pull but let’s be serious. I was no match for this son of a bitch, not with all the shit he injected into my bloodstream.

  Still, I’m standing.

  I won’t drown.

  Not now.

  Not by this prick.

  He grabbed a fist full of my hair and shoved my face into the basin of the sink. The ice cold water rained down over my head, awakening me and numbing me to everything other than the freezing temperature of the water.

  Finally, he turned the faucet off and released his hold on me. I lifted my head, pushing the hair back and away from my face, turning around to face Reina. The man behind pushed me, forcing me to shuffle my feet across the cement until I was standing in front of her.

  I watched as Jimmy’s henchmen walked around me, making his way behind Reina and freed her hand. Jimmy knelt before her, cutting the zip ties from her ankles, before nodding to the man still standing behind Reina. He grabbed her hair, forcing her onto her feet and when her legs gave out he yanked harder on her hair.

  “What the fuck man? C’mon leave her alone,” I groaned as she shrieked in pain. “You’re only making shit worse for yourself by fucking with her,” I added.

  “Shut up,” Jimmy ordered, reaching down to his calf as he lifted his pants slightly, pulling the gun from his holster before lifting it to my head. “You don’t speak unless I tell you to,” he declared, glancing over his shoulder at the man pulling Reina’s hair. “Give me the phone,” he demanded, reaching over my shoulder to grab the iPhone. “Is it ready?”

  I glanced at Reina, saw the fear in her and eyes and forced myself to ignore it and concentrate on focusing. I needed to get my head straight to figure out what this crazy son of bitch was planning.

  “Yes,” the lackey replied.

  Out of the corner of my eye, Jimmy dropped the gun he had aimed at my head and fiddled with his phone. I turned my eyes back to Reina’s.

  “Stay with me,” I mouthed, as Jimmy’s second enforcer aimed his gun at me.

  For fuck’s sake.

  The guy holding Reina by the hair, released her and cocked his gun.

  “There is this old saying, maybe you’ve heard it,” Jimmy began, as he circled us with his arm outstretched recording himself as he did. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me,” he arched his eyebrows and smiled at the camera. “I’m no one’s fool,” he declared, looking away from the camera he turned to face me. “You told me she was a whore. You said you take chance a piece on her sweet cunt, right?” He questioned. “Answer the question! Look into the camera when you do.”

  “Yes,” I lied through my teeth.

  “But you haven’t sampled her have you?” He asked, turning around to Reina, trailing his fingertip along her collarbone. “But you’re going to now and do you know why, pretty girl? Do you know why he will rape you?”

  Rape?

  Fuck no.

  I’m a lot of things, a man who committed a lot of sins, but I was no rapist.

  Let him pull the trigger.

  Fuck it all.

  I would not touch her.

  “Because you’re not a fool,” Reina replied.

  “I’m not touching her you sick fuck,” I shouted over her. “Shoot me up, do what you got to do but I won’t fucking touch her.”

  Jimmy laughed, ignoring me as he played back his video, scrutinizing it. Reina’s eyes found mine, pleading with me to make it stop, to put an end to this torture.

  I had nothing.

  Fucking helpless.

  At the mercy of drugs.

  At the mercy of a mobster.

  I was not my own man.

  I was not worthy of my cut or my patch.

  Satan’s Knight?

  No, I was Jimmy’s bitch.

  “It will be okay,” I told her.

  “Leather and Lace,” she breathed. “When we get out of here will you tell me what it means?”

  I stared at her silently.

  No, I wouldn’t.

  Not for the obvious reasons, not because she was Jack’s daughter but because in that moment, with death looming over me, Leather and Lace became sacred. It was a dream, something foreign to a man who is only granted nightmares, and I wanted to hang onto the dream a little longer. I wanted to hang on to the idea I could change, maybe be a better man, and as much of a stretch as it was I wanted to hang on to the idea I could be better for her. I wanted to believe I could be the guy she needed, to give her what she deserved and repay her for all the ways she heals me. Even if it’s temporary.

  “Yeah,” I lied, because we weren’t getting out of here and I could hang onto Leather and Lace until I drew my final breath.

  “No, that was all wrong, let’s try it again,” Jimmy said.

  “Trust me,” I whispered faintly, resigning to my fate.

  I drew in a deep breath, closing my eyes briefly, expecting to see Christine’s face but it wasn’t her haunting me, pulling me into the darkness. It was my angel; it was Lacey’s beautiful face begging me to follow her light.

  I’m sorry, Lace.

  Here I come, Christine.

  I opened my eyes as Reina closed hers and walked towards her.

  “Thatta boy, make it good,” Jimmy sang. “Her life depends on it,” he said, reinforcing my decision to sacrifice my existence for hers.

  I swayed as I took another step closer to my president’s woman, reaching for her hand as I placed my other hand on her hip. Her eyes opened, and I turned my head, nuzzling her neck, avoiding her eyes.

  “He loves you,” I whispered against her ear, willing her to think of Jack.

  “He’s here with you not me,” I whispered, kissing her neck as my fingers worked the buttons of her shirt. “Follow my lead,” I demanded, against her throat.

  “Cut to the chase,” Jimmy ordered.

  I tore my mouth from her neck.

  Game time, motherfucker.

  “Open your eyes, Reina,” I said, squeezing her hand I still held in mine before dropping it and lifting both of my hands to her face. Her eyes fluttered opened and she stared back at me.

  What I wouldn’t give for one more glance into the dark eyes that owned me.

  “Leather and Lace,” I whispered. “Now close them and think of Jack,” I said, as I closed my eyes and thought of Lacey.

  And then it happened.

  I kissed her.

  To save her life.

  I was about to tear my mouth from hers, to turn around and face the gun pointed at me but a hand reached around my shoulder and shoved a needle into my jugular. I lost feeling throughout my body, starting with my face. My mouth released Reina’s and my hands dropped from her face.

  “Blackie?” Reina shouted frantically.

  Lace.

  It was her face I saw when the life drained from me.

  Her.

  After my father found me he brought me back to the Dog Pound where apparently everyone who mattered to the men of the Satan’s Knights congregated. There were some new faces, who I learned belong to Victor Pastore. It didn’t matter that my father was Jack Parrish, or that the people he kept in his circle were all the same, I still would’ve known the Pastore name. Victor’s face had been on the front page of every newspaper a couple of months ago when he confessed to all his crimes. I’m not sure why his entire family has become my father’s responsibility nor do I care. They all seem nice enough, bringing me into their circle, and doing what they’ve been trained to do. These woman, old and young, differed from me. While I’ve been at the sidelines of my father’s lifestyle, these women played front and center. To them this lockdown w
as the norm, they didn’t blink an eye when the men in leather scrambled around the clubhouse trying to form a plan of attack. They stood back, watched them do their thing, having faith they would return alive and in one piece, having done the job. The job being, bringing Blackie and Reina home safe and eliminating the enemy.

  They were familiar with the enemy. He once sat at their table on holiday’s, he was Victor’s right hand, his newly appointed underboss. A title he claimed after he had a hand in the murder of his first one, Michael Valente, a man they called Val. Val’s son was here too, strapping on a bullet-proof vest, ready to do whatever my father told him to, ready to get his revenge for his old man’s death. It was so much to take in, so many faces to keep track of, so many lives that intertwined and I’m sure if the circumstances were different I would’ve been fascinated with all this.

  I used to harbor resentment against my parents for keeping me away from the MC. It was a part of my father, so in turn it was part of me. These men that wore the reaper on their back have all for the most part, watched me grow up. Wolf and Pipe were there for all my sacraments and they brought me flowers at my dance recitals. When I went on my first date, Wolf sat behind us at the movie theatre. Pipe taught me how to drive and when my father was in jail, it was Blackie who made sure I was okay. He made sure I maintained a relationship with my dad and when I needed a ride, he was the one who dropped everything to make sure I got to wherever it was I needed to go.

  They may be men who ran on the wrong side of the law but these men where my family. I’ve heard my dad speak of his brotherhood, but seeing it firsthand, how they banded together, made it clear they were brothers in every way it counts. And though my head worked against me, filling my mind with doom, it was hard not to have faith they would bring Blackie back to them.

  Back to me.

  I don’t think Blackie knows his worth. His worth to his club, to my father and to me. Does he know that these men are not whole without him? Does he even realize that my father doesn’t function to the best of his ability unless Blackie is there to guide him? Blackie’s presence is a strong aid to the lithium he takes, it’s just as important to my father’s treatment as any prescription drug.

  Does he know that the thought of losing him scares the hell out of me? I’m not sure I could live without him in my life. And not because of the crush. Not because of the attraction or the one night we shared but because Blackie is my crutch too, not just my father’s. He’s the only one in this whole world who has the power to see me and accept me.

  I’m damaged.

  And no one knows.

  He looks at me, sees the broken, the demons that come out and play whenever they want, his expression doesn’t change.

  He’ll take me anyway I am.

  Imperfections and all.

  And maybe that’s because he’s full of imperfections himself.

  Sometimes perfect can be found in imperfections, just like it’s hidden in the word it’s hidden beneath the flaws. It just takes one person to claim those imperfections and deem them perfect. Blackie is a drug addict, he’s a drunk, a self-loathing man looking for a way out. He’s the definition of imperfect. But you know what his perfect is? The hidden beauty of him? It’s his heart.

  His heart.

  That’s his perfect.

  And I want to be the person who claims it.

  I had escaped the Pastore women and found my way upstairs to Blackie’s room. I laid on his bed and thought I’d take a nap but, the scent of his cologne on his pillow made it impossible for me to close my eyes and not think of him.

  Everything in this room was a reminder of the one night we shared. The one never to be spoken of again. It wasn’t how I thought I’d lose my virginity, not that I gave it much thought. After sixteen my v-card became more of a nuisance then some sacred thing I needed to hang on to. I’m not sure who is to blame if its society or my parents who sheltered me and made me think I was too good to give it up to just anyone. As a young girl I believed I needed to be in love with someone, that the person who took my virginity needed to be some perfect man I would spend the rest of my life with.

  Then I became sixteen and found out I was the only fucking virgin left, or at least that’s what it felt like. All my friends had done it, raved about how great it was and how many orgasms they had—then there was me, the president of the Satan’s Knights daughter. I was crazy and still a virgin. It was unheard of.

  Yet still I couldn’t do it.

  I couldn’t just give it up to anyone.

  My best friend, Noah knew my dilemma and even offered to rid me of my problem.

  And as tempting as the offer was, I turned him down.

  I think it was my subconscious guiding me, making me wait because the one who eventually took it was the only person to ever see me. It may not have been a fairytale, and it hurt like hell, but I wouldn’t take it back.

  None of it.

  Not waiting until I found the perfect man.

  Not waiting until I was nearly nineteen years old.

  I didn’t let anyone else take it because only one man deserved it.

  He might regret it; he might be bothered by it but for me it was perfect. Perfect in an imperfect way. The hidden perfect in a shit load of flaws.

  Just like the both of us.

  Demons and addictions.

  Leather and Lace.

  Imperfect yet perfect.

  My thoughts are interrupted by the commotion coming from the other side of the door. I heard Riggs shout at my father, then call for help. I quickly threw my legs over the edge of the bed and ran to the door. Pulling it open I peeked my head out as my father stalked towards the stairs. The look in his eye was ferocious and I knew even his medicine wouldn’t help him. The maker has taken residence and the crazed look in his eye was the look of a man trying to balance reality and the poisonous fiction his mind was trying to make him believe.

  I understand your pain dad.

  I see it.

  I live it.

  “Stop him,” Riggs hollered as he skidded to a halt at the stairs. “Pipe! Wolf!”

  I stepped out of the room, tip-toeing the length of the hallway before leaning against the wall as Riggs ran down the stairs, stopping mid-way. I could see my dad trapped on the stairs, his brothers barricading him.

  “Get out of my way,” he ordered.

  “Jimmy sent the video,” Riggs explained in a huff, handing his phone over to Pipe. What video? I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat, pushing back the grim thoughts of what may be on the video.

  Anthony Bianci, one of the mob guys, took Pipe’s place blocking my dad from moving and Pipe hit play. I heard the unmistakable voice that belonged to Jimmy but being on top of the stairs, I could only make out every other word—by the way my father lurched for the phone I knew that motherfucker couldn’t have been delivering good news.

  “Jesus Christ,” Pipe said, as Jimmy’s voice sounded stating his demands and threats.

  “I will kill him and I’m going to smile as I do it,” my father hissed.

  It was so weird to watch my hero of a father turn into a monster of a man. What I was witnessing was different from the manic episodes of the past. I think that’s because this man my father was morphing into wasn’t controlled by the crazy but instead, by the criminal.

  “Chapel, now,” Pipe ordered, sternly.

  “There’s no fucking time,” my dad yelled.

  I closed my eyes, sliding against the wall as the men continued to argue.

  “Oh, so you have a plan? Because you’re right we don’t have a lot of fucking time and without a plan we’re fucked. So pull your fucking shit together and grab your gavel,” Pipe replied.

  I glanced down at the watch on my wrist, watching as the second hand ticked away and felt fresh tears sting my eyes. For the first time the numbers on the clock weren’t just numbers they were a lifeline.

  I know now why people say time is precious, for when it runs out there is noth
ing and you’re left wishing of all the things you could’ve done, could’ve said…if only you had just one more minute.

  Tick.

  Tock.

  Tick.

  Tock.

  Chapter Nine

  My father stormed out of the clubhouse after they disappeared into the chapel and concocted a plan of attack. They looked like a pack of wild animals running out of here. The whole lot of them, the men in leather and the pretty boy mobsters with the tight t-shirts that promoted a gym called Xonerated on their backs.

  I tried isolating myself, staying locked up in Blackie’s room until the dreaded news came but, the door flew open and Nikki Pastore came barging into the room. She froze in her tracks once she spotted me on the bed, and smiled sheepishly—which was comical since it was obvious this girl didn’t have a shy bone in her body.

  “Shit, sorry, I didn’t know anyone was up here,” she cocked her head, glancing around the room. “Is this the Bulldog’s room?” She questioned as she walked over to the dresser and started to search for something.

  “No, it’s not,” I said, throwing my legs over the edge of the bed. “Is there something you need?”

  I started towards her, as she shamelessly moved things around on Blackie’s dresser, pausing to lift a picture frame. She turned around, holding up the frame as her eyes questioned me.

  “Why is it all the hot guys are either married or gay?” She asked as I stared at the photo of Blackie and Christine on their wedding day.

  “Where did you find that?”

  “Right there,” she tipped her chin at the dresser. “Under the mountain of black clothes,” she replied, glancing down at the picture. “As my Aunt Gina would say, that’s a fine piece of ass right there,” she added.

  “Blackie doesn’t like people touching his shit,” I informed her.

  “Blackie?” She turned around and placed the frame on the dresser, standing it up so that the happy couple was rightfully displayed.

  “The guy whose room you’re ransacking,” I explained, tearing my eyes from the photograph to meet hers.