Lethal Temptations (Tempted #5)

by Janine Infante Bosco

  “Does Blackie smoke?”

  “What?”

  “Look, Lacey right? I’m having a nicotine fit,” she stuck her arm out toward me, lifting up the sleeve to expose her nicotine patch. “This shit doesn’t cut it, so again, does this Blackie character smoke?”

  “Sometimes, but not usually,” I crossed my arms. “There are no cigarettes in here.”

  She raised an eyebrow as she stared at me for a moment then walked over to the bed and dropped onto it.

  “Bummer,” she said. “I guess it’s up to you then.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I need a distraction,” she explained, rubbing her arm where the patch was.

  “What? No. What’re you doing?”

  “Who’s the hot guy with the bride?”

  “Shouldn’t you be downstairs helping your mother and that other lady turn this place into a trattoria or something?”

  She smiled.

  “A wise ass just like your dad,” she mused.

  “Did you just call me a wise ass?”

  “I did,” she affirmed.

  “How do you know my dad?”

  “He helped me and my boyfriend out one night. My ex-boyfriend shot up my father’s nightclub and your dad took me and my Mikey to a safe house,” she explained, leaning back on the bed. “Good times.”

  “Your ex-boyfriend shot up a night club?” I asked, wide-eyed as I sat next to her.

  “Yeah, that prick bastard,” she snarled. “Anyway, your pops… he came riding to the rescue, and drove me and Mikey to a cabin in the middle of nowhere. He slipped me a pack of Marlboro’s and became one of my top-five favorite people.”

  That caused me to smile. There weren’t too many people around my age that genuinely liked my father. Growing up me and my friends didn’t spend much time around my dad, they barely knew him. They heard of him, knew his name, his club and made assumptions. Some of them feared the big bad motorcycle man—others thought it was cool to have a dad who was a biker but, they didn’t get to interact with him. Nikki was the first person to tell me she was fond of my father and not because of the patch but because he was just a cool guy who helped her out of a jam and gave her a pack of cigarettes.

  “So, who is Blackie and why are you here hiding out in his room?”

  I was pulled from my thoughts, turned my eyes to her and shrugged my shoulders.

  “He’s the vice president of the club,” I answered, looking away. “He came to get me, to take me here, when your father’s pal showed up and took him,” my words trailed.

  “I didn’t see the girl in the picture downstairs,” she said, tipping her chin to the frame.

  “Because she’s dead,” I lifted my eyes to the photograph, staring at the smile on Blackie’s face and realized even the few times he smiled at me, his smile differed from the one in the photograph.

  He was different back then.

  He was happy.

  “That’s fucking awful,” Nikki whispered, looking back at me.

  “Yeah,” I replied, lifting my eyes to her. “Nikki? You know Jimmy pretty well don’t you? Do you think he can pull it off?” I paused, swallowing hard before I continued. “I guess what I’m asking you is—do you think he’s going to kill Blackie?”

  “Jimmy’s a pussy,” she answered. “No match for the men that walked out of here today,” she paused, taking a deep breath before she continued. “You know not that long ago I was in your shoes, waiting for my father to come back and tell me everything would be okay. I did something foolish, something you shouldn’t, I lost faith in my father and his capabilities,”

  “My father is different than yours,” I interrupted

  “Not really. Different clothes maybe, mine preferred silk over leather. We’re being real with one another right? Both men are leaders, they are badass motherfuckers, that won’t hesitate to lay it all on the line to protect the people that matter to them. My father used to don a fitted suit while yours wears a leather vest, but the values are the same. He will bring Blackie back,” she assured me, laying her hand on my knee. “So, stop worrying about Mr. Drop Dead Gorgeous over there in the photograph and start worrying about how you will break it to your old man you’ve got it bad for his biker buddy,” she warned, winking at me.

  “What? No, you— “

  “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” she lifted a strand of my hair, twirling it around her finger. “We should do your hair. Maybe dye it…I think ombre would look amazing on you! But I’m going to need a cigarette before I mess with your hair,” she pulled her hand back and smiled at me.

  “And stop sitting up here by yourself. There’s a bunch of crazy women downstairs pretending the men in their lives aren’t criminals… it’s like a goddamn support group down there,” she winked and I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. She held out her hand, looking at me expectantly until I stood up, placed my hand in hers and followed her out of Blackie’s room. We made our way downstairs and were immediately summoned by Grace and Maria to set the table, the table being a pool table with a checkered plastic tablecloth draped over it. These women weren’t the support group, they needed the support group. My father was going to flip his shit when he came back, especially, when he saw his prospects who were supposed to be guarding us had become Maria Bianci’s bitches and were slicing and dicing pepperoni behind the bar.

  It was a real shit show.

  But it was a good distraction from my heart that was breaking and my mind that was trying to shunt me.

  I was beginning to set the table when the door to the compound opened and my father and Riggs stepped inside. I blinked my eyes, making sure they weren’t playing the same tricks my mind was trying to, but he stood there looking around his clubhouse with the eyes of a remorseful man.

  “Dad?” I screeched, dropping the plates on top of the pool table, making my way over to him. He turned his head, his eyes found mine, and he smiled half-heartedly.

  “Have you heard anything?” I asked.

  “No baby, I haven’t. You ladies have been keeping busy,” he muttered.

  Nothing.

  The clock is ticking.

  He’s running out of time.

  He knows it and now it’s time you do to.

  I swallowed, closing my eyes briefly picturing Blackie’s face, and it was enough to shut down the voice of my maker.

  “It was Grace and Maria’s idea,” I tried to explain. “They said when you guys bring Reina and Blackie home, you deserve a meal. Well, that’s what Grace said—Maria said you all should starve for being scoundrels. Though they both agreed, that Reina and Blackie would be hungry so they decided to do all this to welcome them home,” I rambled nervously, stopping myself from begging him to promise me he was going to bring back Blackie.

  He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as Nikki walked up to us, pounding her fist playfully against his chest.

  “Can I grub a cigarette, Bulldog?” She asked, flashing her killer smile and without hesitation my father reached into his cut and produced a pack of cigarettes.

  “You’re my hero,” she exaggerated, pulling one from the pack. “If my mother looks for me tell her I’m slicing a salami or something,” she whispered, before sneaking out the door.

  “Nikki’s going to dye my hair,” I said looking after her. “I like her a lot and she might just be your biggest fan. She has faith in you so if she does, it’d be a shame that your own daughter doesn’t,” I paused as he continued to stare at me blankly. “I don’t doubt that you’ll save him…them,” I corrected, before he pulled me against him, wrapping his arms tightly around me.

  My eyes filled with tears as we held onto one another. All the things we never said to one another when I was a kid, was wrapped in that embrace. The fear of not being good enough resurrected. My insecurities of not being the child he wanted but was stuck with resurfaced. I couldn’t shake the thought, the unexplainable fear he would do anything in his power to save Blackie and
Reina, only for him to be reunited with Jack Jr.

  It’s hard to take your own life, but it’s relatively easy to allow someone else the privilege.

  “Dad,” I said, pushing against his chest, lifting my eyes to his, and my fear became my reality. His eyes were his truth. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to save Blackie and Reina, and if that meant his life or theirs, he’d most definitely choose theirs.

  “I see that look in your eye and it scares me, scares me more than any man charging into my house, more so than Blackie telling me I need to hide in a closet because they’re coming for me.”

  I took a breath, biting down on my lip as the memory of Blackie kissing me washed over me. I wonder if I will always think of that kiss when I think of Blackie instructing me to shoot anyone who messes with me.

  I do that…associate things with poignant moments in my life.

  “They say we associate things with our childhood; scents, songs, even toys. They’re supposed to help us remember when our minds grow old with age and we are trying to hang onto our youth. I saw that look in your eyes my entire childhood and I’ll never forget it. I hate that look because it’s a reminder that for the last thirteen years, since Jack died, you didn’t want to be here anymore. I remember looking into your eyes and wondering if that day was the day you wouldn’t come back, to me, if you’d lose the struggle and end up with Jack.”

  I stopped for a moment, studying his features, wondering if anything I was saying would stick with him.

  “You always came back,” I smiled sadly, knowing he came back because he didn’t find the will in him not too. “I told myself it was because you realized I was still here and I still needed you, that you knew how much I loved you and how it would break my heart if I lost you,” I cried, wishing for it to be true.

  “Lacey…” he interrupted but his sentence fell short, his mind was working him over taking him some place dark. Some place I was fighting not to go.

  “Dad?” I said, trying to bring him back to me. “I know you miss Jack, but I’m still here,” I whispered. “And I need my dad. I’ll always need you so please promise me you’ll come back to me.”

  Just bring him back with you.

  “I love you, Lace,” he whispered, pressing his lips to my forehead before bringing me back against him, his strong arms enveloping me. “And I promise you a pack of wild horses couldn’t stop me from coming back to you. We’ll make good memories, I swear it.”

  I closed my eyes, relished in his words and fought back the voice telling me they were a lie, choosing to hang on to his promise with everything inside of me…even my mind.

  The door opened behind me and my club members walked inside.

  “Bulldog,” Pipe called, signaling it was time for them to leave again.

  “Yeah— “my dad said, dropping a kiss on top of my head. “Dry those eyes, your old man will be back,” he whispered.

  Nikki stepped back into the clubhouse, spritzing herself with body spray to cover the scent of cigarettes and walked over to me. She ran her fingers over her hair as she looked knowingly at my dad.

  “Come on, let’s see about dying these locks,” she offered.

  I’m not sure if she befriended me out of gratitude towards my father or if she genuinely understood my fears. Maybe it was both.

  “Thank you,” he said hoarsely.

  “Thanks for the stogie,” she replied, grabbing my hands and leading me away. I glanced over my shoulder and watched as Riggs handed my father a bullet-proof vest. He strapped it on over his clothes before walking over to the reaper painted on the wall, laying one hand on the logo that signified the club before bowing his head.

  Most people prayed to God but my father prayed to reaper on his back.

  Jack Parrish.

  My father.

  The disciple of the devil.

  I’m dancing and I don’t dance. I’m smiling and I don’t smile. I am changed even though I’ve given up on change.

  You in the moonlight with your sleepy eyes

  Could you ever love a man like me

  But that time I saw you I knew with you to light my nights

  Somehow I'd get by

  Chapter Ten

  I knew he was there before I felt the dip in the mattress and his strong arms wrap around my body, tugging me against him. I could smell his cologne the minute he walked through the door but I remained on my side with my back facing him. I was too afraid to turn and meet his eyes, too scared he’d look right through me—like I didn’t exist or worse send me away. He leaned into my ear pushing away my hair with the tip of his nose before his lips trailed down my neck and pressing his lips against my shoulder.

  “I was so scared you wouldn’t come back,” I whispered into the darkness, covering his hands with my own. His hand was twice the size of mine and yet they looked as if they were made for one another.

  “I’ll always come back for you, Lace. Even when I shouldn’t. Even when I know you’re better off without me,” he whispered huskily against my ear. I turned in his arms, fueled by the desire to look into his eyes and trust his words. His hair fell in front of his face as it usually did, forcing me to run my fingers through it and push the unruly locks from his expressive eyes. Blackie’s eyes were hazel, changing colors like the tides, depending on his mood. They were the color of caramel as they stared back at me, a shade they only turned when he was at peace, a sign of contentment, a rare occurrence.

  Peace.

  I could give him that.

  “Lacey, sweetheart wake up.”

  I heard my father’s voice say, jolting me awake and away from my dreams. I felt his hand gently shake my shoulder, trying to wake me from my sleep. I buried my face in Blackie’s pillow, breathing in the smell of cologne, wishing I could sleep forever…wishing I can dream forever.

  “Lacey,” my father said louder, forcing me to lift my head, roll onto my side and look up at him.

  He looked exhausted, like he had been up for days, yet when our eyes met his lips curved upward. It was always a mystery to me when he took off on his bike. I thought he was just a man on a bike, a man who loved the open road. This whole ordeal has enlightened me to what it means to be a part of a motorcycle club. The patch on his cut labels him a one percenter, telling me ninety-nine percent of the shit he does is illegal and dangerous.

  Which means, today he cheated death. Today he fought and today he won and I’d like to think a piece of him was fighting for me.

  The look in his eyes before he left, that murderous look that told me his maker was in control—faded away and he was just my dad. Jack Parrish, the man and father not the president or the man controlled by his mind. I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him tightly as the scent of gasoline assaulted my senses.

  “It’s all over, Lacey…everything is going to be okay,” he reassured me as he pulled back and studied my face. “You don’t have to worry.”

  “What about Blackie? And Reina? Are they okay?”

  He kept his eyes pinned to mine a moment before diverting them away.

  “They will be,” he said, voice full of conviction as he dropped his hands to his knees.

  “Come on, get your stuff together. I’ll take you home,” he said, rising to his feet and started for the door, making it clear he would not give me much more information than that.

  “That’s it?” I scrambled off the bed. “They will be? That’s your answer? That man was looking to take me and if it wasn’t for Blackie he would’ve. What happened to him?”

  He paused as he reached the door and turned around, glancing around at the room before his eyes found mine. He bit the inside of his cheek as he stared back at me. He wasn’t an easy man to read, looking at his face rarely ever gave his thoughts away. It was that stone cold look that worried me though, the one that told me the wheels in his mind were turning and nothing good ever came from that. The more my father thought the worse things were—for everyone.

  “We’ll talk more in t
he car,” he insisted, continuing to stare at me in deep thought. “Why Blackie’s room?”

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  “It’s closest to the stairs,” I lied, shrugging on my leather jacket.

  He didn’t say another word, holding open the door for me and following me out of Blackie’s room. I led him down the stairs, my stomach twisting in knots as I thought of all the possible things he would tell me.

  The common room had emptied out for the most part. There were a few stragglers still here, like, Anthony Bianci who I overheard tell my father he was waiting on Riggs.

  “Don’t shoot the poor bastard,” my dad told Anthony as he slapped him on the back. “Kid, might just surprise you. Who knows? Maybe he found his heart,” he added, turning towards me. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Bianci threw my father his keys, and we walked out of the Dog Pound. I have never been on the back of bike. Never. Well, that’s a lie. I have a photo of my dad holding me on his bike. But take a ride on one? No, never.

  I slid into the front seat as my father adjusted his mirrors and seat. He looked ridiculous sitting behind a steering wheel, almost comical and it doesn’t matter how many times I tell him, or tease him he always insists that I’m being ridiculous. The man was born to straddle a Harley. It was like his god given right or something.

  I waited for him to start the truck up and peel out of the lot before I spoke.

  “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

  “That doesn’t concern you,” he clipped.

  “Technically, it does. You’ve never lied to me once are you going to start now? I’d like to know what would’ve happened if Blackie hadn’t intervened. I’d like to know what he endured because of me.”

  He remained silent, his knuckles whitening as they clenched the steering wheel. I shouldn’t have pressed but there was no stopping me.

  “I’m not a little kid who will sit here and believe everything is okay. I learned a lot in the last couple of days. I get it, I get why you wanted to keep me away from your life. It’s ugly. But guess what? Despite all your efforts I’m still a part of it. Jimmy proved that the minute he came looking for me. I’m property of the Satan’s Knights…fair game. I deserve to know what happened because it affects me just as it does everyone else,” I argued.