Lethal Temptations (Tempted #5)

by Janine Infante Bosco

  I shot up out of my chair, reached for my gun, forgetting the clip on the desk and pressed the barrel of the gun into Boots’ temple.

  “You stay the fuck away from her!” I pressed the gun harder against his temple. “Do you fucking understand? YOU STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM LACEY!”

  “Next time you put a gun to my head, make sure it's loaded,” he said as he gritted his teeth.

  I slammed his head against the wall, lowered my gun as I stepped backwards and retrieved my clip from the desk.

  “W-A-R,” he hissed.

  I should’ve shot him dead right there, splattered his walls with his brains and ended the mayhem before it started.

  I’m sure I’ll regret turning around and walking out of his office. I just prayed I didn’t feel the regret as I lowered another innocent woman’s body into the earth.

  I didn’t bother hiding my gun, walking back through the clubhouse like a crazed man, ready to shoot anyone who stood in my way. I ignored Charlie as he called out to me and stormed outside, heading straight for the fucking van. I banged my head against the driver door as his words played repetitiously in my head.

  I knew that this meeting could go one of two ways, Boots could take the deal and keep peace or he would tell me to go fuck myself. I never prepared myself for the threat against Lacey.

  She’s not fair game.

  She won’t be put in the middle of this shit.

  What do you think will happen if his daughter became a casualty of war? If daddy found out his precious little girl died because she was the only way to make his vice president bleed?

  Boots’ threat declared Lacey my property.

  It wasn’t a malicious attack on Jack. He wasn’t promising to hurt his daughter to prove a point to him, to hit him where it hurts.

  No, Boots words were aimed at me.

  A vow to take what was mine, to cut me off at the knees and make me putty in his hands.

  W-A-R.

  He spelled out his declaration, mimicking the timeless card game and throwing Lacey into the middle of a fucking massacre.

  I climbed into the van, threw my gun onto the passenger seat and turned the key in the ignition, pulling away from the Corrupt Bastards like a mad man trying to escape fate.

  And then I realized I wasn’t running away from fate but headed straight towards it.

  I fought back the urge to turn the fucking van around and buy a vile of heroin shit, I’d settle for an eight ball of coke. I could’ve swiped some off the bar and no one would’ve even notice.

  I lifted one hand off the steering wheel, pushed up the sleeve of my shirt and looked down at my forearms.

  Clean.

  I glanced up, stopped short as the traffic light turned red and spotted the tavern on the corner across the street.

  Fate.

  There she was.

  I blew the light, making a sharp left and parked the van.

  W-A-R.

  It was coming.

  But before we went to war with the Bastards I had a battle with the biggest bastard of all.

  Johnny Walker.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  “Last call, buddy,” the bartender called from the other end of the bar. I stared at the amber liquid, swirled it around in the glass then knocked it back and turned it upside down lining it up next to the other empty shot glasses. I had quite the collection going on.

  I pointed to the tower of empty shot glasses and peered back at the bartender.

  “Two more,” I ordered, slurring my words.

  “You got a ride to wherever you’re heading?” he questioned as he braced his hands on the edge of the bar and studied me.

  “I got it covered,” I tapped the empty glasses. “Let’s go.” I added another twenty to the stack in front of me and waited for him to move.

  He sighed, reluctantly grabbing the bottle of whiskey from behind the bar, flipped over two shots and filled them to the rim—slamming his hand over the cash and stuffed it in his pocket.

  So much for the concerned bartender act.

  Anyone can be bought in this world.

  Everyone had their price.

  Sometimes a twenty got you what you needed, other times all the money in the world wouldn’t suffice.

  Sometimes the price was blood.

  I emptied the second shot glass, numb to the burn of the liquor as it made its way down my throat. I pushed back my stool and stood for the first time in hours, stumbling and knocking over the bar stool.

  “Easy,” the bartender called. “Why don’t you let me call you a cab?”

  I waved him off as I found my footing and headed out of the bar. If I had any luck, I’d wrap the van around a pole before I did what I knew I had to do.

  I unlocked the van, climbed into the driver seat and fumbled with the key, leaning my head against the steering wheel.

  “But the world, my world, it would be black without you,” she whispered. “I don’t know how it happened, and I probably never will, but you’re a big part of my life and my only wish is that you start living life again.

  “I wanted to,” I whispered, replying to the memory of her words. “You made me want to.”

  Then I was reminded of my own words.

  It’s a good dream, Lace. You and me, it’s a real good dream but dreams don’t come true for men like me.

  I knew better.

  I knew it would never work, that I wasn’t good for her, that I had the capacity to ruin her.

  It’s me.

  It’s what I do.

  I take the good in the world and make it ugly.

  I take the innocent and feed them to the devil.

  I can’t change and the more I think I can the more I hurt the people who give a damn about me.

  I hurt Lacey.

  I hurt Jack.

  I hurt my club.

  I rubbed my face wearily, knowing the only way to make it right, to save her from being a pawn in a game of chess was to cut her free. She’d always be her father’s daughter; no one could change that but she won’t be my woman anymore.

  I’ve never intentionally put her life at risk and I will not start now.

  Even if it kills me.

  Ironic isn’t it? I’ve spent a good part of my life looking for a way out, looking to hurt myself and feel the pain I deserved. Who knew the answer was right in front of me? All I had to do was let myself have a bit of hope and an angel who loved me.

  All I had to do was give in to the temptation and let myself have the one thing I wanted most in this world—even more than the pain I craved. I wanted the good girl who always had my back. The beauty with the sad eyes who just wanted the beast to see her, to worship her and to love her.

  I had the story right from the beginning, from that first night I pushed Lacey away and sent her running scared.

  I had to go for the fucking rewrite.

  I had to give her the good.

  I had to take more of her.

  I had to watch her unravel and know it was me who did that to her.

  I barely made it back to the hotel and parked the van in between two spots. Once inside I fell into the chair, not bothering with a light, accustomed to the darkness. I didn’t care it was the middle of the night, I hoped she’d be sleeping and wouldn’t answer the phone, giving me a few more hours to hold on to her.

  A few hours to hang onto the dream of Leather and Lace.

  I slipped my jacket off, turned it over and pulled out my gun first, then my phone. In that instant I knew it’d be easier to pull the trigger than to press send on the call I was about to make. I lifted the phone to my ear, listened as it rang and said a silent prayer she wouldn’t answer the phone.

  “Hello?” she whispered groggily into the phone, forcing me to close my eyes and savor the sound of her voice.

  I pictured her in bed, hair tousled, stretching her body along the mattress.

  “Blackie?”

  “Hey, babe,” I rasped, clearing my throat before running my
free hand over my hair, fisting it in agony.

  “Is everything okay?” she murmured into the phone.

  No nothing’s okay.

  It all fell to shit before we even had time to enjoy it.

  “It’s all good,” I lied, trying to work up the nerve to harden my tone and break her heart. “Listen, Lace,” I started.

  “I miss you,” she cut me off. “I wish you were here right now, or I was there. I miss the way your arms feel wrapped around me and your breath against my ear.”

  I dropped my hand, leaned my head against the back of the chair and closed my eyes, remembering the night I held her in my arms—on the floor of a house I never thought I’d step foot inside again.

  A little slice of heaven.

  Why give me heaven only to throw me back into hell?

  “I do too,” I admitted, huskily.

  “When are you coming home?”

  “Tomorrow,” I said, opening my eyes and staring into the darkness. “I can’t do it.”

  “What can’t you do?”

  I couldn’t bring myself to break her heart and not for the selfish reasons I expected but because I didn’t want to hurt.

  I just didn’t mean to say it out loud.

  “I’ve got to go, Lace.”

  “Can I see you tomorrow?” She asked quickly before I disconnected the call.

  “Yeah, angel,” I whispered.

  “Good night Blackie.”

  Tonight I didn’t hurt her with my words. I didn’t scar her with my actions but I feared the inevitable.

  Lacey would be hurt.

  And it didn’t matter if I was the one doing the damage or not, in the end it would still be my fault. But tonight, tonight, we held onto the dream for a little longer.

  “Good night, Lace,” I said, disconnecting the call and staring down at the screen.

  I closed my eyes, pictured her smiling face as Boots’ threat rang loudly in my ears. I felt the familiar pangs of self-loathing tear into me, ripping me a part, and I was transcended back in time. The last time I hated myself this much was when I held Christine’s lifeless body in my arms. I was too late then, but I wasn’t now. I didn’t have to hold another cold body in my arms and wish for another way.

  But as much as I have been able to protect her this far I knew the game Boots was playing—I knew it too well.

  It’s exactly what I would do if the roles were reverse.

  I’d bide my time.

  I’d let the motherfucker stew.

  And as I sat there in the dark, watching the woman he loved, I’d smile to myself knowing I had the upper hand.

  Drugs can be replaced.

  Money can be earned again.

  Buildings can burn only to be rebuilt.

  A club can be divided and torn apart only to rise again.

  But taking the life of the one that makes yours worth living?

  That shit ends you.

  It’s the oldest play in the book and the most effective.

  I reared my hand back and threw my phone across the room, watching as it bounced off the wall. I grabbed the arms of the chair and hoisted myself up, walking through the dark room to where the phone landed. The screen was shattered, mimicking the cracks covering my dead heart.

  I’m going to miss her when the lights go out, when I’m alone in the dark remembering how it felt to be inside heaven.

  I’ll always think of her.

  My Lace.

  My lethal temptation.

  I didn’t sleep that night, my mind was racing like I did two eight balls of cocaine so, I checked out of the hotel and jumped into my van before the sun came up. I rode back to New York with a van full of guns, a broken phone and a goddamn hangover.

  Only grief waited for me so why I was in a rush to run back to hell was a mystery. I couldn’t sit in that room another second though because all I did was think of her and how I would have to break it off.

  How the fuck was I going to do it looking at her, watching her eyes go dark as night as the torment of my words stabbed her? I couldn’t do it on the phone and was a fool to think I’d be able to do it face to face.

  By the time I pulled the van up to the Dog Pound I was exhausted, crashing from the booze and the mental anguish. I wanted to sleep for the next three days and if I was lucky when I finally awoke, the war would be over.

  Fat chance.

  I slammed the door of the van and damned the fucking thing to hell.

  If I never had to drive a cage again it would be too soon.

  The parking lot was relatively empty reminding me, Jack was due to go up to Otisville to visit Vic. Pipe was spending more time at the garage trying to expand and Wolf was searching the map for recruits, leaving Riggs and Bones in charge of the home front.

  God help us all.

  I entered the clubhouse, spotted Bones on the phone and tipped my chin in acknowledgement before heading towards the stairs. I reached the landing where Riggs was pacing back and forth in front of my door.

  “What’re you doing?” I asked, scratching the scruff that lined my jaw. He lifted his head and his eyes narrowed as he studied me.

  I could only imagine what I looked like.

  “Man,” he hissed. “What the fuck happened?”

  “Get out of my way,” I ordered.

  “You look like you fell off the wagon,” he commented.

  He should only know.

  “What are you my sponsor now?” I dropped my duffel bag on the floor, shrugged my jacket off and viciously rolled up my sleeves, turning my forearms up. “Not a fucking mark. Now get the fuck out of my way Riggs,” I growled.

  “Black, I’m just concerned is all,” he said, pulling off his baseball hat and scratching his head.

  “Appreciate it but I’m not your fucking problem,” I argued.

  “Speaking of problems,” he started.

  “What?”

  “You have a visitor,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at the door. “Bones thinks she came by so I could help her fix her laptop.”

  “Yeah? And how’d she get in my room?”

  “Pop-A-Lock?” he suggested.

  I glared at him with my dry eyes that burned like a motherfucker. Did he expect me to believe she called a fucking locksmith, and he wasn’t the one who let Lacey inside my room? This kid was a character, bitchin’ about getting mixed up with me and Lacey but then he picks my fucking lock and covers for her.

  Idiot.

  “Thanks,” I muttered as he stepped aside, allowing me room to open the door. He patted me on the back as I drew in a ragged breath and watched him walk down the hallway.

  I opened the door and was greeted by the most beautiful sight I had ever seen.

  I guess the devil wanted to fuck me a little harder, sharpen the blade before he twisted it deeper.

  Lacey was sitting on my bed with her bare legs crossed, wearing nothing but one of my black t-shirts. She turned her head, brushed her long wavy hair away from her face as she smiled sheepishly at me.

  “Welcome home,” she started.

  I didn’t respond as I kicked the door closed and dropped my bag on the floor. I didn’t bother to brush away my hair that fell wildly around my face, hiding my bloodshot eyes.

  “Black— “

  I cut her off, lifting my finger to my lips to silence her as I started for the bed.

  For her.

  I shut my mind off.

  And motherfucked Boots all the way to his grave as my knees hit the edge of the bed and I watched her crawl toward me.

  I wanted to do the right thing but everything in my being told me this…her and me, we were the right thing.

  We were everything.

  I reached for her, taking one hand and draped it around my neck before taking the other and doing the same. Then I let my hands travel down her sides, gripped her hips and tugged her body tightly against mine.

  I hoped my actions conveyed my feelings because I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. Not
when I’d have to take them back.

  I dipped my head, shaking my hair away from my face pressing my cheek against hers, taking in the intoxicating scent of her perfume. My mouth moved along her jaw, teasing her chin before finding her lips.

  It started off slow, just lips touching lips, until we both realized that didn’t even scratch the surface of what we needed from one another.

  Bruised.

  Swollen.

  Her lips parted and invited me to taste everything I missed.

  I slid my tongue inside of her mouth, my hands moved south, lifting the hem of the shirt and cupped her bare ass cheeks, digging my fingers into the mounds of flesh.

  She fisted the hair at the nape of my neck and matched my rhythm, grinding against me as she angled her head and took what she wanted, using my mouth to quench her desire.

  I dragged myself away from her mouth, torturing us both as we stared at one another.

  I drew a breath, letting go of her and taking a step back.

  “I need to take a shower,” I stated, reaching behind me and pulling my shirt over my head. Lacey gnawed on her lower lip as she nodded, reaching for me and unbuckling my belt.

  “You do that,” she said finally.

  “Don’t move,” I ordered, as she pulled my belt from my loops and twisted it around her wrist.

  “Yes, sir,” she murmured, her lips curved revealing her perfect smile.

  Goddamn.

  I unbuttoned my jeans, drawing down the zipper half way before I found the will to turn around and walk into the bathroom.

  I turned the water on, glanced in the mirror and pushed the hair away from my face to stare at the beast looking back at me—the weak monster who didn’t have the heart to break Lacey’s after breaking so many before her.

  It used to be so easy.

  Until I cared.

  Until I found the heart I wanted to claim more than the body that housed it.

  “You’re a motherfucker,” I said back to my reflection.

  I finished stripping and stepped into the shower, letting the water rain down.

  I needed to shower with holy water. Maybe that would cleanse my soul and ease my conscience because I wasn’t going to do it.

  I wasn’t giving her up.

  I’d do whatever the fuck I had to do to keep her safe and keep her with me.