Back then, I thought it was ironic the house I bought was only mere minutes from the home of one of the families I destroyed.
Then I thought it was the devil fucking with me.
Now, I know it was fate.
I turned down the street I used to sit on for hours and stared at the two-story home with black shutters. I parked my bike across the street from the house and killed my engine. I could still see the newspaper headlines so vividly as if they were in front of me for the first time. I remember seeing the photos of the two boys that overdosed in the obituaries.
Both boys were waked at Scarpaci Funeral Home on Hylan Boulevard, on the same night and buried in Resurrection Cemetery on the same day.
I never told a soul, but I went to each of those boys wakes.
I sat in the back of the chapel and watched their mothers cry over their bodies as a priest ask God to forgive them and welcome both children into the gates of heaven.
Heavenly Father, please protect Alex Rossi.
Dear God, watch over Peter Corona.
I’ll never forget the names of the boys whose lives I robbed.
I’ll never forget their mothers.
And when I start to, I come here and wait for Mrs. Rossi to come home from work. I look at her, years later, and see how she never healed from the loss of her son.
Then, I drive to Resurrection Cemetery and pay my respects to Peter Corona, and the grave next to his where his mother was laid to rest a week after she buried her boy.
She committed suicide, left a note behind saying, she needed to be with her son.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone as I glanced into the side-view mirror of my bike and saw Mrs. Rossi’s car turn onto the street.
I’m sorry.
So, fucking sorry.
I made the call.
A half hour later I was driving away from the projects.
I turned into a real pussy, shocking the hell out of my dealer when I passed up the heroin and opted for the eight ball of coke.
But as much as I wanted to bring myself to hell.
I couldn’t bring myself to forget her.
And if shooting up risked that, risked robbing me of the memory of her pretty face I wouldn’t mark my arms.
Only to save the memory of Lace.
Look at that, even in the end she wound up being the one who saved me.
When I got back to the clubhouse I went straight for the bathroom, lined up two lines of coke and snorted them with a rolled up twenty-dollar bill.
I lifted my head as I braced my hands on the counter and peered at the devil in the mirror.
My name is Blackie and I am an addict.
That was my destiny.
I felt the burn of the powder in my nostrils and sniffled until it passed before I wiped the counter clean. I knotted the tip of the bag and shoved the remaining coke into my pocket before leaving the bathroom and headed straight for the bar.
I pulled the half-empty bottle of Johnny Walker off the shelf and took a seat at the bar.
It was the wrong move because the minute I sat down the door opened and for a minute I imagined Lacey walking through it, just as she did that first night.
I knocked back a shot, blinked and saw Riggs.
I turned around, hoping he wouldn’t cut me any slack, but he didn’t even seem to notice I was clutching the bottle like it was my salvation and poured myself a refill.
He was too wrapped up in his own hell to notice I was reliving mine.
“Tell me I did the right thing,” Riggs demanded, as he filled his glass again.
“I don’t even know what you did,” I muttered, watching as he placed the bottle down and stared at his glass.
“It don’t matter, just tell me what I need to hear,” he said, downing another shot.
“You did the right thing,” I muttered, not giving two fucks about this kid’s problems—drowning in a sea of my own.
Still, he’s been the only man in my corner with this shit with Lacey. He’s had my back and hers when no one else would’ve given me that respect.
I owed him the same.
Not to mention it wasn’t that long ago that he saved my life by shooting me with the Naloxone trying to reverse everything Jimmy Gold did to me.
He saved my life.
He gave me a chance to be with Lace.
Yeah, Riggs deserved my respect.
“You looking to forget? That shit won’t do it,” I told him, swapping the bottle of tequila he was nursing with the bottle of Black.
“I’m sorry,” he grunted as I took a swig of his tequila.
“You have a fight with your ol’ lady?” I questioned.
“I don’t have one of those,” he replied.
I let him believe the lie because every now and then we needed to escape reality.
“Right, the baby mama then,” I corrected.
Riggs liked herb, and I had just swiped some when I grabbed the coke. I pulled it from my pocket and broke up the pot on top of the bar.
I leaned over the bar and grabbed the rolling papers from behind it before I sat back down and rolled a perfectly tight joint.
“What was that shit with the cops earlier?” he asked.
If Riggs needed a distraction, talking about what a scumbag Brantley was, would be the way to go.
“Ah, me and officer Brantley go way back,” I slurred, bringing the end of the paper to my lips to lick and seal it. “I don’t know who gave that piece of shit more of a hard-on me or Christine,” I added, passing him the joint as I met his curious eyes.
He paused for a minute, composing himself and lit the joint.
“Never heard you talk much about your wife,” he said, inhaling sharply.
Yeah, I kept that shit under lock and key. Only the people who were around for it truly knew the whole story.
“So, this rat, the cop, he’s been itching to put you away for a while? And Christine? He wanted to arrest her too?”
I laughed.
“Nah he didn’t want to arrest her,” I said before taking a toke. “Christine wasn’t some low-life junkie, Riggs,” I explained, angrily.
People often had the misconception that Christine was using but she never took a drug in her life. I often think that she didn’t mean to kill herself and like me she was simply trying to forget the mess our life together had become.
She didn’t know she was shooting enough heroin to put down a horse.
She didn’t know.
“I didn’t say she was,” he said solemnly, pouring us both a shot.
To hell with sobriety.
“It’s what you think because it’s all anyone in this fucking place ever talks about. You’ve got this image of Christine, a woman you never met, lying face down in a bathtub with a fucking needle in her arm but that’s not the woman I married. Everyone in this club assumes I drink because I feel guilty she overdosed with the shit we were selling, but they’re wrong, so fucking wrong.”
“So why do you do it?”
“Sure, it’s got something to do with it. If I wasn’t dealing heroin she wouldn’t have been able to get her hands on it. But, Christine would’ve found some other way to end the nightmare she was living,” I told him the truth and not the fairytale I liked to believe.
“I was a shitty husband,” I admitted. “I put this club before her. I put the drugs, the money, the goddamn patch before the sweet girl I fell in love with when I was fifteen years old. See, she knew me before the club, before the corruption and the mayhem and she had to watch me morph into a Knight. It was all good when I was just a prospect, still had time for my girl and the crazy shit we used to do.”
I smiled faintly, thinking back to all the things we used to do like the time we got caught skinny dipping in her parent’s pool.
“I don’t know Lauren all that well, ran into her a few times since you two started up, but she seems spunky. Christine used to be spunky. She used to love life, and more than life, she loved me. S
he loved me hard, felt that shit down in my bones.”
And when her parents caught us she defended me to them.
She chose me over them.
She chose us.
I cleared my throat and continued.
“After I patched in, Cain pushed me to the front lines. I was eager to earn, eager to prove I would do anything for the club,” I angled my head to the side and studied his profile.
“Sort of like you,” I pointed out. “In our time of need you stepped up and became a front runner. That isn’t lost to the club, Riggs, and you don’t have to keep proving your worthy of your patch,” I added.
“I’m not,” he argued. “I’m just doing my job.”
“I thought the same thing and kept doing my job. I ran drugs, guns, women…whatever made the most profit and never looked back. I forgot about the love I had at home and what it felt like to go home to a warm body. I pushed the thoughts of how fucking good it felt to crawl into bed and have the sweetest woman wrap her legs around me. She didn’t know what I did, and if she did, she didn’t care. I could’ve killed a man, sometimes did, and she still welcomed me home, into our bed, night after night.”
“So how did it all change?”
“I started pushing her away. Cain made a deal with the G-Man and we moved more drugs, became the biggest operation on the east coast.”
“The G-Man is the guy Jimmy Gold was working with to push Pastore out, right?”
“Yeah,” I confirmed, taking another shot. “Anyway, there is only so much bad shit you can do before it catches up to you and changes who you are. It didn’t bother me at first, I had shoeboxes full of money and in my head I was doing it for a good reason. I would buy Christine her dream house, make sure my woman had everything she wanted, the best of everything. I told myself I was doing it for her, making up for the douche bag I was on a daily basis. I didn’t have a conscience I only had a goal, but I didn’t plan on being the reason two seventeen-year-old kids died,” I confessed.
A house I was just starting to make a home.
Rest in peace Alex Rossi and Peter Corona.
Rest in peace my love, Christine.
“It changes you,” I repeated, hoarsely. “Knowing that two kids, who had their whole lives ahead of them died, so you could make a quick buck—it fucking wrecks you, man. That was the beginning of the end for me and Christine. I stopped going home, started staying here every night. I couldn’t look at her; I couldn’t let myself have something as good as her when all I ever did was take the good from other people.”
I sighed, pushing back the bottle.
“She thought I was cheating on her and that’s when Brantley came around. He was a rookie then, looking to make a name for himself and thought he’d start by taking down the Satan’s Knights. He’s smart, I’ll give the son of a bitch that. He looked for the weakest link, found it was me, and used my wife as bait.”
Here I was all these years later, still the weakest link only there was a different innocent woman being used as bait.
“He gave Christine all the attention I wasn’t giving her anymore, made her feel things I gave up on making her feel, and promised her all the things I couldn’t. He used her, played on her broken emotions and convinced her I would wind up dead because of the club. I found out they were having an affair, put two and two together and confronted her but she had already made a deal with him. She would get the drugs from me and prove I was dealing the shit that killed those two kids,” he said, solemnly. “Instead of giving me up she gave up her life.”
As similar as the stories were they were different.
As similar as Lacey and Christine were…they too were different.
I was Lacey’s one and only.
I was supposed to be Christine’s one and only too.
Christine gave her life for mine.
And I’d give mine for Lacey’s.
I covered my face with my hands and felt Riggs pat me on the back. A groan escaped my lips as I dropped my hands from my face and pinned Riggs with a stare.
Don’t be me, man.
Hang on to that woman of yours.
Hold that baby of yours and fucking enjoy life.
You only get one.
“Jack’s been trying for a long time to get this club on the right track, to give us some peace. He thinks he can turn us into a legit club and make us proud to call ourselves the Satan’s Knights—but he’s in over his head. We’re in too deep, and every time we think we are pulling ourselves out of the hole, some other fucking threat comes along. Whether it’s a man in a fur coat or a fucking Chinese emperor, there will always be a fucking cancer that will drag us down.”
Truth.
I glanced down at my hands, turning them over and displayed my palms.
“See these hands? They have a lot of blood on them and that’s all I see when I look at them, all the blood and all the faces of the people who bled from these hands.”
They didn’t have Lacey’s though.
I could still close my eyes and see her pretty face and not her blood on my hands.
“Blackie…” he started.
I shook my head and interrupted him.
Let the devil teach you something.
“You got something good with Bianci’s sister, stop trying to prove yourself, man, you paid your dues. Now, take a step back and don’t let that girl doubt she has you because when you don’t have her anymore you’re going to feel it,” I promised as the words got stuck in my throat.
And when you feel it you’re going to wish you were dead.
Chapter Twenty-six
Something was wrong.
This time I didn’t have to wait for the sadistic voice to poison me with foolish thoughts.
This time I felt it with every fiber of my being.
With every crack of my heart.
The inbox you are trying to reach is full.
I disconnected the call and shoved the phone into my pocketbook before I ran my fingers through my hair and stared up at the gray sky willing myself not to cry. I blew out a breath and tried to tell myself that I was overreacting that I was used to bad things happening and didn’t know how to enjoy the good.
But I couldn’t shake the feeling my world was crumbling, and I didn’t even receive an invitation to the end.
I grabbed my mother’s keys from my purse and started for the campus parking lot when I heard someone call my name.
“Lacey, wait up!” I turned on my heel and saw Brandon running across the grass with a smile on his face.
“Shit,” I muttered. Why won’t this guy get the hint?
“You in a hurry?”
“Actually, I am,” I said, forcing a smile.
“I was going to ask you if you wanted to go grab a quick bite,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets as he flashed a smile. He had such perfectly straight teeth and a smile so white he looked like a poster boy for Colgate.
“That would be nice Brandon but I’m…I’m seeing someone.”
“The old biker guy? Come on, Lace, you’re not serious are you?”
“Lacey,” I corrected through gritted teeth.
Only the people who loved me called me Lace.
“Yes, the biker and as for his age…,” I shrugged my shoulders. “Well, let’s just say I skipped passed the two decades a guy feels he needs to be an adolescent. Blackie’s a man, not a boy trying to become one.” I smiled sweetly.
Brandon’s eyebrows drew together in confusion.
Exhibit A.
Poor bastard didn’t even know when he was being schooled.
He had about another decade of the stupidity left.
“Thanks for the offer. I’m sure you’ll find another date,” I added, turning around and leaving the dumb-fucked boy in the grass.
I made my way to the parking lot, found my mom’s car and was about to climb into the car when I spotted the Harley parked two rows over. My eyes moved from the chrome to the man straddling it, taking in the unmistakab
le reaper sewn into the back of his leather vest. I slammed the door to my car and stalked across the two rows, watching the prospect turn around and meet my gaze.
I had seen him a few times when Blackie was still in the hospital and my father was keeping a watchful eye out, making sure Blackie was protected. I didn’t remember his name though, causing me to glance at the patch that declared his road name.
Mack.
Where the fuck was Blackie?
I lifted my eyes to his and crossed my arms under my breasts as I studied him.
“Who sent you?” I asked, hanging on to whatever strength I could muster up before I had no choice but to surrender.
He remained perfectly still and silent.
“Was it my father? Was it Blackie? Where are they?” I demanded.
Nothing.
I uncrossed my arms and shoved my palms against his chest.
“Answer me goddamn it! Are they okay?” I screeched, holding back the emotion threatening to surface.
“They’re fine,” he finally said.
I should’ve felt some sense of relief but I didn’t. All I felt was another crack shatter my heart.
“But that’s all you’ll tell me isn’t it?” I dropped my hands from his chest and stared into his crystal blue eyes that were blank.
I took a retreating step, glanced at his bike before diverting my eyes back to his.
“Better straddle that bike we’re going for a ride Mack,” I sneered, turning on my heel as I power walked back to my car.
My hand trembled as I opened the door and quickly slid inside the car. I gripped the steering wheel as the hot tears fell from my eyes.
Told you he didn’t really want you.
Told you it would all end.
Told you he’d chew you up and spit you out.
But you didn’t listen.
Now you’ll suffer the truth.
I dropped my head against the steering wheel and wondered if I could shake the crazy. I pushed back, started the car and forced myself to concentrate and block out the doubt that threatened to ruin me.
Blackie had told me himself that the club was in a bad place, danger lurked around every corner and we needed to keep things quiet between us until it was all straightened out.
He said that.
I didn’t imagine it.
Lethal Temptations (Tempted #5) Page 23