Lethal Temptations (Tempted #5)

by Janine Infante Bosco

  “Jack came up about a week ago to catch me up to speed with our situation,” he said, as he bent down and stripped his thin mattress of its sheet.

  “Glad, he found time for a visit,” I gritted. “Look, Vic I’m not really sure what the plan is or if there even is one—

  He turned around, his gray eyes pinned me with a hard stare.

  “There’s always a plan,” he interrupted. “We’ll have you out of here by the end of the week as long as you play by my rules,” he paused, cocked his head the side and started again. “Heard there’s a certain someone on the outside waiting for you.”

  I drew my eyebrows together as I crossed his arms and deciphered his words, wondering which enemy he was referring too, not surprised that he would have intel on that sort of thing.

  He smiled, revealing perfectly straight teeth as he winked at me knowingly.

  “Your choice woman has my friend up in arms,” he teased.

  “I bet he had a mouthful to say,” I mumbled.

  “He voiced his concerns,” he said as he tied one end of the sheet around one of the metal bars. “Take it from me, it’s hard on a man when he looks at his daughter and realizes she’s all grown up and you’re not the only man in her life anymore.”

  He walked to the other end of the bars and tied the other corner of the sheet around a bar, covering the bars, before he turned back around and wiped his hands clean.

  “You’ve met my daughters haven’t you?”

  “Yes,” I confirmed, watching as he walked over to the small sink and grabbed a photo taped above it of his two daughters, Nikki and Adrianna. “And your wife,” I added. “You’re a lucky man.”

  “Yes, I used to be,” he agreed and brought his index finger to his lips before pressing the kiss to the photograph. “And then my luck ran out.”

  He placed the photograph back in its rightful spot but continued to stare at it.

  “I was about your age, married with two little girls and the biggest empire in New York. I was on top of the world, untouchable, and unstoppable, making more money than anyone could’ve imagined. My wife was dripping in diamonds and my kids didn’t want for a thing. I’d go out all night, hustle hard and come home in the morning just as Grace was getting the girls ready for school. I’d give them a quick kiss, promise there would be a surprise waiting for them when they came home and handed my wife a knot of cash. I thought that’s what made a man successful.”

  I used to hate Jack’s alliance with Victor, I thought it was bad for the club to mix our organization with his. I didn’t like breaking bread with the mob and thought we ran in different circles. But I learned our club and his organization had many similarities, we were both outlaws and mostly we wanted the same things as far as our town. We wanted to keep the concrete jungle under our thumb, run shit our way, with no interference from others. We wanted to make money, and when we started to…well, we wanted to make more because stacks of hundreds under your mattress wasn’t enough. You wanted the shoeboxes in your closet full too.

  “I used to think that too,” I admitted. “I was married, lost her though and when I did it didn’t matter how much I gave her it didn’t keep her in my life.”

  “I know,” he said. “But you, you got a second chance,” he pointed out. “You’ll get out of here and there’ll be a life waiting for you. It’s an opportunity to live hard and fast but for the right reasons, for the reasons that make life worth living.”

  He coughed heavily as if he was choking. I jumped to my feet, ready to pat him on the back but he held up a hand in protest and continued to cough up a lung.

  Pride.

  He still had it.

  “That’s better,” he said, taking a deep breath.

  “You okay?”

  He stepped to me and placed his palm to my cheek and I felt like I was in the Godfather with Marlon Brando and not in a jail cell with Vic.

  “Do yourself a favor...when you get out, make changes, make your life count, kid, because it’s too fucking short. Don’t fall back into old ways and don’t let breaking the law come before the one who keeps you warm at night. Don’t become me because it’ll hurt, worse than any bullet ever could—knowing your wife cries herself to sleep every night and you have two daughters you never got to walk down the aisle or dance with.”

  He paused, dropped his hand and looked away before continuing.

  “I’ve got a granddaughter due to be born any day now I won’t ever get to meet and a grandson who will soon forget his Pop if he hasn’t already. So ask me now, was it all worth it?”

  “Don’t beat yourself up about it Vic. It takes a good man to get a woman like you got, and even more special man to raise two daughters as great as yours. You must’ve done something right,” I told the man.

  “Remember that when you’re breathing fresh air, kid. Remember when life gets hard there’s always another way, hang onto your woman and let her show you the way. And if you’re lucky you’ll have a couple kids…,” he smiled, fighting back another coughing fit. “And they’ll be girls. You’ll look at them and wonder how you ever pulled a trigger or dug a hole.”

  The coughing won, and it took a few minutes for him regain his composure.

  “Do you need a glass of water or something?”

  “Water won’t cure what I have,” he muttered.

  “Are you sick?”

  He took a seat on the bottom bunk and glanced up at me.

  “I’ve been diagnosed with lung cancer, not sure what stage yet, but I’m guessing it’s pretty far off,” he took a deep breath. “It is what it is,” he brushed an invisible piece of lint from his jumpsuit.

  “Christ, I’m sorry Vic,” I muttered, running my fingers through my hair. “Does your family know?”

  “No, no point in telling them,” he answered. “My girls are finally happy, genuinely happy and they’re safe. They miss their dad but they’re moving on with life, as they should. Adrianna is about to give birth and is finally living her happily ever after with Anthony. And my Nikki, well, Michael paid me a visit and told me he was going to ask her to marry him. He’s a good kid, Val would be proud. Then there’s my Gracie, and I won’t tell her because she’s still hanging onto the years when we were young.”

  He lifted his pillow, removed the pillow case and pulled a razor blade out.

  “When it’s your time, it’s your time,” he said kneeled down on the floor and sharpened the edge of the razor against the concrete.

  “What are you doing with that?” I whispered.

  He lifted his eyes to mine and smiled widely.

  “It’s Jimmy’s time,” he revealed.

  “He’s here?”

  “It seems like just yesterday you and Jack paid me a visit and we first concocted this plan,” he smiled nostalgically. “I always liked playing God, now I get to play it with that no good prick’s life.”

  He viciously scratched the razor against the cement, obviously angered just thinking about Jimmy Gold.

  I got his pain.

  That motherfucker ruined my life too.

  The only difference is I have one to get back to and Vic didn’t. I felt sorry for him and I knew if I told him that I’d kill what was left of his soul. He didn’t want anyone’s pity.

  “They’ll be coming to bring me to the chapel. Do me a favor?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Continue to sharpen this when I’m gone, but make sure you put the sheet up. You don’t have to worry about the guards but the scum we’re locked up with, they’re all rat bastards,” he said, taking my hand and opening my palm before dropping the blade into it and closing it.

  “Nice and sharp, like the tip of a needle,” he instructed.

  I glanced down at the weapon in the palm of my hand as Vic walked behind me and untied the sheet from the bars. I shoved the razor under my mattress and watched as Vic grabbed his bible. Two minutes later a correction officer took him to church.

  Two minutes later I was devising a pla
n of my own.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Nice and sharp, like the tip of a needle.

  His words repeated over and over inside my head as I mimicked the way he tied the sheet over the bars. I grabbed the blade from under the mattress and took a seat on the cold floor, letting the razor slide between my fingers.

  So smooth.

  I pictured Jimmy’s face as he sat across from me that day he showed up at the Dog Pound, provoking me to resurrect the devil I tried so hard to bury.

  Victor tells me you’re familiar with the business, that, you used to be one of the biggest players in the game.

  Even the mighty players fall.

  Just look at Vic.

  But I didn’t just fall, Jimmy Gold knocked me off my horse and dragged me to hell.

  I’d like to think a man like you knows his product, enjoys it even, won’t you have a taste for me?

  I scratched the razor against the concrete subconsciously as I relived the nightmare that nearly killed me. I recalled drawing my sleeve up my arm and tying the rubber band around my bicep. I could almost feel the needle prick my skin and when I closed my eyes I watched as my thumb pressed down on the top of the syringe.

  There you go.

  Just a little more.

  All done.

  I’ve been at war with myself for a long time and if I would yield Victor’s advice I needed to put my addictions to rest. I needed to go religiously to meetings when I got out and more than that I needed to hang on to the picture he painted for me. The woman home waiting for me and the dream of a family that could be mine.

  But before all that, to give myself to Lacey completely I had to free myself from the demons that threatened to pull me away from her. I wasn’t like Victor; I learned the hard way money and power aren’t everything, not when you’re pulling your dead wife out of a bathtub. I had my own issues though and as much as I was addicted to drugs I was addicted to pain. I let people get to me through my heart and I’d have to end that by ending all the people who threatened to take my heart away from me.

  Starting with Jimmy.

  Ending with Boots.

  I didn’t even give a fuck about the G-Man anymore. If that man never got what was coming and lived to a ripe old age only to rot away in a cage, that, was good enough for me. Vic gave me a glimpse of the future, providing me with a wake-up call and a new dream.

  I wanted the picture he had taped to the wall, but I wanted that photograph tucked safely into a frame on the nightstand next to my wife.

  I touched the edge of the blade, continued to sharpen it before glancing around the cell, searching for an answer to a question I wasn’t going to divulge.

  You want to know what happens?

  Watch and see motherfucker.

  I promise to give you a good show.

  I narrowed my eyes as I stared at the metal toilet bowl screwed into the wall and the floor. I crawled across the floor and placed my hands on the bowl, remembering the morning after that first prick of the needle in five years and how I remained hunched over the bowl. I inspected the toilet bowl and found what I was looking for. I used the sharpened edge of the razor as a flat head screwdriver and twisted the bolt attaching the metal thrown to the wall.

  Then my voice rang in my ears after Gold tried forcing me on Reina.

  I’m not touching her you sick fuck.

  Shoot me up, do what you got to do but I won’t fucking touch her.

  I twisted and twisted until I pulled back my hand, revealing the three inch bolt and ran my finger across the flat tip.

  Nice and sharp, like the tip of a needle.

  I moved away from the toilet, placed the sharpened razor back into Vic’s pillowcase before I went to work on the screw.

  Lacey’s face worked its way into my brain as my hand quickened the pace, stripping the ridges that swirled around the metal, smoothing them down as I created a point.

  I couldn’t wait to see that face again.

  I couldn’t wait to kiss that mouth of hers again.

  Or hold that soft body in my arms.

  I couldn’t fucking wait to be inside her and watch her eyes as she became mine over and over again.

  Yeah, I had a fucking future, and it was so goddamn beautiful.

  “Nice and sharp,” I repeated.

  “Just like the tip of a needle,” I whispered.

  I heard the keys dangle before the officer fitted them into the bars and I quickly hid the weapon I was making. Vic pulled back the sheet and stepped into our cell.

  “How was church?” I muttered.

  “God is good,” he replied, placing his bible under his pillow. “He forgives us all.”

  “Yeah? You think?” I asked, wiping the sweat from my brow and pushing my hair away from my eyes.

  “I know,” he assured as he climbed into the bottom bunk. “Tomorrow is a big day,” he said, yawning. “Tomorrow I become God.”

  No you don’t.

  I do.

  I climbed onto the top bunk and once I was sure Victor was sleeping, I continued to sharpen the screw against the wall.

  God was good.

  But I was the devil.

  Chapter Forty

  I watched Victor take the comb resting on the sink and run it through his silver hair, meticulously coming it back. He slipped on his sparkling white sneakers and brushed down the front of his jumpsuit before he turned around and smiled at me.

  “My sources tell me by tomorrow you’ll be a free man,” he assured me.

  I didn’t ask questions, relying on his word and the hope that Jack pulled off whatever the fuck he and Victor planned.

  “Give Jack some time to come around,” he advised. “A father needs to see the proof that when he leaves this earth his daughter will be well looked after. We don’t always deserve the peace of mind but some of us need it, anyway. Give it to him. Make her happy.”

  “I plan on it,” I said huskily, barely recognizing my own voice.

  He crossed the small floor space of the cell and reached under his pillow for the bible, opening it to the middle where a ribbon acted as a bookmark and laid the open book on the bed.

  My legs dangled over the edge of the top bunk and I leaned forward, watching intently as he emptied the pillowcase and lifted the razor, inspecting the sharpness of it with his finger before he lifted his eyes to mine and smiled.

  “You do good work,” he complimented.

  “Always aim to please,” I said as he placed the razor onto open page of the Holy Scripture before he covered it with the ribbon and closed the book.

  “Let’s go Pastore,” the guard called from behind the sheet.

  I jumped down from the bunk and shoved my hands into my pockets, fingering the weapon rubbing against my thigh. Victor untied the sheet at one end and let it hang from the other as he tucked his bible under his arm and waited for the guard to open the cell.

  “Wait,” I called.

  Victor looked over his shoulder at me.

  “Think God could find forgiveness in me too?”

  He studied me for a moment, remaining completely silent and I thought he would deny me. I knew what he was going to do, he never tried to hide it from me and now I was asking him to allow me to bear witness. His lips quirked, and he granted me the faintest hint of a smile.

  “Come, my brother, you want to see God work in mysterious ways? Let me show you his divine powers,” he said, his voice almost sounding like a hymn.

  The C.O. raised an eyebrow at Vic but the mob boss paid him no mind, leading me out of the cell. As we walked the cell block I felt the inmates eyes on us and wondered if they knew what was about to go down. I diverted my eyes to Vic and watched as he held his head high and moved his lips. I leaned closer trying to listen to him and I heard every other word but it was clear the man was praying.

  It takes a certain breed to do the things we do and each of us has our own way of getting in the zone. Whether it’s reliving the pain you suffered in life or listeni
ng to a particular song there’s something that gets you pumped and ready to take blood, a ritual one partakes in before he sanctions the beast within and takes a life.

  I’m not sure if Vic prays to God or if he really thinks he becomes him, but it’s almost fascinating to watch him evolve into a holier than thou persona.

  We stepped into the chapel which the only thing that showed God’s presence was the small wooden cross hanging on one wall, high enough that no one could reach it and use it as a weapon. A man in a cloak stood in the front of the room and Victor made the sign of the cross as he passed him, taking a seat in one of the folding chairs in the front of him.

  I glanced around the otherwise empty room before I took a seat beside Victor and watched him lay his bible on his lap. The officer that escorted us stood in the back of the room, leaning against the wall as the priest recited mass to us.

  I kept looking towards the door, rubbing my hand over my pants over the screw resting in my pocket, anticipating the moment when I came face to face with Jimmy Gold.

  The moment never came.

  Church continued.

  Vic received Holy Communion.

  I sat back and watched.

  Then the priest walked over to Vic, he dipped his thumb into Holy Water and drew the sign of the cross on his forehead with his finger.

  “God forgives you, son,” he said.

  “Amen,” Victor whispered as he closed his eyes and became one with God.

  The priest dropped his hand, looked to me and side stepped until he stood before me and dipped his finger back in the Holy Water. My eyes widened as he lifted his hand and I felt the cool water touch my forehead, surprising me I didn’t go up in flames when his finger touched my skin.

  “God forgives you, son,” he repeated.

  I stared back at him, forgetting the response I was supposed to say and watched as he dropped his hand before closing his bible.

  A moment later he was gone.

  The officer followed him out the door and left Vic and I sitting in the first makeshift pew of the prison’s chapel. I wondered if every inmate finds God or just the fucked up ones.

  The door opened, forcing me to tear my eyes away from the wooden crucifix and stare in horror at the man who walked into the room. He was ugly, scary looking as all hell, he was the devil. A man who used to be covered in some of the finest ink had skin that was so worn and badly burned that it was almost translucent and the parts that weren’t were sutured with pink puckered flesh.