Uncontrollable Temptations (The Tempted Series Book 3)

by Infante Bosco, Janine

  I don’t know if it was the time of day or the change in myself, but in a few short hours I had raked in more tips than I did on any other night. I swiped the tip from the table, smiled as I counted it and shoved it in my back pocket before leaning over the table and loading up my tray with the empty water glasses and used silverware. I turned around and collided with a hard body.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, lifting my eyes and pausing. “Jack,” I whispered, staring into those dark eyes of his that held me captive. He looked exhausted, like he had been up all night and I couldn’t help but wonder what he did once he left my apartment. One phone call, a few words exchanged, and he was zipping up his pants, hurrying out the door. I didn’t know much about motorcycle clubs, and from what I saw I didn’t think there was much these men wouldn’t do.

  He bit the inside of his cheek as his eyes worked over me.

  “I’ve been calling you,” he drew out his words.

  “I don’t keep my phone on me when I’m working,” I said, biting down on my lower lip. Come to think about it, I never looked at my phone. There was no one to call me, no calls to miss other than my therapist rescheduling an appointment and that rarely ever happened. I cocked my head to the side and smiled, realizing Jack was someone and he was calling me. I had a person. He was my person.

  “Let me drop these off in the sink and I’ll bring you a cup of coffee,” I said, lifting the tray in my hand for emphasis.

  He diverted his eyes to the tray before glancing around the diner.

  “When are you finished here?”

  “My shift was over hours ago,” I replied, adjusting the tray in my hands.

  “Good. Make that coffee to go, Sunshine,” he said, scratching at his chin before tipping it toward the window. I looked over my shoulder and spotted his bike outside the window. “Be waiting for you,” he added, before he reached out and wrapped a strand of my hair around his finger. I watched as he bit his lip, staring at the strand of hair before letting it unravel and drop from his fingertips. He winked at me, then turned and strode out of the diner leaving me frozen in my tracks looking after him.

  I finally snapped out of it, brought the tray into the back and unloaded it. I grabbed my purse from underneath the counter, peeking inside for my phone. I saw I indeed had several missed calls from Jack. I pulled the money out of my jeans and tucked it in my wallet before waving goodbye to Dee. I snatched my leather jacket from the hook and slipped my arms through the sleeves then fixed Jack a cup of coffee in a to-go cup and headed out.

  I pushed through the glass doors and made my way toward Jack. He was leaning against his bike, shaking his head at something he was looking at on his phone before shoving it into his leather jacket and pulling out a pack of Marlboros.

  “I didn’t know that you smoked,” I commented, even as I said the words I tried to recall if I had ever seen him smoke.

  He lit his cigarette, taking the first drag before looking back at me.

  “Lot we don’t know about one another, Reina,” he said evenly.

  I considered his words as I zipped up my jacket. There was nothing wrong with his statement, his words weren’t a lie but there was a bite behind them. I tilted my head, assessing the circles that shadowed his eyes, the scruff that looked a tad bit fuller on his face, the disarray of his hair and how he inhaled the smoke slow and steady, savoring the pull.

  “True,” I started. “Did something happen? Because last night…” My words cut off when he pushed off his bike and exhaled the smoke, blowing it close to my face.

  “Just some shit with my ex-wife,” he interrupted.

  I waved the smoke away from my face and pulled the collar of my jacket over my nose.

  “Well, I’m sorry you’re having issues with your ex-wife but if you’re in a mood why are you here?” I questioned. I’ve come to know Jack as a hard man to figure out, a complex character, a man who wasn’t an upstanding citizen but one who had a heart buried somewhere behind all the leather and tattoos. I saw a piece of his heart the night I shared a meal with him and his daughter.

  “You got yourself an ex-husband? Boyfriend?” He asked, ignoring my question.

  “No,” I said, truthfully. Danny wasn’t my ex-boyfriend. There was no break-up, no bitter ending, but I wasn’t a widow either. I struggled to find an adequate description for what had been taken from me. “I was in a relationship,” I confessed.

  His eyes flickered, and he flipped the cigarette into the street, crossing his arms over his chest, looking like he got his second wind.

  “Figured you weren’t a virgin,” he commented.

  “Funny,” I bit back sarcastically. I held my time with Danny, my love for him, sacred, letting no one in other than my therapist. Yet, here I was willing to share that part of my life, a part that scarred my heart, with this man. This crude bastard of a man. I turned on my heel and moved to walk away from him, making my decision to keep the story of me and Danny to myself.

  He reached for me, closing his hand over my arm and yanked me back toward him.

  “Going somewhere?” He whispered against my ear.

  “Let go of me,” I hissed.

  “Tired of being left in the dark, Sunshine,” his voice so low, his breath against my ear. “Got no problem sharing your pussy with me, bout time you share the rest of you with me,” he growled.

  Flashes of red blinded my vision, without a second thought I flipped around and pulled my arm from his grasp. I planted my palms against his chest and shoved him against his bike.

  “Fuck you, Jack,” I screeched.

  His eyes widened, but he suppressed the shock that branded his features.

  “Your ex-wife got you riled up, that’s your fucking problem, but don’t you dare take out that shit out on me,” I ranted, shoving my finger into the hard wall of his chest. “You want more from me? You want my scars? You got to earn them.”

  I pulled back my hand, glaring at him as his features softened. He sighed and nodded, impressed with my outburst.

  “I’m not a man who makes apologies, but when I’m wrong I say I’m wrong,” he said. “I got some shit going on, gonna be off the grid for a couple of days,” he explained.

  I crossed my arms under my breast, giving him the benefit of the doubt and listened.

  “I get back, I’m coming for you, Reina and I’m going to earn your scars and make your secrets my own,” he declared, standing tall and closing the space between us.

  “Sorry, I’m a dick,” he whispered, trailing the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip, his tired eyes pleading with mine for redemption.

  “My boyfriend was murdered,” I blurted, closing my eyes the moment the words fled from my mouth. “I was the one who found him,” I continued, the vision of Danny lying dead with his finger dismembered and his eyes lifeless and wide open, haunted me. His skin had already faded to gray and his body was as cold as ice when I kneeled down and begged for it to be a mistake, for him to wake up. I could still feel his limp body against mine as I lay beside him and wrapped my arms around his dead body. I don’t know how long I lay there hanging onto nothing but death, but it was long enough for a fire to spread throughout the house.

  I opened my eyes and stared back at Jack. He had placed his hands on my hips and brought me to stand between his legs. He lifted a hand, gently pushing away the hair that cascaded around my face.

  “We weren’t together long, never made it to the one year mark, but what we had was solid, it was strong. We respected one another, we trusted one another, and we loved each other. Or so I thought,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I mean at least those are the lies I tell myself because the truth is too hard to accept,” I whispered.

  Jack remained silent, making it my choice whether I continued with my story or ended it there.

  “How well could I have known him?” I questioned out loud, the same question I asked myself over and over in my mind. “How much could he have trusted me? P
eople don’t just end up murdered for no reason. Their houses don’t just go up in flames because they cut the wrong guy off on the road,” I continued, voicing all the things I’ve been keeping to myself. “I don’t know the details, probably never will. I’ve struggled with that truth for a long time.”

  “I was devastated when I found him, I lay beside him and wrapped my arms around him, never wanting to let go. I held on until I felt the heat,” I hoarsely added. “I remember lifting my head and seeing the flames dancing around us. I could hear the sirens from a distance and the firemen calling out for survivors. I hadn’t had a chance to process that Danny was essentially a stranger to me, but he was still the man I loved, and he was gone. I couldn’t leave him,” I said, shaking my head, wondering when the tears would come. They were late, usually arriving the moment I spoke his name. “I stayed with him until they found me. I begged them to take him too but at that point the house was going to collapse and there wasn’t time to pull the both of us out of the fire,” I took a deep breath. “I gave you a piece of me,” I stated. “I gave you one of my scars,” I whispered. I wondered then if I’d ever understand the spell this man had over me, if I’d ever learn why God chose him to be the man to pull me out of the darkness I was succumbing to.

  I stared at the rugged man before me, knowing that behind those eyes was a man who lived a shady life. I had no idea what he was capable of, what his life stood for, but he didn’t put a facade on either. He never sheltered me or lied about who he was—he only asked I see both sides of the coin. Danny had me fooled, and thinking of it now I couldn’t be sure I ever really knew the man I fell in love with. How fucked up was that? I vowed from that moment on to have an open mind about Jack, we only had one judge and one jury and that power was not mine to claim. It was probably a very stupid decision on my behalf and I’d get burned, so to speak, but then again I survived one fire, I could survive the one Jack ignited in me.

  Jack grabbed my face, startling me and pulling me from my thoughts as his mouth crashed over mine. I forgot we were outside of the diner and that I was putting my business out on display but I realized I also didn’t give a damn. I wrapped my arms around Jack’s neck and parted my lips, inviting him to take another piece of me.

  His tongue collided with mine, taking everything I offered and still demanding more. I leaned into him, my chest pressed against his, and let myself go, breaking the chains that bound me to my scars. It was time to let go of the pain and that was a terrifying revelation, especially since the man holding me, asking me to give him all of me, even the broken pieces of myself, was the reason I was letting go of my broken past.

  I don’t know which of us broke the kiss, but we were staring at one another now. He looked at me and I felt like he could see everything. I looked at him and saw nothing but black. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t read him. The only thing I was sure of was that Jack was full of scars and the only one I knew about was his son’s death, and even those details were minimal.

  “You owe me a scar,” I whispered.

  He rubbed his thumb across my lip, his other hand tangled in my hair.

  “Fighting hard not to give it all to you, every goddamn scar, every fucking nightmare,” he said softly, as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the tip of my nose. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.”

  “When do you leave?” I asked, as he reached behind him and offered me a helmet.

  “I should’ve already been gone,” he said, as he straddled his bike. He pulled down the sunglasses that rested on the top of his head, gripped the handlebars and waited for me to climb on behind him. I wrapped my arms tightly around his waist and leaned my chin on his shoulder, his words stuck on repeat in my head.

  Jack drove me home. He didn’t walk me to my door like the other times. He made me swear to lock up and told me he’d call me when he got back but he didn’t know when that would be. I watched him peel away from my curb and drive away. And then I felt it, that slow burn inside my chest and it became clear to me, I was in deep with Jack Parrish.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I gave you one of my scars.

  Her words a soft whisper taunting my thoughts like a demon beckoning my conscience. The moment Anthony implied there was a possibility that Reina was playing me, I became a prisoner trapped in my warped mind.

  I long ago decided there was no God, not for me. There was no mystical maker of Heaven and Earth. There was just my maker, the one that held all the control. My maker is my mind and it fights the rest of me for control. Perhaps your brain is supposed to control the rest of your body, it signals everything else inside of you but when your brain is working against you, sending all the wrong signals, fucking with your existence, it becomes your enemy.

  I know that my head is my worst enemy. No drug lord, or rival club, not even a cock-sucking mobster like Jimmy Gold, could compare. It’s my mind that tortures me, it’s my mind that reaps victory over me, it’s my mind I will never conquer. I can go to war with the toughest motherfuckers and bring them to their knees, I can take their lives but I’ll always be the loser because the demons inside my head will always have the last word. It’s those same demons that rob whatever goodness wanders into my life.

  I’m living my life stuck on pause. My meds are the pause button. They keep me running, allow me to still be a player, but I’m stuck. I’ll always be stuck. And when I start to think I can be more than idle, that I can live again, my maker hits rewind, dragging me down the black hole where I question everything. Looking for the bad, forgetting all about the goodness that others get. It pulls me back to the day I punched holes in the walls searching for bugs. My mind crucifies me to the day I lost my son, when my mind became my maker.

  My maker summoned me last night, brought me to his purgatory and locked me up with the demons that danced around shouting doubts and accusations at me. Infiltrating thoughts of Reina, my sunshine, being nothing but a fucking hail storm.

  I stared at the table that centered the sanctuary where the Satan’s Knights congregated over church, my fingers closing tightly around the baseball bat I held in my hands. My knuckles turning white from my grip on the bat.

  I was devastated when I found him, I lay down and wrapped my arms around him, never wanting to let go. I held on until I felt the heat.

  I lifted the bat over my head and brought it down against the freshly restored table, the wood splintering against my calloused hands. I closed my eyes, pictured the memory she painted for me and for a second I was transported into her world—a tiny part of her world that she held on tightly to. She had found enough trust in a poor slob like me to share it. She gave me her truth and all I’ve given her is my dick and a shitload of lies.

  Purgatory.

  Maybe Hell.

  Satan was beckoning, dragging me down.

  Let me go, I pleaded with my maker.

  Release me.

  I swung the bat again. Danny’s face clouding my vision, Reina’s voice in one ear, Bianci’s in the other.

  I could hear the sirens from a distance and the firemen calling out for survivors. I hadn’t had a chance to process that Danny was essentially a stranger to me, he was still the man I loved and he was gone. I couldn’t leave him.

  Her voice smooth as silk as her words whispered against my ear, reminding me that Reina was a woman who laid down her life for the man she loved.

  You need to find out if she’s involved in this shit before we go any further.

  Anthony’s voice retaliated against Reina’s.

  In the distance I heard a familiar voice scream out, and it took a moment for me to acknowledge I was the one screaming. My screams echoed against the walls and I struggled to follow the muffled sound.

  Let me repent, I pleaded to my maker.

  I slammed the bat against the table over and over again, my voice becoming more pronounced through the fog. Reina’s voice faded away, Anthony’s did too, and I was left with my own cries, clear as the
light of day, begging for mercy.

  “Release me and let me repent,” I cried, as I dropped the bat and fell into the chair at the head of the table. I covered my face with my hands and rocked forward, gasping for air.

  “Jack…” Blackie cautioned, startling me. I lifted my head from my hands and stared at him with remorse. “Brother, what’re you doing?” He threaded carefully, bending down to pick up the bat and place it on the table.

  “Wishing for sunshine,” I answered simply.

  I lifted my gaze to the table, leaned forward and ran my hands along the freshly splintered wood—a result of my own hand. I stared at the gash I put into the table I fought so hard to hold on to. Damaged it was just like the man that sat at the head of it. We were both ruined.

  “I’ll get one of the guys to sand it down,” he offered.

  Of course he would, it’s what he did, time after time. I had no doubt he’d have this mess cleaned up, making it like it never happened and I’d go back to living life on pause, waiting for the darkness to come. It’ll come. It always does.

  I gripped the edge of the table, using it for leverage as I stood on my wobbly legs, holding on until I could control my balance. I turned toward Blackie and spotted Bianci standing in the doorway, concern and shock painting his features.

  “Didn’t know I was crazy did you, Bianci?” I laughed bitterly, as exhaustion weighed heavily on me. I ran my fingers through my hair as I stumbled through the room. Anthony moved to grab my arm but I moved out of his reach.

  “You wanted to know if Reina was involved in this shit,” I accused.

  “For your own sake,” he quickly replied.

  “She’s not,” I clipped. “I didn’t even have to coax it out of her, she handed me her truth. She found Danny and instead of getting the fuck out of there she lay down beside him on the floor and wrapped her arms around him, hanging on to him until the bitter end. I don’t know what she knows about Danny’s life with the bureau or if she even knew he was involved with the likes of Jimmy and the G-Man but she doesn’t know I’m his brother. She’s not playing me and she’s not fucking lying,” I said, gripping the door knob as I turned and looked over my shoulder at the two men that stared at me blankly. “I’m the only one fucking running lies and playing games,” I declared, grimly.