Uncontrollable Temptations (The Tempted Series Book 3)

by Infante Bosco, Janine

  It was ironic that I was defending Reina’s honor and credibility to them when I was the one doing all the two-timing, letting her believe I was just some stranger that was attracted to her when all the while I had a fucking file tucked in my nightstand, containing all I needed to know about the woman that had gotten under my skin.

  “What are you even doing with her if it’s not about Danny?” Blackie asked.

  I lifted my eyes to my brother’s and gave him my own truth, the one he knew long before I did. I was losing control, slipping deeper and deeper into Reina.

  “I don’t know anymore,” I admitted, turning to Anthony. “Now, you asked me to find out if she was connected and I’m giving you my word she’s not. This shit with Reina, it dies now, not going to have either of you filling my head with shit I don’t need,” I stated. “You got a meeting to set up,” I added, piercing Bianci with a stare before diverting my eyes back to Blackie. “And you’ve got a table that needs fixing before we go sell our souls to a bunch of drug dealers.”

  I stepped outside the door, leaving the both of them standing in the wake of my destruction.

  “Jack goes off the deep end it’s your ass I’m hunting for, Bianci,” I heard Blackie warn as I walked away.

  Too late, brother.

  Way too late.

  I needed to rest both my body and my mind and then it would go back to normal. Or at least the only normal I knew—the one that kept me on pause. My maker would be back, dangling sunshine in my face, pulling me back into the darkness. It was a dance we mastered, one he led. A game of Russian roulette, sometimes I wish I had pulled the trigger.

  I opened the door to my room at the compound and kicked off my boots before dropping onto the edge of the bed. I reached over and opened the drawer to my nightstand and pulled out the manila envelope I had containing Reina’s secrets, all her scars, the ones I hired someone to dig up and tell me.

  You want more from me? You want my scars? You got to earn them.

  I ripped the envelope in half and tossed it in the wastebasket beside the bed.

  I gave you one of my scars.

  I climbed into my bed, dropped my head to my pillow and closed my eyes.

  “I will earn them, Sunshine,” I vowed, before surrendering to the sleep my whole body craved.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It took three days for Blackie to be added to the list of approved visitors allowed to see Victor. After Vic was sentenced it had taken me five months to be added to the list. Three days. That just proved that Vic’s connections ran deep from inside. You could take the man from the streets but you’d never be able to take the streets from the man.

  He may have traded his designer suits for his prison blues but the man still kept with his appearance, freshly shaved, his graying hair combed back, he still was a man who demanded respect—locking him in a cage wouldn’t change that. I don’t know what kind of operation Vic was running from his cell but he was up to something. He had prison guards turning their heads, inmates at his beck and call and Lord only knows what sort of deal he had with the DA’s office. That was a connection he had for years.

  Victor could follow through with his end of the bargain—there was no doubt in my mind about that. By the end of our visit with him he assured Blackie that he’d grant him the peace he craved. Although I wasn’t certain it would be enough because Blackie blamed himself for his wife’s death. But he was desperate, willing to usher the blame he harbored onto the G-Man because he couldn’t live through the guilt of it anymore.

  Blackie got high on the hope that this whole thing would erase some of his agony. He had us meeting with a club up north that distributed high quantities of heroine. There was no driving back home from the prison. We regrouped and headed back on the road for the meet with the Corrupt Bastards MC. We went from breaking bread with the don to cutting H with a bunch of drug lords. But we accomplished what we set out to do and now it was a waiting game.

  It was just a matter of time before Jimmy paid a visit to Vic. He played on Vic’s wife being alone, drowning in debt created by legal fees and the collapse of Vic’s empire but Vic never took the bait. Not until now. Now, when Jimmy came up, Vic would tell him that Grace would lose their house, and it was up to Jimmy to make a quick score. He’d let him believe that his back was up against a wall and had no choice but to agree with Jimmy peddling drugs through the streets. Vic would play the desperation card and lead him straight to us.

  We’d be waiting for the motherfucker.

  We brought back a sample for Jimmy and it was locked away in a safe I kept at the Dog Pound. Just a little taste for him and his men to start feeding the streets. The idea was for him to supply the dealers and small-time distributors with the heroine, get them hooked on the product and at the same time have Jimmy turn a quick profit. He was a greedy bastard so his dick would get wet the minute he made a couple of dollars, give him a chance to turn thousands into hundreds of thousands and forget about it. He’d be putty in our hands.

  Once he was demanding higher quantities, the product would become scarce, leaving him with no other choice but to purchase an obscene amount of heroine. That’s when Victor’s part of the plan comes into play and all those dirty cops and crooked lawyers he had in his back pocket for years, would pinch Jimmy sending him up the river to a bloodthirsty Vic.

  Five days dealing with all this shit, five fucking days out on the road with Blackie and on the heels of a manic episode. I needed a break from it all.

  I needed a dose of purity.

  Sunshine, I needed my sunshine.

  If I was a halfway decent guy with a shred of compassion, I’d leave her alone. I’d cut ties and forget that there was goodness in the world like Reina. The game changed, the pieces on the board moved, and I no longer needed Reina for information on Danny. I didn’t need closure on my brother’s death and if I did, it wouldn’t be found in her. I should do the right thing. I should cut her loose.

  Just let her go.

  But I couldn’t.

  I was a selfish bastard who wanted to own her, to claim her, to fucking brand her.

  The flashing red and blue lights blinded me, alerting me that the cops were surrounding her apartment complex. I pulled my bike as close as I could to the building and killed the engine as my eyes scanned the surroundings.

  The blue and whites stood guard outside the building, allowing only official personnel inside. Some of the residents were shouting at the cops, demanding to be let back inside their homes, spewing derogatory slurs at the men in blue.

  I glanced around at the people that lined the courtyard, eyes searching for Reina, but came up short. Then I looked up at the building, counted four floors up and zeroed in on the third window from the left.

  The window was cracked, the blinds slanted and the light on in the apartment poured through. She walked past the window, her shadow teasing me and without another thought I walked toward the building. I lifted the caution tape, ignored the cop that hollered after me and stalked through the entrance. The place was swimming with detectives and canine’s sniffing for whatever the fuck they were searching for.

  I climbed the stairs, two at a time, until I reached the fourth floor. As I walked through the hallway I noticed some of the doors were open. Reina’s neighbors standing by waiting for word on whether life can continue for those subjected to life in the projects. Most of them were unfazed by what was happening. I bet they see a lot of this shit. I bet half of them are wondering when the cops will be gunning for them.

  Reina’s door was closed, locking herself away from the dark shit, only for the king of darkness to demand she let him inside. I pounded on her door, ignoring the eyes of her neighbors and listened as the lock slid out of its place and the door opened a crack.

  Her hooded eyes met mine, and I felt the air filtrate through my lungs. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until the moment I saw her. Shock invaded her features as she held my gaze,
slowly opening the door a bit more.

  “Honey, I’m home,” I whispered, my lips quirking ever so slightly.

  Home.

  She pushed opened the door fully, our eyes locking as she stepped aside never breaking our gaze.

  Sometimes home isn’t four walls.

  I stepped toward her, wrapped one arm around her waist and bent my knees a fraction, making our eyes level.

  Sometimes home is a pair of eyes and a heartbeat.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me in?” I muttered, my fingers kneading her hip.

  “Still wondering if you’re really here,” she said hoarsely.

  “No place else I’d rather be, Sunshine,” I admitted. Loosening my hold on her hip, I took her hand and walked inside of her apartment.

  I stared at her as she closed the door, drinking her in from head to toe. Her hair fell halfway down her back in waves and she was only wearing a t-shirt that hung off one of her shoulders, revealing her pale skin. Her long legs exposed except for the leg warmers that were scrunched around her calves.

  “You do know that your building is on lockdown don’t you?” I asked, lifting my eyes to hers.

  “The cops knocked on the door earlier. They’re looking for the guy who shot the woman in apartment 6L,” she said, pointing up at the ceiling. “Two floors up, poor lady,” she frowned then she hiccupped.

  I took a step closer, peering at her.

  “You answered the door dressed like that?” I accused.

  She glanced down at her lack of clothing before she hiccupped again and covered her mouth with her hand.

  “No, I didn’t get undressed until after they told me to stay put,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “Wasn’t expecting any visitors, as it’s been…I don’t know…a week since the only visitor I have dropped by last.”

  “Five days,” I corrected.

  “What?”

  “You said it’s been a week since I saw you last. Seven days are in a week. I’ve been gone five,” I explained, my patience running thin as I stepped closer to her.

  “Oh. Well, thank you for clearing that up,” she mumbled, stepping around me to grab the half-empty wine glass sitting on the table next to her couch.

  She took her glass and flopped down on the couch.

  “Any particular reason you been drinking?” I questioned, finding it peculiar that the cops were hunting for a murderer and she was sitting calmly in her living room unwinding with a bottle of wine.

  “Don’t need a reason to drink,” she commented, tipping her head back and emptying the glass.

  I walked around the couch and sat down on the coffee table, leaned over and took the empty glass from her hand, setting it down beside me.

  “What’s going on, Reina?”

  She stared at me blankly for a moment before leaning forward and grazing my whiskers with her fingertips. I reached up, closed my hand around her wrist, turning my face slightly to press my lips to where her pulse point was.

  “Tell me what’s going on,” I probed against her skin.

  Her phone vibrated, dancing across the table I was sitting upon. I dropped her hand and lifted the phone, staring at the caller ID and extended the phone to her.

  She took the phone, denied the call and threw it beside her on the couch.

  “Who’s Dr. Spiegel?” I asked, reaching for her, pulling her closer toward the edge of the couch so her knees brushed mine.

  “My shrink,” she admitted, and I remained silent. The only noise surrounding us was the muffled sounds from outside the apartment. She moved to stand, her hands moving to my knees pushing them aside so she could move past me. I grabbed her hand and lifted my eyes to hers.

  “You should leave, Jack,” her voice sounding broken as it pleaded with me.

  I studied her for a moment, took in her sad eyes and the empty bottle of wine she was using to wash away her pain and shook my head.

  “Don’t think that’s what you really want,” I said simply. “So why don’t you do us both a favor and tell me what you do want.”

  “What do you want with me?” She questioned. “I know why I’m drawn to you but for the life of me I can’t figure out what a man like you is doing hanging around with a woman like me,” she said, pulling her hand away from mine. “Do you know what it’s like to not feel anything? To go through life feeling numb all the time?” She shook her head. “Forget it, that’s not even the issue.”

  “Reina, then for the love of God, what the fuck is the issue?” I growled, my patience gone.

  “I can deal with numb I know numb. What I don’t know is how to feel, it’s a foreign thing to me but something I like. I like it too much, way too much, that I missed it when you disappeared,” she continued.

  “I didn’t disappear. I told you I would be gone for a few days,” I hissed.

  She shrugged her shoulders.

  “Doesn’t matter, I didn’t like it. I needed you, I craved you. Then I drove myself nuts thinking about all the shit you were off doing. The women that were probably on their knees between your legs and that’s when I decided I didn’t want to feel anymore,” she said, turning her back to me. Her shoulders slumped in defeat as she dropped her head into her hands. “I use you, Jack. For a ride on the back of your bike, for a quick lay, for a goddamn person to talk to. I use you because I’m so tired of being lonely.” She turned around abruptly, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I hate you for making me remember what it feels like to be alive. I hate you so much,” she cried, the tears finally falling from the corners of her eyes.

  I stood up and for the first time in my life I wanted to fix what was broken. But I wasn’t sure if crazy could fix fucking crazy.

  “No,” she protested.

  “Reina, stop it,” I growled, reaching out and cupping her face in the palms of my hands. “Go ahead and use me, keep on using me. Use my bike, take my cock, milk me for whatever the fuck you need, Sunshine and I’ll keep using you in return,” I spoke through clenched teeth. “I’ll keep you feeling, realizing you’re living and breathing just as long as you keep giving me what I need. We’ll take whatever we need from each other just as long as we don’t take one another’s hearts, ‘cause I ain’t the loving type, Sunshine,” I warned.

  I dropped one hand from her cheek and cupped her chin with the other, my thumb tracing her jaw. “Been a while since I took what I need from you. You about done with this tantrum so we can get on with it?”

  She swallowed. “What if I want more?”

  “Don’t be stupid, Reina. No one smart ever wants more because the more you have the more you lose,” I said gravely.

  I didn’t tell her I was teetering on the edge of stupid or that I was thinking losing everything, my mind included, would be worth it in exchange for having it all with Reina. Just for a little while.

  Just a taste.

  I wasn’t smart. I was fucking stupid.

  And I was going to wreck us both.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Grief was the biggest bitch of all. There were days when the bitch took over and held me captive, feeding me lies, making me believe all the hurt in my heart was because I had lost Danny. Sure, I loved him, thought I would spend my life with him. He was all I had after having nothing for so long. But I learned that I was done mourning Danny. That sounds horrible, I know. But my truth, the one I hide from myself is that I have misplaced my grief. I’m not mourning the man I loved but the woman I used to be.

  The realization became clear the day I shared Danny’s murder with Jack because it was the easiest scar to share. The easiest scar is the weakest, the one that’s fading slowly but surely.

  The other scars, they were deep and tore me down. They were the scars that were visible, the scars I kept hidden underneath my clothes. Still, they wove their way inside, latching onto my self-esteem and tearing it to shreds. There was still a shred of hope they would one day vanish from my body. As stupid as it was for me
to believe that, I was smart enough to know that if that day ever came they’d still live inside. I still remember what my body looked like when I peeled the gauze from my skin and stared at the ugliness in the mirror. So ugly.

  I try to tell myself that vanity is a sucker’s possession, beauty fades over time, and appearances become a memory but it doesn’t seem to work. I’m always transported back to that day when I first saw my body after the fire.

  I remember crying; I remember screaming and I remember thinking I’d lost more than just my skin. I lost Danny in that fire, yes, but he was the only man to ever love me. He loved Reina before the scars and he would’ve been the only one to love me after them.

  Grief was the biggest bitch but God was a twisted fuck too. He chose this life for me. He made me the survivor. No one asked if I wanted to live the rest of my life like this. I didn’t get a fucking vote.

  It was a hard pill to swallow, jagged edges scraping the walls of my throat as I realized I would spend the rest of this miserable existence alone. But what choice did I have? The scars were too much for me to look at—to accept. How could I ever expect someone else to?

  As time passed, I learned to live with the scars, to hide them. I claimed them as my own and vowed never to burden anyone else with them. Loneliness took root in my veins, making me an inverted version of myself and I learned to be numb, to ignore the longing in my heart.

  Until Jack.

  Jack.

  That walking, breathing, sliver of hell, masked as a man, shadowed in darkness.

  At least that’s what he thinks of himself.

  He is so much more. To me he is the light at the end of this tunnel of turmoil. He is the Mederma to my scars, the ointment that will make them fade away. Something I never saw coming but somehow he broke the walls around me without me even noticing.