Eternal Temptations (The Tempted Series Book 6)

by Janine Infante Bosco

  I push open the doors and stride into the police department, waiting for the bells and whistles to go off signaling my arrival but that shit doesn’t happen. I ignore the cop pushing paper at the front desk as my eyes scan the room searching out Brantley, knowing for sure he’s the one behind this bullshit.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Where’s Brantley?” I clip, pulling my shades down as my eyes drill holes into the female officer in front of me. She licked licks her lips as she stares at me for a moment, girl my people and your people don’t play nice together.

  “I’ve got this, Bailey,” dickface croons as he makes his way toward me. “What’s the matter? Parrish having a mental breakdown so he sent you to bail his boys out?”

  I flash him a smirk as I glance around the room.

  “Everyone with a badge has a pair of balls,” I say, turning to Officer Bailey. “I’m sure even she has a set hidden somewhere,” I accuse before pinning my eyes back to Brantley. “Why don’t you bend over and show her where you tuck yours away.”

  The grin on my face widens as a gasp escapes Bailey’s mouth and Brantley grounds his teeth.

  “What’s the matter, Officer Bailey, you didn’t know Brantley over here is a pussy dressed in blue?”

  “Keep talking, Petra and I’ll throw your ass in a cell too,” Brantley threatens.

  “On the same fabricated charges you cuffed my brothers on?”

  “We have a witness placing five men wearing the Satan’s Knights patch robbing J & G liquor store, nothing fabricated.”

  I narrow my eyes, taking a step closer to him as I grind my teeth.

  “You came charging into the Dog Pound and arrested five of my guys on petty larceny?”

  I was two seconds away from snapping this motherfucker’s neck in front of the whole fucking precinct. Brantley smiled at me as he reached into his pocket and grabbed his phone. I debate popping a cap in the back of his head as he turns around and takes the call.

  “Petra,” I hear Jones call and peel my eyes away from Brantley’s head and the vision of his brains splattered on the floor. I shake my head as I close the distance between me and Jones and I grab the front of his uniform.

  “What the fuck, Jones?”

  He glances over my shoulder and I followed his gaze toward Brantley, watching as he hurries out the front door of the precinct. I look back at Jones and shove him back, releasing my hold on him.

  “I don’t give a fuck about that cunt. Now, I’m going to repeat the question one more fucking time,” I tell him, dropping my voice down to a whisper. “Club pays your ass a lot of money for things like this not to happen, so again…what the fuck, Jones?”

  “I was on a domestic call when it came over the radio. I couldn’t fucking leave the call I was on to go to the clubhouse they’d fucking know I was in your pocket. I came here as soon as I could. He brought them in on bullshit charges, he keeps saying he’s got a witness but I’ve searched every fucking interrogation room and haven’t found anyone. I don’t know what he’s up to, but he’s up to something,” he mutters, taking another sweep of the busy room before tipping his chin toward the hallway. “Follow me and I’ll take you down to the holding cell before he gets back.”

  I follow him down the narrow hallway, down three flights of stairs to the rat infested basement where the holding cells are. Before we even round the corner I hear them; Pipe, Wolf, Riggs, Bosco and another voice I couldn’t place.

  “This is a bunch of bullshit, when I get out of here I’m suing the city,” Pipe hollers.

  “Brantley you fuck, tell your mother to get the lube ready because I’m going to fuck her six ways to Sunday when I get out of here,” Wolf adds.

  “Let me out! I’m not part of the cult. I don’t even have a tattoo. I’ve never owned a leather jacket in my life,” the unfamiliar voice whines.

  “Keep talking. I’m going to tie this bitch up,” Riggs grunts.

  “Ignore him,” Bosco mutters.

  “Man, I’m itching to hit something so be careful who’s side you choose,” Riggs warns.

  We round the corner, and I clear my throat, making my presence known to my men as my eyes zero in on the only one of the five that didn’t belong to me.

  “What the fuck is he doing here?”

  “He came to pay us a visit, crying he had information for us before the police showed up,” Riggs says, using his fingers to mimic a gun pointed at Ronan Summers, and pulls the imaginary trigger.

  Summers was the father of the little shit that tried to rape my girl. He’s a gambling junkie that hooked up with the Corrupt Bastards MC and some online gambling site they had. When he couldn’t pay he offered up his son, Brandon, the Bastards sent Brandon in to get close to Lacey. The cocksucker decided he would take things a little further and tried getting inside my Lace.

  Depending on who you ask, Brandon is lucky to be living, some might argue he’s better off dead being as he’s permanently deaf and fucked mentally from the brain injury. I would’ve preferred him dead and buried but then Lacey wouldn’t have been able to get him to drop the charges.

  Yeah, like I said, lucky to be living.

  Skeptically, I stare at Ronan watching as Riggs grabs him from behind and wedges him into a headlock.

  “If I find out this shit has anything to do with you,” Riggs seethes.

  “Let him go,” I order, earning a glare from Riggs.

  This isn’t the first time Ronan has showed his face around the clubhouse spewing nonsense about having information we might be interested in. We never pay him any mind though, send the fucker on his way figuring he’s looking for a handout. Usually he cries that Brandon’s medical bills are choking him but he’s a degenerate gambler and a fucking liar too. I like my money in my pocket just as every one of my brothers.

  However, this shit with Brantley came out of nowhere and maybe it’s time someone listened to what this fuck has to say.

  Ronan’s eyes were wide with fear as they settled on me.

  “Why,” he stammers as his eyes move nervously around the cell choosing Wolf to hide behind. “Don’t hurt me man!”

  “For crying out loud,” Wolf bellows, grabbing Ronan from behind him. “Would someone hear this little jerk-off out so he stops showing up at the clubhouse? I’d rather be locked in a cell with officer dick bag than this guy.”

  “I offered to shoot him,” Riggs says.

  “Why were you at the clubhouse?” I demand calmly.

  “Like I’ve told you before I have information I think you might want,” he says, ducking behind Wolf again. “Maybe if you listened to me before we wouldn’t be in here.”

  “Start talking,” I say, crossing my arms against my chest. I tip my chin toward Riggs and watch him grab Ronan by the back of his neck and push him forcefully against the bars.

  Ronan looks over his shoulder at Riggs who shows his teeth like a feral animal, clearly Riggs was out of patience and missing his kitten.

  “Well, why don’t we talk figures first?” Ronan suggested.

  Riggs kicks him behind the knees and he drops to the floor.

  “How about I leave your ass in jail?” I question through my teeth as I bend down to level with him.

  “Times up,” Jones announces, grabbing the back of my cut and pulling me back from the bars. Standing straight, I turn my head as I hear the distinct sound of footsteps bounding down the metal stairs.

  Brantley walks over to us jingling a set of keys.

  “Turns out the witness said the five men he saw weren’t wearing a patch after all,” he sneers. “You’re free to go but I’d watch my back if I were any of you thugs,” Brantley warns as he unlocks the cell.

  “Thanks for the advice,” Pipe replies, flipping him the bird.

  “I think I’ll just stay,” Ronan offers.

  Riggs kicks him in the ass.

  “Move it,” he shouts behind him.

  Wolf was the l
ast to exit the cell, turning around to smile at Brantley.

  “Payback’s a bitch officer and her twins name is karma. I always loved twins how ‘bout you?” Wolf laughs as he thrust his hips and humped the air. “Can’t wait for them to fuck you.”

  I shove my hands inside my pockets and shrug my shoulders as I lock eyes with my enemy.

  “Always a pleasure, Brantley,” I taunt before following my men.

  “I’d sleep with one eye open if I were you, Petra,” Brantley calls out.

  “I already do,” I reply, not bothering to turn around. I reach into my jeans and grab my phone, dial Cobra and order him to bring the cage around to the front of the station. My eyes fixate on the back of Ronan’s head as I wonder what this little shit knows, if anything at all.

  Wolf grabs two handfuls of paperwork off one of the detective’s desks and throws it up in the air like confetti before we step outside.

  “Did you have to?” I grunt.

  “Yes, of course,” he insists. “Now let’s get the fuck out of here—” His words cut off as he collides with Riggs.

  “Fucking shit! Why’d you stop walking?” Riggs questions Ronan, but the fucker was paralyzed, looking like he saw a ghost. I step around Wolf and Riggs to study Ronan’s face and follow his eyes across the parking lot to where Jack was pulling off his helmet.

  Jack strode across the gravel toward the biker I was sure we’d never see again. Charlie Teardrops was one of the few surviving members of the Corrupt Bastards. After I was released from prison, Jack and I found retribution on the fucking club that sent Brandon after Lacey. We slaughtered those fucks, including their president, Boots. Charlie wore the teardrops tattooed to his face as proudly as he wore his cut. Those teardrops symbolized the murders he committed for the patch he wore on his back.

  Charlie averted his eyes to me before he looked over my shoulder, causing me to turn and watch as Ronan tried to make a run for it. Quickly, I grab him by the back of his neck and whisper against his ear as I lean over his shoulder.

  “You wanted to talk, spook, we’re going to talk,” I promise.

  Cobra pulls the van up in front of us and Pipe opens the back doors. I eye Riggs, wait for his nod before he grabs Ronan’s arms and pulls it back igniting a shriek from the man before he throws him into the back of the van.

  “You’re mine fuck-face,” Riggs declares, climbing in behind him. Once the boys were in the back of the van, I shut the doors and smack the side of the van giving Cobra the okay to get out of here. The van peels away as my boots pound the gravel and I make my way next to Jack catching the tail end of their conversation.

  “You miscalculated, Parrish, by assuming my club was dead in the water. The Corrupt Bastards are very much alive, stronger than before and deadlier than ever. I hope your boys enjoyed their time with the NYPD.”

  “Watch who you’re threatening, Charlie,” Jack seethed. “Remember what happened the last time the Corrupt Bastards threatened the Satan’s Knights.”

  “Not a threat,” he said, lighting up a smoke. “I’m just giving you fair warning I want control over the docks and will stop at nothing to get it. Now that Pastore is up the river, the way I see it you can either relinquish your control or I can take it from you.”

  “Why in the Devil’s names would I do that?”

  Charlie took a drag of his cigarette before flashing a cocky grin toward Jack.

  “I have resources bigger than you and your mob friend, Parrish,” he says pointedly.

  Jack steps closer to him, takes the cigarette out of his hand and glides the glowing tip to Charlie’s face, stopping just before the cigarette meets his cheek.

  “I always admired the ink on your face, maybe when I pull the breath from your lungs I’ll mark my face just as you did.”

  Charlie shakes his head unfazed by Jack’s words as he stares back at me.

  “Your days as the ‘Bulldog’ are numbered, going to turn your ass into dog meat.”

  “You and what army?” Jack sneers, flicking the ashes onto Charlie’s lap before letting the butt fall to the ground. He crushes it with his boot before turning around to face me as he dismisses Charlie. “We all good?” He questioned me.

  I nod my head before watching Charlie tip his chin to someone standing behind me. I didn’t give into him, knowing well enough he was provoking me and focused on my president.

  “Always, brother,” I answer.

  Jack nods before turning back to walk to his bike and I take that as my cue to do the same. I catch a glimpse of Brantley standing on top of the steps of the station staring back at us. Charlie revs his engine and speeds out of the parking lot, saluting Brantley as he drives passed him.

  “Didn’t see that one coming,” Jack comments as he fits his fingerless gloves to his hands.

  Yeah.

  Me either.

  But then again we never usually see the mayhem; that shit creeps up on us time after time and bites us in the ass.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Gritting my teeth, I walk into the Dog Pound and take in the mess. Tables have been flipped, chairs broken and the mug shots that hung proudly on the walls have been thrown across the floor. Mack was busy sweeping up shards of broken glass while Linc and Deuce worked on turning the couch back to its rightful place. The rest of the guys had parked their asses at the bar as Bosco grabs a bottle of whiskey and the few glasses that Brantley and his crew hadn’t fucking broken. He fills their glasses, offering me one, but I brush him off, ignoring all of them as they stare at me, not ready to delve into this shit storm just yet.

  Not without the help of a bottle of scotch.

  I pour that shit straight down my throat.

  The fiery liquid harshly warms my belly, but it’s not enough. I throw my head back and swallow more, waiting for the liquor to take the edge off. Placing the bottle down on top of the bar, I zero in on the man sitting in the center of my brothers, tied to a bar stool with a gag in his mouth and Riggs’ gun pointed to his temple. He stares back at me, his eyes wide with fear, just the way I like them.

  “Someone going to tell me why this fuck is here?”

  “Says he’s got information we want,” Blackie offers as he walks up behind Ronan and grabs his shoulders. “Isn’t that right?”

  Riggs slams his shot glass down on the bar as Ronan starts to mumble. He grabs a fistful of his hair and smashes his face into the bar.

  “Motherfucker just nod your fucking head,” Riggs growls.

  My eyes sweep around the room at my disgruntled club and the decision becomes clear. I need to grab the reigns on this shit.

  “Church, now and bring him,” I say tipping my chin toward Ronan as I grab my scotch and head into the chapel. Their stools scrape against the floor behind me as they rise and follow suit.

  “Where is Cobra?” Blackie asks, taking a head count of everyone.

  “He had some personal shit come up,” Deuce announces. “He’ll be back by sunrise.”

  That didn’t work for me. He wasn’t a nomad anymore and his place was at this fucking table. I point a finger at Riggs and motion to Ronan.

  “Remove the gag,” I order.

  Leaning close, Blackie whispers so only I can hear his words.

  “Got real spooked when he saw Charlie outside the precinct,” he informs me.

  “Ouch!” Ronan cries.

  “Oh, you’re such a pussy,” Riggs hisses, balling up the gag and throwing it into the center of the table.

  “You got our attention Ronan, time for you to talk and before you even ask I’ll clue you in on some shit. I don’t give a fuck if you’re broke, if you and your family are living off white rice. Don’t give me some shit that your son’s medical bills are hammering you; this is the face of a man who doesn’t give a fuck. I don’t want your sob story I want your motherfucking truth and if you think you will walk out of here without giving it to me, then you’re more fucked than I thought because my man
Riggs is itching to pull the trigger on your ass.”

  “Just waiting for the nod of your head boss,” Riggs adds, pulling his gun from his leathers and placing it in front of him on the table. “Bang! Bang! Motherfucker.”

  “Kill me because I’m as good as dead anyway,” Ronan cries. “And not because I owe Charlie sixty grand but because he saw me with you guys.”

  “Ronan, start at the beginning,” Blackie demands.

  “I’m not saying shit until I have your word you will protect me,” he replies crossing his arms against his chest.

  Riggs lifts his gun and aims it at him, pulling back the safety.

  “Shit,” Ronan whimpers. “Fine, Charlie’s been building a new club with whatever Bastards are left, you know the ones you didn’t kill?”

  “Smartass,” Blackie mutters.

  “Keep talking!” I shout.

  Ronan swallows hard as he stares back at me. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for—remorse? I’ve got none. Was he trying to size me up and call my bluff? That shit wouldn’t happen. I mastered the art of staring a person down and if this motherfucker was waiting for me to blink he’d be waiting a long time. A person’s whole world can change in the blink of an eye and with the number of enemies I have chomping at the bit I know better than to close these fucking eyes—not even for a half a second.

  “About a month ago Charlie showed up at my house, he had copies of Brandon’s medical bills and swore he’d help me get rid of them. He told me that the Corrupt Bastards were very much alive and under his thumb, he was rebuilding the club with the help of some guys in pretty high places. He gave me a business card and on the back was a website to a brand new gambling site he created. He offered me a credit of fifty grand,” he explains.

  “They don’t have that kind of cash flow,” Pipe interrupts. “Charlie has to be working with someone who has serious dough, someone who doesn’t have a paper trail and easy access if he can rebuild and offer a credit of fifty grand on the strength of a couple of months.”