He opens his mouth to speak but I lean into him, get in his face and shake my head.
“Nuh uh, boss. You don’t get a say. You do as you're told until I tell you otherwise. You want to be the boss then you need to learn what comes first in this world. You need to learn that without heart you ain’t worth shit. Your family is your heart and you keep them safe, Spinelli, you keep them fucking breathing or I’ll rip you from the streets and send you back to Miami,” I seethe. “Welcome to my city, Spinelli. If you’re a good boy, I’ll share it with you.”
I don’t give him a chance to argue, I don’t give him a chance to even respond. I want his actions not his words. Turning around, I grab Bianci’s elbow and shove him toward the truck.
“Your wife is going to kick my ass,” I mutter.
“Probably,” he agrees.
Not probably, Adrianna definitely will have my balls in a knot, that’s why Riggs was bringing his brother-in-law to the front door and I was staying in the truck.
Fuck that.
Chapter Thirty-Two
This blows.
I’ll say it again, standing here, staring at a fucking stone imagining my best friend is standing in front of me and not in a box six feet under. This fucking blows. I picture him leaning against the stone, his leather cut fitted to his upper body. Rolling a toothpick between his teeth, he crosses his arms against his chest and grills me with his eyes. I vividly see him in my mind shake his head, biting back a smug grin, everything about his demeanor says he is itching to tell me I’ve gotten myself into another fine mess. But the words never leave his mouth, just like they never did while he was here with me and not living within my head.
No matter how bizarre the situation he never laughed in my face, never so much as judged me. Instead, Bones worked through my shit with me. He talked to me, listened and asked questions. He didn’t give me the answers; he gave me his advice, put himself in my shoes and told me what he would do if he was in my situation.
“I fucking hate this,” I admit, pulling the baseball cap from my head to drag my fingers through my hair. “I hate that you’re not here. I need you to make sense of what the fuck is going on. I need you to help me figure out if I’m doing the right thing…for them. Because, I gotta tell you, brother, it doesn’t feel right. It don’t feel right fleeing town with Kitten and Eric. I’m supposed to trust the club to handle this shit but it should be me. I should be the one slaughtering anyone threatening my family. Fuck,” I growl, clenching my fist and punching the palm of my other hand. “I don’t even know how the fuck we’re involved in this shit. Why my family? Why are they the fucking bullseye? It made sense with Sun Wu, I fucked up but I don’t even know this gangbanger. They say it’s because hurting Lauren hurts the club and the Pastores, mainly Bianci. I suppose it makes sense.” I pause, shaking my head. “It’s amazing I used to laugh in the face of fear until that day, the day you went away, the day Eric was born and I almost lost both of them too. I can’t fucking lose them. I can’t go through that again, wondering if they’re going to make it or not, stand by helplessly as some mythical god decides if I’m worthy of having them in my life. No fucking way, man. I’m scared as fuck because you’re not here to jump in front of a bullet this time. This time it’s all on me to keep them safe. I know I need to own that shit. I know wherever the fuck you are you’re calling me a pussy right now and maybe I am. I’m fucking scared. What if I’m not quick enough? What if I unintentionally fuck something up, make a mistake and cost them their lives and me my heart.”
I bow my head, staring at the ink on my fingers.
“Do me a solid?” Raising my head, I stare at the headstone and clear my throat. “I will do everything in my power to keep Lauren and Eric safe, gonna make you real proud, brother.” I pause, swallowing down the lump in my throat. “But, if you could look out for them too, man, well, I’d appreciate it.”
Drawing in a deep breath, I fit the baseball cap back onto my head about to shove my hands into my pockets when my phone rings. I pull it out, not recognizing the number and accept the call.
“Talk to me,” I say, reaching out to run my fingers over the words carved into his stone, the same words tattooed to my hand.
“Son, I’m glad you called,” my old man’s voice booms in my ear, causing me to roll my eyes. Fake ass shit.
This morning I called the number on the business card he left behind and when the call went to his voicemail, I hung up. Then I walked into Eric’s room, watched him sleep peacefully and fucking dialed my old man again, leaving a message the second time.
“Yeah, listen, why don’t we skip the pleasantries and all that bullshit,” I clip. “I got a proposition for you, old man. You like propositions don’t you?”
He doesn’t answer me right away and I struggle not to hang up on him.
“I’m listening,” he says finally, his voice laced with control as if he was talking to another one of his associates and not his estranged son.
“Time for you to prove if you and that Botox loving mother of mine are sincere,” I start, grimacing at the thought of bringing Lauren and Eric near these people. I remind myself of the alternative and continue. “I need to get out of town for a while. I don’t know how long but I need a safe place to bring Lauren and Eric.”
“Are you in some kind of trouble?”
That’s how much he knew about me. Trouble didn’t find me; it wasn’t something I stumbled upon by mistake, it was my fucking name. He wouldn’t get it though and it wasn’t worth my spit explaining.
“Nothing I can’t handle. I just need to get away with my family for a little bit and figured if you had a genuine bone in your body, this would be the perfect time for you to prove it.”
Silence.
How did this guy make multimillion dollar deals when he didn’t fucking speak?
“Your mother and I left the city, we’re in Martha’s Vineyard on a holiday. I will send a car for you, Lisa, and the child.”
“Lauren. Her name is Lauren and your grandchild has a name too. In fact, I want you to grab one of your fancy pens and scribble their names on your palm. You know what? Forget it. I’m bringing a fucking Sharpie with me,” I snarl.
“Very well…I’m glad you called. I know you didn’t want to and whatever is pushing you to do so must be very troublesome to you or you wouldn’t have reached out. Still, let’s try to make the best of it. I’m excited to spend time with my grandson.”
I think about his words for a moment, wonder if they’re sincere as a part of me wishes they were. Not for my sake, but for Lauren’s. Family is everything to her and even though she doesn’t bust my balls to give my folks a second chance, she secretly wishes I do. She thinks I’m missing something, she hasn’t realized that the only thing I was missing in life was her and Eric.
“I’ll have the car pick you up this afternoon, say, three?”
“Fine, see you,” I say, disconnecting the call abruptly, having had enough of the conversation and the thoughts that came along with it.
I step closer to the stone marking Bones’ grave and rest my hand on top of it.
“Looks like I’m headed on another detour,” I mutter, recalling the day I left my parents’ swanky mansion. Bones was sitting in his old beaten and worn pickup truck when I stormed out of the house. His eyes found mine, and he jumped out of the truck, lowered the lift-gate and helped me shove my shit into the bed of the truck.
“You ready?”
I stared at him expectantly, unsure what I was ready for, feeling like a fish out of water.
“Come on, time for you to take a detour,” he said with a grin, patting me on the back.
That detour changed my life and took me to the Satan’s Knight’s clubhouse. The next detour I went on would lead me to my Kitten and Eric. Facing another detour, I couldn’t help but wonder what I’d find but, whatever it is I find, I pray it’s not grief.
“The itsy bitsy spider crawled up the wat
er spout,” I sing to Eric as he sits in my lap trying to mimic my hands. “Down came the rain and washed the spider out,” I continue watching him drop his hands and shake his head.
“Uh oh, mama!”
Smiling, I stare at my little man in awe, his laugh is intoxicating and I wonder how I ever lived without him. Watching him turn his head to look at me, I don’t understand how being a mom was never part of my plan. I always thought I needed a plan, a calculated course of action but the unexpected detour was so much more rewarding. It gave me purpose. Riggs talks about finding heart since he’s found me but he’s not the only one who found their heart.
“Again, mama!” Eric demands, clapping his chubby hands excitedly.
I laugh, squeezing him a little too tight before I sing again. The door opens and I lift my eyes to see Riggs, watching as he leans his back against the door and stares back at me and our son. The grin I love so much spreads across his lips while his eyes focus on Eric as he tries to make his hands climb the imaginary spout.
Eric’s hands drop to his lap as he spots his daddy and scrambles off my lap.
“Dada,” he cheers, wobbling his way to Riggs.
“Hey, buddy,” Riggs says, bending down to swoop Eric off his feet and raise him high above his head. “How’s my boy?”
I love watching them together. An overwhelming sense of pride envelopes me knowing I gave them to one another. Me, I did that, and that’s better than any nursing gig I ever could’ve dreamt of.
“Did you hear me, Kitten?”
Drawing him into focus I lift my eyes and shake my head.
“What did you say?”
“I said,” he starts, holding his free hand for me to take and pulls me to my feet. “Pack a bag we’re going on a mini vacation.”
He laughs when I stare at him like he’s lost his mind, for real this time.
“Hurry up, the car will be here within an hour to pick us up.”
I stare at him, watching as he calmly strolls around the apartment, pulling the phone charges from the outlet by the counter all the while holding Eric. He moves to the cabinet and pulls out sippy cups, toddler spoons and forks, Eric’s favorite Mickey Mouse bowl and places everything alongside the chargers.
“Where is your contact solution and case?”
“You’re serious,” I accuse.
“Kitten, don’t make me light a fire under that tight ass. I won’t have you ruining the surprise.”
“The surprise,” I repeat. He places Eric on his feet and closes the distance between us, cupping my chin with his hand and tilting my head so my eyes are level with his.
“Go with it, Lauren,” he says softly as his eyes fall to my lips. “Take the detour,” he whispers. His eyes travel back up to mine and he winks. That’s all it takes.
“Where are we going?” I question.
“Now, it wouldn’t be called a detour if you knew where we were headed, would it?” He bends his head, brushes his lips across mine. “Run away with me,” he whispers huskily against my mouth.
He didn’t have to ask, I’d always run with him.
Anywhere and everywhere.
An hour later, a chauffeur piled our bags into the trunk of a limousine while Riggs secured Eric’s car seat inside. I don’t know what brought on the unexpected getaway but I was going to take the detour. Just me and my boys.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Just me and my boys—and Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery. The polished couple or former couple, whatever their status, greet us, pulling open the door to the limousine after arriving at their house in Martha’s Vineyard.
As far as surprise go, Riggs nailed it. I never saw it coming and I’m not quite sure why we’re here since Riggs became tense the moment he stepped out of the car, ignoring his father’s hand he extended to him.
“Lauren, welcome,” Mr. Montgomery greeted, pinning his son with a sarcastic look as he raised his hand, turning over his palm to reveal my name scribbled on his skin.
Narrowing my eyes, I glance over my shoulder at Riggs, watching as he bites the inside of his cheek and stares daggers at his father. He moves Eric to his other arm and reaches behind him pulling a black Sharpie from the back pocket of his jeans.
“Well played, son,” Mr. Montgomery says amused.
“Roger will bring your bags to your room,” Lenore announces, making her son turn his gaze to her and lift an eyebrow.
“Roger still works for you? He’s gotta be close to eighty, right?”
“It’s impossible to find help like him anymore and your mother does love the way he makes a Bloody Mary,” Mr. Montgomery adds, smiling at his estranged wife who was sipping on a peppered rimmed glass with a stalk of celery as big as her head popping out of it.
“Please, he can never retire,” Lenore admonishes, glancing at Eric for the first time. “Hello there,” she fusses. I couldn’t tell if it was forced or genuine and neither could my son, turning his face to bury it in Riggs’ neck.
“He doesn’t like me,” she says.
“He doesn’t know you,” I reply, offering her a small smile when she frowns. “I guess this little getaway will change that though.”
I elbow Riggs as he grunts and mumbles under his breath.
“Come on, Eric, I’ll show you where Uncle Bones and I used to build forts and pretend we were soldiers,” he tells our son, walking passed his parents. Reaching the door, he pauses and turns to me. “You too, Kitten.”
“Dinner will be at seven,” Lenore calls to us as Riggs grabs my hand and pulls me away from his parents.
Dragging me through the mini mansion, Riggs takes off like a bat out of hell. Everything about him screams that he wanted to be anywhere but here, yet this was his idea—his surprise. The fun, easy-going guy I love disappeared and I was left with the part of him I knew very little about.
I dig my heels into the grass once we reach the backyard and force him to turn around and look at me.
“What are you doing?”
“What am I doing?” Widening my eyes, I questioned him. “What in God’s name are you doing?”
“Hanging onto what’s left of my sanity?” He offers, sighing as he repositions Eric in his arms. “This fucking place makes my skin crawl,” he admits, dropping onto one of the lounge chairs and placing Eric on his lap.
“Then why are we here?”
“I thought it would be nice to get away,” he says quickly.
Too quickly.
“The truth, Riggs,” I demand softly, crossing my arms under my chest as I take in the scenery, the rolling greens, the pool that sits gated to the left of the property and the custom built bar and grill area across from it. It’s beautiful here, the perfect getaway for a family yet the memories I can see us making aren’t the type of memories Riggs has of this place.
“We used to come here every summer,” he starts. “My father would lock himself away in his office and my mother would bang her tennis coach,” he sneers. “She’d come home from the country club and they’d fight. He’d accuse her, she’d deny it—they’d scream for hours. Bones’ mom would take us out here and we’d play for hours, pretend we were soldiers fighting against the bad guys. By the time the sun went down, my father was gone and my mother was sitting in her room nursing one of those Bloody Mary’s she likes so much.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, sitting beside him on the chaise lounge.
“Seeing them like this, pretending the last twenty-five years didn’t happen is fucking driving me insane,” he grimaces, placing a kiss to Eric’s head. “Sorry, I meant to say ducking.”
“They don’t seem at odds now,” I say thoughtfully. “Maybe they’ve made peace.”
His gaze turns soft as he props his chin on Eric’s head and stares at me. There was so much in his eyes—adoration, love, forever.
“Never change, Kitten,” he pleads. “You’re all the good left in the world.”
He wraps his arm around my shoulde
r and pulls me into the crook of his arm.
“I hope our kids all have your heart,” he declares.
“Are we interrupting?” Lenore questions, holding a tray full of empty glasses and pitcher of what looked like lemonade.
I smiled, leaning closer to Riggs.
“Be nice,” I warn through clenched teeth.
“Did you spike that?” He asks his mother as she fills the glasses.
“No but I can if you’d prefer that,” she lifts her eyes to his and raises an eyebrow.
“Might not be a bad idea,” he says, holding her gaze.
Riggs’ hold on me loosens a bit, and I swear his mother smiles at him. Mr. Montgomery sits across from us, waving playfully at Eric as he averts his eyes back and forth between me and Riggs.
“So how did you two meet?”
“Lauren was dancing on top of a bar when I first met her,” he says proudly.
“He kidnapped my mother,” I blurt simultaneously, before we both burst out laughing and his parents gawk at us.
“I think spiking the lemonade is a great idea,” Lenore states.
“I’ll get the Goose,” Mr. Montgomery offers, rising to his feet. Eric raises his hands as his grandfather stands, causing the man to freeze in his tracks and Riggs to wrap his arms protectively around our son.
“I’m not a vulture,” Mr. Montgomery says, smiling at Eric. “How about an ice pop?” He turns his gaze to me. “We sent Roger to the store for a couple of things, unsure what he might like. We have all different flavors of those natural fruit bars. Is he allergic to anything?”
“Who are you?” Riggs mutters.
“No, Mr. Montgomery. Eric doesn’t have any allergies why don’t you bring him out your favorite and we’ll see if he likes it.”
Eternal Temptations (The Tempted Series Book 6) Page 26
