The Tempted Series: Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  “Hey…,” I said softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to offend you,” she tried to pull away as her eyes softened but I kept my hold on her. “Fuck those people.”

  She laughed at my crudeness and relaxed a bit, causing me to loosen the grip I held on her arm.

  “You want to tell me what set you off back there?” I asked, letting my fingers graze her bare arm.

  Nikki shook her head. “It’s stupid,” she sighed, waiting for me to drop it, but I wasn’t going to I didn’t like seeing her like this. I had already made a vow to both of us to get to know her to know the real Nikki and I wasn’t about to shy away now.

  “Do you do drugs Mikey?” she asked me throwing me off guard.

  “No,” I replied, confused as to why she had asked me wondering if it ran parallel to why Victor was so anti-drug himself.

  “Good,” she said releasing the tiniest sigh of relief. “There was a girl in the bathroom, ripping lines. It just made me so mad. I have no idea why it’s not like she was forcing me to join her even though she did ask. It’s her life so why should I give a fuck?” she shrugged her shoulders. “I guess after that whole shit went down with Anthony and Adrianna I’m against anything that has to do with drugs.”

  “What happened with Anthony and Adrianna?” I asked curiously. Since I’ve been back home everyone seems to dance around the topic of those two. It’s obvious that something happened between them and whatever it was had left them both broken.

  A taxi pulled alongside the curb right in front of us. I opened the door for Nikki watching as she slid across the leather seat before I followed her lead.

  “Where to?” the cab driver asked.

  “I’m starving,” Nikki said. Her eyes widened, and she laced her arm with mine leaning her head on my shoulder. We looked like a couple, especially the way she looked up at me. “I know the perfect ending to this night.”

  “So, do I…,” I winced. Did I just fucking say that out loud?

  “Ladies first!” She said with a flirty grin.

  Don’t worry princess I’m a firm believer in ladies first.

  “Roll N’ Roaster in Sheepshead Bay,” she told the driver before turning around to look at me. “Was that what you were thinking too?”

  “Not quite,” I said as every question I had about my old friends flew out of my mind. That was it. My dick was back in working order thanks to Nikki.

  Just Nikki.

  Chapter Eight

  The following day I was woken up by Anthony’s foot kicking my ass out of bed. Literally, the bastard pulled the sheets off me and nudged my bare ass with his sneaker hard enough that I rolled completely off the bed. I could kill the fucker for interrupting what was a very gratifying dream. Well, it was just about to get to the gratifying part before I found myself on the floor peering up at Anthony. I opened my mouth to ask him what the fuck his problem was but instead I was told that I had ten minutes to shower and dress because we were going to the shooting range.

  I suppose it could be worse, right? I mean I’ve heard people bitch about training for their new job sitting around pushing papers and stuffing envelopes. I get to drink, play with guns, and walk around with a permanent set of blue balls. I had it made.

  The drive to the shooting range was the usual torture I had already come to expect when one was trapped in a confined space with Anthony. It was full of silence and the occasional grunt. My friend was an ogre. Unfortunately, for me, the quiet only forced me to think of Nikki. She consumed my thoughts most of the time. I guess it could be deemed a good thing, allowing me to escape the reality that my mother was gone or that I felt as if I was starring in a bad reality show…, America’s Next Gangster.

  I went to bed night after night thinking about Nikki even dreamed of her while I slept and when I awoke each and every morning she was the first thing on my mind. I was infatuated with her. I wanted her fuck I wanted her as much as I wanted air. However, I knew even if it was possible, even if I had her just for one night it would never be enough. She’d have my balls in a vice claiming me as her own even if she didn’t intend to. But that could never happen. I could never have her. Not even for one night.

  We drove down a dirt road, the kind you see in the movies. You know when they whack a guy and dispose of the body deep in the wooded area where the authorities can’t find it? Yeah, we were taking that road. My palms were sweating as we proceeded down the road that seemed to never end until it finally brought us to what appeared to be a warehouse. There were very few cars parked diagonally in front of the building, but there were over a dozen motorcycles.

  Anthony parked the truck at the far end of the lot so when we walked towards the entrance of the shooting range I was able to assess the motorcycles noticing that they were all beautiful pieces of machinery. I paused in front of one of the motorcycles checking out the chrome detail but was quickly interrupted by a smack upside my head from Anthony.

  “Keep it moving Mike they’re waiting for us,” he said.

  I think I whimpered as I tried to imagine who was waiting for us. He pushed open the doors, and I followed him into the shooting range. I’m not sure what I expected a shooting range to be like. I don’t think I gave it much thought, but I wasn’t expecting the twenty or so bikers glaring at me as the welcoming committee that’s for sure. All eyes were on me sizing me up with their grim expressions. These men made Victor and his goons look like choirboys.

  One of the bikers stood up walking around the front counter to stand in front of me his cold gaze washed over me. I tried not to gawk at him, but fuck, he was a scary looking motherfucker with his tattered jeans and his leather cut. His arms were covered with tattoos that trailed up to his neck and he wore a bandana tied around his bald head. My gaze drifted down to his leather vest again noticing the patch on one side that read President.

  “This guy here is Vic’s fresh meat?” Scary bald biker president asked Anthony.

  “Yeah, this is Michael Valente,” Anthony said as he shook the man’s hand. The president’s hand released Anthony’s mid shake as he turned his attention back towards me.

  “This is Val’s son? Get the fuck out of here,” his eyes looked back to Anthony who nodded.

  “I guess you knew my father,” I said.

  He spits out the toothpick he had been chewing onto the floor. I held my stance as the fucking thing landed next to my shoe.

  “Yeah, I knew your old man,” his face softened if that was possible and a slight trace of a grin worked its way across the grim line of his mouth. “He was a fucking legend,” he cocked his head to the side taking a step closer to me, his eyes zeroed in on me. “You got the chops he had?”

  “Time will tell,” Anthony said, patting me on the back. I was thankful that he answered for me because I couldn’t pry my lips apart to speak a single word.

  The president gave me one final look before turning around to walk towards the counter. The back of his vest had what looked like the grim reaper surrounded by flames and embroidered letters that read Satan’s Knights. I glanced around at the rest of the bikers noticing that they all had the same cut on. I wanted to laugh at the whole scenario, but really there was nothing funny about learning how to fire a gun at a shooting range owned by bikers that called themselves Satan’s Knights. I should’ve brought a flask with me.

  He reached behind the counter, grabbing a clipboard that contained some papers. He shoved the clipboard into my hands and pulled a pen from his back pocket. I took the pen and looked towards Anthony.

  “Just fill it out,” he said with a nod. He reached into his back pocket, producing a thick envelope. I watched him hand it to the president. “Victor sends his regards, Jack.”

  Jack took the envelope weighing it in the palm of his hands before stuffing the envelope into his pocket. He smiled at Anthony. “Always a pleasure doing business with Vic. How’s business?”

  Anthony shrugged his shoulders. “As good as to be expected with the new club opening. Victor wanted m
e to mention opening night to you.”

  “Victor knows me and my men aren’t really into the night club scene,” Jack said rather amused as he lit a cigarette.

  “He was hoping that if need be you would be able to assist in providing protection. He’s not expecting any issues, but wants to ensure if something should arise that you have his back.”

  I lifted my gaze from the clipboard to gauge Jack’s reaction. He blew out a heavy cloud of smoke crossing one leg over his other knee. He leaned back in his chair seemingly contemplating his answer and then looked at Anthony.

  “My men will be on call,” Jack said, turning to look at me. “You about done kid?”

  I glanced down at the blank papers. Shit. I shook my head and started to fill out the paperwork. I was signing a consent form confirming that I didn’t have a criminal record and that I was not a felon. I found it pretty comical that I had to attest to the fact I had not committed a violent crime or I wouldn’t be allowed to fire any of the weapons when this place was crawling with criminals. Anthony didn’t have to fill out a consent form this place was corrupt!

  Once I had completed the paperwork Jack, who most of the men called Bulldog walked us to a room where they kept all the weapons. Actually, Anthony was the only one who called him Jack. I later found out that they all had nicknames for one another only they weren’t really considered nicknames but instead were called road names. Jack “Bulldog” Parrish the president of Satan’s Knights had a pretty intensive collection of firearms helping me choose one that was best fitted for me.

  I selected a twenty-two-millimeter. The semi-automatic was light yet powerful which was perfect for someone like me who was just carrying it for protection. I had to wear goggles along with a pair of protective earphones that protected me from the sound of the guns going off.

  Jack watched from the sidelines as Anthony showed me how to hold my stance instructing me to keep my legs shoulder width apart. He explained that when I fired the gun I’d feel the power of the gun and if I didn’t keep myself correctly positioned the force of the gun would push me back.

  I held the gun in my hand, trying to acclimate myself to the feel of holding a weapon, it felt so natural in my hand. I did as I was told keeping my legs apart planted firmly on the floor as I aimed for my target. We bought a magazine of bullets that I loaded from the bottom of the gun. The first few rounds I fired I missed my target marginally. It was my nerves. I was trying too hard. I felt the eyes of the MC on me, I felt Anthony’s intense gaze all of them watching to see if I had my father’s blood running through my veins.

  Suddenly my luck changed it was as if someone had performed an exorcism on me because I began to fire the gun as if I had come out of the womb with an automatic weapon in my hand. Each shot I took fell dead center on my target. I couldn’t stop either firing one shot after another taking out all the aggression of the last few weeks on my paper target. The push and pull of power with each shot gave me a burst of adrenaline. My finger kept pulling the trigger as my mind raced with all the people I had pictured on the receiving end of the bullets the faceless man who killed my father, the stranger driving the truck that slammed into my mother’s car killing her, the enemies who ripped my family apart. I heard the steady beep of the machines that sounded when my mother drew her last breath, ringing in my ears as I emptied the magazine of bullets. I heard my mother’s cries as she collapsed over my father’s coffin. Lastly, I saw a younger version of myself chasing after my dad. For the first time since I started shooting, I closed my eyes. I pulled the trigger once, twice... both blanks. I had run out of bullets. The shooting range became eerily quiet the only sound was that of my anguished scream echoing off the walls.

  It was a slow day at the salon; thank Christ because I was exhausted. I couldn’t even blame my exhaustion on a late night because truth be told Mikey had me home hours earlier than if, I had spent the night with Rico. I really needed to stop comparing them because even as I sat here in my stylist chair waiting for my next client I was thinking about the ways Rico kept me up at night versus the way I wished Mikey had kept me up all night.

  It was my fault the night had ended prematurely. We shared cheese fries and hot roast beef sandwiches when we could’ve been spending the night flirting shamelessly engaging in stolen touches of one another. My skin seared every time his fingers grazed my arm or my back. I felt as if I was going to combust just reminiscing about his slight touch. Something about the way, he looked at me so feral as if I was his next meal, had me wanting to rip my clothes off and beg him to do all his eyes promised he wanted to.

  The bell chimed signaling that someone had entered the salon. I lifted my head expecting to see my client walking through the door, but was shocked to see Rico. He had his sunglasses on as he strode towards me looking every bit determined and confident. Rico was attractive with his olive complexion dark hair and impressive build. The man was all hard lines and muscles, yet when he lifted his glasses and his eyes fixated on mine, I didn’t feel one-third of the butterflies I did when Mikey set his sights on me. His arms were on display reminding me how much they were one of my favorite parts of him. I used to love to trace my fingers along the tattoos that covered his muscular arms and when they would wrap around my waist I used to feel like the luckiest girl in the world. So how is that now when he wrapped his arms around my waist forcing me to stand as he locked me in his embrace I felt nothing?

  He bent down to kiss my lips softly. “Hey, gorgeous.”

  I pulled back, forcing a smile, trying to mask my confusion as to why he was here. “This is a surprise,” I said as he loosened his grip on me settling his hands on my hips as he looked at me.

  “I missed my girl” His fingers slightly digging into my hips as he watched me closely. “I’m sorry I bailed on you last night.”

  “It’s okay," I cleared my throat. “I understand that you had to work last minute," he looked at me wearily.

  “I was expecting you to be at my place when I came home,” he said releasing one of my hips to cup my chin in his giant paw of a hand. “But my bed was empty,” his other hand traveled across my back down to my ass.

  “I left thinking that you wouldn’t be coming home early anyway,” I said. It was partially the truth. After he canceled our plans, there was no way I was going to sit home and wait until god knows when for him to come home. Then I remembered the crackhead in the bathroom.

  Rico leaned into me brushing my hair over my shoulder dropping his hand from my face I could feel his breath against my ear as his mouth lingered right over my earlobe.

  “Is there something you want to tell me, Nikki?” he whispered barely audible. His voice was grave as he pressed his hand against my lower back, forcing my body flush against his. I glanced over his shoulder at the clients and fellow stylists watching us to them we looked like two people in a passionate embrace, however, Rico’s hold on me felt anything but passionate.

  I reached behind me taking his hand off me and took a step backward to meet his gaze. Rico and I fight occasionally. We’re both hot-tempered individuals so when we fight well, let’s just say things get heated, but I’ve never seen him look at me like he was at that moment. His eyes were murderous as they held me captive.

  “I went out with Mikey last night,” I said suddenly feeling angry. “You bailed on me and I didn’t feel like staying home so I went out with my friend.”

  “Your friend,” he repeated.

  “Yes,” I said firmly, crossing my arms under my breasts as I peered at him matching his vicious gaze with one of my own.

  “Nikki your two o’clock is here,” my manager said from the reception desk.

  I cocked my head to the side still staring down Rico. “I have work to do.”

  “You’re my girl, Nikki. Mine,” he leaned in closer. “Not daddy’s and not Mikey’s but mine,” he said warningly. I couldn’t help but notice how he sounded so patronizing when he spoke Mikey’s name as if he mocking me.

  I stepped
to him my finger poking against his rock-hard chest. “I am no one’s property, Rico. Not my dad’s not Mikey’s and not yours,” I took a deep breath reigning myself in I dropped my accusing finger balling my hands into fists at my sides. “You should leave.”

  He swiped his hands over his face and looked as if he was trying to erase the tension in his face. “I’m sorry,” he said, sounding exasperated. “I heard you were out with him last night and I was so fucking angry. I was angry with myself because we’ve been fighting and I canceled our plans knowing very well that we needed to spend time together,” he reached for my hands. “I didn’t mean to sound so fucking condescending.”

  Rico rarely apologized he wasn’t a man who owned his mistakes, but rather one who pawned them off on others. His apology caught me off guard as did his admissions. I sighed heavily. He was right, things were already strained between us, and I felt a lot of that had to do with my attraction to Mikey. I needed to get over that and I needed to get over it real quick because I was fucking up my relationship and for what? It’s not like Mikey was pining away for me. If anything, he wanted a quick fuck. He wasn’t the type to settle down and build something. And he was most certainly not looking to start something with me or anyone for that matter his plate was overflowing. I was his friend. Probably his only friend these days. Friends don’t dream of other friends naked every time they close their eyes.

  “I’m sorry too. I should’ve told you,” I said. “I guess I was mad that you ditched me, forcing my hand when Mikey asked me to show him around town. My father told him he needed to be more familiar with the nightclub scene before Temptations opened that’s why we went out.”

  He leaned into me cupping the back of my head, guiding my mouth to his claiming it as his own. Our lips fused together in a heated frenzy trying to reclaim what was slipping dangerously through our fingers. We both could feel the demise of our relationship lurking over our heads and we were desperate to lure it back in we were naïve to believe that one kiss and a few apologies could fix what was already broken beyond repair.