The Tempted Series: Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  I stared into her sad eyes, knowing I was the reason she looked broken, just a shell of the girl she was before I touched her.

  I ruined her just like I ruined Christine.

  Everything I touch I destroy.

  “How long are you going to pretend I don’t exist?” she finally asked, her voice just an octave above a whisper.

  Pretend she doesn’t exist? She’s the only fucking thing that exists in my head. She’s the face I see when I wake, when I lay my head down and when I pass the fuck out from whatever poison I consume trying to forget that she does exist.

  I shoved my hands into my pockets, took a step closer to her, the scent of her worked its way through my raw nostrils, more intoxicating than any drug I could ever snort or shoot through my veins. I leaned closer, closing my eyes and got high off her.

  My sweet Lace.

  So damn pretty.

  So fucking innocent in all this.

  “Until you disappear once and for all,” I said, opened my eyes and glared at her.

  Go away Lacey.

  One day maybe you’ll know why I did it.

  Why I broke your heart and killed my soul.

  I pushed past her, leaving her alone in the hallway, knowing her eyes were full of tears that my words caused.

  Cry.

  Hate me.

  I’m no good for you.

  Run.

  I ordered another shot, made it a double, and knocked it back. I placed the empty glass on the bar and from the corner of my eye I watched as she took her date’s hand and begged him to leave.

  Thatta’ girl.

  Get the fuck out of here.

  “This one’s on the house,” the bartender offered, sliding me a refill.

  “Thanks,” I muttered.

  “The bill is on the table,” someone said from behind me, causing me to glance over my shoulder and look at the kid holding Lacey’s hand.

  Treat her good.

  She didn’t look at me, keeping her back towards me as she followed him out the door and disappeared like I asked her too.

  She should only know I’d spend the rest of the night thinking about her, that she’d never fucking disappear because she owned me.

  Every moment we shared haunts me.

  Starting with that first night when her hands trembled as she reached for my body and the way I took hers. The tears she cried that night and the words I wounded her with.

  That was just the first night where lines were crossed but, there were a shitload more incidents I wreaked havoc on Lacey. But that night? That was the night I claimed her. In my dark world of self-destruction and mayhem, I selfishly took Lacey, branded her mine, and I continued to brand her and mark her with my actions and my words.

  And then I fucking fell in love with her.

  Don’t think for one second that the few words I said to her tonight wasn’t a mark, purposely branding her, scarring her, ruining her for any other man. Others piss on their territory, I destroy mine. For all the track mark on my arms, she has a matching one on her heart.

  Lacey was still mine and always will be.

  Even when she gets over me and thinks she’s giving herself to someone else.

  She’ll still be mine.

  And any man who ever loves her will know who she belongs to. She won’t be able to give them all of her because I’ve taken most of her and I’ll never give it back.

  I can’t have her but no one else can either.

  I’m a selfish motherfucker.

  A greedy son-of-a-bitch.

  I’m a junkie and when drugs no longer do it for me I’ll get high on pain and suffering. My own.

  Hers.

  And all the faceless men that will one day try to take her from me.

  I finished my drink, paid my tab and walked over to the nomads hanging around the pool table, a new group of brothers’ that were patched into our charter of the Satan’s Knights. My eyes zeroed in on Stryker’s as his peered back at me questioningly, trying to figure me out. The poor bastard had no idea what he signed up for. None of them did. I said my goodbyes and made my way out of the bar, letting the cool breeze blow over me as I walked towards the parking lot.

  I could feel the high start to work me over as I strode to my bike and thought the drugs were finally kicking in but it wasn’t the manufactured shit that called to me.

  It was her.

  Her voice.

  Her cries.

  I closed my eyes as they consumed me, pulling me away from my surroundings and into a world where only she existed.

  “Get off of me! Please! Someone help!”

  So real.

  I opened my eyes.

  “Fucking bitch. Get the fuck back here!”

  So fucking real.

  My eyes drifted across the lot to where the sounds were coming from and the sobering image of my Lacey struggling to crawl out of a car, screaming into the dark parking lot for someone to help her.

  Fuck no.

  Hell motherfucking no.

  I felt my fists clench at my sides, my breath quickens and my heart rocket against my chest cavity as my boots pounded the tar of the parking lot. I reached the driver’s side of the car, yanked opened the door and reached for the cocksucker leaning over the console, pulling Lacey’s hair. His fucking pants were around his ankles and his dick was hard when I pulled him off her and slammed him against the side of the car.

  “What the fuck?” he sneered.

  “Motherfucker, you know what no means? Huh?” I shouted as my fist collided with his jaw. The adrenaline soaring in my veins as I pummeled his face with my fist.

  “No, stop!” He cried. “Shit, I’m sorry! Help!”

  I grabbed him by his ears and threw him onto the ground, wedging my boot between his legs, crushing his balls.

  “Blackie!” Lacey shouted.

  “C’mon motherfucker, cry for me. Cry like the bitch you are,” I demanded, grabbing his hair and slammed his skull against the pavement.

  “CRY!” I shouted, lifting him by the ears and crashed his head against the ground again.

  “WEEP MOTHERFUCKER!”

  Blood poured from his mouth, his nose and the back of his head as his eyes stared back at me wide with terror. I tugged his face close to mine, his blood dripping onto my hands as I leaned close and looked into his eyes that were half closed.

  “Open your fucking eyes. Look at me!” I ordered.

  “Blackie, the cops are coming! Please stop!” Lacey shrieked from somewhere behind me.

  “Blackie man, you need to get the fuck out of here. Let’s go,” Stryker called.

  Voices surrounded me, yelling at me, warning me, but I ignored them all.

  “LOOK AT ME!” I shouted, yanking on his ears until he struggled to meet my gaze.

  “You see this face? Remember it. I’m the one who fucking did this to you,” I hissed, before slamming the back of his head against the ground.

  The voices faded.

  The sirens faded.

  All I heard was the sound of bones shattering and the cries of a man dying.

  Someone grabbed me from behind, pulling me off him and yanked my hands behind my back. I tore my eyes away from the body on the floor and took in my surroundings as I felt the cold metal tighten around my wrists.

  “Dominic Petra, you are under arrest,” Officer Brantley’s voice sounded in my ear. “You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney…”

  He continued to read me my rights as my eyes locked with Lacey’s.

  Dark and dull, wrecked and ruined. My beautiful innocent Lacey tainted by my selfish sadistic ways, stared back at me. I watched the tears fall down her cheeks, each droplet another mark. Those tears were as much mine as everything else about her was.

  Mine.

  Always mine.

  Leather.

  Lace.

  Me.

  Her.

  So fucking tempting.

  So fucking lethal.

&
nbsp; Chapter One

  7 Months ago

  I’m a masochist, a man who gets off on inflicting pain on himself. I’m my own worst enemy. I’ve fucked myself more times than any rival club or gangbanger ever could. I had a shaky past with drugs, been trading one fucking addiction for another since I was a rebellious teenager. So when I offered to be the drug man in an operation Jack Parrish the president of the Satan’s Knights orchestrated with a psychotic gangster, I knew I was sealing my own fate.

  “I might not have him where I want him but there’s one advantage I have over him, over you, over everyone in this goddamn club. I know drugs, man. I know their worth and their consequence. I know how to make them desirable and I know how to make them your enemy. I will have Jimmy Gold high on my promise before he or his streets are high on the product.”

  What I didn’t expect was that it would all come crashing down so soon. The reputed mob boss, Victor Pastore, got himself carted off to prison, doing a lifetime bid, and the sick fuck sitting across from me was now in charge of all Vic’s operations.

  Jimmy Gold.

  The scrawny bastard covered in tattoos, wore a long fur coat, pairing it with perfectly tailored pants and a white wife beater tank top. He had a dozen or so chains dangling from his neck and when he smiled his top two front teeth matched those gold chains. He looked like a fucking asshole.

  It was hard to look him in the eye and not want to kill him on the spot, especially since we knew for a fact this prick killed Jack’s brother. Danny became some federal agent thirteen years ago and recently changed his name as he went to head the agency in a RICO case. Danny was sniffing around one of Jimmy’s bodies and threatened to take him down. The Golden Nutcase in front of me decided he wasn’t going to go down like that and murdered Danny.

  That was partially why this motherfucker was sitting in front of me, the other reason was he was working with the G-Man. Cain the former deceased president of the Satan’s Knight used to get his supply from the drug lord and forced the rest of us to deal it on the streets. It didn’t matter if you were a kid, pregnant or somebody’s innocent wife…we fed your habit and took your money.

  Or in Christine’s case we drove you to your own death.

  Not we.

  Just me.

  That shit was all on me.

  And this, right now, this was my chance to make things right for her. I will take this motherfucker down, and after I bury his ass we will end the G-Man once and for all. It doesn’t matter he’s rotting in a cell…when you want something badly enough, you find a fucking a way. Prison bars won’t stand in the way of revenge.

  A revenge so sweet and one that was all mine for the taking.

  I’d start by playing this prick like the fool he is. This guy thinks he’s the fucking boss but I’ll show him who the fuck runs these streets.

  “Victor tells me you’re familiar with the business, that you used to be one of the biggest players in the game,” he raved. “That makes me wonder why you would ever stop,” he questioned.

  “Who said I did?” I bit out, leaning back in my chair as I pinned him with a glare.

  The thing about guys like us, bikers, and mobsters—we’re all the same in one regard. We are all street thugs and you might be able to pull a man off the streets but you can’t take the streets from the soul of the man. That shit sticks with you until you die.

  The same way being an addict does.

  Jimmy didn’t need to know that since Christine’s death I’ve substituted one addiction for another, using alcohol to numb me—a last ditch effort to honor the woman I helped bring to her death. I thought if I swore off the drugs, kicked the heroin, I was honoring her in some way.

  “Your boss wanted to keep his streets clean, made it real hard for us to do business, so I took my product elsewhere,” I said, drumming my nails against the table as my eyes locked with his. “Make no mistake about it Gold, I am the biggest player in the game. Always have been, always will be,” I assured him.

  And that was true. I’d put my fucking game face on and be the drug dealing degenerate I tried to bury, the worthless man who lost his wife because of his greed. The legend on the streets. I told myself I was doing the right thing, resurrecting the demon inside of me, because bringing down Jimmy and the G-Man would finally bring me closure on Christine. It would bring me peace to know the men who fed my palm the shit she overdosed on would finally pay.

  “Confident,” he stated. “I like it, but as confident as you might be, I don’t trust you,” he added. “And I don’t do business with anyone I don’t trust.”

  “Smart man,” I countered as I leaned closer to him. “Then why the fuck you wasting my time?”

  “Well,” he started, diverting his eyes to Reina as she placed a bottle of beer on the table, playing the role I quickly dumped on her. When we saw Jimmy and his goons prance through the parking lot on the surveillance feed, I told Jack’s woman to follow my lead. I didn’t trust this scumbag. He’d already fucked with the president’s brother there was no telling what he’d do if he got wind that Jack had an old lady. I told Reina to get down on her knees and she followed my lead, aiding in making this fool think she was nothing but a whore, a piece of pussy we shared. A worthless cunt.

  I turned my attention toward Reina. “Thank you, now go upstairs and take your fucking clothes off. I’ll be right up,” I ordered, watching as she snarled before disappearing into the hallway and out of sight.

  “As I was saying, my mind may be swayed if you provide me with an example of good faith,” Jimmy purred. “I’d like to think a man like you knows his product, enjoys it even, won’t you have a taste for me?”

  “You want me to shoot it to prove what exactly?” I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “That you’re not selling me shit for one,” he said.

  “I don’t know how you do business Gold, but usually you or one of your own test the product they are buying,” I informed.

  “Of course that’s why I brought Carmine, but I’m not stupid Blackie, you are going to shoot the same sample you’re giving me. If it’s good for your own veins then it should be good for Carmine’s,” he sneered. “Those are my conditions, take them or leave them,” Jimmy added.

  It’s been years since I’ve used heroin, fucking years since I did any drug other than pot. That doesn’t mean I haven’t been tempted. Fuck, there’s been so many times I’ve filled a syringe and tied a rubber around my arm but it’s been five years since I’ve felt the prick of the needle. Five years since I felt the heroin swim in my veins and take control over me. I stopped myself every time because I saw her face. I remembered pulling her out of the bathtub and untying the rubber band from her arm. I could still feel the weight of her lifeless body in my arms.

  I stared back at Jimmy.

  I couldn’t deny his demands, Jack was depending on me to bring this shit home, to end this motherfucker—if I bitched out now then we’d never get him or the G-Man.

  What’s one more time?

  Just one more taste.

  I pushed back my chair and left him to stare after me as I walked into the Satan’s Knights chapel, straight toward the safe in the wall and punched in the code.

  After, we decided we would pose as Jimmy’s supplier, I needed to get my hands on the drugs so I went up to north to the Corrupt Bastards MC and ironed out a deal to get the heroin from them. The plan was to give Jimmy a taste of their product, let him think it was ours, and get him hooked on the profit. Once he was polluting the streets with the smack we would cut him off, tell him he needed to buy an obscene about if he wanted to keep the connection. Then when we delivered we would set him up with the cops. Jimmy would get arrested with all the drugs on him and with all Vic’s connections, eventually the bastard would wind up in the same prison as his former boss. Vic was itching to kill this motherfucker.

  I grabbed the leather pouch and shut the safe before walking back out to find Jimmy exactly where I left him. I threw the pouch on the table be
fore sitting back down and stared back at him.

  “Fine, let’s get this over with,” I seethed.

  Just one more taste.

  “Wonderful” Jimmy exclaimed, pulling out his phone and quickly making a call, instructing whoever it was to come inside. Jimmy ended the call and reached for the pouch, unzipping it and pulled out a vile of heroin. Carmine walked into the clubhouse, taking a seat between us and we both watched as Jimmy filled one needle and then another.

  Carmine rolled up his sleeve, exposing the track marks on his arm, searching for a vein that wasn’t collapsed from all the use. I watched him stab the needle into his flesh and close his eyes as he drained the syringe into his bloodstream.

  Jimmy extended the second needle full of smack toward me and my eyes met his.

  “Whenever you’re ready Blackie,” he crooned.

  I reached for the band, tying it tightly around my bicep and turned over my forearm, slapping at it until a solid vein bulged beneath my skin. I took the syringe from him, forcing my eyes to stay open, knowing if I closed them now all I’d see was Christine.

  I’m sorry.

  So, very fucking sorry.

  The needle pricked my skin and my thumb pressed down on the top as the poison began to fill me. “There you go,” Jimmy taunted. “Just a little more,” he coaxed as I emptied the syringe into my vein. “All done.”

  Carmine pulled the needle from his arm, dropping it onto the floor and it rolled across the laminate flooring. I left the needle in my arm as I stared back at Jimmy, struggling to fight against the shit swimming in my bloodstream.

  “All good,” Carmine drawled, already feeling the effects of the drugs.

  “I’ll be in touch,” Jimmy said, satisfied as he pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. He snapped his fingers, muttered something under his breath as he pulled Carmine to his feet and strutted out of the clubhouse. I heard the door close behind them, signaling I was alone and then I allowed my eyes to close and saw her face. A moan escaped the back of my throat as I vividly recalled the way I stared into her dead eyes and cradled her body in my arms before pulling the needle from her arm. My cries repeated over in my mind, begging her to wake up, for it all to be a dream and then I remembered lifting my hand to her eyes and closing them gently.