The Tempted Series: Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  I bit the inside of my cheek and stopped myself from saying all the things she wanted to hear, knowing every promise that left my lips would be a lie.

  It’s a good dream.

  To think this heart inside of me is alive and able to beat for someone else but a dream is all it is. I used to be that guy, the one who keeps a woman, loves her with everything he’s got and everything he’ll ever be. I had love, cherished it until I destroyed it. It don’t matter how much I wish I can resurrect the man I used to be, or how much the girl before me deserves a man like that, that guy is dead and buried and won’t rise again.

  My phone rang inside my pocket, forcing me out of my head and into the present. I let her go, immediately feeling the loss of her in my arms, and reached into my pocket to pull out my phone.

  I stared down at the screen and the name of the man who was calling.

  And just like that the dream shattered.

  “I’ve got to go,” I hissed, silencing my phone before I shoved it back into my pocket.

  She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ears as she took a step back.

  “Hey,” I said, placing my forefinger under her chin. “No more tears,” I added.

  She stared at me for a moment before nodding.

  “No more tears,” she repeated.

  “Girl, ain’t nobody worth your tears don’t you forget that,” I lectured. “Nobody,” I reiterated.

  I should’ve left it at that but I wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her body against mine. I bent my head, claiming that mouth of hers one more time, knowing the taste of her would linger on my tongue and drive me crazy.

  “Sure as hell not me,” I rasped against her lips.

  I finally pulled away, turning around and willed myself towards the door. I cursed myself for coming here, for touching her, for walking away from her…for everything.

  “Blackie,” she called out.

  Fucking hell.

  My hair fell over my eye as I turned my head and glanced over my shoulder at her.

  “Thank you for not taking it back,” she said hoarsely.

  I narrowed my eyes in confusion, thought about asking her what she meant by that but left it alone, letting us both hang onto the dream of Leather and Lace for a little while longer.

  I turned around, walked out the door, closing it behind me before I banged my head against it.

  Give me a dire situation, a rival club looking to fuck with my brothers and I’ll take every one of them out. Give me a motherfucking gangster and let me bring him to his knees. Give me an addiction, and I’ll function. Give me a shitload of grief and I’ll push through it. Give me a tombstone with my wife’s name and I’ll bring flowers every Saturday.

  Fuck, give me Jack in the middle of a debilitating breakdown and I’ll bring him back.

  But don’t give me this.

  Don’t give me Lacey.

  Don’t make me want to do right by her when all I know is wrong.

  Don’t give me Lacey when I’ll never be able to keep her.

  Me: One.

  My Maker: Too many to count.

  Today I won the battle.

  I was the one in control.

  Not my mind.

  Not Blackie.

  Just me.

  Just my heart.

  Have you ever wanted something so badly? Have you ever been one of the lucky ones to get the one thing you want more than anything? It doesn’t matter how it comes to you, how it finally becomes yours, all that matters is that it did. You don’t get to bask in the glory because someone or something quickly tries to take it from you.

  My maker has been taunting me since I left the Satan’s Knight’s clubhouse, filling my head with all the things Blackie probably came here to say.

  He doesn’t want you.

  He used you to forget.

  He doesn’t really see you.

  He told you what he thought would get him laid.

  He didn’t know you were an inexperienced virgin.

  He’ll never look at you the same.

  He will say it was a mistake.

  He’s going to tell you it should’ve never happened.

  But he didn’t say any of that.

  He danced with me.

  He kissed me.

  He held me in his arms and looked at me like I mattered.

  Like I wasn’t a mistake.

  Like I was something he wasn’t sure of.

  Tomorrow it could all fade to dust but today…today I won.

  I held on.

  To Blackie.

  To myself.

  Chapter Five

  The bell chimed over the door as I entered the florist across the street from Green-Wood cemetery. The woman behind the counter was in her early seventies and she was taking a phone order. She lifted her head, peering at me over the rim of her glasses and smiled. The shop used to be her husbands but after he passed away their two sons took over but Roseann came in every weekend to help her boys out. She lifted a finger, signaling she’d be just a minute. I nodded, reaching into my pocket grabbing a few bills from the knot of cash I was carrying. I put the money on the counter and leaned my back against it, waiting for her to finish the order.

  My phone vibrated inside of my pocket forcing me to pull it out and check the message. It was Jack; I had ignored his calls leaving him no choice but to text me. The message was short and to the point letting me know he was on his way back to the Dog Pound. The Bulldog would have to wait though. I’ve been coming here every Saturday for years now, since the first weekend after Christine’s death and had never missed one. I wouldn’t start now.

  “Here you go, two dozen pink roses, extra baby’s breath,” Roseann said from behind me, holding the bouquet.

  I turned around and took the flowers from her, leaning over the counter to kiss her cheek.

  “Thanks, Ro,” I said, pulling back.

  She rolled her eyes as if to say there were no thanks required but then she cocked her head to the side and studied me for a moment.

  “Wish I could’ve met her,” she said.

  “You wouldn’t have met her if she was alive,” I replied honestly. “Never bought her a flower while she was here, not a single rose.”

  Roseann remained silent as she frowned. I guess she pegged me as the doting husband and not the shit one I truly was. I slapped my hand against the counter.

  “Keep the change,” I said. “I’ll see you next week.”

  “Take care, Blackie,” she called after me as the bell chimed and I exited the florist. I jumped back into my truck and crossed Fort Hamilton parkway, driving into the tremendous gated cemetery. I parked across the road, turned on my hazards and started up the steep grassy hill. I spotted the prior week’s bouquet, the roses had started to wilt and change color.

  I reached the tombstone, laying the fresh bouquet at my feet before bending down to remove the cone with the partially dead flowers making her name visible against the stone. My stomach still twists each time I see Christine Petra carved into a tombstone. It’s the reason I buy two dozen roses and not one. It’s the reason Roseann adds extra white shit to the bouquet because the minute I stick the fresh flowers into the cone, her name becomes obscure. I changed the water, tossed the dead flowers into the trash can and replaced the cone with the new bouquet, blocking her name from my view.

  “Hey babe,” I said, rising to my feet, brushing the dirt from my knees. “I don’t have much time today but I didn’t want to miss a Saturday,” I explained. “I never ask much of you, figure I’ve taken enough from you but I need a favor and I don’t know who else to turn to.”

  I took a deep breath, pushing the hair out of my eyes as I stared at the roses. I don’t even know if she liked pink roses. I should probably switch it up, maybe next week I’ll get red… or purple, purple roses are different. They stand out, just like she always did.

  “I fucked up,” I said, mindlessly. “But that’s no surprise especially not for you. It’s differen
t this time, this time I didn’t just fuck with my life but with someone else’s too. Someone I never wanted to hurt, someone who doesn’t deserve the pain I inflict…someone as pure as you were when I met you. I don’t know what the fuck it is with me. How a guy like me gravitates toward the innocent ones but I fucking find all of you,” I hissed.

  “I’ve never forgiven myself for taking something so perfect and destroying it, breaking it down until there was nothing left…I’ve never forgiven myself for what happened to you. It used to be your smile I was addicted too. It used to be your light that got me by. It used to be you.”

  I shook my head. “And now it’s her. It’s her smile that makes me forget what I did to you. It’s her light that makes me want to crawl out of the darkness I binge on trying to torture myself until I pay for my sins. You and I both know how this ends though. I’ll take and take until there is nothing left. I’ll break her like I broke you. But as similar as the two of you are, you are different. She’s young, hasn’t experienced much and doesn’t know how fucked the world really is. She’ll break easier than you did. She’ll hurt more than you did.”

  I paused, swiping my hands down my face as I ignored the vibration in my pocket signaling I had another text.

  “The thing is, I went to her today to end things, to apologize for what I did, for what I took and to smooth things over. I don’t want her out of my life but I need her to understand nothing can come from us because of what I am and who she is. I didn’t get to do that and now I’ve got this fucking urge burning inside of me to be better for her. So, that favor? You’ve been leaving me, fading away from me, you hardly visit me anymore and I can’t have that. I need you there, in my face, reminding me I’m not a man who can be fixed, that I’m a man who only knows destruction. I know I’ve got no right to ask a goddamn thing of you but please… please, find your way back if not for me, then for her. Do it for her. Don’t let me destroy another woman,” I pleaded with the slab of stone. “She’s young babe. She’s sweet as hell, not a bad bone in her body, a good girl with her whole life ahead of her,” I continued to plead Lacey’s case to my dead wife. “I need you back in my head. I need you in my dreams. I need you to remind me I can’t have her. I need to save her from me.”

  I took a step closer and laid my left hand on top of the stone.

  “I’ve got to head out but I’ll keep coming for you, babe. Week after week, bouquet after bouquet, until I’m gone.”

  I wasn’t naïve enough to say until we meet again because I’m sure wherever I wind up once I’m dead, Christine won’t be there to greet me. No, we had our time and as short as it was, when it was good it was real good but, when it was bad it was fucking bad. She was at peace now, away from me, away from the bad shit. She was in a good place. Not somewhere I’d end up going.

  I turned around, descended the hill and climbed into my truck. It didn’t start right away, in fact, it didn’t start up when I left Lacey either. Finally, it purred to life, the engine sounded a little louder than usual but whatever, I’d have Pipe have a look at it. Fucking cage. Give me my Harley and the road any day.

  I hauled ass to the compound before Jack’s panties got any more in a twist than they already were. He was worse than a woman, calling me off the hook…so fucking needy.

  I turned into the compound, spotting Jack standing with Anthony Bianci and who I think is his mother-in-law and immediately rolled my eyes. Every time Bianci showed his face he delivered another blow. I couldn’t wait to find out what fucking mess him or his retired gangster father-in-law got themselves into this time. Or maybe it had something to do with that motherfucker that forced me to sample the heroin. I couldn’t wait to put that prick in the ground.

  I parked my truck in its usual spot, happy to trade four wheels for two and climbed out, hitting the alarm as I started for the clubhouse. I kept my eyes trained on Jack as he brought his cellphone to his ear. I saw something flicker in his eyes as he turned to Bianci, confirming my suspicion that something was definitely up with the mob.

  Bianci turned around, eyes frantically moving around the perimeter of the lot before setting them on me.

  What the fuck?

  Then it happened.

  A deafening sound erupted from behind me, I turned to see what the fuck had just blown up and I was knocked flat on my back from the impact of the blast. I struggled to lift my head and spotted my truck hidden behind a cloud of black smoke and smothered in flames.

  I sat there for a moment watching as my truck burned to ash before I got to my feet, turning around I stalked toward the clubhouse and the men that stood there, staring in shock. Riggs stepped forward, patting me on the back sympathetically as he shook his head.

  “Well, fuck, that blows,” he said. “Literally, like your car just blew the fuck up.”

  Fucking Riggs.

  “Yeah, I caught that, thanks for pointing it out though,” I growled, turning my cold stare toward Jack. “Get him the fuck away from me,” I hissed, brushing the soot off my shoulders.

  Jack turned to Bianci.

  “Is this what I owe your visit to?”

  Anthony bit the inside of his cheek before turning his attention to Grace Pastore who took that as her cue to step around, bringing her and the Bulldog face to face.

  “The last time I visited with Victor he told me if there was any sort of danger, or I felt threatened that I should come here and see you. Now, I don’t know what kind of deal you and my husband have but when I told him what I overheard today he told me to get my ass here as fast as possible,” she said with a flustered sigh. “I went to the café this morning like Victor instructed me to, he wanted me to bring Jimmy our financials, papers and what have you regarding our home. Jimmy didn’t know I was there waiting for him, and I overheard him talking to one of his guys. He was going on and on about making you and your club pay for double crossing him. He said you would be his puppet, and he’d teach Vic a lesson once and for all, showing him who, and I quote ‘is the fucking boss,’” she said, before nodding toward the front door of the clubhouse. “Seems like the puppet master is ready to make moves.”

  I grabbed Jack’s cigarette out of his mouth and took a fucking drag because…my fucking truck just blew up and these assholes were making small talk about puppets and gangsters.

  He looked at me before turning to Anthony.

  “Any idea how he’d know what we had planned for him?”

  “No fucking idea,” he said, shaking his head. “We can’t get in touch with Vic either. She’s sent emails but no response. Might be in the hole.”

  Of course he was. Fucking gangsters.

  “Fine time for him to get locked in solitary,” Jack mumbled, turning to Grace. “Thanks for coming and clueing me in.”

  Oh, so we’re going to have a heart to heart right now? My fucking truck was dust but let’s make nice with Vic’s old lady.

  Fuck this.

  I brushed past them, making my way inside the clubhouse and headed straight toward the bar, grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the shelf I guzzled that shit down. The door opened and Jack, Grace and Bianci filed through, going back and forth about Jimmy, Vic, summoning their inner Sherlock.

  “And he hasn’t knocked on your door?” Jack questioned.

  Anthony shook his head, crossing his arms against his chest. “I don’t think he knows shit, I think he surmises something and maybe he knew Grace was listening and wanted to see if she’d run here. That’s why I took her, in case she was being followed,” he explained.

  I couldn’t fucking listen to these idiots anymore.

  “He blew up my fucking car, the bastard knows something is up,” I shouted. “And it’s not the drugs because that shit was pure,” I added disgustedly.

  I could vouch for the drugs. That was the purest heroin my veins ever fed off.

  The door opened to the compound and Pipe and Wolf strode in.

  “The fire is being contained. I called it into our friends over at the N.Y.P.D. and
Jones is sending a blue and white over so it looks legit on paper,” Pipe announced. He was good like that, providing a cover when things went south for the club. And it was a good thing too because on top of everything else we didn’t need the fucking bomb squad sniffing around our shit.

  “Your truck is toast, man,” Wolf said, narrowing his eyes at me. “And you almost were too, so who’s going to clue the rest of us in on what the fuck is going on here?” he asked as he pinned Jack with a scrutinizing stare.

  Pipe glared at Bianci. “This got some shit to do with Pastore?”

  I saw Jack’s eyes darken and took it as a sign he was wallowing in his own shit. Now, wouldn’t be the time to tell him told you so, but fuck, I warned him this shit would land on the Satan’s Knights doorstep. Albeit I didn’t bank on my truck being the first casualty. But he wanted to keep this shit on the low and now the club was staring at him like he was betraying them.

  Jack turned to Pipe and Wolf, opened his mouth to explain but then he paused, spinning around and pierced me with a look.

  “When you left my house this morning where did you go?” he asked with his jaw clenched and his fists tightly wound at his sides.

  Was he fucking kidding me right now?

  I took another swig from the bottle before stepping around the bar and crossing my arms against my chest and leveled him with a stare.

  “I dropped your woman off at the church around the block from her house like a good little gopher,” I growled.

  “His woman?” Pipe asked, incredulously. “What the fuck is going on?”

  “And after that?” Jack coaxed.

  Lacey’s face flashed in front of my eyes and for a split second I could still feel her in my arms, swaying as she leaned her head against my chest. I could still taste her and smell her shampoo as I pressed my nose into her hair.

  “Where did you go?” he demanded, his voice growing louder, more impatient.

  “Nowhere,” I lied, watching as he tried to read me. Poor bastard probably thought I was high, drunk even. You see, I could read Jack, get inside his head before he even knew he was on the verge of a breakdown but that shit worked both ways.