The Tempted Series: Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  Sometimes.

  Jack could read me when I was high, when I was drunk, my eyes gave away my pain, they gave away the torment but no one knew what to make of me when I was straight because I rarely ever was. But now? I was straight as a pin, aside, from the hangover and the two shots of whiskey I just downed.

  Go on and try Bulldog.

  You won’t get me this time.

  I promise.

  I turned my head, keeping the secret of where I was and who I was with to myself.

  “I came here afterwards,” I said, shoving my hands in my pockets before turning back to him. “What the fuck does that matter, anyway?”

  “Because you had Reina in the fucking car with you and just like you could’ve been killed, she could’ve been too,” he shouted. “Now one more time, did you go anywhere after you dropped her off?”

  “You really want to go there? Because she took my fucking car and went to your house last night so who’s to say your girl didn’t plant the motherfucking bomb or set it up so whoever planted it had a chance to?” I hollered.

  Deflect, man.

  Turn the fucking tables.

  “Whoa, hold up,” Bianci intervened. “What if that was the plan?” he questioned, narrowing his eyes as he worked the scenario in his head before he diverted his gaze back to mine. “Reina took Blackie’s car, went to your house?” Jack nodded in agreement. “Jimmy have any idea Reina exists in your life?”

  Jack turned his attention back toward me.

  “What happened when he came here yesterday?”

  “I made her drop to her fucking knees and pretend to give me head,” I seethed, shrugging my shoulders as if it was no big fucking deal.

  “Mother of God,” Grace exclaimed, closing her eyes in disgust.

  Right lady, because your mob boss husband was a saint. He probably had three side pieces she didn’t even know about.

  I rolled my eyes and looked back at Jack. “Made it so Jimmy thought she was just a piece of pussy nobody cared about then I dismissed her.”

  “What if he wants you to think she’s the one setting you up?” Bianci asked.

  “We could sit here and play the guessing game all day long but until that motherfucker makes another move all we’re doing is running in circles,” I ground out.

  A gunshot fired, smoke puffed from the barrel of the gun Wolf pointed it toward the ceiling. “About out of patience, Prez, so you might want to start fucking talking to the rest of us,” he said, eerily calm.

  The jig was up. The club wanted answers. I didn’t blame them.

  “I’ll give you your answers,” Jack bit out. “But right now I’m putting this club on lockdown,” he declared, glancing around the room. “Go get your families, anyone you give a damn about and bring them here,” he ordered, turning to Bianci. “That includes you, go get your wife and son,” pointing toward Grace he continued, “And get her other daughter too,” he instructed before turning back to us. “I repeat—anyone you give a damn about.”

  I watched as he grabbed his helmet off the bar and started for the door. “Church in an hour,” he called over his shoulder.

  “Where are you going?” I called as he opened the door and I followed him before he even uttered his answer.

  “To get Reina and Lacey,” he replied.

  “You go get Reina, I’ll get Lacey,” I countered, falling into step beside him.

  He raised an eyebrow, questioning me and I forced out a sigh in response.

  “We going to sit here and argue about this or we going to get the women in your life to safety? Because I tell you brother, something happens to either of them on your watch, you ain’t going to be able to deal with that. Trust me, that shit will be the death of you,” I said.

  And fuck, I wasn’t going to sit back and let anything happen to Lace.

  I slipped my arms into my cut, checked to see if my gun was loaded before shoving it into the back of my jeans. My eyes met Jack’s, and I swallowed roughly.

  “I got your girl,” I assured him.

  I got my Lace.

  I didn’t wait for him to agree or disagree. I would get her to safety, and no one would stand in my way.

  Not Jimmy Gold.

  Not even Jack Parrish.

  “Thank you,” he said as we straddled our bikes, revved our engines, and kicked our bikes into gear.

  No thanks necessary.

  I might not be able to save her from myself but I damn well could go on protecting her like I always did.

  Like she was my Lace.

  Chapter Six

  “Lacey! Blackie is here,” my mother called as I finished applying my lipstick, giving myself a final once over in the mirror. My eyes were heavily lined with black liner and I had three coats of mascara on, making my dark eyes look bigger and almost black.

  Very dramatic for a fifteen-year-old.

  Just the look I was going for.

  I stared back at the image reflected in the mirror, a smug smile formed across my mouth. Fifteen, my ass. With all this make-up I could easily pass for twenty, hell, I’d take eighteen, barely legal but still of age.

  “Lacey!”

  “I’m coming!”

  I rolled my eyes, smacked my lips together before shrugging on the vintage leather jacket. My dad was serving time for a weapons charge. I didn’t get to visit all that often, this would be my first visit. If it was up to my mom I wouldn’t see him until he was released but where there is a will, there’s a way. I found the jacket in the attic on a hunt to find our old family photo albums. It was hers, from a million years ago, well, not really a million, more like fifteen. It was one of the few things left from a time when Connie and Jack were a couple when my mother was Property of Parrish.

  It worked for my mom.

  She snatched the president.

  I ran my fingers over the leather, turning around in the mirror to check how I looked, noting it fit like a glove, like it was made for me.

  Like mother, like daughter.

  Here’s to hoping the jacket had the same effect for me and aided in nabbing the vice president of the Satan’s Knights…Dominic “Blackie” Petra.

  I’ve had a crush on Blackie since I was just a child. At ten years old I both fell in love for the first time and had my heart broken all by Blackie. He smiled at me and I knew love at first sight existed. Then he married his high school sweetheart and broke my heart.

  I like to think I got over Blackie and grew up since then. I mean after all I’m fifteen years old now. I wasn’t some kid with a crush and Blackie wasn’t the same person I fell in love with at ten years old. He’s sad all the time. He never smiles anymore. Not that I blame him. Blackie’s wife Christine, overdosed and died. I’m not supposed to know that, but I overheard my mom and dad talking about it. He blames himself for her death and it’s the reason he doesn’t smile anymore.

  Not for me or for anyone.

  He used to have a killer smile. It was his smile that hooked me. Boys my age didn’t smile the way Blackie did. He smiled confidently at me while boys my age smiled nervously, like they had no idea what to do around a girl.

  Blackie knew.

  I ran down the stairs and nearly collided with my mom. So much for trying to slip out of the house without her noticing the ‘new’ me.

  “What are you wearing?”

  “I found it in the attic and it fit,” I said, shrugging my shoulders as I dropped a kiss on her cheek. “I’ve got to go, we’re late.”

  “Lacey, wipe that shit off your face before you see your father,” she warned.

  “It’s just make-up,” I argued. “I’m fifteen years old, most girls my age have already dyed their hair six times by now.” I left out that nearly all my friends dyed their hair and lost their virginity in the same week. “Love you,” I called as I hurried out the front door as any typical teenager would do, leaving her mother in the dust behind her to chase after the guy of her dreams.

  She was my age once.

  S
he gets it.

  Blackie was leaning against his truck smoking a cigarette when he lifted his head and his eyes met mine, causing me to stop in my tracks and stare at him. Dressed all in black, like always, black loose fitting jeans that hung low on his waist, a black t-shirt that stretched across his shoulders and chest and his leather jacket that hid all the tattoos that decorated his muscular arms. He hadn’t shaved, scruff lined his jaw, making him look even more lethal than usual. He had hazel eyes, and they varied in color, sometimes they were brown and at others they were green. I couldn’t help but wonder what caused the change, what made them one color one day and another the next. He had grown his hair out and wore it slicked back, the ends curling at the base of his neck.

  For the first time I felt intimidated by him, like he was completely out of my reach, like I was just a fifteen-year-old girl with a crush on an older guy.

  And like any teenage girl I wanted what I couldn’t have.

  “Get in, I got you your favorite,” he said, pushing off the truck and walking around to the driver’s seat.

  “My favorite?” I asked as I climbed into the passenger seat, immediately spotting the large white Styrofoam cup sitting in the cup holder of the console.

  “Chocolate milk shake,” he declared, handing me a straw as he turned the key in the ignition. I was allowed at the Satan’s Knights clubhouse a handful of times, special occasions, like bring your daughter to work day, that was fun, and Pipe’s wedding to some foreigner that didn’t even know how to say ‘I do’. But each time my dad always had an ice cream truck parked on the lot and Wolf always handed me a chocolate milkshake or some days an ice cream cone.

  Chocolate milkshakes.

  One of the good memories of my childhood.

  One of the few.

  Still, to this day a chocolate milkshake will always make me smile.

  I took a sip of the chocolaty goodness as Blackie started up the truck and peeled away from the curb. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye as my teeth clamped down on the straw and I smiled mischievously before pulling the straw from between my teeth and extending the cup toward him.

  “Take a sip,” I ordered.

  “No,” he replied, keeping his eyes straight ahead, but I didn’t miss the slight arch of his eyebrow.

  “No? Who says no to chocolate?” I asked incredulously, treating him to a dramatic roll of my eyes. “Take a sip,” I demanded.

  “Lace,” he warned, taking a hand off the steering wheel to reach behind him and cup the back of his neck, the leather of his jacket stretching across his biceps, threatening to rip at the seams.

  “Lace? Oh we’re doing the nickname thing?” I cocked my head to the side as I continued to hold the milkshake out for him. “Fine. C’mon Leather, live dangerously,” I coaxed.

  “Leather?” he questioned, briefly turning to look at me.

  “Leather and Lace. You and me,” I smiled as I shrugged my shoulders before reaching out with my free hand and touching the leather that covered his arm. “Now, take a sip of the shake, you big brute and maybe, just maybe you’ll crack a smile.”

  He rolled the truck to a stop and for a split second my smile faltered and I dropped the hand that was still touching his arm. I looked ahead to see the red traffic light in front of us, realizing that was why he stopped and sighed in relief, reclaiming my bravado.

  “Used to be able buy you ice cream and you would shut up for a while,” he grunted, taking the shake from my hand. “What happened to the little Lacey Parrish you could bribe with ice cream and candy?” he muttered as he brought the straw to his lips and took a gulp.

  I grinned widely, watching his throat as he swallowed before he shoved the cup back at me.

  “She grew up,” I said, taking back the shake.

  “Hardly,” he commented, turning his eyes back to the road. I ignored that comment and relished in the slightest quirk of his lips.

  Leather and Lace.

  That was us.

  I felt someone’s hands on my shoulders, shaking me as a familiar voice called my name, interrupting my dream and disrupting my sleep. My eyes fluttered open and locked with the same hazel eyes that starred in my dream.

  “Get up,” he demanded, pulling my arms, forcing me to sit up.

  “What?” I asked groggily, lifting my hands to my head that felt as if it was about to explode. “You came back…”

  “Lace, get up and get dressed,” he ordered. “Now!”

  I stared up at him as bits and pieces of my memory flashed before me. I remembered wishing he wouldn’t show up but knowing it was inevitable. I remembered battling with my maker for control. I remembered the thoughts that filled my head and most of all I remember Blackie. I remembered him holding me. He didn’t turn me away and when I asked him to dance with me, he did. He left but I could tell he didn’t want to, that, it pained him to walk away.

  I was exhausted from the war within my head and succumbed to sleep easily, falling into a sweet dream of when things changed for us. Well, for me anyway. I like to think after that car ride to Riker’s Blackie began to see me as more than just Jack’s nuisance of a daughter. Still, it wasn’t until last night when I felt he really saw me, the woman not the girl, the damaged soul and not the happy-go-lucky person I portray myself as to the world.

  “Lace, I need you to listen. There’s not a lot of time so you need to snap the fuck out of it and throw some clothes on,” he ordered, glancing around the room, picking up a pair of my mother’s sweats folded in the laundry basket at the foot of her bed. “Here, put these on,” he ordered.

  “What’s going on?” I questioned as I threw my legs over the bed and studied the hard lines of his face and for the first time I noticed the gun he was holding. I stared at the gun for a moment before lifting my eyes to his.

  “Did something happen? Blackie you need to tell me! Is it my father? Did he ever show up after yesterday?” I rambled, hurrying to my feet despite the headache I was experiencing. I still hadn’t heard from my father, for all I know he succeeded in joining Jack Jr. on the other side. I felt the fresh tears sting my eyes, and I lurched for Blackie, grabbing his cut with my hands.

  “Answer me goddamn it! Is he okay?” I heard my gasp immediately follow the question as he dropped his free hand to my hip, his fingers gripping me through the thin fabric of the t-shirt I was wearing. How was it that just a simple touch of his hand provoked feelings throughout my entire body? “Oh God,” I said, glancing down at the gun he held in his other hand. “He found out. He knows about us. Is that it? That’s why you came back,” I reached up, covering my mouth with the palm of my hand as nausea washed over me.

  “For fuck’s sake,” he growled, lifting his shirt and tucking the gun into his jeans, freeing his other hand. He took my face in his hands and bent down so our eyes were level.

  “Get yourself together,” he demanded.

  “Blackie, I don’t care— “

  “He don’t know shit,” he seethed. “Club is on lockdown which means your sweet ass needs to get to the clubhouse. Now, pull yourself together Lace, and let me do my goddamn job,” he hissed.

  I stared at him quietly for a second.

  “You with me, Angel?” he asked calmer, his voice more concerned than agitated.

  I opened my mouth to answer, but the words became lost on my tongue when we heard a loud noise from somewhere downstairs.

  “Shit,” he said, dropping his hands from my face, reaching for his gun before his long legs swallowed up the floor space and he made his way to the window. I watched as he peered out of the mini-blinds.

  Everything about his demeanor changed and I knew that was my cue to haul ass. I grabbed the sweats and shimmied them up my legs as he cocked his gun, pulling back the safety he crossed the room and listened at the door. I tip toed across the room to where he was standing and he turned around, piercing me with a look.

  He closed the distance between us and bent his head so that his lips were just a breath awa
y from mine.

  “I want you to listen carefully, Lace. Can you do that for me?”

  “Don’t talk to me like a child,” I whispered angrily.

  “Quit acting like one then and pay attention,” he snarled, grabbing my hand and dropping his gun into my palm. “Take my gun and hide in the closet. Do not come out until it’s quiet,” he instructed, his cold stare penetrated through me.

  “What? No! What about you?” I fired at him.

  “Lace, now!” He demanded, pushing my shoulders toward the closet. I shook him off, spinning around on my heel so we were face to face.

  “Blackie— “

  My words died as his mouth covered mine and his hands fell to my shoulders. My lips worked frantically to keep up with his pace as she expertly worked them until they parted. His tongue slid into my mouth as he walked me backwards until my back hit the wall. I moved to wrap my arms around his neck and deepen the kiss but his mouth abruptly left mine. He pushed me into the closet.

  “If anyone fucks with you, shoot them. Don’t fucking think just shoot,” he demanded.

  “I can’t do that,” I cried, my hands trembling as I gripped the gun and stared into his eyes. They were changing color as we spoke, turning a fascinating shade of green, I had never seen before.

  “You can and you will,” he said, crouching down before me. “You do whatever it is to save yourself because when this shit is over I’ll be waiting to see that smile of yours,” he whispered, reaching out to run his fingertips down my cheek. “Need that smile in my life, Lace… need it like air,” he ground out.

  I cried or maybe I whimpered, reaching for him but he was quick on his feet. He lifted his finger to his lips, silencing me before he treated me to a wink.

  “Thanks for the kiss,” he added, before he closed the closet door and left me in the darkness.

  I covered my mouth with one hand and held the gun close to my chest with the other. I didn’t know what was happening, but I knew the unfamiliar voices were enemies of my father, of Blackie’s—everything my father tried to shield me from was right on the other side of the door.

  “Where is she?” An unfamiliar voice shouted.