The Tempted Series: Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  One would think that getting stuck with the product would be no sweat off their backs but any respective drug dealer who knows the game, knows every fucking gram counts. You stop looking at drugs as dust people snort, every rip is another dollar earned, the more money earned the more money spent on product and everyone knows the more product you have the more bills in your fold. It’s a vicious cycle.

  One I knew too well.

  The guy leading me through the clubhouse stopped in front of a door and tipped his chin.

  “Straight through there,” he instructed.

  I brushed past him, rapped my knuckles against the door before turning the knob and walking into the room. Boots was sitting behind the desk with one of the club whores spread eagle in front of him. His head was bent as he ripped a line off her tits.

  “Fucking hell,” I seethed, watching as he lifted his head his beady eyes met mine.

  He slapped the whore’s tits, nearly knocking her off the desk with the power behind his hand.

  “Get out,” he hollered.

  “Boots, you promised me!” she whined, scrambling to her feet as she slid off the desk.

  “Fuck you,” he sneered. “Now get the fuck out of here.”

  She stared at him for a moment before turning around and looking at me. I swore for a moment her eyes pleaded with mine but I looked past her and directly into the eyes of the enemy.

  “I patiently waited for this day,” he started, sniffling.

  The whore slammed the door behind her as I pulled the chair out in front of his desk and dropped into it. I leaned forward to pull out my gun and hold it up to him before nodding at him, awaiting the same gesture of respect. I removed the clip and placed it on top of the desk, cocking a brow and expected him to do the same.

  “I don’t owe you that,” he commented, pulling back his vest and revealing the holster he wore beneath it. He pulled out the gun and mimicked the act, putting us on equal footing but reminding me it was a courtesy he granted me.

  I didn’t tuck the gun into the back of my jeans, placing it in the inside pocket of my leather jacket so I could access it easier. In under ten seconds I could pull the gun, load it and pop a bullet in this fuck.

  “Let’s cut through the bullshit and get down to it,” I suggested, leaning back against the chair. “What do you want?”

  “You got balls, Blackie, always did,” he said, swiveling from side to side in his chair. “But a man in your position doesn’t come into my house, talking down to me, and expecting a quick fix. It just don’t work like that,” he ground out.

  “So tell me how it works. The way I see it you got every right to be pissed, but before you assume that my club was looking to sever ties with yours, listen to the facts. Fact number one, I came to you because I knew you could deliver what I needed. Fact number two, plans change, enemies strike and when it’s do or die, motherfuckers like us…we do. Now, it was never mine, nor Jack’s intention to stick you with the drugs man we were banking on, even after Jimmy Gold made his move the club still needed your product but there wasn’t enough time to get to you. Then there is that little fucking issue you have, refusing to deal with Jack. I’m here to make things right with you but, also warn you that won’t fly any more. Any deals going forward are conducted at the Satan’s Knights table, with the Bulldog sitting front and center.”

  He laughed.

  I continued to stare at him.

  Motherfucker ain’t nothing funny about what I just said.

  Add that to your list of facts.

  “You want facts Blackie? Here’s one. Your fucking president is a goddamn nut job. You think I deal with you because of your past, your knowledge of drugs? I choose the junkie because I’m not about to deal with a psychotic fuck who swings a gavel.”

  I gritted my teeth, slammed my fist against his desk and leaned closer.

  “This coming from a man I just watched snort coke off some worthless bitch’s tits,” I snapped. “You got a choice to make, Boots—I’m offering you a shitload of weapons in exchange for a truce. You can keep the guns for yourself or turn them for a profit on the streets, whatever the fuck you want. Lord knows you don’t have a fucking conscience anyway, so take the deal. You’ll make more off the guns than what we originally agreed on with the drugs.”

  “Or what?” he asked cockily.

  “Take the fucking deal,” I advised. “You don’t want to declare war, Boots.”

  “You don’t want to go war, Blackie,” he scoffed. “Word gets around—the war you got going on with the Red Dragon’s that shit is spreading like wild fire. Your club is hanging on by a thread as it, add another war to your agenda and the Satan’s Knights are off the map,” he claimed.

  “It’d be a shame to watch a smart guy like you, a thriving businessman like yourself, lose everything in a power play. But, I guarantee you it’ll happen. There have been few if any, that survived after they underestimated the strength of the Satan’s Knights,” I warned.

  I wasn’t walking away from here with a deal but I would not walk out of this fucking place without setting this fool straight. We may be hurting but that shit would turn around, men like us didn’t exist to be defeated. Men like us beat the odds in the game of life…every fucking time.

  You want to play motherfucker?

  Come play.

  But don’t expect to win.

  Never expect to win.

  “You think I care about the Satan’s Knights enough to go to war with them? I’ll piss on your club, swallow you motherfuckers whole. It’s not the club I got beef with, it’s the man who shook my hand and pissed on my trust I have a problem with. It’s you I want, Blackie, and no fucking deal you or your boys try to swindle out of me is going to work. You crossed me Blackie, there’s no retribution for that. Be thankful if you leave here with a pulse and don’t you ever fucking threaten me with the Satan’s Knights. You have a debt to pay, your club has a debt to pay, I just haven’t figured out what kind of payment I’m going to accept. So I’ll bide my time, turn the hourglass and watch as the sand slips through to the other end and your days become numbered,” he threatened, leaning back in his chair as a smile spread across his face. “And you know what the best part of that is? I won’t even have to lift a finger because the Bulldog will snap when he finds out what you’ve been up to and that crazy cocksucker will cut your ass up,” he enthused.

  I froze as I pinned him with a glare, knowing the words he was about to say before they even left his lips.

  “Been watching you, Black,” he said as he rose from his chair and walked around the desk. He bent down, leaned into my shoulder and whispered into my ear.

  “I know you’re banging Jack’s daughter.”

  I clenched my fists, turning my face just as he straightened up and our eyes met.

  “What do you think will happen if his daughter became a casualty of war? If daddy found out his precious little girl died because she was the only way to make his vice president bleed?”

  I shot up out of my chair, reached for my gun, forgetting the clip on the desk and pressed the barrel of the gun into Boots’ temple.

  “You stay the fuck away from her!” I pressed the gun harder against his temple. “Do you fucking understand?

  YOU STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM LACEY!”

  “Next time you put a gun to my head, make sure it's loaded,” he said as he gritted his teeth.

  I slammed his head against the wall, lowered my gun as I stepped backwards and retrieved my clip from the desk.

  “W-A-R,” he hissed.

  I should’ve shot him dead right there, splattered his walls with his brains and ended the mayhem before it started.

  I’m sure I’ll regret turning around and walking out of his office. I just prayed I didn’t feel the regret as I lowered another innocent woman’s body into the earth.

  I didn’t bother hiding my gun, walking back through the clubhouse like a crazed man, ready to shoot anyone who stood in my way. I ignored Charlie
as he called out to me and stormed outside, heading straight for the fucking van. I banged my head against the driver door as his words played repetitiously in my head.

  I knew that this meeting could go one of two ways, Boots could take the deal and keep peace or he would tell me to go fuck myself. I never prepared myself for the threat against Lacey.

  She’s not fair game.

  She won’t be put in the middle of this shit.

  What do you think will happen if his daughter became a casualty of war? If daddy found out his precious little girl died because she was the only way to make his vice president bleed?

  Boots’ threat declared Lacey my property.

  It wasn’t a malicious attack on Jack. He wasn’t promising to hurt his daughter to prove a point to him, to hit him where it hurts.

  No, Boots words were aimed at me.

  A vow to take what was mine, to cut me off at the knees and make me putty in his hands.

  W-A-R.

  He spelled out his declaration, mimicking the timeless card game and throwing Lacey into the middle of a fucking massacre.

  I climbed into the van, threw my gun onto the passenger seat and turned the key in the ignition, pulling away from the Corrupt Bastards like a mad man trying to escape fate.

  And then I realized I wasn’t running away from fate but headed straight towards it.

  I fought back the urge to turn the fucking van around and buy a vile of heroin shit, I’d settle for an eight ball of coke. I could’ve swiped some off the bar and no one would’ve even notice.

  I lifted one hand off the steering wheel, pushed up the sleeve of my shirt and looked down at my forearms.

  Clean.

  I glanced up, stopped short as the traffic light turned red and spotted the tavern on the corner across the street.

  Fate.

  There she was.

  I blew the light, making a sharp left and parked the van.

  W-A-R.

  It was coming.

  But before we went to war with the Bastards I had a battle with the biggest bastard of all.

  Johnny Walker.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  “Last call, buddy,” the bartender called from the other end of the bar. I stared at the amber liquid, swirled it around in the glass then knocked it back and turned it upside down lining it up next to the other empty shot glasses. I had quite the collection going on.

  I pointed to the tower of empty shot glasses and peered back at the bartender.

  “Two more,” I ordered, slurring my words.

  “You got a ride to wherever you’re heading?” he questioned as he braced his hands on the edge of the bar and studied me.

  “I got it covered,” I tapped the empty glasses. “Let’s go.” I added another twenty to the stack in front of me and waited for him to move.

  He sighed, reluctantly grabbing the bottle of whiskey from behind the bar, flipped over two shots and filled them to the rim—slamming his hand over the cash and stuffed it in his pocket.

  So much for the concerned bartender act.

  Anyone can be bought in this world.

  Everyone had their price.

  Sometimes a twenty got you what you needed, other times all the money in the world wouldn’t suffice.

  Sometimes the price was blood.

  I emptied the second shot glass, numb to the burn of the liquor as it made its way down my throat. I pushed back my stool and stood for the first time in hours, stumbling and knocking over the bar stool.

  “Easy,” the bartender called. “Why don’t you let me call you a cab?”

  I waved him off as I found my footing and headed out of the bar. If I had any luck, I’d wrap the van around a pole before I did what I knew I had to do.

  I unlocked the van, climbed into the driver seat and fumbled with the key, leaning my head against the steering wheel.

  “But the world, my world, it would be black without you,” she whispered. “I don’t know how it happened, and I probably never will, but you’re a big part of my life and my only wish is that you start living life again.

  “I wanted to,” I whispered, replying to the memory of her words. “You made me want to.”

  Then I was reminded of my own words.

  It’s a good dream, Lace. You and me, it’s a real good dream but dreams don’t come true for men like me.

  I knew better.

  I knew it would never work, that I wasn’t good for her, that I had the capacity to ruin her.

  It’s me.

  It’s what I do.

  I take the good in the world and make it ugly.

  I take the innocent and feed them to the devil.

  I can’t change and the more I think I can the more I hurt the people who give a damn about me.

  I hurt Lacey.

  I hurt Jack.

  I hurt my club.

  I rubbed my face wearily, knowing the only way to make it right, to save her from being a pawn in a game of chess was to cut her free. She’d always be her father’s daughter; no one could change that but she won’t be my woman anymore.

  I’ve never intentionally put her life at risk and I will not start now.

  Even if it kills me.

  Ironic isn’t it? I’ve spent a good part of my life looking for a way out, looking to hurt myself and feel the pain I deserved. Who knew the answer was right in front of me? All I had to do was let myself have a bit of hope and an angel who loved me.

  All I had to do was give in to the temptation and let myself have the one thing I wanted most in this world—even more than the pain I craved. I wanted the good girl who always had my back. The beauty with the sad eyes who just wanted the beast to see her, to worship her and to love her.

  I had the story right from the beginning, from that first night I pushed Lacey away and sent her running scared.

  I had to go for the fucking rewrite.

  I had to give her the good.

  I had to take more of her.

  I had to watch her unravel and know it was me who did that to her.

  I barely made it back to the hotel and parked the van in between two spots. Once inside I fell into the chair, not bothering with a light, accustomed to the darkness. I didn’t care it was the middle of the night, I hoped she’d be sleeping and wouldn’t answer the phone, giving me a few more hours to hold on to her.

  A few hours to hang onto the dream of Leather and Lace.

  I slipped my jacket off, turned it over and pulled out my gun first, then my phone. In that instant, I knew it’d be easier to pull the trigger than to press send on the call I was about to make. I lifted the phone to my ear, listened as it rang and said a silent prayer she wouldn’t answer the phone.

  “Hello?” she whispered groggily into the phone, forcing me to close my eyes and savor the sound of her voice.

  I pictured her in bed, hair tousled, stretching her body along the mattress.

  “Blackie?”

  “Hey, babe,” I rasped, clearing my throat before running my free hand over my hair, fisting it in agony.

  “Is everything okay?” she murmured into the phone.

  No nothing’s okay.

  It all fell to shit before we even had time to enjoy it.

  “It’s all good,” I lied, trying to work up the nerve to harden my tone and break her heart. “Listen, Lace,” I started.

  “I miss you,” she cut me off. “I wish you were here right now, or I was there. I miss the way your arms feel wrapped around me and your breath against my ear.”

  I dropped my hand, leaned my head against the back of the chair and closed my eyes, remembering the night I held her in my arms—on the floor of a house I never thought I’d step foot inside again.

  A little slice of heaven.

  Why give me heaven only to throw me back into hell?

  “I do too,” I admitted, huskily.

  “When are you coming home?”

  “Tomorrow,” I said, opening my eyes and staring into the darkness. “I can�
��t do it.”

  “What can’t you do?”

  I couldn’t bring myself to break her heart and not for the selfish reasons I expected but because I didn’t want to hurt.

  I just didn’t mean to say it out loud.

  “I’ve got to go, Lace.”

  “Can I see you tomorrow?” she asked quickly before I disconnected the call.

  “Yeah, angel,” I whispered.

  “Good night Blackie.”

  Tonight, I didn’t hurt her with my words. I didn’t scar her with my actions but I feared the inevitable.

  Lacey would be hurt.

  And it didn’t matter if I was the one doing the damage or not, in the end it would still be my fault. But tonight, tonight, we held onto the dream for a little longer.

  “Good night, Lace,” I said, disconnecting the call and staring down at the screen.

  I closed my eyes, pictured her smiling face as Boots’ threat rang loudly in my ears. I felt the familiar pangs of self-loathing tear into me, ripping me a part, and I was transcended back in time. The last time I hated myself this much was when I held Christine’s lifeless body in my arms. I was too late then, but I wasn’t now. I didn’t have to hold another cold body in my arms and wish for another way.

  But as much as I have been able to protect her this far I knew the game Boots was playing—I knew it too well.

  It’s exactly what I would do if the roles were reverse.

  I’d bide my time.

  I’d let the motherfucker stew.

  And as I sat there in the dark, watching the woman he loved, I’d smile to myself knowing I had the upper hand.

  Drugs can be replaced.

  Money can be earned again.

  Buildings can burn only to be rebuilt.

  A club can be divided and torn apart only to rise again.

  But taking the life of the one that makes yours worth living?

  That shit ends you.