The Tempted Series: Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  “Kitten,” I murmur, peeling back her hands as Anthony appears. A nurse pushes him in a wheelchair as he holds an oxygen mask to his face. His other arm is fucked up, covered in blood and wrapped with a tie.

  Lauren locks eyes with her brother and takes off running for him.

  “You’re okay,” she cries, bending down to throw her arms around him. I watch as he removes the mask and wraps his good arm around her. “Where’s Adrianna?”

  “Right here,” she calls from behind him.

  If the circumstances were different, and I wasn’t so fucking relieved to see the Biancis, I’d bust their balls over the his and her wheel chairs they were sporting, but fuck, I was just happy they were breathing.

  I tried to keep tally of everyone and their injuries, silently breathing a sigh of relief each time another wounded victim was brought in through the doors.

  So far no casualties.

  The doctors were working to stop Reina’s labor. Jack was being treated for first and second-degree burns and they feared he may be deaf. Wolf needed emergency surgery after suffering a massive heart attack. Anthony needed thirty-seven stitches for that injury to his arm and a pint of blood. Adrianna broke her wrist and the soles of her feet needed stitches. Mike broke both his legs and suffered a concussion. Nikki needed sixteen stitches to close the gash in her arm. Blackie and Lacey were both treated for minor lacerations.

  Pipe was still missing.

  So were the nomads.

  Another ambulance pulls up and Stryker jumps out the back, stepping aside as they wheel in Linc. He was in bad shape and they needed to get him into surgery immediately. The doctors hollered all sorts of medical mumbo jumbo but the one word that stuck with me was paralysis.

  Insisting he was fine, Stryker refused medical treatment, but the man was badly burned on one side of his arm. I tore my eyes from him as Cobra walked in covered in blood and froze. The past hit me like a ton of bricks and for a split second I remembered being in his shoes, only the blood I wore was Lauren’s and Bones’.

  I watched as he stepped aside, and Pipe came into my sight, walking alongside a stretcher carrying a black body bag.

  “Sir, you can’t come with us,” the paramedic told him.

  “The fuck I can’t,” he growled, his eyes staring daggers into the man denying him.

  I glanced back at Cobra, looking for answers as to who the victim was and notice the pair of red shoes he carried in his hands.

  “We’re sorry for your loss, Sir, but you’re not allowed in the morgue,” a policeman informed him.

  “Pipe, you have to let her go, man,” Deuce says from behind him.

  Every single one of us gave Pipe grief over marrying Oksana, called their marriage a joke and every single one of us were fools. Pipe loved that woman and he loved her just as hard as the rest of us love ours.

  His grip loosens from the stretcher and he takes a retreating step back. Changing his mind, he takes a step forward and reaches for the bag but the paramedics quickly roll her away from him.

  Oksana wasn’t the only one who lost her life.

  Prospects, Mack and Bosco were both murdered too.

  Lauren wraps her arms around me, burying her face against my chest as I hold on tightly with everything I am. I glance over her head toward Pipe and watch as he stares at the closed doors they wheeled his wife through. He turns his head, his gaze travels over me and Lauren and I open my mouth to offer my condolences but he quickly looks away. Solemnly he takes the shoes from Cobra’s hand and walks out of the hospital without a word.

  Some stand, others fall, in the end we all bleed.

  And we’re all bleeding for Pipe.

  Leaning back against the cot, I close my eyes as the attending doctor stitches my arm. I’m fucking exhausted but adrenaline is coursing through my body making me antsy. I want to get the fuck out of here, go home, kiss my kids and sleep for a month.

  “You about done, doc?”

  “Almost,” she says, pulling back the needle.

  The curtain slides open and Adrianna comes into my view. She’s in a wheelchair; her feet propped up and covered in bandages. Her right arm is also bandaged from her wrist to her elbow with a fiberglass cast. There’s a butterfly stitch over her brow and a nasty bruise forming under her eye. She’s still the most gorgeous woman I have ever laid eyes on.

  “That should do it,” the doctor announces. “I’ll be back to check on you.”

  Tearing my eyes from my wife, I turn to face the doctor and narrow my eyes.

  “Check on me? Come on, doc, you stitched me back together, isn’t it time to cut me loose?”

  “Sorry, Mr. Bianci, but it says on your chart we’re keeping you for observation,” she informs me before pulling back the curtain and disappearing out of my view. I grunt and turn to my wife as she wheels herself over to my side and struggles to stand on her injured feet.

  “Why don’t you let Riggs take you home?” I question as she climbs into the tiny bed with me.

  “Looking to get rid of me?”

  “Never,” I answer, wincing as I lift my injured arm, making room for her, careful of her own injuries. “But, I know you’d rather be home in our bed with the kids.”

  “Lucky for us, I snatched Riggs’ phone,” she says, producing the phone she had tucked between her breasts.

  “Lucky phone,” I tease as I place my finger under her chin and tilt her head back. “Hey,” I started.

  “Hmm?”

  I search her eyes for signs of despair, recalling how closed off she became after the shooting at Temptations, but there are no traces of shock or PTSD like last time. I don’t know if this is the calm before the storm, if she’ll break once she’s home and the dust has settled or if her skin has grown thicker since the last time we faced certain death.

  “What’s going on inside that head?”

  “I lost my shoes,” she replies flatly. I follow her gaze to the gauze wrapped around her feet.

  “I’ll buy you a new pair,” I tell her, kissing the top of her head. “Now…the truth, what are you thinking about?”

  “What happens now?” she asks softly, lifting her eyes to mine.

  I stare at her silently, deciding how to answer her since I’m not sure what happens from here. I don’t want to frighten her and tell her there will be a motherfucking war, one that will likely make the shit we’ve been witness to in the past look like a church picnic.

  “I mean whoever the fuck did this will pay for this, right?” she questions, surprising me.

  “Come again?”

  “You can’t get up but I did, and this emergency room is full of everyone we know and love. If my father was here, he’d be on the streets already, looking for mercy. So, again, whoever did this, whoever ruined Jack and Reina’s wedding, jeopardized their baby, and scarred the lives of all of us, they will pay, right?”

  “You offering to take them out?”

  “We could’ve died and left our kids orphans so yeah, if it came down to it, I’d be the first in line,” she says, her face set in stone.

  Another man may have laughed at his wife’s offer to take out the people responsible but not me. I didn’t doubt, given the opportunity, Adrianna would take out the enemy. She’s a fighter, been fighting for what she loves since she was fifteen years old, since she met me.

  What I’m saying is I know you will have a part in this and I’m okay with it, just as long as you raise all sorts of hell and get every last one but you come home to me. You come back and you tuck our kids into bed and love me because if I ever lose you I’ll lose me too.”

  I open my mouth but she silences me with a finger.

  “Just need your promise, Bianci,” she whispers softly. “No explanations.”

  “I promise,” I say against her finger and watch her nod in satisfaction. She drops her hand and a smile forms across her perfect mouth. A little chuckle escapes next and I think it’s happening—she’s going to lose her cool.

  What�
�s so funny?” I cautiously ask.

  “I was just thinking back to that night I went looking for you, the night I found you in the gym...do you remember?”

  “Yeah,” I say, wondering where she’s going with this.

  “We were so worried about simply being Anthony and Adrianna but we’ll never just be Anthony and Adrianna, will we? I’ll always be the mobster’s daughter and you will always be his enforcer. We can be parents, we can be gym owners but at the end of the day we will always be Anthony and Adrianna and the mob will always be the foundation our family was built upon.”

  If today was any indication, she was right There will always be something that pulls us back, reminding us who we are and what we’re capable of. Today it was a bomb, tomorrow it’ll be when the mailman forgets to deliver her Amazon package and twenty years from now it’ll be when Victoria brings home a boyfriend.

  I press my lips to hers gently, sealing our fate and the truth. We’ll never be ordinary.

  “Now, let’s call our kids,” I say against her mouth.

  She pulls back and dials the house, placing the call on speaker. My mother answers and instantly praises Jesus, cursing Jack, going through the whole spiel on how everyone I’m associated with has a death wish. Finally, she puts Luca on the phone and everything is right with the world again.

  he terror we survived fades.

  Revenge does too.

  All that exists is the two innocent people who don’t know how ugly the world truly is.

  And I hope they never do.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  “Mr. Petra, the x-rays show you have five broken ribs. As I’m sure you know there isn’t much we can do but give you something for the pain—” the doctor says, reading the films.

  “No,” I say, cutting him off as I throw my legs over the side of the bed. “I don’t need anything,” I grunt, cringing as I slide off the bed.

  “We’ll give you Motrin—” he begins again.

  “I said no. I’m a recovering addict so if all I got is a few broken ribs I’ll survive. Now, I need to get out of this bed,” I tell him, pushing the hair away from my face so he can see the sincerity in my eyes. “I’ll deal with the pain by not being kept away from the people who need me so how about you go get my discharge papers and stop wasting my time,” I say, my patience running thin.

  “Do you realize you’ve suffered a traumatic experience? You survived a bomb,” he replies incredulously.

  “I’m well aware of what I survived, and the bomb is one of many on a list of lethal things,” I tell him as I grab my blood stained shirt and try to put it on. “If you won’t discharge me, I’ll sign myself out.”

  Giving up on the shirt, I toss it onto the bed and grab my leather jacket. I mask the pain in my ribs as I shrug it on and tip my head to the doctor.

  “If you’ve got some time on your hands, there’s a pregnant woman who’s in labor, a deaf man with burns, another one with two broken legs, should I could continue?”

  I didn’t give him the opportunity to answer, pushing back the curtain of the triage cubicle. I walk past him and straight into the chaos of the emergency room. And chaos it was. I don’t know if they were understaffed or if collectively we had too many injuries, but doctors, nurses and attendants ran around from cubicle to cubicle, treating the victims.

  At the compound I was too consumed with making sure Lacey was okay to take in the destruction, but seeing the magnitude of devastation antagonized me, planting the seeds of revenge in my mind.

  Images of Ronan flash in front of my eyes, the bomb strapped to his chest, the horror reflected in his eyes as he steps further into the clubhouse. The sound of the explosion rings in my ears and I fight against my natural instincts to flee the hospital and go hunt for the men responsible for this.

  “Blackie,” Lacey calls, pulling me out of my vengeful thoughts. I blink to clear my vision and focus on my girl. Staring at her doesn’t alleviate the dire need for revenge, if anything it broadens it. She looks exhausted, a million miles away and hanging on by a thread. The stitches on her eyebrow and the dried up blood along her hair line doesn’t help matters.

  I lift my hands to her face, run my thumb over that pouty lip of hers and lean my forehead against hers.

  “You see your father?” I ask as her hand travels down the front of my jacket and her fingers graze the gauze wrapped around my midsection.

  “Barely, I’ve been with Reina the whole time,” she lifts her gaze to mine. “My dad can’t hear, Blackie. The doctor’s say its temporary but aren’t a hundred percent sure.” She pauses to assess my features. She informed me of Jack’s diagnosis but her eyes are looking to me for answers.

  “You got something you want to ask me, girl?”

  he shook her head.

  “The answer is in your eyes,” she whispers as she grips the ends of my jacket and diverts her eyes downward. “My dad won’t be able to ride with deaf ears. He will step down until he’s better and someone else will step up. That someone else is you. Even if you weren’t the vice president, it’d be you, you’re already plotting how to make this right. I see it in your eyes.” She lifts her head and stares back at me.

  She was right and there was no sense in denying it or making excuses. When I accepted my role within the club, I knew one day this could happen. At one point I even wanted it—to be next in line for the gavel. It wouldn’t have been a forced decision like it is now, ideally, my brothers would’ve voted me into the head of the table after Jack retired.

  The Satan’s Knights haven’t gotten this far in the game by letting our enemies win. Our creed isn’t one that accepts defeat. They strike, we strike back. They kill, we extinct. If Jack is in as bad a shape as Lacey is saying he is, he won’t be able to lead our club and it will be my duty to do so in his place.

  Glancing around the emergency room I decide it would be my fucking honor to take down the motherfuckers that did this. But, looking back at Lacey I question if retribution on this disaster is worth her sanity. As strong as she is there is only so much her mind can withstand.

  I’ll take the gavel, lead the ride in our quest for retribution and leave Lacey back home with her demons. I struggled back there for a minute, denying the drugs the doctor was ready to feed me because I have a handle on whether I succumb to a relapse. Lacey is different. She can take her meds daily but they won’t always silence her maker. She’s fragile and sitting home, knowing I’m risking my life to pay back the people who took life from our club, well, I fear that’ll send her over the edge.

  I won’t be there to comfort her, won’t be there to turn on the radio and dance with her under the porch lights. Her mind will feed her lies and she’ll believe them. not because she wants to, but because I’m not there to prove her maker wrong.

  “I get it,” she says, dragging me out of my won head. “It’s part of the package.” She forces a smile.

  “You remember what I promised you?”

  “You promised me a lot of things.”

  “Gonna make good on all those promises, girl,” I say as I bend my knees, grinding my teeth through the pain as I stare into her dark eyes. “Gonna marry you. Gonna fill that house with a bunch of babies. Gonna grow old long before you but with you right by side, keeping my ass young.” I wink at her. “But the promise I will keep before all of those is the one I keep telling you.”

  I pause, watch the flicker of hope spark in her eyes and know that she’s on the same page. She knows the words I’m about to say. She lives by them. Just as I come alive when I say them.

  “Girl, I’m coming back for you,” I confirm.

  And I will.

  I’ll always come back for my girl.

  “Reina!” Jack’s screams echo off the walls of the hospital, shrill and unnerving, demanding attention.

  Lacey’s body grows rigid and I force her eyes back to mine.

  “Go back to Reina,” I watch her struggle, biting her lip as she decides whether she will listen. “I�
��ll go to him,” I assure her, prying her hands off my jacket and kissing her quickly.

  Hesitantly she starts for Reina’s room and I question why the fuck I denied Motrin, knowing that dealing with Jack ain’t going to be any kind of easy.

  I’ve been poked and prodded and still I can’t hear fucking shit. It feels like someone is holding my head under water and I don’t fucking like it. Not one fucking bit. I need to get to Reina. I need to make sure she and the baby are okay. Without a fuck left to give, I maneuver myself off the stretcher, leaving the plastic surgeon working on my back behind me.

  Swiping the curtain back, I stumble out of the cubicle and into the chaos of the emergency room. Doctors try to grab me and usher me back to my stretcher but I push them out of the way.

  “Reina!”

  I know her name sounds like a scream because of the burn in my throat but to my ears it’s less than a whisper.

  Another doctor steps in front of me and before he opens his mouth, I fist his scrubs in my hand and glare at him. Ignoring his moving lips, I shove him to the side as a hand closes around my arm. I go to shrug the person off me, no one will stop me from getting to my woman. Forcefully, I’m spun around and meet Blackie’s worried eyes.

  He says some shit I don’t comprehend and I lift my hands to my ears.

  “Can’t hear shit. I’m fucking deaf,” I growl, well I think I growl...

  I follow his eyes as he glances over his shoulder and points to the cubicle behind him where Lacey is sitting with Reina. My feet take off, leaving Blackie and whatever words he’s blabbing behind me and head straight for my girls. My eyes dart between them and the monitor that Reina is hooked up too. I can’t hear the familiar sound of our baby’s swooshing heart beat but I spot the steady numbers flashing next to an image of a heart. The wedding dress she was wearing has been cut off her and she’s in a hospital gown with a big strap across her belly. Her eyes find mine and I can tell she’s both exhausted and in pain.

  Ignoring the burning sensations rippling over my back, I make my way to her bedside. I kiss Lacey’s cheek, trading spots with her and turn my eyes back to Reina.