Lethal Temptations (Tempted #5) (13 page)

They were familiar with the enemy. He once sat at their table on holiday’s, he was Victor’s right hand, his newly appointed underboss. A title he claimed after he had a hand in the murder of his first one, Michael Valente, a man they called Val. Val’s son was here too, strapping on a bullet-proof vest, ready to do whatever my father told him to, ready to get his revenge for his old man’s death. It was so much to take in, so many faces to keep track of, so many lives that intertwined and I’m sure if the circumstances were different I would’ve been fascinated with all this.

I used to harbor resentment against my parents for keeping me away from the MC. It was a part of my father, so in turn it was part of me. These men that wore the reaper on their back have all for the most part, watched me grow up. Wolf and Pipe were there for all my sacraments and they brought me flowers at my dance recitals. When I went on my first date, Wolf sat behind us at the movie theatre. Pipe taught me how to drive and when my father was in jail, it was Blackie who made sure I was okay. He made sure I maintained a relationship with my dad and when I needed a ride, he was the one who dropped everything to make sure I got to wherever it was I needed to go.

They may be men who ran on the wrong side of the law but these men where my family. I’ve heard my dad speak of his brotherhood, but seeing it firsthand, how they banded together, made it clear they were brothers in every way it counts. And though my head worked against me, filling my mind with doom, it was hard not to have faith they would bring Blackie back to them.

Back to me.

I don’t think Blackie knows his worth. His worth to his club, to my father and to me. Does he know that these men are not whole without him? Does he even realize that my father doesn’t function to the best of his ability unless Blackie is there to guide him? Blackie’s presence is a strong aid to the lithium he takes, it’s just as important to my father’s treatment as any prescription drug.

Does he know that the thought of losing him scares the hell out of me? I’m not sure I could live without him in my life. And not because of the crush. Not because of the attraction or the one night we shared but because Blackie is my crutch too, not just my father’s. He’s the only one in this whole world who has the power to see me and accept me.

I’m damaged.

And no one knows.

He looks at me, sees the broken, the demons that come out and play whenever they want, his expression doesn’t change.

He’ll take me anyway I am.

Imperfections and all.

And maybe that’s because he’s full of imperfections himself.

Sometimes perfect can be found in imperfections, just like it’s hidden in the word it’s hidden beneath the flaws. It just takes one person to claim those imperfections and deem them perfect. Blackie is a drug addict, he’s a drunk, a self-loathing man looking for a way out. He’s the definition of imperfect. But you know what his perfect is? The hidden beauty of him? It’s his heart.

His heart.

That’s his perfect.

And I want to be the person who claims it.

I had escaped the Pastore women and found my way upstairs to Blackie’s room. I laid on his bed and thought I’d take a nap but, the scent of his cologne on his pillow made it impossible for me to close my eyes and not think of him.

Everything in this room was a reminder of the one night we shared. The one never to be spoken of again. It wasn’t how I thought I’d lose my virginity, not that I gave it much thought. After sixteen my v-card became more of a nuisance then some sacred thing I needed to hang on to. I’m not sure who is to blame if its society or my parents who sheltered me and made me think I was too good to give it up to just anyone. As a young girl I believed I needed to be in love with someone, that the person who took my virginity needed to be some perfect man I would spend the rest of my life with.

Then I became sixteen and found out I was the only fucking virgin left, or at least that’s what it felt like. All my friends had done it, raved about how great it was and how many orgasms they had—then there was me, the president of the Satan’s Knights daughter. I was crazy and still a virgin. It was unheard of.

Yet still I couldn’t do it.

I couldn’t just give it up to anyone.

My best friend, Noah knew my dilemma and even offered to rid me of my problem.

And as tempting as the offer was, I turned him down.

I think it was my subconscious guiding me, making me wait because the one who eventually took it was the only person to ever see me. It may not have been a fairytale, and it hurt like hell, but I wouldn’t take it back.

None of it.

Not waiting until I found the perfect man.

Not waiting until I was nearly nineteen years old.

I didn’t let anyone else take it because only one man deserved it.

He might regret it; he might be bothered by it but for me it was perfect. Perfect in an imperfect way. The hidden perfect in a shit load of flaws.

Just like the both of us.

Demons and addictions.

Leather and Lace.

Imperfect yet perfect.

My thoughts are interrupted by the commotion coming from the other side of the door. I heard Riggs shout at my father, then call for help. I quickly threw my legs over the edge of the bed and ran to the door. Pulling it open I peeked my head out as my father stalked towards the stairs. The look in his eye was ferocious and I knew even his medicine wouldn’t help him. The maker has taken residence and the crazed look in his eye was the look of a man trying to balance reality and the poisonous fiction his mind was trying to make him believe.

I understand your pain dad.

I see it.

I live it.

“Stop him,” Riggs hollered as he skidded to a halt at the stairs. “Pipe! Wolf!”

I stepped out of the room, tip-toeing the length of the hallway before leaning against the wall as Riggs ran down the stairs, stopping mid-way. I could see my dad trapped on the stairs, his brothers barricading him.

“Get out of my way,” he ordered.

“Jimmy sent the video,” Riggs explained in a huff, handing his phone over to Pipe. What video? I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat, pushing back the grim thoughts of what may be on the video.

Anthony Bianci, one of the mob guys, took Pipe’s place blocking my dad from moving and Pipe hit play. I heard the unmistakable voice that belonged to Jimmy but being on top of the stairs, I could only make out every other word—by the way my father lurched for the phone I knew that motherfucker couldn’t have been delivering good news.

“Jesus Christ,” Pipe said, as Jimmy’s voice sounded stating his demands and threats.

“I will kill him and I’m going to smile as I do it,” my father hissed.

It was so weird to watch my hero of a father turn into a monster of a man. What I was witnessing was different from the manic episodes of the past. I think that’s because this man my father was morphing into wasn’t controlled by the crazy but instead, by the criminal.

“Chapel, now,” Pipe ordered, sternly.

“There’s no fucking time,” my dad yelled.

I closed my eyes, sliding against the wall as the men continued to argue.

“Oh, so you have a plan? Because you’re right we don’t have a lot of fucking time and without a plan we’re fucked. So pull your fucking shit together and grab your gavel,” Pipe replied.

I glanced down at the watch on my wrist, watching as the second hand ticked away and felt fresh tears sting my eyes. For the first time the numbers on the clock weren’t just numbers they were a lifeline.

I know now why people say time is precious, for when it runs out there is nothing and you’re left wishing of all the things you could’ve done, could’ve said…if only you had just one more minute.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Chapter Nine

My father stormed out of the clubhouse after they disappeared into the chapel and concocted a plan of attack. They looked like a pack of wild animals running out of here. The whole lot of them, the men in leather and the pretty boy mobsters with the tight t-shirts that promoted a gym called Xonerated on their backs.

I tried isolating myself, staying locked up in Blackie’s room until the dreaded news came but, the door flew open and Nikki Pastore came barging into the room. She froze in her tracks once she spotted me on the bed, and smiled sheepishly—which was comical since it was obvious this girl didn’t have a shy bone in her body.

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t know anyone was up here,” she cocked her head, glancing around the room. “Is this the Bulldog’s room?” She questioned as she walked over to the dresser and started to search for something.

“No, it’s not,” I said, throwing my legs over the edge of the bed. “Is there something you need?”

I started towards her, as she shamelessly moved things around on Blackie’s dresser, pausing to lift a picture frame. She turned around, holding up the frame as her eyes questioned me.

“Why is it all the hot guys are either married or gay?” She asked as I stared at the photo of Blackie and Christine on their wedding day.

“Where did you find that?”

“Right there,” she tipped her chin at the dresser. “Under the mountain of black clothes,” she replied, glancing down at the picture. “As my Aunt Gina would say, that’s a fine piece of ass right there,” she added.

“Blackie doesn’t like people touching his shit,” I informed her.

“Blackie?” She turned around and placed the frame on the dresser, standing it up so that the happy couple was rightfully displayed.

“The guy whose room you’re ransacking,” I explained, tearing my eyes from the photograph to meet hers.

“Does Blackie smoke?”

“What?”

“Look, Lacey right? I’m having a nicotine fit,” she stuck her arm out toward me, lifting up the sleeve to expose her nicotine patch. “This shit doesn’t cut it, so again, does this Blackie character smoke?”

“Sometimes, but not usually,” I crossed my arms. “There are no cigarettes in here.”

She raised an eyebrow as she stared at me for a moment then walked over to the bed and dropped onto it.

“Bummer,” she said. “I guess it’s up to you then.”

“Excuse me?”

“I need a distraction,” she explained, rubbing her arm where the patch was.

“What? No. What’re you doing?”

“Who’s the hot guy with the bride?”

“Shouldn’t you be downstairs helping your mother and that other lady turn this place into a trattoria or something?”

She smiled.

“A wise ass just like your dad,” she mused.

“Did you just call me a wise ass?”

“I did,” she affirmed.

“How do you know my dad?”

“He helped me and my boyfriend out one night. My ex-boyfriend shot up my father’s nightclub and your dad took me and my Mikey to a safe house,” she explained, leaning back on the bed. “Good times.”

“Your ex-boyfriend shot up a night club?” I asked, wide-eyed as I sat next to her.

“Yeah, that prick bastard,” she snarled. “Anyway, your pops… he came riding to the rescue, and drove me and Mikey to a cabin in the middle of nowhere. He slipped me a pack of Marlboro’s and became one of my top-five favorite people.”

That caused me to smile. There weren’t too many people around my age that genuinely liked my father. Growing up me and my friends didn’t spend much time around my dad, they barely knew him. They heard of him, knew his name, his club and made assumptions. Some of them feared the big bad motorcycle man—others thought it was cool to have a dad who was a biker but, they didn’t get to interact with him. Nikki was the first person to tell me she was fond of my father and not because of the patch but because he was just a cool guy who helped her out of a jam and gave her a pack of cigarettes.

“So, who is Blackie and why are you here hiding out in his room?”

I was pulled from my thoughts, turned my eyes to her and shrugged my shoulders.

“He’s the vice president of the club,” I answered, looking away. “He came to get me, to take me here, when your father’s pal showed up and took him,” my words trailed.

“I didn’t see the girl in the picture downstairs,” she said, tipping her chin to the frame.

“Because she’s dead,” I lifted my eyes to the photograph, staring at the smile on Blackie’s face and realized even the few times he smiled at me, his smile differed from the one in the photograph.

He was different back then.

He was happy.

“That’s fucking awful,” Nikki whispered, looking back at me.

“Yeah,” I replied, lifting my eyes to her. “Nikki? You know Jimmy pretty well don’t you? Do you think he can pull it off?” I paused, swallowing hard before I continued. “I guess what I’m asking you is—do you think he’s going to kill Blackie?”

“Jimmy’s a pussy,” she answered. “No match for the men that walked out of here today,” she paused, taking a deep breath before she continued. “You know not that long ago I was in your shoes, waiting for my father to come back and tell me everything would be okay. I did something foolish, something you shouldn’t, I lost faith in my father and his capabilities,”