Lethal Temptations (Tempted #5) (9 page)

“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.

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.

She 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.