Uncontrollable Temptations (The Tempted Series Book 3) (23 page)

“Nothing for me, doll, but when you’ve run your course here, would love to have a piece of you,” he winked.

“We’re willing to share our product but not our whores,” Blackie interjected. “Keep our pussy to ourselves, sure you can understand that,” he added, nodding toward the table. “Why don’t you have a seat and get to the point of your interruption.” He glanced at the two men behind him. “But your boy’s will have to wait outside, Jimmy.”

Jimmy laughed, pausing a moment before he assessed Blackie.

“This is between you and me, don’t see my club standing behind me do you?”

“Very well,” Jimmy conceded, nodding toward his men, watching as they glared at Blackie before stepping out of the compound.

“I’m guessing you’re here for the sample,” Blackie started, taking a seat at the table.

I busied myself trying to open the beer bottle but couldn’t find a bottle opener. I peered up from the bar and watched Jimmy sit across from Blackie, he folded his hands neatly on top of the table and leaned forward.

“Victor tells me you’re familiar with the business, that you used to be one of the biggest players in the game,” he raved. “That makes me wonder why you would ever stop,” he questioned.

“Who said I did?” Blackie leaned back in his chair. “Your boss wanted to keep his streets clean, made it real hard for us to do business, so I took my product elsewhere,” he said, drumming his nails against the table. “Make no mistake about it Gold, I am the biggest player in the game. Always have been, always will,” he assured him.

“Confident,” he stated. “I like it, but as confident as you might be, I don’t trust you,” he added. “And I don’t do business with anyone I don’t trust.”

“Smart man,” Blackie countered. “Then why the fuck you wasting my time?”

“Well,” he started, lifting his eyes to glance at me. I quickly grabbed the bottle of beer and walked around the bar, placing it on the table.

Blackie lifted his eyes to mine.
      

“Thank you, now go upstairs and take your fucking clothes off. I’ll be right up,” he commanded.

I curled my lip at him before I disappeared into the hallway that led to the stairs. Once I was sure I was out of sight I leaned against the wall and tried to hear what was going on, trying to make sense of it all.

“As I was saying, my mind may be swayed if you provide me with an example of good faith,” Jimmy purred. “I’d like to think a man like you knows his product, enjoys it even, won’t you have a taste for me?”

“You want me to shoot it to prove what exactly?” Blackie asked.

“That you’re not selling me shit for one,” he said.

“I don’t know how you do business Gold, but usually you or one of your own test the product they are buying,” Blackie interrupted.

“Of course that’s why I brought Carmine, but I’m not stupid Blackie, you are going to shoot the same sample you’re giving me. If it’s good for your own veins then it should be good for Carmine’s,” he sneered. “Those are my conditions, take them or leave them,” Jimmy added.

There was silence, and I was tempted to peek my head out from the wall to see what was going on. I heard someone shuffle around, a door close and something drop. What the fuck was going on?

“Fine, let’s get this over with,” Blackie seethed.

“Wonderful” Jimmy exclaimed. A moment later he was on the phone with someone, instructing them to come inside. My guess was it was the Carmine person he was talking about. There was more silence and then the distinct sound of something, maybe a bag, being torn open.

“Whenever you’re ready Blackie,” Jimmy crooned.

More silence.

A slap.

More silence.

“There you go,” Jimmy said. “Just a little more,” he added. “All done.”

Something fell and sounded as if it rolled across the floor. It was so quiet that for a moment I thought they left until there was another voice.

“All good,” he drawled.

“I’ll be in touch,” Jimmy said, before I heard the legs of the chair scrape across the floor. I stilled, listening as their shoes danced across the wood, before the door opened and closed. I waited a moment, making sure they were really gone before I turned and stepped back into the common room.

I quickened my pace when I spotted Blackie hunched over the table.

“Blackie?”

He lifted his head, and that’s when I noticed his sleeve rolled up, a yellow band knotted around his arm and a needle hanging out.

“Oh my God,” I rushed to him but froze in my tracks when he bent his head, pulled the needle out with his teeth and spat it onto the table. He proceeded to untie the knot over his arm and let the rubber band fall to the floor. He lifted his blood-shot eyes to me, baring his tortured soul in his gaze.

“Earned your keep, Reina,” he slurred, swaying slightly in his chair as he lifted his ass and pulled out a keyring from his back pocket. “My car is out front, Ford Expedition. Go find your man,” he said, throwing the keys in the air.

I caught the keys in the palm of my hand and took a step closer to him. “What about you?”

“Just go,” he mumbled, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes.

“I don’t know where to go,” I said hoarsely.

“Try the house,” he offered, his words becoming less clear as he continued. “Kid’s birthday is today, on a mission to join him like he is every year on this day.”

I watched as he laid his head on the table, opened his eyes and stared at the needle, a lone tear falling down his cheek.

The men of Satan’s Knights were living in Hell regardless of who tried to save them but it wasn’t up to me to heal all of them, just the one that claimed me. Just my Jack. I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat leaving one tortured biker to rescue another, praying to God I wasn’t too late.

It’s a distinct moment in one’s life when they realize they’ve found a person who makes them whole, a solitary moment in time, you never forget. The moment I pulled in front of Jack’s house and spotted his motorcycle in the driveway, I released a breath I wasn’t aware I had been holding and it dawned on me.
I could live without Jack, been doing it for twenty-eight years, but the missing piece, the part of me I thought was lost in the fire, actually wasn’t. I hadn’t found that missing piece until Jack. It didn’t matter what I had seen, what his club was
about or the things he had done that were horrible, he was my missing link. You don’t throw that away no matter how imperfect. No, when you find that, and only the lucky ones do, you hang onto it with all you have.

Blackie’s warning rang in my ears, a reminder that the man who stole my heart, was hurt, damaged beyond repair, and looking for a way out of this crazy world. I have endured loss, mourned a mother I barely knew, grieved for my grandparents, and lived through the wounds of Danny’s death but I never lost a child. I couldn’t imagine how that weighed on a parent but I could imagine the guilt and knew that could work a person over. Imagine a person that was ill. I didn’t know the extent of Jack’s illness but I was sure being a manic-depressive didn’t work for a person who lived life haunted by the loss of a child.

I ran up the front steps, my heart in my throat, scared of what I’d find but determined to be the one that healed him. I knocked on the door, rang the bell, and called his name. He didn’t answer, and I felt the tears surface.

Please let me be the one
.

Please don’t let me be too late.

I tested the doorknob, lifted my eyes to the sky and thanked God it was unlocked.

“Jack?” I called, slamming the door behind me, my eyes taking in the living and dining rooms. The place was so tidy the last time I was here, making it obvious that Jack barely visited his home but that wasn’t the case now. The frames that lined the mantle of the fireplace were gone, shattered in a million pieces, decorating the wooden floor. The picture that had once hung over the buffet was gone, displaying a gaping hole in the Sheetrock but that wasn’t the only one. The walls that were covered with pictures, sconces, art, were all bare except for the holes that marked them. I took a closer look and noticed there was no Sheetrock on the floor, that the holes weren’t fresh but had been merely covered by the decor.

“Jack,” I hollered, my voice cracking as I peeked into the empty kitchen. Not wasting another second I hurried up the stairs and opened every door in the hallway. He wasn’t in his bedroom or the bathroom. Lacey’s bedroom empty as well.

I froze, my hand still on the doorknob of the last room, as I braced myself for what I’d find. I prayed to God and slowly turned the knob. Peering my head into the room I took in the pale blue walls and the sports themed border that spanned the room. There was a toddler bed on one wall, perfectly made with a comforter matching the rest of the theme. There were toys on the floor as if a child had just dumped them out and played with all of them. The blinds were closed, the room only lit by the television. I lifted my eyes to the screen, a frozen image of a video. The screen illuminated by a baby in front of a birthday cake.

Such a beautiful boy.

I tore my eyes from the baby’s face and stepped further into the room toward the glider that sat cornered in the room, the back facing me. I walked around the chair as the television came to life and the people in the video sang happy birthday to the baby.

A breath escaped my lips, a sigh of relief as I took in my Jack—the torment etched along his face and the gun he held to his temple. My sigh lost its way and was replaced by a gasp. His eyes fixated on the screen and tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Jack?” I whispered, stepping in front of him, blocking his view of the television.

His eyes met mine but I was lost to him, just an object, an obstruction to the view he craved.

“Move,” he yelled.

Blow out the candles, Junior.
I heard a voice boom through the speakers of the television.

Jack’s voice.

Come on, baby. You can do it! Lacey help your little brother.
I heard Jack continue on the television.

In a blink of an eye the barrel of the gun moved from his temple and toward me.

“I. Said. Move,” he shouted, eyes wild as his finger wrapped around the trigger of the gun.

“No,” I whispered, my heart pounding in my chest as I stared at him. “Give me the gun, Jack.”

He was on his feet in a flash and I subconsciously took a retreating step backward as he closed the distance between us and placed the gun to my temple.

“You think I won’t shoot you? I said move the fuck out of the way,” he roared.

I blinked rapidly forcing myself to stay calm, fighting back the tears that threatened and lifted my hand to his cheek.

“Let me help you,” I pleaded.

“You going to bring that boy back from the dead?” He questioned, pointing the gun toward the screen behind me, his eyes softening as he stared over my shoulder at his son. “You can’t help me, only he can,” he ground out, his gun falling to his side as he stepped around me and moved to the television, his trembling fingers reaching out to touch the screen.

I wiped at my cheeks as I watched him cock his head to the side, staring at the screen as it went black.

Video over.

His head bowed in defeat, his grip tightened on the gun as he wept.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he mumbled.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said adamantly, walking to stand beside him. “Tell me about your boy, Jack, introduce me to him, share him with me,” I pleaded, bending my knees to peer up at him.

He stared at me blankly and I wasn’t sure what to do. Should I reach for him or let him be, push him or give him a minute?

“Did you and his mother know he would be a boy or was it a surprise?”

“We knew,” he whispered.

I smiled a little, reaching out to touch his hand.

“I bet you were so excited,” I said, interlocking our fingers and squeezing his hand.

Stay with me.

“Was he a good sleeper?” I continued.

“He was perfect. Everything he did was just perfect,” he recalled, his eyes dropping to our hands.

It’s okay to be broken.

“What was his first word?” I asked, reaching for the gun with my free hand.

“Dada,” he whispered, closing his eyes as my hand closed around the barrel of the gun.

“He would’ve been fifteen today,” he said, exhaustion in his eyes as he lifted them to mine. “Missed thirteen birthday cakes, never got to blow the candles out on his own,” he continued. “Not fair, Reina. It’s not fucking fair,” he cried. “I’ve cheated death a thousand times and I don’t understand why he couldn’t.”

“No it’s not,” I agreed, as he glanced down at the gun we were both holding now. I dropped his hand from mine and lifted his chin so his eyes found mine. “Do you believe in God, Jack?” I asked.

“No,” he replied.

“I do,” I whispered, as I shrugged my shoulders. “Sometimes,” I corrected. “Times like this I believe in God,” I continued. “God is watching over your son, Jack. He’s saved him from all the ugly things we see every day. I know you don’t want to hear it and my words won’t mend your broken heart, but Jack is safe. He’s happy, and he’s free, free to look in on his family, free to explore without injuring himself. He can do whatever he wants. He’s invincible. He’s the superhero little boys dream of being,” I said, brushing away his tears with my free hand. “I bet he loves checking in on his dad, and when he sees his favorite superhero of all I bet he smiles as wide as he can.”