Uncontrollable Temptations (The Tempted Series Book 3) (36 page)

“Well? How much is there?” I asked Pipe, as he loaded the suitcase with the heroine.

“More than enough,” he stated, turning to Riggs. “You really came through, kid.”

My phone rang before I could agree with Pipe and thank Riggs. I glanced down at the number and realized it was Bianci calling from the pre-paid phone.

“Talk to me,” I answered.

“He’s agreed to meet Sanchez in one hour at Pier 33. I’m bringing Sanchez with me, just in case but we should have the place surrounded. I don’t know if he’s coming or one of his men. Sanchez says Jimmy trusts no one and usually does the deal himself,” Anthony said with frustration.

“We’ve got a meeting,” I said in disbelief, staring at the two suitcases full of heroine.

“Yeah but now you have to decide how we play this. Are we going to tail them and hope they lead us to Reina and Blackie while the time runs out on the clock or are we going to turn the tables on this fuck and take matters into our own hands?”

“What do you think?” I replied.

“I think it’s time Jimmy got a dose of his own medicine, you feel me, brother?”

I held the phone to my ear with my shoulder and looked down at my hands, turned them so my palms were up and I envisioned all the things these two hands were capable of doing.

“Bianci, is Temptations still boarded up?” I asked.

“Nope, it’s abandoned right now. I’ll get the keys,” he offered.

“Good idea, see you in an hour,” I said, before ending the call and turning to face the four sets of eyes that were staring back at me. “We got a date with Gold,” I grinned, diverting my eyes to the empty duffel bags on the table. “Going to need those,” I said, reaching across the table and grabbing two of them. “We need to meet at Pier 33 in an hour.”

“What the fuck are we going to do with all these drugs?” Pipe asked, holding up the two suitcases.

“Oh we’re taking them with us,” I grinned.

One last trick.

I’m coming for you motherfucker.

I’ll show you who the motherfucking boss is.

I ignored their suspicious eyes and the guilt that once again I was leaving them dancing in the wind. I wasn’t going to allow anyone to talk me out of this. In the end it was what was best for the club too, they needed to trust me and I know that was a lot to ask of them, to ask of anyone right now.

I took the duffel bags and gathered what I needed. I made one final call to put the plan into motion. After securing the bags to my bike, I took a moment to gather myself, to reason with my maker and prayed just this once he would fight with me and not against me.

Sixty minutes isn’t a long time and when you’re gearing yourself up for the biggest battle of your life it’s even shorter. Before I could bring myself down from the mental high I was experiencing, I glanced at the watch on my wrist and sped across town to the pier with my brothers.

The sun was rising, the dawn of a new day and the last one for Jimmy. He just didn’t know it. But he would soon. It was time for him to meet his maker,
me.

It was easy to spot Sanchez, he was a bloody mess barely able to stand in front of the pier but the laser bullseye that Bianci had pointed in between his eyes made him a dead giveaway. Literally. My eyes followed the laser beam across the docks to where Anthony and Mike stood with their guns cocked and ready.

We took cover behind the shipping containers that the longshoremen would load onto the vessels in just a few hours and waited for the black Escalade to appear.

“We’ve got company, boss,” Riggs said, spitting the toothpick he was rolling between his teeth to the floor and grabbing his gun from his waistband.

I followed his eyes, watching as the headlights rolled into the shipping yard.

Game over motherfucker
.

I’ve crossed lines, broken rules, and by some miracle of God, I lived to reap the benefits of all my sins. I’ve spent years waiting for my time to come, to be the man who held all the power.

I’m the boss of the Pastore Organization.

I am the puppet master.

I take what I want and I don’t apologize.

I make more money than any man who ruled my empire before me.

Two shots rang out and my puppeteers dropped to the floor before I could even reach for my gun.

“Shame on you, Jimmy,” Jack Parrish whispered into my ear, as he fisted the solid gold chains around my neck and pulled them back. The chains I wore with pride, my signature trait was the weapon of choice he used to choke me.

“Fooled you, again, didn’t I?” He whispered.

Fool me once, shame on you.

Fool me twice, shame on me.

Fool me three times and what does that make me?

A dead man.

I ground out my cigarette and stepped toward him. I bent down and untied the leash from the pillar it was tied to and stared down at my new pet.

“You ready to talk?” I asked him, tugging vigorously on the leash, wrapping it around my fingers tightly and yanking on it.

“Fuck you,” he gasped.

“Wrong answer,” I said, kicking him in the ass. “Crawl on all fours motherfucker, like the dog you are,” I shouted.

I leaned over the bar and reached into the duffel bag and grabbed the baseball bat.

“What did you say to me earlier?” I questioned, bringing the tip of the bat to his ass and sliding it between his ass cheeks, applying just enough pressure to make him yelp and start to crawl. I yanked the leash back and he shot up on his knees.

“Told me you were going to fuck my girl with the blade of your knife,” I reminded him, pressing the heel of my boot between his shoulder blades forcing him down again on all fours. “Mistake number one,” I whispered.

“Changed my mind about that,” he stammered.

“Smart move,” I replied, shoving the bat between his cheeks again. “Move or I’ll fuck you with the bat, stretch your hole so fucking wide, you’ll beg me to fucking kill you,” I ground out.

“Is this why they call you the Bulldog?” He asked, crawling along the floor.

“Shut up,” I growled. “The only words you get to utter are the ones that tell me where you’re keeping Reina and Blackie,” I declared, wrapping the leash around a pipe and knotting it.

“Why would I do that?”

“I have no intention of killing you, Gold,” I revealed, as I walked over to the bar and grabbed my duffel bag. I walked back to Jimmy and dropped the bag at his feet, kneeling down to sift through it and pull out the object I was looking for. “I just want to settle the score, take back everything you’ve taken from me and mine,” I stated while unraveling the electrical plug and fitting it into the socket.

“You expect me to believe you?” He seethed.

I paused for a moment. “No, I don’t but it’s the truth,” I said, pulling out a pair of goggles from the bag and fitting them over my eyes.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asked incredulously. I got high off of the fear reflected in his eyes but ignored his question and relished in the control I was gifted at that moment.

For the first time in years my maker and I were one.

“Not too long ago I paid Vic a visit,” I began, hitting the power button on the electric saw. I gripped the machine in both hands and stared into Jimmy’s shocked eyes. “Told me some facts I needed to know. You have any idea what those might be?” I shouted over the buzz of the saw. “Anyone ever tell you how strange a man you are, Jimmy? We all have our fetishes—but yours. Fingers man? Really?” I shook my head, holding the saw with one hand and grabbed his hand.

“I’m the head of the Pastore family, a goddamn boss, you do this and…”

“And what motherfucker?”

“When you kill a made man there are consequences. When you kill a mob boss there’s death, there’s revenge and not just on you but your whole fucking family,” he seethed.

“I don’t live by your rules, Gold. I don’t give a fuck about your mob code. This isn’t a beef between crime families, this is me, a motherfucking Knight crucifying a no-good thug. There’s a difference between you and I. People, brothers, they voted me my title, they chose me to be their leader. You cheated, killed and manipulated your way to the throne and motherfucker I’m the one who is going to knock you off of it,” I ground out, lifting the saw over his hand.

His whimper was music to my ears, the missing instrument from the symphony the vibrations of the saw created. I pressed his hand against the concrete, snapping his wrist back. He screamed in agony, a song to match the melody of the music.

He put up a fight, trying to wiggle his fingers making it difficult for me but I was determined and nothing could stop me. I brought the blade of the saw down, catching his index finger. It wasn’t a pinky but it would do. His screams vibrated off the wall as the blade worked its way through flesh and bone. His blood splattered my goggles. Retribution—it was a beautiful thing.

That’s for Danny
.

I turned off the saw, dropping it to the ground and lifted the blood painted goggles from my face, chucking them to the side. Jimmy squirmed, rolling around the dirty floor clutching his hand and crying like a bitch.

Cry motherfucker, give me your tears
.

“You maimed my brother of his finger. It was just a finger, right? He had nine others so no big deal. It shouldn’t be a big deal for you either,” I argued, reaching into my duffel bag and pulling out a box of Morton’s salt. “But that wasn’t enough for you. You wanted more because you’re a greedy bastard.”

“Don’t,” he cried.

“Guess what?” I whispered. “It’s not enough for me either.” I said, grabbing his shattered hand with my gloved hand and pouring salt over the wound where his finger was missing.

That’s for me because I’m a greedy motherfucker too.

I emptied the box of salt onto his hand, throwing the box on the floor and grabbed the leash again.

Time for you to howl.

And boy did he howl. He begged for death and screamed in agony.

I snapped the leash. “C’mon boy, let’s go for a walk, I promise to give you a treat if you do as I say,” I said, as if I was talking to a dog. And I was a man of my word. I’d throw the dog a bone if he obeyed his master.

I led Jimmy toward the bar and as he crawled obediently beside me he left a trail of blood along the floor. Another stain to add to the bloodshed caused by this mutt.

“Good boy,” I said, treating him to a pat on the head. “Ready for your treat?”

He remained silent and stared at me with puppy dog eyes.

“Climb onto the stool,” I commanded, waiting for him to follow instructions.

He took a seat on the stool and I jumped onto the bar, pulling the second duffel bag across the wood and dumped the contents of it onto the bar.

“Time for your reward,” I said, grabbing the rubber band. I pulled the hand he was using to hold his maimed one and wrapped the rubber around his arm, tying the knot tight before I flicked his skin and found the vein. I stuck the needle into the vile and filled it with pure heroine.

“You about ready to tell me where my brother and my woman are?”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to kill me,” he cried.

“This shit didn’t kill Blackie did it? It won’t kill you,” I insisted.

He dropped his head, stared at his hand and watched the blood drip onto the floor.

“You’ll pay for this,” he swore.

“I can’t wait,” I retorted.

“I’m the boss!”

“No, I’m the motherfucking boss,” I corrected.

“They’re in the cellar of Vic’s café on 18
^th
Avenue,” he said.

“I find out you’re lying I will kill you,” I promised.

He lifted his eyes to mine.

“That’s where they are,” he cried. “Enjoy them while you can, someone will find them, and everything you’ve done to me, you’ll watch be done to them,” he vowed, struggling with his words.

I stared into his eyes and saw defeat fill them.

This is for Blackie.

I plunged the syringe into his arm and emptied the vile into his veins.

Swim. Take him away.