Lethal Temptations (Tempted #5) (34 page)

Saddle up, boys because we’re going to intercept their shipment.

“All right, but man, I gotta take a piss and we need to get our asses in gear,” Stryker argued, crossing his arms as he diverted his eyes from the coke back to my face.

“I don’t share,” I ground out.

“Not my thing,” he retorted. “Didn’t know it was yours,” he added as I bent down to rip another line but with his eyes drilling a hole into my back I couldn’t fucking do it. I grabbed the towel and put it under the water before I soaked up the remaining coke and turned back to him.

“There’s a lot you don’t know kid,” I said, twisting the towel in my hands as I stared at him. “You stick around long enough, you’ll uncover all our secrets and collect a few of your own.”

“We all got secrets man,” he replied. “Some of us hide them better than others, but every one of the Satan’s Knights has a tale to tell or we wouldn’t be brothers,” he added before he glanced down at my bare chest. “Nice tattoo,” he commented.

I looked down at the new ink that covered the left side of my chest.

“You play?” he questioned.

“Play?”

“The notes, man, you play an instrument?”

“No,” I answered, shaking my head as my hand covered the music notes that marked my chest. “Bathroom’s all yours,” I ground out before stepping around him and leaving him behind.

I grabbed the first black shirt I could find and was about to pull it over my head when I glanced at the mirror, at the tattoo I got three days after I broke Lacey’s heart.

I’ve learned as life goes on that the things we hold close to us, the memories we cherish of the people we love, they fade from our minds. We forget the moments that change us and give us purpose.

I didn’t want to forget.

I wanted to hang onto that slice of heaven I had and even when the drugs drag me down and force me to black out, I want to stare at the reminder.

A reminder of a dance I shared when I thought I’d never dance.

I wanted to remember Leather and Lace.

Take the story and the dance with me when I died.

Music notes.

To a song that reminded me of a girl who changed me.

A girl I didn’t see coming.

A girl I loved and always would.

I pulled the shirt over my head, secured the vest and slid my arms through my leather jacket, tucking my gun into my waist band and grabbing an extra magazine. My club was waiting for me outside ready to move, thirsty for blood, eager to reclaim the name our predecessors gave us.

Revenge took over our souls as we rode silently, full of determination, leaving whatever shred of decency any of us had at the clubhouse and unleashed the animals we truly were.

The Satan’s Knights were back.

We were stronger.

Harder.

We had been fucked with for too long and now it was time to brush the dirt off our shoulders, remember the criminals we were, and destiny that awaited us. Jack led us to the pier and killed his engine first. The rest of us followed suit, pulling our weapons and crouching down as we ran up the pier where the vessel was docked. Sun Wu and the Dragons were nowhere in sight, not scheduled to unload their shipment for another hour. Jack paused at the container and passed an envelope to Rienzi, Rocco Spinelli’s foreman, before he snapped the plastic seal off the doors giving us access to Wu’s merchandise.

There were wooden crates stacked from the floor to the ceiling, filling the entire container. The clock was ticking, forcing us to hustle and get the fucking job done before Wu showed up and made this shit messier than we planned.

Stryker and Deuce, another fool who decided Brooklyn was the place he wanted to call home, charged in first, tucking their guns away. I kept my eyes trained on Stryker, curious about the man who claimed we all had secrets and watched him get down. The guy looked like he had trained for this shit as he got down on one knee, placing one palm over the other while Deuce put his boot clad foot onto Stryker’s hands hoisting him up. Deuce pulled a crate from the top and dropped it onto the floor beside us. Neither of the nomads stopped what they were doing to the see what the fuck Wu was selling, they demolished the first row of crates, proving their worth to the club.

The last crate they dropped opened and Wolf sifted through it with the tip of his gun.

“Well, well, looks like Wu wanted to get fucked after all,” he mocked, as he held up a pink dildo.

Riggs strolled curiously over to the crate, pushing around the contents, and pulled out a bunch of sex toys.

“I bet this one is labeled butt plugs,” Pipe said, prying open the top of another crate.

“Dump it,” Jack ordered.

Pipe raised an eyebrow, questioning Jack.

“You sure about that, boss? Bet we can turn this shit for a pretty penny,” he countered.

We weren’t about to start pushing dildos on the street. This move was to show these motherfuckers we would not sit back and take it in the ass anymore. It wasn’t about taking their shit and turning a profit but more about sending a message—you don’t fuck with us.

“Dump the fucking shit,” Jack barked, as he lifted a crate over his head and threw it into the water.

I grabbed the next crate and hoisted it into the river. As Stryker and Deuce unloaded the container, one by one we silently dropped the merchandise into the Hudson. Looking around at my brothers, I could see the aggression painted on their faces.

Stryker was right.

We all have secrets.

We all have nightmares that haunt us.

And being the devil’s soldiers provided us with an outlet for the torment we all suffered.

We emptied the container, dropping the last of the sex toys into the river, creating quite a sight.

“Pack it up,” Jack demanded, as he reached into his back pocket and produced a can of spray paint and nodded toward Rienzi. He closed the container, locking it up with a new plastic seal before taking a step back and letting Jack do his thing. He pulled the cap off the bottle, throwing it into the water before putting his finger on the aerosol can and writing a message to Wu.

Fuck you.

In bright red letters across the door.

Jack took a step back, admiring his handy work then dumping the can of paint into the water and turning around to face us.

“Clear enough?”

“Still think we should’ve fucked him with one of his toys,” Wolf clipped.

“Message is clear,” Pipe confirmed, smacking Wolf upside the head.

Jack and I stepped toward Stryker, Deuce, Cobra and Linc, offering them a pat on the back, impressed with their efficiency. I extended my hand to Stryker as I met his gaze.

“Welcome home,” I muttered.

“Thanks, man, nice to finally have one,” he said, cracking his knuckles as he stared back at me.

We all got secrets man. Some of us hide them better than others, but every one of the Satan’s Knights has a tale to tell or we wouldn’t be brothers.

We were half way down the dock when Jack fell into step beside me.

“I’ve had my head wrapped around this shit with Wu for weeks—working with Spinelli to find the right time to make our move,” he started, stopping in his tracks and turning to me. “You’re using again,” he accused, running his fingers through his hair. “I turn my back for a second, thinking you finally got your shit together and when I turn around you’re more fucked then before. What’s your deal Black? What demon caught you this time?”

“Not your problem,” I ground out, turning to face him. “If I want your two cents I’ll ask for it, but until then do us both a favor and worry about yourself and your own demons—let me handle mine,” I sneered, turning around and stalking down the pier.

I paused when I heard the roar of the engines, glanced at our parked bikes and knew shit was about to go down.

“Shit, we’ve got company,” I shouted over my shoulder as I pulled out my gun.

Everything moved in slow motion as the Red Dragons started shooting at us. Without hesitation we ran down the rickety peer toward the enemy, our guns drawn lighting the shipping yard a blaze as we fired back.

It’s not the story behind us that makes us the Satan’s Knights it’s this. Taking the lives of people and doing it without remorse. It’s the blood that decorates us as our bullets pierce their heads and their brains splatter back at us.

I swiped the back of my hand over my eye and pulled back my hand staring at the crimson that painted my skin.

Blood.

That’s what it’s all about.

Life is comprised of moments, joyful ones and tragic ones. We all have two faces, but the lucky ones can merge both expressions, they can take the good with the bad and understand that life is sometimes not what you expect.

Sometimes life is more and sometimes it’s less.

Not everyone can be happy all the time.

And so we learn to hang on to the happiness and use it as a crutch to get us through the sadness that envelopes us and let it guide us back to the joy.

If you’re one of the lucky ones.

I stared at the two masks hanging from the mirror above my dresser. One mask featured a smile while the other displayed a frown. My freshman year of college I took a drama course, and the professor gave us these masks to use as a tool to summon the emotions of the characters we were portraying.

I dropped the class but kept the masks because for me they were so much more than a tool. Those masks are who I am.

The smile conveys how I feel when my maker is silenced.

The frown reminds me it will all come crashing down, and I was only smiling during a brief pause from my truth. My maker will return and bring me down from whatever manic state of happiness I was now experiencing.

I’m not one of the lucky ones.

Over the last month I have slept more than anything else because when I sleep…I dream and in my dreams I see him.

I dream of our story.

I dream of the smiles.

And then I wake, try to hang onto the happiness of the dream, pray it guides me out of the depression I am in…but it doesn’t.

I want one more chance to smile.

One more chance to be a girl in love.

One more chance to be normal.

It doesn’t come.

It never comes.

And so I close my eyes again.

Maybe next time.

Chapter Twenty-eight

I awoke to the sound of a knock on my bedroom door but didn’t bother turning around. I knew it was my mother and I knew the look on her face would break my heart—what was left of it. I kept my back towards her, laid on my side as she stepped into my room and closed the door softly behind her.

“Lacey, it’s almost noon,” she whispered.

I didn’t answer.

A moment later I felt the dip in the mattress as she laid beside me and wrapped an arm around my waist.

“My sweet girl,” she murmured, smoothing down my hair. “My beautiful, sweet girl. Please talk to me,” she pleaded.

“I’m fine,” I said numbly.

“You’re not fine and I’ve ignored it too long,” she whispered. “I know what’s going on Lacey,” she revealed.

Slowly, I turned around, brave enough to face her, wanting her to take away my pain.

Desperate for the love only a mother could give.

Maybe just maybe she could be the one to help me through this. Not that long ago I felt like I was walking in my mother’s shoes, falling in love with an outlaw, trying to see the good in him. She did it.

And when it failed when she was no longer his…she survived.

Maybe this wasn’t about the maker.

Maybe it was just about my heart.

I didn’t know anymore.

“You loved daddy didn’t you?”

“Of course I did.”

“And it hurt when it was over didn’t it?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“But you’re still standing. The world kept moving for you,” I murmured.

“And it will for you too,” she assured me. “You just have to let it. You have to realize you have nothing to be ashamed— ““I’m not ashamed,” I interrupted. “I fell in love and for two months of my life I had it all…everything I ever wanted. He may not have been perfect in your eyes or someone you or daddy would’ve picked for me but what we had was perfect.”