Reckless Temptations (The Tempted Series Book 4) (16 page)

“So you’re not going to be a nurse,” she stated, shrugging her shoulders. “Find a new dream to chase, Lauren. And if it seems out of reach, like it might never come your way, dream it anyway.”

I let go of my mother’s hand and threw my arms around her, holding her tight as I cried tears of relief.

“I love you mom,” I whispered against her hair.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” she said, squeezing me. “Promise me something,” she requested, pulling back to look into my eyes. She smiled at me, brushing away the fallen strands of hair that stuck to my wet face. “Never be afraid to come to me with something. I’ll always be here for you—whatever it is, no matter how bad, or how frightening we’ll get through it,” she said.

Then my mother said the words that would get me through the detour I didn’t even know I was on.

“And when you feel like giving up, give more. Always hang on when your heart has had enough, and I promise you, it’ll all turn out the way it was supposed to in the end,” she vowed.

I didn’t know it right then and there but I would learn that my mother’s words would be what I held onto during the most trying times.

They’d get me through the detour.

“I’m surprised Jack peeled you off Bianci for this,” Bones said as he handed me another piece of wood.

We were working hard in a shed, behind Pop’s shooting range for the last two days, building custom wooden crates to transport guns. Sun Wu reached out to Jack a couple of days ago looking for more guns. I don’t know what that guy has going on, but he was up to something—probably protecting his ass from some kind of sudden death. He had enough ammo to fight Isis but still he made an agreement with the Knights to buy guns every two weeks, and now he was looking for bigger machines. The crazy motherfucker was in the market for sniper rifles and the crazier motherfucker, Jack, was off on the road, making sure we had them.

“Bianci went up to visit Pastore in the pen,” I replied, drilling the screws into the wood, securing the hinge on the top of the crate.

I was thankful for the reprieve. These last couple of weeks have been hell on me. I thought I’d get off on having one up over Anthony, and one would think screwing his sister was a big advantage. However, I didn’t feel the high I thought I would, and instead I felt like a big scumbag.

I should’ve kept my dick in my pants but I was a spoiled brat.

I wanted Lauren, and I always got what I wanted.

And it was everything I knew it would be.

I don’t regret it even though I should.

See? Told you. Scumbag.

My only regret is that it wasn’t longer, that I didn’t take my time.

I should’ve fucked her with my mouth first, then I’d know how she tastes.

I know what she looks like when she comes and I’ll just have to hang on to that.

My pretty Kitten.

I miss her.

I miss talking to her. I miss teasing her and getting her flustered.

I know I’m not the guy for her. I’m never going to settle down. I don’t want an old lady. I just want to fuck around. I could do what I do with every other girl—I could fuck Lauren until I had my fill, but then what? Throw her to the side? Fuck another woman in front of her so she gets the point? Break her fucking heart?

It’s better this way.

A clean break.

Maybe one day I’ll be able to look at her and not want to bang her into next week.

Maybe then we could be friends.

“Who is after Bianci anyway?” Bones asked, as he opened and closed the crate I just finished assembling, testing it to make sure it was in working condition. He stamped “Heavy Automotive Parts” on top of the crate and set it aside to dry.

“Technically, no one, but what do I know about that mob shit. Now that the fuck with the fur coat is running the show I think “Old Man Soprano” is worried that he will clip his son-in-law,” I surmised.

“Complicated shit,” Bones said.

“Them Italians love to complicate shit,” I added.

He smirked.

“What?” I pressed, placing the drill down and reaching into my pocket for my joint.

“I wonder how complicated things would get if Bianci knew you were banging his sister,” Bones mused, as he took the joint and lit it.

“Banged,” I corrected. “As in one time,” I added.

“You’re an asshole,” he claimed. “You should’ve kept that piece around, real pretty to look at and feisty enough to make things fun,” he added, thoughtfully.

“Don’t think about it,” I warned.

“Fair game, brother,” he reminded me.

“You want my leftovers?” I asked angrily.

He shrugged his shoulders.

“Never bothered you before,” he said nonchalantly, passing me the joint. “How was she anyway? She worth the ride?”

“Fuck off,” I ground out, taking the joint from him. “She’s off the table.”

He shook his head.

“Don’t work like that, Riggs, and you know it,” he stated, kicking off the wall he was leaning against. “She’s not your property, anyone can give her a go,” he added.

“She’s not club pussy,” I seethed.

“Pussy is pussy, and if you’re done tapping that, there are plenty of men lining up for it,” he sneered.

“What’re you doing?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him. “You trying to fuck with me?”

“How many bitches have you fucked since your patch party?”

“You keeping tabs on my dick, Bones?”

“Just pointing out what you’re too stupid to see,” he countered. “If Lauren lived closer, you’d be all over that shit,” he suggested.

“No I wouldn’t,” I argued. “I got what I wanted from her.”

“Then you shouldn’t mind if someone else, namely me, takes what I want from her,” he continued.

I bit the inside of my cheek, my hands balling into fists at my side as I clenched my jaw.

“I don’t give a fuck,” I growled. “Are we going to talk about swapping pussy all day or are we going to get these fucking crates done?”

Lucky for me, Lauren lived two hours away. Two hours away from me and my dickhead brother who was itching for a taste of what was mine.

Mine?

Jesus.

After we were finished with the crates we rode back to the compound and met with Jack and Blackie. We were waiting on a call from Pops, to let us know when the guns would be ready to be packed up so we could make the delivery to the Red Dragons. There was tension between the president and vice-president and I surmised it was the stress of the deal—there was a lot riding on this. Wu was paying the Knights seven hundred thousand for this shipment and forking over another two for the next one. However, if any of us were caught by the cops with these weapons we were looking at life in prison.

Life.

That was no fucking joke.

The following day, Jack ordered me to resume my babysitting gig until the call came through from Pops, then all hands were on deck and the Knights had to roll. But for now, I’d watch Anthony teach a bunch of kids how to throw a punch.

I couldn’t figure this guy out. The tri-state area feared this bastard for his reputation as Victor’s enforcer, yet parents willingly signed their children up to learn from him. Who would’ve thought an ex-gangbanger would open up his own version of The Boys & Girls Club of America. The world was fucked—in a good way. It was pretty awesome of him to turn his life around and take the initiative to get neighborhood kids off the streets. And it was even more awesome that the people who once feared him, gave “Michael Corleone” a chance to do the right thing.

Only in New York.

Bianci was going off on the bag, doing what he did best, showing these kids there was an alternative to their anger and aggression. Watching him hit the heavy bag put me in a trance, like it did every time, and I didn’t hear the bell sound as the door opened.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and I turned to meet Anthony’s wife’s smiling face. On top of being the neighborhood hero, Bianci scored the hottest wife this side of the Hudson. Adrianna winked at me before turning her attention toward her husband.

“How long has been at it?” She asked, as her smile widened, watching as Anthony held the chains of the leather bag and counted the jabs the little five year old was taking.

“About an hour,” I replied, turning toward her. “He should be wrapping up any minute,” I added, but I wasn’t even sure she heard me. She blew Bianci a kiss, and that was my fucking cue to take a breather before I lost my lunch. These two could have you tossing your cookies with all their love bullshit.

I stepped outside the gym, lighting up a cigarette as I rounded the corner. Taking that first drag, I looked up and noticed some teenagers circling my bike.

Fucking, hell no.

“Get away from the bike,” a voice shouted from the car parked on the corner.

I knew that car, towed that piece of crap upstate.

Shit.

“Make me,” one of the little punks shouted.

The car door opened and my mouth dropped, the cigarette fell, nearly burning my lip off. Lauren stepped out of the car, calmly walking around to the trunk and popping it open. She slammed the trunk down and that’s when I saw the baseball bat in her hand.

“I said…get the fuck away from the bike,” she hissed, practicing her swing.

“Whoa, damn, girl…” another punk said, his eyes wide as saucers.

Me and my dick agreed with the punk.

Damn girl.

“You heard her,” I yelled, walking up behind the kid, my eyes on Lauren as she held the bat over her head and stared at me.

“Sorry! We don’t want any trouble,” punk number one cried.

“Then I suggest you run because she looks pissed,” I growled.

“Yeah, but she’s not looking at us anymore, she’s looking at you,” punk number two pointed out.

Kid had a point, those blue eyes were glaring at me.

“Get out of here,” she said, turning her eyes back to the two teens, rearing the bat back to take a swing.

They scampered away from my bike like a bunch of cockroaches, leaving me to deal with a very pissed off Kitten.

She watched as they ran down the block and brought the bat down to her side as she walked back toward the trunk of the car. I thought she’d turn my way that she’d say something but all she did was ignore me.

I pulled my hat from my head and ran my fingers through my hair, deciding on whether I should walk away.

I did it before and it wasn’t that hard.

“Thanks for looking out for my bike, Kitten,” I blurted.

Decision made.

I walked toward her car, watched as she popped her trunk and dropped the baseball bat inside, before slamming it shut again and snarling at me.

Whoa.

Pissed off Kitten was sexy.

“Don’t call me that,” she hissed, walking toward the driver’s door.

“Don’t do that,” I objected, sighing as I walked around the front of her car. She pulled open her door and fixed me with a look.

“Get away from me Riggs before I grab the bat again,” she warned.

“Kitten,” I pleaded.

“I said don’t call me that,” she shouted, slamming the door closed before turning and closing the distance between us. She pressed her palms flat against my chest and shoved me backward.

“I’m not your fucking Kitten,” she hollered. “And you most certainly are no Tiger,” she added.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“You’re a pussy, Riggs,” she answered, dropping her hands from my chest. “Tell me something? Do you do that with all the girls you pretend to give a shit about? Fuck them and ignore them?” She shook her head, about to turn around but stopped, glancing over her shoulder at me. “Just tell me one thing…should I be worried?”

“Worried?”

She rolled her eyes.

“I don’t go having unprotected sex all that often. Actually, ever. I never do that stuff. I know it’s probably an everyday occurrence for you, so what I’m asking you is; are you clean?”

How fucked up was I that I didn’t even remember not wearing a rubber? It happened so quick I wasn’t thinking of covering myself up, I was just driven by the need to make her mine that night.

Then another thought crossed my mind. While I was off ignoring her, afraid she’d be a clinger, she was worrying I had given her an STD.