Uncontrollable Temptations (The Tempted Series Book 3) (29 page)

“Where are you going?” Blackie called out.

“To get Reina and Lacey,” I replied.

“You go get Reina, I’ll get Lacey,” he countered, falling into step beside me. I lifted an eyebrow as I tried to figure him out.

“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,” he said, talking from experience. He slipped his arms into his cut, checked his gun, and shoved it into the back of his jeans before leveling me with a stare. “I got your girl,” he assured me.

My feet felt like lead as I stood there, staring at him for a moment. I reasoned that Blackie was doing the sensible thing if we split up then we’d save time and get Reina and my daughter to the compound quicker. The sooner they were together under the club’s roof the safer they would be. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling like I was missing something but there wasn’t time for me to get into my head. The fucking thing was behaving at the moment, no need to rattle shit up.

I patted his shoulder.

“Thank you,” I said, and he nodded before we stepped outside. We straddled our bikes, revved our engines, and kicked our bikes into gear. Adrenaline pumping through our veins and determination in our eyes we turned our separate ways out of the compound to bring my girls to safety.

I ran every light, defied the speed limits, and nearly ran an elderly man over. I was crazed, racing against a clock I didn’t know was ticking, blinded by my need to get to Reina. I prepared myself for the hell she’d probably give me, making it hard for me to convince her she needed to come with me. I said I’d give her time but how did I explain that her life could be at risk? Anyone associated with me could be in danger right now. It didn’t matter I decided, I’d gag her and tie her to the back of my bike if she fought me.

I pulled up in front of her complex, turned off my bike and dismounted. I took big strides, a man on a mission, taking two steps at a time to the fourth floor. I reached her door and pounded my fist against it.

“Reina, open the door,” I ordered, picturing her inside drowning her sorrows in a bottle of wine like she had when I went on a run and left her. I kept at it, bruising my knuckles as I rapped them against the door. “So help me God, if you don’t open this fucking door, I’ll tear it down,” I shouted.

Nothing.

Motherfucker.

I dropped my fist, cursed under my breath, and took a few retreating steps back and charged my shoulder into the door. Once, twice, before it burst open. I pushed through the doorway and stepped into her dark apartment. I flicked the lights and my eyes searched the small space.

“Reina?” I called for her but silence was all I got in return. I moved through her apartment but knew I wouldn’t find her. Dread filled me as I reached for my phone and called her cell phone.

It rang and rang until her voicemail picked up.

I hung up and called again.

No answer.

I swallowed hard, roughly running my fingers through my hair before calling Blackie.

His phone didn’t even ring and just went to voicemail.

I tried again before hanging up and calling Lacey.

“Please, pick up,” I pleaded frantically.

Before I could hear her voicemail too, I shoved my phone into my pocket and stormed out of Reina’s apartment, not even bothering with the door. I’d probably regret that later but right now all that mattered was getting to the people I loved. You don’t realize what a comforting privilege it is to hear someone you love answer the phone. You don’t realize how desperate you are to hear their voice until you don’t. Until you fear you won’t hear it again.

My mind teetered, my maker called to me, taunting me and I tried with everything in me to fight against it, to fight against my mind as I drove to my ex-wife’s house.

You remember this feeling don’t you?

You know what it’s like to feel so helpless, so out of control, don’t you?

How do you rest your head at night knowing everything you touch is destroyed?

First Jack, now them.

I stumbled off my bike, racing up the walkway of my ex-wife’s house, my feet skidding to a halt at the front door that was ajar. I grabbed my gun from the waistband of my jeans and stretched my arms in front of me, cocking my gun as I kicked the door open.

My eyes jumped around the room, taking in the damage, realizing there was a struggle. I cleared the first floor, desperate to find my daughter, knowing it wasn’t likely.

“Lacey,” I called out into the silent house as I climbed the stairs. I almost fell backward when I heard someone whimpering. “Lacey? Baby is that you? Where are you?”

I started down the hallway when I heard my daughter wail, spinning around on my heel as she emerged from the master bedroom, throwing herself into my arms.

I wrapped one arm around her, dropping my gun to my side and closed my eyes as I relished in her embrace.

“It’s okay, daddy’s here,” I said, caressing her back. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” I promised, hoarsely.

She pulled back, her body shaking as she sobbed.

“They took him. He was here and I wouldn’t listen to him…I told him to leave…that I didn’t want to see him but then they broke into the house. They took him,” she shouted at me, poking me in the chest with the gun she was holding.

I glanced down at the familiar gun in her hand, watching as she spread her fingers and let the gun fall from her trembling hand.

Blackie’s gun.

I diverted my eyes back to hers as I kneeled down to pick up the gun. Tears fell from her eyes, her make-up smeared beneath them and her lower lip quivered as she stared at me.

“Slow down,” I coaxed, lifting the gun. “Blackie gave you this?”

“Yes,” she shouted exasperatedly. “He gave me the gun and told me to go hide in the closet.” She dropped her head into her hands and cried. “I heard him tell them no, I heard him beg them not to put the needle in his arm and then I heard nothing.” She dropped her hands from her face and her eyes found mine. They weren’t the eyes of the young women she had become over the years, but they were the eyes of the little girl who was staring at me as I held her baby brother in my arms after he died.

My phone rang, dragging me out of my trance and I tucked one gun into my back pocket and grabbed my phone, not even bothering to look at the screen before answering.

“Hello?” I barked into the phone.

“Do I have your attention yet?” Jimmy sang into the phone.

“You son of a bitch,” I growled.

“Now, now,” he chastised. “That’s no way to talk to the man holding all the cards, is it? Especially when I have something that may belong to you,” he crooned.

“You hurt them and I’ll fucking kill you,” I vowed. “I’ll slice and dice you motherfucker.

“That’s a lovely idea,” he enthused. “In fact, that is exactly what I will do to your doped up vice president and the pretty little blonde with the great tits. Slice and dice. I think I’ll start with the girl, I’ll fuck her with the blade of my knife.”

I closed my eyes but quickly opened them when I saw her face, saw her eyes pleading with mine.

“What do you want?”

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” he chuckled, before disconnecting the call.

“Hello? Hello?” I squeezed the phone in my hand and clenched my jaw. I was going to kill Jimmy Gold. I would torture the motherfucker and when he begged for his life I would fuck him in the ass with the blade of
his
knife—after I used it to cut his fingers off like he did my brother. Maybe I’d light him on fire for the grand finale. Either way, I was going to kill him slowly, making sure he suffered for all his sins.

Because my maker told me so.

I fought to keep my eyes open, to be aware of my surroundings but it was hard. I was exhausted and my head felt as if it was too heavy for the rest of me. After the blow to the head that sleaze ball delivered, I probably had a concussion. He came up from behind me, his voice sounded like saccharin laced with poison as he threatened to slice my throat if I made any noise. I knew that voice; it was the voice of the man who came to the clubhouse and fucked with Blackie. Bastard.

He tied me up in the back of a van, gagged my mouth and when I struggled and kicked him in the balls he grabbed a crowbar and…well, lights out for Reina.

I groaned as my head throbbed and my body shivered. I was so cold. It’s funny how you don’t realize the things we take for granted. I wasn’t foolish to wish for a blanket but would it be too much to be able to wrap my arms around myself for warmth? But my arms were behind me bound to the chair, the zip ties digging into my wrists didn’t help the blood to circulate in my body. I was fucked.

So much for happy endings and all that shit. I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised. I mean, I expected the church to go up in flames when I stepped foot inside, when it didn’t I should’ve realized something else was bound to happen. Why not a kidnapping by a crazy bastard with gold teeth and a fur coat.

If I was the old Reina, the one before the fire, before the biker, before well, you get it, if I was her, I’d be jealous of that coat my captor was wearing. I wonder how many chinchillas had to die for that thing.

I was losing my mind. Or had I lost it already? Either way, I shouldn’t be thinking about that asshole’s coat, instead I should try to figure out how the fuck I would get out of here.

I glanced around the room, eagerly scoping out all possible ways to escape but it seemed I was locked in a basement. The walls were concrete and there was only one window perched high on a wall, so tiny that a child would barely fit. Great.

The stench of mildew assaulted my nose, and I wanted to pull my shirt over my mouth and nose to block out the smell, but again I was reminded I had no use of my hands. I glanced down at my feet and saw that my ankles were tied together too. Terrific.

I should be scared, terrified actually. I had no idea what this man was capable of or what the hell he wanted with me. Horrific scenarios should be running through my mind, rape, torture, murder, the possibilities were endless, yet they didn’t. I didn’t fear what this man would do to me—maybe that was because I had already lived through something horrific. Sure, I hadn’t been kidnapped before, that was new, but I was a victim of violence and I survived. I had let fear guide my destiny once before, and lucky for me I cheated death. God may have put me in this situation, may have guided me to this moment but it was my choice to fight or lay down and die. I lay down once before, when I thought I had lost all hope, when I feared being alone but it wasn’t what I would do now. I wasn’t afraid of being lonely; I wasn’t willing to lay down and wait for the flames to take me. Not this time.

There was a man who needed me to sing him a lullaby when the cruelty of his mind terrorized him. And I chose him, I chose Jack and I was going to survive this because he needed me and because I wanted to be there for him. I really wanted to live. I wanted to be the one in control of my destiny. Take that, God, let it fester, and then tell me I only have one life and I need to make the best of it. Let me show you what I’m made of. I will fight tooth and nail, give it my all, because I already have enough scars and don’t need anymore.

The door opened and my will trickled out of the room as two men entered, dragging a body between them. They held him up, one of his arms on each of their shoulders, his feet dragging across the cement and his head hung low, shielding his face from my view. But he was in the same clothes as he was when he dropped me off at the church. I felt the bile rise in my throat as they dropped Blackie on the ground like a sack of potatoes. They pulled him by his boots across the concrete toward the hot water heater off to my right.

He groaned as they roughly pulled Blackie’s arms behind him and handcuffed him to a pipe that fed water into the heater.

“No, no, no, you imbeciles!”

I looked to the door as Mr. Chinchilla strolled in shaking his head in distaste. He was still wearing his coat, collar popped, and about a dozen or so gold chains dangled from his neck. He pulled the cigar from his lips and hissed.

“Why would you tie his arms behind him? Bring him over here,” he ordered, as he walked toward me. “Oh look who joined the party,” he grinned, flashing me his gold teeth.

“What did you do to him?” I asked glaring at him, as the goons cut him loose from the pipe and dragged a moaning Blackie across the floor to my side

“Now don’t look at me like that,” he said, wagging his finger at me like I was a naughty girl. “I’m merely helping him attain a goal.”

“He’s barely conscience,” I hissed, diverting my eyes back to Blackie and watched as they dumped him into a chair beside me. They took one of his arms and tied it at the back of the chair. The other arm they stretched out horizontally and handcuffed to a pipe on the wall, so one arm remained at his side and the other behind him.

“He’s been missing his wife for quite some time, I’m just aiding him in the reunion he’s longed for,” he frowned, almost looking like he gave a fuck. He was very animated and very fucking crazy. He stepped in front of Blackie, slapping his face lightly. “Isn’t that right? Tell her how you’re a pussy who can’t bring himself to take his own life,” he sneered, leaning close to Blackie. “Tell her,” he shouted.