Lethal Temptations (Tempted #5)(20)

It worked for my mom.

She snatched the president.

I ran my fingers over the leather, turning around in the mirror to check how I looked, noting it fit like a glove, like it was made for me.

Like mother, like daughter.

Here’s to hoping the jacket had the same effect for me and aided in nabbing the vice president of the Satan’s Knights…Dominic “Blackie” Petra.

I’ve had a crush on Blackie since I was just a child. At ten years old I both fell in love for the first time and had my heart broken all by Blackie. He smiled at me and I knew love at first sight existed. Then he married his high school sweetheart and broke my heart.

I like to think I got over Blackie and grew up since then. I mean after all I’m fifteen years old now. I wasn’t some kid with a crush and Blackie wasn’t the same person I fell in love with at ten years old. He’s sad all the time. He never smiles anymore. Not that I blame him. Blackie’s wife Christine, overdosed and died. I’m not supposed to know that, but I overheard my mom and dad talking about it. He blames himself for her death and it’s the reason he doesn’t smile anymore.

Not for me or for anyone.

He used to have a killer smile. It was his smile that hooked me. Boys my age didn’t smile the way Blackie did. He smiled confidently at me while boys my age smiled nervously, like they had no idea what to do around a girl.

Blackie knew.

I ran down the stairs and nearly collided with my mom. So much for trying to slip out of the house without her noticing the ‘new’ me.

“What are you wearing?”

“I found it in the attic and it fit,” I said, shrugging my shoulders as I dropped a kiss on her cheek. “I’ve got to go, we’re late.”

“Lacey, wipe that shit off your face before you see your father,” she warned.

“It’s just make-up,” I argued. “I’m fifteen years old, most girls my age have already dyed their hair six times by now.” I left out that nearly all my friends dyed their hair and lost their virginity in the same week. “Love you,” I called as I hurried out the front door as any typical teenager would do, leaving her mother in the dust behind her to chase after the guy of her dreams.

She was my age once.

She gets it.

Blackie was leaning against his truck smoking a cigarette when he lifted his head and his eyes met mine, causing me to stop in my tracks and stare at him. Dressed all in black, like always, black loose fitting jeans that hung low on his waist, a black t-shirt that stretched across his shoulders and chest and his leather jacket that hid all the tattoos that decorated his muscular arms. He hadn’t shaved, scruff lined his jaw, making him look even more lethal than usual. He had hazel eyes, and they varied in color, sometimes they were brown and at others they were green. I couldn’t help but wonder what caused the change, what made them one color one day and another the next. He had grown his hair out and wore it slicked back, the ends curling at the base of his neck.

For the first time I felt intimidated by him, like he was completely out of my reach, like I was just a fifteen-year-old girl with a crush on an older guy.

And like any teenage girl I wanted what I couldn’t have.

“Get in, I got you your favorite,” he said, pushing off the truck and walking around to the driver’s seat.

“My favorite?” I asked as I climbed into the passenger seat, immediately spotting the large white Styrofoam cup sitting in the cup holder of the console.

“Chocolate milk shake,” he declared, handing me a straw as he turned the key in the ignition. I was allowed at the Satan’s Knights clubhouse a handful of times, special occasions, like bring your daughter to work day, that was fun, and Pipe’s wedding to some foreigner that didn’t even know how to say ‘I do’. But each time my dad always had an ice cream truck parked on the lot and Wolf always handed me a chocolate milkshake or some days an ice cream cone.

Chocolate milkshakes.

One of the good memories of my childhood.

One of the few.

Still, to this day a chocolate milkshake will always make me smile.

I took a sip of the chocolaty goodness as Blackie started up the truck and peeled away from the curb. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye as my teeth clamped down on the straw and I smiled mischievously before pulling the straw from between my teeth and extending the cup toward him.

“Take a sip,” I ordered.

“No,” he replied, keeping his eyes straight ahead, but I didn’t miss the slight arch of his eyebrow.

“No? Who says no to chocolate?” I asked incredulously, treating him to a dramatic roll of my eyes. “Take a sip,” I demanded.

“Lace,” he warned, taking a hand off the steering wheel to reach behind him and cup the back of his neck, the leather of his jacket stretching across his biceps, threatening to rip at the seams.

“Lace? Oh we’re doing the nickname thing?” I cocked my head to the side as I continued to hold the milkshake out for him. “Fine. C’mon Leather, live dangerously,” I coaxed.

“Leather?” He questioned, briefly turning to look at me.

“Leather and Lace. You and me,” I smiled as I shrugged my shoulders before reaching out with my free hand and touching the leather that covered his arm. “Now, take a sip of the shake, you big brute and maybe, just maybe you’ll crack a smile.”