Lethal Temptations (Tempted #5)(48)
“I’m not complaining…it’s just different,” I said.
Celebrations at the Dog Pound usually involved a shit ton of booze, * and herb. I don’t recall dinner…and none of us ever had someone cook it for us.
“Fuck, that’s one way to put it,” he grinned, peering at me from the corner of his eye. “Don’t think Reina would appreciate it if I served up some ass with the lasagna she’s cooking.”
I laughed.
“Probably not,” I agreed as my mind wandered and I stared out the window, wondering if Lacey would be at dinner.
I thought about her morning, noon and night, half the time I tried to sleep, hoping my mind would shut down and I wouldn’t think of her but she f*cking invaded my dreams too. It’s the same dream over and over, that brings me back to that night when she showed up at the clubhouse and I f*cked her. It’s a rewrite, a second chance, and this time I take my time with her. I give her inexperienced body all of me, teach her how to let go and enjoy, how pain becomes pleasure. I give her everything and I take in return—the look in her eye when she comes, when her body succumbs to a pleasure she doesn’t even know exists.
I take and take, lying to myself all the while, believing I’m giving her what she needs, what she craves. I thank the women who came before her and the experience they gave me, making me a capable man who can turn an awkward experience into one she won’t forget. I work her over, gauging her body and the way it responds to mine. Every stroke, every bite, every goddamn flick of my tongue, I watch and I learn what she likes and what she dislikes. I give her more of what she likes, show her things she never imagined, and when she’s primed, when I know I’ve made her as wet as possible I take her. I take that virgin *, make it mine and silently vow to be the only man who gets her.
Fucked up shit.
I clear my throat and take a second to rearrange my dick before climbing out of the truck and following Jack into the clubhouse.
“What took you two so long?” Pipe complained, rising from the bar stool he was sitting on.
“Leave ‘em alone they were probably necking in the backseat of the Bulldog’s truck,” Wolf chimed in, a smile spreading across his face as he made his way over, reaching out and messing with my hair. “Glad to see you without the f*cking wires and shit,” he said.
“I hate you,” I groaned, slapping his hand away.
“I only got love for you, brother,” he teased.
“Get your ass’s in the chapel,” Jack growled, shaking his head as he threw his arm around Riggs. “Found your heart yet?”
“Working on it, Prez,” he muttered, falling into stride beside him.
Heart.
Jack’s been talking about having heart since he first took the gavel, thinks it’s the only thing that will keep any of us from being reckless.
We didn’t need heart.
We needed a prayer.
We needed God on our side.
Looking around the room, watching as Wolf dry humped the table and Pipe showed everyone pictures of his immigrant wife’s new tits, it became obvious the heavenly father was skipping over this crew.
Jack whistled loudly calling attention of everyone at the table and got down to business. We discussed one disaster after another, tried to salvage what was left of our club but I’m not going to lie, we were f*cked.
Financially, the club was hurting. All our money was tied up in the gun business and the deal with Wu was off the table, leaving us with no buyer. We all agreed that the Red Dragons were biding their time and wouldn’t back down just because they got their money. Like, Sun Wu reminded us, we took three lives from him that were worth a damn. The broads didn’t count, he’d likely dispose of them when they ran their course, anyway.
We needed to strengthen our club both in manpower and bankroll so, we set the plan in motion. Pipe would build up the garage, add an extension that gave him more room to work on larger jobs. Jack would go meet with Vic up in Otisville, iron out all the details for when Jimmy would finally be sent up there to rot, or be at Vic’s mercy, however you wanted to word it Jimmy would meet the reaper. Jack also planned on working with Vic to protect whatever interests he had left now. Vic had juice with several unions, been greasing their palm for years, and Jack would try to get the club in on that. Someone had to take over that shit and before it went to a rival mob organization, Jack wanted dibs.
Wolf would hit the road, visiting charter after charter to recruit men. He had the roughest job of all because nomads were drifters, men who didn’t stay in one place, men who got antsy and only loved the open road. He had to persuade these guys to come over and join the murder. Good luck with that, brother. I can’t wait to see what he brings back…I predict a shit load of crazy because you’d have to be certifiable to voluntary choose this shit.
The rest of the club would be on high alert, keeping the clubhouse and our current interests protected.
That left me.
I was heading up north in a few days to meet with the Corrupt Bastards. It took some convincing, since everyone is more concerned about how I’m going to go out on the road when I have to be at the methadone clinic every morning at seven. But it’s my face they want to see. It’s me who struck the deal with them and me who needed to make shit right. I was going to offer them the guns we were going to sell to the Dragons. Bones was going to rig the van, pull up the floor and hide the weapons beneath it, fill the cage with automotive parts courtesy of Pipes garage, that way if I got pulled over on the highway I looked like a traveling salesman—the car parts type. Riggs is going to hack into my medical records and approve a weekend take home of the methadone and then I’ll be on my way.