Lethal Temptations (Tempted #5)(64)

“You stay the f*ck away from her!” I pressed the gun harder against his temple. “Do you f*cking understand? YOU STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM LACEY!”

“Next time you put a gun to my head, make sure it's loaded,” he said as he gritted his teeth.

I slammed his head against the wall, lowered my gun as I stepped backwards and retrieved my clip from the desk.

“W-A-R,” he hissed.

I should’ve shot him dead right there, splattered his walls with his brains and ended the mayhem before it started.

I’m sure I’ll regret turning around and walking out of his office. I just prayed I didn’t feel the regret as I lowered another innocent woman’s body into the earth.

I didn’t bother hiding my gun, walking back through the clubhouse like a crazed man, ready to shoot anyone who stood in my way. I ignored Charlie as he called out to me and stormed outside, heading straight for the f*cking van. I banged my head against the driver door as his words played repetitiously in my head.

I knew that this meeting could go one of two ways, Boots could take the deal and keep peace or he would tell me to go f*ck myself. I never prepared myself for the threat against Lacey.

She’s not fair game.

She won’t be put in the middle of this shit.

What do you think will happen if his daughter became a casualty of war? If daddy found out his precious little girl died because she was the only way to make his vice president bleed?

Boots’ threat declared Lacey my property.

It wasn’t a malicious attack on Jack. He wasn’t promising to hurt his daughter to prove a point to him, to hit him where it hurts.

No, Boots words were aimed at me.

A vow to take what was mine, to cut me off at the knees and make me putty in his hands.

W-A-R.

He spelled out his declaration, mimicking the timeless card game and throwing Lacey into the middle of a f*cking massacre.

I climbed into the van, threw my gun onto the passenger seat and turned the key in the ignition, pulling away from the Corrupt Bastards like a mad man trying to escape fate.

And then I realized I wasn’t running away from fate but headed straight towards it.

I fought back the urge to turn the f*cking van around and buy a vile of heroin shit, I’d settle for an eight ball of coke. I could’ve swiped some off the bar and no one would’ve even notice.

I lifted one hand off the steering wheel, pushed up the sleeve of my shirt and looked down at my forearms.

Clean.

I glanced up, stopped short as the traffic light turned red and spotted the tavern on the corner across the street.

Fate.

There she was.

I blew the light, making a sharp left and parked the van.

W-A-R.

It was coming.

But before we went to war with the Bastards I had a battle with the biggest bastard of all.

Johnny Walker.





Chapter Twenty-two





“Last call, buddy,” the bartender called from the other end of the bar. I stared at the amber liquid, swirled it around in the glass then knocked it back and turned it upside down lining it up next to the other empty shot glasses. I had quite the collection going on.

I pointed to the tower of empty shot glasses and peered back at the bartender.

“Two more,” I ordered, slurring my words.

“You got a ride to wherever you’re heading?” he questioned as he braced his hands on the edge of the bar and studied me.

“I got it covered,” I tapped the empty glasses. “Let’s go.” I added another twenty to the stack in front of me and waited for him to move.

He sighed, reluctantly grabbing the bottle of whiskey from behind the bar, flipped over two shots and filled them to the rim—slamming his hand over the cash and stuffed it in his pocket.

So much for the concerned bartender act.

Anyone can be bought in this world.

Everyone had their price.

Sometimes a twenty got you what you needed, other times all the money in the world wouldn’t suffice.

Sometimes the price was blood.

I emptied the second shot glass, numb to the burn of the liquor as it made its way down my throat. I pushed back my stool and stood for the first time in hours, stumbling and knocking over the bar stool.

“Easy,” the bartender called. “Why don’t you let me call you a cab?”

I waved him off as I found my footing and headed out of the bar. If I had any luck, I’d wrap the van around a pole before I did what I knew I had to do.

I unlocked the van, climbed into the driver seat and fumbled with the key, leaning my head against the steering wheel.

“But the world, my world, it would be black without you,” she whispered. “I don’t know how it happened, and I probably never will, but you’re a big part of my life and my only wish is that you start living life again.

“I wanted to,” I whispered, replying to the memory of her words. “You made me want to.”

Then I was reminded of my own words.

It’s a good dream, Lace. You and me, it’s a real good dream but dreams don’t come true for men like me.

I knew better.

I knew it would never work, that I wasn’t good for her, that I had the capacity to ruin her.

It’s me.

It’s what I do.