Lethal Temptations (Tempted #5)(65)

I take the good in the world and make it ugly.

I take the innocent and feed them to the devil.

I can’t change and the more I think I can the more I hurt the people who give a damn about me.

I hurt Lacey.

I hurt Jack.

I hurt my club.

I rubbed my face wearily, knowing the only way to make it right, to save her from being a pawn in a game of chess was to cut her free. She’d always be her father’s daughter; no one could change that but she won’t be my woman anymore.

I’ve never intentionally put her life at risk and I will not start now.

Even if it kills me.

Ironic isn’t it? I’ve spent a good part of my life looking for a way out, looking to hurt myself and feel the pain I deserved. Who knew the answer was right in front of me? All I had to do was let myself have a bit of hope and an angel who loved me.

All I had to do was give in to the temptation and let myself have the one thing I wanted most in this world—even more than the pain I craved. I wanted the good girl who always had my back. The beauty with the sad eyes who just wanted the beast to see her, to worship her and to love her.

I had the story right from the beginning, from that first night I pushed Lacey away and sent her running scared.

I had to go for the f*cking rewrite.

I had to give her the good.

I had to take more of her.

I had to watch her unravel and know it was me who did that to her.

I barely made it back to the hotel and parked the van in between two spots. Once inside I fell into the chair, not bothering with a light, accustomed to the darkness. I didn’t care it was the middle of the night, I hoped she’d be sleeping and wouldn’t answer the phone, giving me a few more hours to hold on to her.

A few hours to hang onto the dream of Leather and Lace.

I slipped my jacket off, turned it over and pulled out my gun first, then my phone. In that instant I knew it’d be easier to pull the trigger than to press send on the call I was about to make. I lifted the phone to my ear, listened as it rang and said a silent prayer she wouldn’t answer the phone.

“Hello?” she whispered groggily into the phone, forcing me to close my eyes and savor the sound of her voice.

I pictured her in bed, hair tousled, stretching her body along the mattress.

“Blackie?”

“Hey, babe,” I rasped, clearing my throat before running my free hand over my hair, fisting it in agony.

“Is everything okay?” she murmured into the phone.

No nothing’s okay.

It all fell to shit before we even had time to enjoy it.

“It’s all good,” I lied, trying to work up the nerve to harden my tone and break her heart. “Listen, Lace,” I started.

“I miss you,” she cut me off. “I wish you were here right now, or I was there. I miss the way your arms feel wrapped around me and your breath against my ear.”

I dropped my hand, leaned my head against the back of the chair and closed my eyes, remembering the night I held her in my arms—on the floor of a house I never thought I’d step foot inside again.

A little slice of heaven.

Why give me heaven only to throw me back into hell?

“I do too,” I admitted, huskily.

“When are you coming home?”

“Tomorrow,” I said, opening my eyes and staring into the darkness. “I can’t do it.”

“What can’t you do?”

I couldn’t bring myself to break her heart and not for the selfish reasons I expected but because I didn’t want to hurt.

I just didn’t mean to say it out loud.

“I’ve got to go, Lace.”

“Can I see you tomorrow?” She asked quickly before I disconnected the call.

“Yeah, angel,” I whispered.

“Good night Blackie.”

Tonight I didn’t hurt her with my words. I didn’t scar her with my actions but I feared the inevitable.

Lacey would be hurt.

And it didn’t matter if I was the one doing the damage or not, in the end it would still be my fault. But tonight, tonight, we held onto the dream for a little longer.

“Good night, Lace,” I said, disconnecting the call and staring down at the screen.

I closed my eyes, pictured her smiling face as Boots’ threat rang loudly in my ears. I felt the familiar pangs of self-loathing tear into me, ripping me a part, and I was transcended back in time. The last time I hated myself this much was when I held Christine’s lifeless body in my arms. I was too late then, but I wasn’t now. I didn’t have to hold another cold body in my arms and wish for another way.

But as much as I have been able to protect her this far I knew the game Boots was playing—I knew it too well.

It’s exactly what I would do if the roles were reverse.

I’d bide my time.

I’d let the motherf*cker stew.

And as I sat there in the dark, watching the woman he loved, I’d smile to myself knowing I had the upper hand.

Drugs can be replaced.

Money can be earned again.

Buildings can burn only to be rebuilt.

A club can be divided and torn apart only to rise again.

But taking the life of the one that makes yours worth living?

That shit ends you.

It’s the oldest play in the book and the most effective.