Lethal Temptations (Tempted #5)(87)

There’s only one way to shut the motherf*cking voice down and that’s hearing the truth. I needed Blackie to tell me my maker was f*cking with me. I needed him to confirm he was nothing more to Lacey than Blackie, her protector.

Nothing more.

Because heaven help everyone if my maker was right.





Chapter Thirty



I stared at my house and took another hit of the joint I was smoking. After I saw Lacey across the street from the liquor store I rode my bike for hours, fighting against the need to pick up the phone and call her.

I wanted to hear her voice.

Hear her say my name.

I reached for my phone and saw three missed calls from Jack. I couldn’t bring myself to call him back because the truth was I was resenting the man. How f*cked up is that? I was hating on my chosen brother because I fell for his daughter because I broke a code and I couldn’t take responsibility for it.

I already hated myself for my past and needed someone else to hate for my present and my future.

I hated Jack because I wasn’t good enough for his daughter.

I hated Jack because he’d never let me have Lacey.

I hated Jack because he kept her safe.

I hated Jack because I had to give her up.

I flicked the end of the joint into the street, started my bike up preparing to get the f*ck out of there and away from that goddamn house, when my phone rang.

Mack.

Something twisted inside me.

First three calls from Jack and now the prospect I had on Lacey was calling me. I quickly accepted the call and dreaded the news on the other end.

“Talk to me,” I demanded.

“Black, I really hate to do this shit but I got a call from my sister and my mother’s being rushed to the hospital,” he blurted. “Lacey’s at Kettle Black on 3rd Avenue with one of her girlfriends. Should I call Jack or one of the other guys?”

“No,” I said, ripping my engine. “I’m on my way.”

I disconnected the call, shoved my phone into my pocket and peeled away from the haunted house of memories.

I should’ve sent someone else, but I was a greedy motherf*cker who needed to see her.

I wouldn’t touch her.

I wouldn’t even look at her long enough to notice me.

Yeah, right.





Today was a win for me, finally freed from my secret and granted a sliver of hope by the two people who brought me into this world. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be and my parents are much stronger than I give them credit for. I thought finding out I was sick would break them but it didn’t. I should’ve known better. I should’ve realized my father is Jack Parrish and nothing brings him down, not his mind, not his grief and not an illness he can’t control.

And my mother?

She was married to my father, endured a lot of shit being his wife, she’s a strong breed too.

I am their daughter which means their strength lives within me and I need to reach deep inside and pull it to the surface.

I need to make this illness my bitch.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow I am Lacey Parrish the girl who kicks her maker’s ass.

Tonight I’m just a normal girl celebrating her best friend’s birthday, trying to forget she has a broken heart, and a broken mind. I grabbed the beer in front of me and laughed on cue when one of Daniela’s friends made an attempt at a joke. It didn’t feel natural--laughing, or even smiling and that was probably because I knew what made me smile and what it felt like to genuinely laugh at something.

I knew happiness.

I’d felt it.

And all this is just a cheap imitation of the real thing.

I miss him.

I miss him so much and when I freed myself from my silence I wished he was there. He should’ve been there. He’s my person. The other half of me that was put on this earth to make me whole.

“Oh my God,” Daniela cried, elbowing me as I brought the beer to my lips, causing me to nearly spill it down my shirt.

“What?” I asked, shoving her hand away and taking a sip.

“Are all the men in your father’s motorcycle club f*cking hot as f*ck?”

She couldn’t have been talking about Mack, I don’t care how turned on girls are by the bad boy…that man was downright scary. I turned my head in the direction she was staring and saw Riggs walk into the bar, flocked by four men I had never seen before—all of them wore the Satan’s Knights patch on their leathers.

Riggs’ eyes found mine, and he started for our table.

“Oh my God, they’re coming this way! How’s my hair?” Daniela rambled as she played with her hair, pushing it over one shoulder.

“Well look who it is,” Riggs crooned.

“Riggs,” I acknowledged, bringing the bottle back to my lips.

“Does your father know you’re here?”

“Who’s her father?” The man wearing camouflage pants asked. He wore a leather a gray t-shirt underneath his leather jacket and a pair of dog tags dangled from his neck. His caramel colored eyes were pinned to mine, and he flashed me a smile full of mischief.

“Why don’t you call him and tell him,” I challenged Riggs.

“Stryker, this is Lacey…,” Riggs introduced. “…the Bulldog’s daughter.”