Reckless Temptations (Tempted #4)(80)

“She kicked!” She turned, grabbing my hand and pressing the palm against her stomach. “Oh, my God, Riggs, Pea kicked,” she exclaimed, moving my hand all around her belly.

I diverted my eyes to her stomach, holding my breath as I waited to feel our kid.

“There, did you feel it?” She lifted her eyes to mine.

“I don’t feel anything,” I whispered, drawing out a deep breath as my eyes met hers.

“The book says the mom usually only feels it at first,” she said with a frown, laying her hand over mine. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” I replied, lacing our fingers together and moving to open the door. “Just something to look forward to,” I said, realizing I meant the words as they left my mouth.

I wanted to feel Pea.

This dad shit was one surprise after another.

We walked out of the garage as my phone rang. I glanced down at the screen, drawing my eyebrows together when I saw it was Jack. He was just fucking here…somewhere. I lifted the phone to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Put your dick in your pants and meet me outside,” he snapped, disconnecting the call.

“Everything okay?” Kitten asked as we walked into the kitchen. I turned around and looked at her, watching as she sipped a bottle of water. Her cheeks flushed, her hand still on her belly hoping to get another feel of Pea.

“I’ve got to go,” I said, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

She pulled the water bottle from her lips and looked at me.

“Oh, okay,” she placed the water on the counter and turned to me.

“Give me a kiss,” I ordered, hating the disappointment reflected in her eyes.

She reached up on her tip toes, wrapping one arm around my neck and placed her hand against my cheek as her lips glided over mine.

“Be careful,” she said against my mouth.

“I’ll see you later,” I replied, giving her ass a soft smack before winking at her and slipping out the back door, avoiding the bunch of crazy Italians that were probably fighting over godparent rights.

I walked around to the front of the house and saw Jack straddling his bike.

“What’s the big emergency?” I asked, walking up to him.

He lifted his head, his facial expression grim as he stared back at me.

“Wu sent a message,” he clipped.

Four simple words.

Words that turned any short-lived dream into a nightmare





Chapter Twenty-Seven





“Shit,” Jack growled, as we killed the engines of our bikes and assessed the damage at Pop’s shooting range. I stared at the front of the building, riddled with bullets, as Jack pulled off his fingerless gloves, taking casual strides toward the dozens of cops swarming the joint.

“Sorry fella’s we’re fresh out of donuts,” Jack said, shoving his gloves into his pockets. He leaned back on his heels as he eyed a group of blue and whites. “But gotta tell you, got this warm fuzzy feeling…” he pounded his fist against the center of his chest, “…up in here. We’re touched all you rat bastards showed up in our time of need. Isn’t that right, Riggs?” He asked, keeping his eyes steady on one particular cop.

“Right,” I agreed, sizing up the situation. The cop Jack was staring at narrowed his eyes at him.

“Just doing our jobs, Parrish,” he replied. “Putting away the bad guys and all that shit.”

Blackie, Bones, Pipe and Wolf walked up behind us, all of them glaring at the men in uniform. The cop lifted his head and raised an eyebrow in Blackie’s direction.

“Well, look who it is,” he taunted, stepping around Jack and closer to Blackie. Jack was quick on his feet and stood in front of the vice president.

This was new, usually the cops we deal with are on the payroll, not these guys. They were out for blood, and by the looks of it Blackie’s was what they were thirsty for.

“Relax Bulldog, no need to get possessive over a junkie,” the cop ground out, flexing his jaw. “Scum like that not worth the effort,” he added.

“You would know right, Craig?” Blackie clipped, as Jack placed his hand on his chest, holding him back. “I’m good,” he told Jack, shoving his hand off his chest.

“Instead of taunting my brothers why don’t you assholes do your job and find out who shot up Pop’s business,” Jack suggested.

“We intend to,” Craig promised. “Who’d you piss off this time, Bulldog?”

“Don’t bust my balls. Do your job or get the fuck out of here, put all those hard earned tax dollars to use," Jack hissed, turning around to face the rest of us and nodded toward Pops.

“You people probably never paid taxes a day in your life,” he sneered.

Jack ignored him and we walked away from the tribe of officers when Craig called out to us.

“Hey, Blackie, I’d watch my back if I were you. It’d be a shame if you suffered the same fate as Christine,” he crooned.

Blackie spun around.

“Fuck,” Jack hissed, as Blackie charged for the cop.

“Keep her name off your fucking tongue or so help me God I’ll slice that thing right out of your fucking mouth,” Blackie growled, as I grabbed him by the back of his cut and pulled him back.