Uncontrollable Temptations (Tempted #3)(30)

My phone rang again.

“Fuck, I gotta get that,” I said, moving her off me to rest at my side, and sitting up to grab the phone from my jacket.

Fucking Blackie.

I accepted the call and brought it to my ear.

“Yeah, what is it?” I answered.

“Where the fuck are you? Been calling you off the hook,” he chastised.

“What’s the problem?” I asked ignoring his question. Reina sat up next to me and reached for her clothes.

“Bianci is here, and he’s got something on Jimmy. Motherfucker won’t talk without you. You want to get your ass to the Dog Pound or you going to make me knock his teeth out?”

“I’ll be there in fifteen,” I said, watching as Reina hastily dressed. “Leave Bianci alone.” I added before disconnecting the call. I lifted my hips and dragged my jeans back up to my waist.

“I have to go,” I declared, rising to my feet. She remained silent as she crossed her arms against her chest and stared down at the floor.

“Hey,” I said, shrugging on my jacket. She lifted her head, and it was my turn to be silent. I didn’t know what the fuck to say but by the look in her eyes, she wanted me to say something.

“Be careful getting to wherever you’re going,” she replied.

I nodded and then I took a few steps toward her, leaned over and flicked the lights back on. We both squinted and focused until we adapted to the light. I tipped her chin up with my index finger. “I’ll call you down to the garage and find you a set of wheels,” I promised.

“Sounds good,” she whispered.

Women like Reina didn’t like not knowing where they stood. I’d bet my life she never had just a fuck. She was the kind of woman a man kept real close to him—never letting her out of his sight. If I was a smart man I’d do the same, but those men were the men who knew the difference between right and wrong. All I knew was wrong.

So instead of giving her the things she wanted to hear. I gave her the best I could.

“Liked seeing this side of you, Reina. Gonna want more of that,” I said. “Next time, lights on, maybe even in front of a mirror, that way you can see yourself through the shadows of darkness. The same way I see you.”

“I don’t want to see what you see,” she whispered.

“You should, it’s some fucking sight,” I said, bending a little to press my lips to hers.

“Good night, Sunshine,” I whispered against her mouth before I pulled back and stepped around her. I opened the door and glanced over my shoulder at her. “Lock up,” I ordered, before walking out the door and closing it behind me.

I waited for a moment, listening closely until I heard the lock slide into place.

Yeah, I was ruined.





Chapter Thirteen





I dragged my ass to the compound, my helmet tucked under my arm as I strode inside. I spotted Blackie, Anthony Bianci and Riggs all sitting around a table and tipped my head toward them. I stopped off at the bar, placed my helmet on top of it and ran my fingers through my disheveled hair, a result of my helmet and Reina’s fingers.

I glanced at the prospect behind the bar staring up at the flat screen television plastered to the wall and slapped my hand onto the wooden bar to get his attention.

“Hey boss, what can I get you?”

“A beer,” I said, peeling off my jacket. I could still smell Reina—her scent potent, lingering on my face and my clothes. I draped my jacket on the back of the stool, took the beer he offered and walked toward the table where the men sat, waiting for me.

I grabbed the back of the only vacant chair at the table, flipped it around and straddled it as my eyes roamed the faces of the men staring back at me. Blackie’s expression was grim, his jaw tight as he narrowed his eyes at me. Bianci was leaning back against his chair and raised a brow in my direction. Riggs remained indifferent, his trademark blank stare locked firmly in place.

“What the fuck you looking at?” I asked, taking a sip of my beer wondering if they could smell her on me. I zeroed in on Blackie, matching his expression of distaste, knowing while I was coming all over my newfound addiction, he was half tanked with his.

Anthony cleared his throat, folded his hands and leaned over the table.

“Reeses and I paid a visit to Vic over the weekend,” he started.

“Yeah, how’s the poor bastard doing?” I asked, peeling my eyes from Blackie’s and focusing on Bianci, giving him the attention he came here expecting.

“He’s still got a lot of connections, even on the inside,” Anthony stated. “More than I have being idle on the streets.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Didn’t think Vic would take up crocheting while doing life in prison, that man can’t let go of the mob, it’s imbedded in his soul.”

“Jimmy’s going against everything Vic created. He’s pulling out of all legit businesses, sticking Grace with a ton of debt. The motherfucker’s greedy and he won’t stop. If he sees a way to make a dollar, he doesn’t care about consequences, he goes for it. He’s making money, hand over fist, but it’s not enough. He wants more.”

“The well will run dry eventually,” I countered, taking another long pull of my beer.

“Not until the streets we live on are polluted, lives are ruined and people are dead,” he declared.