Uncontrollable Temptations (Tempted #3)(68)

“They took him. He was here and I wouldn’t listen to him…I told him to leave…that I didn’t want to see him but then they broke into the house. They took him,” she shouted at me, poking me in the chest with the gun she was holding.

I glanced down at the familiar gun in her hand, watching as she spread her fingers and let the gun fall from her trembling hand.

Blackie’s gun.

I diverted my eyes back to hers as I kneeled down to pick up the gun. Tears fell from her eyes, her make-up smeared beneath them and her lower lip quivered as she stared at me.

“Slow down,” I coaxed, lifting the gun. “Blackie gave you this?”

“Yes,” she shouted exasperatedly. “He gave me the gun and told me to go hide in the closet.” She dropped her head into her hands and cried. “I heard him tell them no, I heard him beg them not to put the needle in his arm and then I heard nothing.” She dropped her hands from her face and her eyes found mine. They weren’t the eyes of the young women she had become over the years, but they were the eyes of the little girl who was staring at me as I held her baby brother in my arms after he died.

My phone rang, dragging me out of my trance and I tucked one gun into my back pocket and grabbed my phone, not even bothering to look at the screen before answering.

“Hello?” I barked into the phone.

“Do I have your attention yet?” Jimmy sang into the phone.

“You son of a bitch,” I growled.

“Now, now,” he chastised. “That’s no way to talk to the man holding all the cards, is it? Especially when I have something that may belong to you,” he crooned.

“You hurt them and I’ll fucking kill you,” I vowed. “I’ll slice and dice you motherfucker.

“That’s a lovely idea,” he enthused. “In fact, that is exactly what I will do to your doped up vice president and the pretty little blonde with the great tits. Slice and dice. I think I’ll start with the girl, I’ll fuck her with the blade of my knife.”

I closed my eyes but quickly opened them when I saw her face, saw her eyes pleading with mine.

“What do you want?”

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” he chuckled, before disconnecting the call.

“Hello? Hello?” I squeezed the phone in my hand and clenched my jaw. I was going to kill Jimmy Gold. I would torture the motherfucker and when he begged for his life I would fuck him in the ass with the blade of his knife—after I used it to cut his fingers off like he did my brother. Maybe I’d light him on fire for the grand finale. Either way, I was going to kill him slowly, making sure he suffered for all his sins.

Because my maker told me so.





Chapter Twenty-Eight




I fought to keep my eyes open, to be aware of my surroundings but it was hard. I was exhausted and my head felt as if it was too heavy for the rest of me. After the blow to the head that sleaze ball delivered, I probably had a concussion. He came up from behind me, his voice sounded like saccharin laced with poison as he threatened to slice my throat if I made any noise. I knew that voice; it was the voice of the man who came to the clubhouse and fucked with Blackie. Bastard.

He tied me up in the back of a van, gagged my mouth and when I struggled and kicked him in the balls he grabbed a crowbar and…well, lights out for Reina.

I groaned as my head throbbed and my body shivered. I was so cold. It’s funny how you don’t realize the things we take for granted. I wasn’t foolish to wish for a blanket but would it be too much to be able to wrap my arms around myself for warmth? But my arms were behind me bound to the chair, the zip ties digging into my wrists didn’t help the blood to circulate in my body. I was fucked.

So much for happy endings and all that shit. I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised. I mean, I expected the church to go up in flames when I stepped foot inside, when it didn’t I should’ve realized something else was bound to happen. Why not a kidnapping by a crazy bastard with gold teeth and a fur coat.

If I was the old Reina, the one before the fire, before the biker, before well, you get it, if I was her, I’d be jealous of that coat my captor was wearing. I wonder how many chinchillas had to die for that thing.

I was losing my mind. Or had I lost it already? Either way, I shouldn’t be thinking about that asshole’s coat, instead I should try to figure out how the fuck I would get out of here.

I glanced around the room, eagerly scoping out all possible ways to escape but it seemed I was locked in a basement. The walls were concrete and there was only one window perched high on a wall, so tiny that a child would barely fit. Great.

The stench of mildew assaulted my nose, and I wanted to pull my shirt over my mouth and nose to block out the smell, but again I was reminded I had no use of my hands. I glanced down at my feet and saw that my ankles were tied together too. Terrific.

I should be scared, terrified actually. I had no idea what this man was capable of or what the hell he wanted with me. Horrific scenarios should be running through my mind, rape, torture, murder, the possibilities were endless, yet they didn’t. I didn’t fear what this man would do to me—maybe that was because I had already lived through something horrific. Sure, I hadn’t been kidnapped before, that was new, but I was a victim of violence and I survived. I had let fear guide my destiny once before, and lucky for me I cheated death. God may have put me in this situation, may have guided me to this moment but it was my choice to fight or lay down and die. I lay down once before, when I thought I had lost all hope, when I feared being alone but it wasn’t what I would do now. I wasn’t afraid of being lonely; I wasn’t willing to lay down and wait for the flames to take me. Not this time.