Uncontrollable Temptations (Tempted #3)(81)

“Keep moving,” Pipe said, slapping me on the back.

I nodded, glancing around the clubhouse one final time, taking in the family me and Victor Pastore created. It definitely was an unconventional one at best, but there was no other word to describe what had resulted from our alliance.

I’d have to thank him one day.





“You got something going on with Bianci’s sister?” I asked Riggs, as we straddled our bikes.

He kicked up his kickstand and clutched his handlebars before eyeballing me.

“God no,” he said incredulously. “She probably just wants a piece of the old Italian sausage,” he said in broken English, giving me his best impression of an off-the-boat Italian.

I shook my head, not believing him for a second but I didn’t press him.

Keep moving.

There were four of us on bikes. Bones, along with a prospect, drove a cage. It felt wrong, glancing in my side-view mirror and not seeing Blackie riding alongside of me. It reminded me of what I was fighting for, what we were risking our lives for. The brotherhood we signed up for and the loyalty we had for one another was something that a grainy image on a video would never tarnish. I lost one brother to Jimmy Gold, I’d be damned if I lost another. I had done my best to avoid a glimpse of the clock but as we passed the bank I couldn’t help but stare up at the digital clock that brightened up the dark sky.

It was time to take back what was mine.

I never banked on Riggs being the man that would’ve arranged for us to get the drugs we needed to bring Reina and Blackie home but then again—never underestimate the quiet ones. All right, so maybe quiet isn’t the word I’d use to describe Riggs. He’s more of a laid back, pot smoking child disguised as a man but there was no denying he was a wiz with a computer. His room at the clubhouse looks like he had hijacked a Best Buy truck. He was the guy who wire-tapped the neighbors for shits and giggles.

I’m not complaining though, it’s his love for electronics and prying into others’ business that led us to the Red Dragons MC stash house. He wasn’t kidding when he said we’d be signing our own death certificates. The Chinese were no fucking joke, especially when it came to their supply. According to Riggs and his intel; the Dragons kept an apartment on Mott Street in Little Italy or now known as Chinatown. Little Italy used to span blocks and now was cut down to Mulberry Street. The surrounding streets were ruled by the Chinese, perfect for anyone who wanted Lo Mien and a Cannoli.

And perfect for us because with Vic’s connections on Mulberry Street we could park our bikes and the cage allowing us to surprise the Chinese when we broke down their door and shot up the apartment where their girls were cutting their product.

Pipe put a bullet in the head of the Dragon guarding the hallway. Bones blew the head off the one at the door and Wolf shot at anything and everything once we entered the apartment. They kept the girls naked, ensuring they wouldn’t slip the product into their clothing and rob them. They didn’t plan on us being the ones who stole from them.

“Get down on your knees,” I bellowed, through the mask that shielded my face from their view. “NOW!”

Riggs grabbed one of the girls, put her in a headlock and pressed his gun to her side. “Pack the motherfucking drugs in the bags.”

I moved my gun around the room as Pipe and Wolf shoved the kilos into a duffel bag.

“Close your fucking eyes or I’ll blow your fucking head off,” I hollered to the girl staring at me dumbfounded. “Do it!”

As the duffel bags filled, Bones zipped them and dropped them into the hallway. It took ten minutes before we grabbed as much heroine as we could. Was it $250,000 worth? I don’t know but it was our only shot.

“We gotta get the fuck out of here,” Bones shouted.

I grabbed two bags and started for the stairs, Pipe and Riggs following close behind me with the rest of the drugs.

“Wolf,” I called up the stairs.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Keep moving,” Pipe yelled.

“Not without Wolf,” I shouted back.

Wolf emerged from the top of the stairs, his face splattered with blood.

“Let’s go,” he ordered, bounding down the stairs.

“You killed them?” Riggs asked him, pulling his mask over his head and revealing his shocked face to us. I guess that wasn’t part of Riggs’ plan.

“No, I played fucking Chinese checkers with them,” he hissed, throwing the strap of one bag over his shoulder as he swiped his sleeve across his cheek, removing the drops of blood that painted his face.

We ran as fast as we could away from the faint sounds of motorcycles and sirens. Away from the Red Dragon’s territory and into Vic’s old stomping grounds. We loaded up the cage with the bags and Bones jumped into the back as the prospect took off and headed back to the clubhouse. The rest of us took to our bikes and peeled the fuck away from the war we just started.

The ink was dry. Our fate was signed, sealed and delivered. The Red Dragons would be gunning for us.

Reina.

Blackie.

Keep moving.

Clock’s ticking.

Come on Bianci, give me something, anything…fucking call and tell me where they are.

Lacey, I made a promise to my daughter. Get back to Lacey.

There was one card I hadn’t played, one card I kept to myself and with the faces of the people who needed me most, flashing in and out of my mind, I made a choice.