Uncontrollable Temptations (Tempted #3)(84)

We took cover behind the shipping containers that the longshoremen would load onto the vessels in just a few hours and waited for the black Escalade to appear.

“We’ve got company, boss,” Riggs said, spitting the toothpick he was rolling between his teeth to the floor and grabbing his gun from his waistband.

I followed his eyes, watching as the headlights rolled into the shipping yard.

Game over motherfucker.





Chapter Thirty-Four




I’ve crossed lines, broken rules, and by some miracle of God, I lived to reap the benefits of all my sins. I’ve spent years waiting for my time to come, to be the man who held all the power.

I’m the boss of the Pastore Organization.

I am the puppet master.

I take what I want and I don’t apologize.

I make more money than any man who ruled my empire before me.

Two shots rang out and my puppeteers dropped to the floor before I could even reach for my gun.

“Shame on you, Jimmy,” Jack Parrish whispered into my ear, as he fisted the solid gold chains around my neck and pulled them back. The chains I wore with pride, my signature trait was the weapon of choice he used to choke me.

“Fooled you, again, didn’t I?” He whispered.

Fool me once, shame on you.

Fool me twice, shame on me.

Fool me three times and what does that make me?

A dead man.





Chapter Thirty-Five





I ground out my cigarette and stepped toward him. I bent down and untied the leash from the pillar it was tied to and stared down at my new pet.

“You ready to talk?” I asked him, tugging vigorously on the leash, wrapping it around my fingers tightly and yanking on it.

“Fuck you,” he gasped.

“Wrong answer,” I said, kicking him in the ass. “Crawl on all fours motherfucker, like the dog you are,” I shouted.

I leaned over the bar and reached into the duffel bag and grabbed the baseball bat.

“What did you say to me earlier?” I questioned, bringing the tip of the bat to his ass and sliding it between his ass cheeks, applying just enough pressure to make him yelp and start to crawl. I yanked the leash back and he shot up on his knees.

“Told me you were going to fuck my girl with the blade of your knife,” I reminded him, pressing the heel of my boot between his shoulder blades forcing him down again on all fours. “Mistake number one,” I whispered.

“Changed my mind about that,” he stammered.

“Smart move,” I replied, shoving the bat between his cheeks again. “Move or I’ll fuck you with the bat, stretch your hole so fucking wide, you’ll beg me to fucking kill you,” I ground out.

“Is this why they call you the Bulldog?” He asked, crawling along the floor.

“Shut up,” I growled. “The only words you get to utter are the ones that tell me where you’re keeping Reina and Blackie,” I declared, wrapping the leash around a pipe and knotting it.

“Why would I do that?”

“I have no intention of killing you, Gold,” I revealed, as I walked over to the bar and grabbed my duffel bag. I walked back to Jimmy and dropped the bag at his feet, kneeling down to sift through it and pull out the object I was looking for. “I just want to settle the score, take back everything you’ve taken from me and mine,” I stated while unraveling the electrical plug and fitting it into the socket.

“You expect me to believe you?” He seethed.

I paused for a moment. “No, I don’t but it’s the truth,” I said, pulling out a pair of goggles from the bag and fitting them over my eyes.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asked incredulously. I got high off of the fear reflected in his eyes but ignored his question and relished in the control I was gifted at that moment.

For the first time in years my maker and I were one.

“Not too long ago I paid Vic a visit,” I began, hitting the power button on the electric saw. I gripped the machine in both hands and stared into Jimmy’s shocked eyes. “Told me some facts I needed to know. You have any idea what those might be?” I shouted over the buzz of the saw. “Anyone ever tell you how strange a man you are, Jimmy? We all have our fetishes—but yours. Fingers man? Really?” I shook my head, holding the saw with one hand and grabbed his hand.

“I’m the head of the Pastore family, a goddamn boss, you do this and…”

“And what motherfucker?”

“When you kill a made man there are consequences. When you kill a mob boss there’s death, there’s revenge and not just on you but your whole fucking family,” he seethed.

“I don’t live by your rules, Gold. I don’t give a fuck about your mob code. This isn’t a beef between crime families, this is me, a motherfucking Knight crucifying a no-good thug. There’s a difference between you and I. People, brothers, they voted me my title, they chose me to be their leader. You cheated, killed and manipulated your way to the throne and motherfucker I’m the one who is going to knock you off of it,” I ground out, lifting the saw over his hand.

His whimper was music to my ears, the missing instrument from the symphony the vibrations of the saw created. I pressed his hand against the concrete, snapping his wrist back. He screamed in agony, a song to match the melody of the music.