Page 371 of The Tempted

What if he doesn’t make it back?

He’ll never know…

My feet made my decision as they walked straight toward him.

“Ink’s dry, brother,” Riggs told Jack, handing him a vest. “We gotta move,” he added.

It’s now or possibly never.

“Riggs, can I talk to you?” I asked, stepping in front of him.

“Can it wait?” he snapped, his eyes cold and uninviting, a side of him I had never seen before. “Don’t really have much time to fight with you people on whether it’s called sauce or gravy and I’m not in the mood to argue about my life choices, the ones you mob folk seem to love to criticize. So, no Lauren, not now,” he said, fitting his helmet to his head and turning toward Jack. “I’ll be outside,” he stated, before walking out the door.

I didn’t find my voice until the engines roared to life outside.

“No problem, just wanted to tell you to be careful because you’re going to be a father,” I said to no one.

“What did you say?”

Shit.

“Lauren?”

I slowly turned around and through my tears I stared into my mother’s shocked eyes.

“I’m pregnant,” I whispered.

Keep moving.

It was what we kept telling ourselves as we raced against the clock to get Reina and Blackie back. There was no time to think, when one of your own is at risk, you don’t think anyway, you just act. We were high on adrenaline and the promise we would destroy Jimmy Gold.

It was our job.

It was our purpose.

Motherfucker, was going down.

The Satan’s Knights would crucify that bitch.

We parked our bikes behind an Italian restaurant on Mulberry Street, strapped our guns to our bodies, ski masks firmly in place, not giving a fuck we were walking the streets of Manhattan with rifles hanging off our shoulders.

We needed to keep moving.

And that’s what we did, moving our asses to Mott Street, like the pack of badass criminals we were. There was no trace of the men we were on a daily basis, the group of guys content on smoking weed and joking around in the Chapel.

We were unleashed.

Animals released from their confinements, free to stalk and capture their prey.

We rounded the corner, snapped ourselves into assailant mode, grabbed the guns that were draped over our shoulders and cocked them.

Locked and loaded, time to make our move.

The cut was easy to spot as the Dragon patrolling the front door to the apartment flicked his cigarette and turned around.

His eyes focused on the guns pointing his way.

He opened his mouth but the words never made it passed his lips.

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