Page 586 of The Tempted

Every Sunday after dinner, she came back to Staten Island—back to me.

Aside from my blue kitchen, I had a bed, one we put to use often.

My girl, was learning she liked to take charge in the bedroom. Her favorite position was when she was on top, riding me as I whispered filthy things into her ear. But the dirty talk didn’t stop there, Lacey got in on that, using her words and her body to tell me exactly what she wanted.

I want your mouth on my cunt, now.

Goddamn, I was lucky.

Fuck me, Blackie.

Yeah, baby.

And my favorite…

I want to try something different.

She nearly killed me when she sucked an ice cube into her mouth and dropped to her knees, giving me the best fucking blow-job I ever had.

Yeah, I was a lucky bastard.

My phone rang inside my jacket, pulling me away from my thoughts as I took the call.

“Talk to me,” I answered.

“Get your ass to the range,” Jack ordered.

“For what?”

“Wu made his move,” he growled before disconnecting the call. I put two fingers into my mouth and whistled as I rose from my chair. I grabbed my gun from the table, checked if it was loaded before tucking it into my jacket pocket.

“Yo, let’s go!” I hollered.

Wolf and Pipe turned to me as Bones came bounding down the stairs. Nobody asked questions, they knew…we were waiting for this moment and it was finally here. They strapped their vests on, loaded their guns and straddled their bikes.

Jack and Riggs had gone to some shindig over at Bianci’s house and arrived before us. I wasn’t expecting to see the place swarming with blue and whites and took that as a sign things were worse than we expected. If Pops placed a call to 9-1-1 instead of the cops we had on payroll someone was hurt. Pops was Cain’s old man and allowed us to keep the gun range in his name for legal purposes. The man was never patched, nor did he want to be, and a part of him blamed the reaper on our backs for taking his son’s life.

I assessed the damage as I dismounted, noting the front of the building was riddled with bullets.

“Jesus Christ,” Pipe hissed behind me. “How’s this place still standing?”

I glanced over my shoulder at him then turned around and scoped the property for Jack and Riggs. They were standing in front of the cops and Jack was going head to head with the man I despised most in this world, more than Boots, more than Wu…he was mouthing off to Craig Brantley. The biggest dick to make his way into the N.Y.P.D.

“Shit,” I growled, as we killed the engines of our bikes and assessed the damage at Pop’s shooting range. I stared at the front of the building, riddled with bullets, then took casual strides toward the dozens of cops swarming the joint.

“Easy,” Wolf warned, placing a hand on my shoulder trying to reign me in. “Keep your head, Black.”

“He’s right. We got a lot of eyes on us right now,” Pipe added.

I gave them both a quick nod before we started for Jack and Riggs. I kept my eyes on Brantley watching the motherfucker grin and gloat before I came up behind Jack and he lifted his head.

“Well, look who it is,” he taunted, stepping around Jack and closer to me. Jack glanced over his shoulder at me, wedging himself between me and the douche bag who held just as much blame as I did that Christine was dead.

“Relax Bulldog, no need to get possessive over a junkie,” Brantley mocked, flexing his jaw. “Scum like that’s not worth the effort,” he added.

“You would know right, Craig?” I clipped, as Jack placed his hand on my chest, holding him back. “I’m good,” I told Jack, shoving his hand off my chest as I glared at Brantley.

I might not deserve to be here but neither did this motherfucker.

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