Eternal Temptations (The Tempted Series Book 6) (19 page)

My head was spinning trying to make sense of everything Anthony was saying but as much as I wanted to see the silver lining in Victor’s decision I harbored too much resentment. Anthony knew Vic’s business like the back of his hand, he understood the life and its consequences and even knowing that what he was saying was probably true I didn’t want to hear it.

I was so sick of the mob and everything it stood for.

I was always second to the mob, decisions that should’ve been between me and him never were, they were decided between him and his associates, him and his underboss, him and his lawyer.

Just once in thirty years I would like to be asked my opinion.

Just once I would like to come first.

I turn around and spot Nikki sitting on the couch crying staring off into space. Walking over to her, I wrap my arms around her and cradle her to my chest, consoling her as she breaks down and cries.

The front door opens and Michael walks in stopping in his tracks as he glances around the room at us. His eyes zeroing in on Nikki as she pulls out of my embrace and stares back at him.

“You told them?” He asks, stepping toward her but again he freezes causing me to curiously study Nikki’s face.

“Told us what?” I ask, my eyes darting back and forth between the two of them.

“Shit,” Michael hisses.

“Nikki?” I coax, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“I got bad news from my doctor.”

I instantly felt the air leave my lungs as the words left her mouth and I asked myself, how much can one family possibly endure?

I swipe my hand along my face, scratching at the scruff that lines my jaw as I try to think of what to say to the man sitting across from me. I came here with every intention of ripping Victor a new asshole for springing the whole Rocco thing on me and pulling the wool over my eyes. But before I could give him the lashing he deserved the son of a bitch told me he had lung cancer.

“How long have you known?”

He folds his hands neatly on top of the table as he holds my gaze.

“A while,” he admits vaguely.

My eyes work him over, trying to find the signs I likely ignored but aside from the occasional coughing fit and the few pounds he’d shed, I had nothing. He still looked as dapper as ever. Even in his white canvas sneakers and prison jumpsuit.

Fucker.

“I can’t imagine they send the doctors from Sloan Kettering to this joint,” I seethe, shaking my head as I lean back in my chair.

He smiles faintly.

“It wouldn’t matter if they did. I’ve refused all treatment,” he reveals. I open my mouth to criticize his decision, but I stop myself. I don’t know that I wouldn’t have made the same decision given the circumstances.

“When I found out it was already stage four. There is no use in putting myself through that, putting my family through that, only to prolong the inevitable,” he says as he shrugs his shoulders. “I’m behind bars, Jack, it’s not like I’d have more time to spend with Grace and the girls. They gave me a year tops, it’s been two,” he grins cockily, a trademark just like the suits he used to wear. “It’s like God knows I have a plan I need to see through.”

“Or the devil knows,” I mutter.

All the same,” he agrees.

“Your family know?”

The smile disappears from his face at the mention of his loved ones and he averts his eyes to the other inmates visiting with their families and not their biker buddies.

“I told Gracie her last visit up,” he says, turning back to me. “The woman I thought would love me until my death is starting to hate me.”

“Brother, I’ve been in that woman’s presence quite a few times, even after they locked your ass up, she’s got nothing but love for you. The kind that doesn’t die when you do but finds you long after your ass is buried. That woman will be loving you even as the flames climb your limbs and drag you to hell.”

His face remains still as stone as he digests my words, giving them some thought before he finally speaks.

“You’d know first-hand how easily those flames can climb,” he quipped.

That I do.

There are still times I close my eyes and zone out to the memory of Jimmy Gold’s body helplessly hanging as the flames danced up his body. The image is so vivid and so real I can almost smell the flesh burning, and fuck me, it excites me.

“My lawyer came here yesterday, the transfer is set for the Friday after next.”

“Two weeks,” I reply, blowing out a ragged breath. They were transferring him to a maximum security prison down south where our number one enemy was caged. Victor would make that motherfucker meet his maker. The G-Man was going down and Victor Pastore was the one making it happen. One last hit for the mobster everyone knew and loved.

“You’ll get word once the job is done,” he assured. “Retribution will finally be served.”

Retribution for the sins my club committed under our previous president’s reign. Retribution for those kids that died on Blackie’s product, for the stash his wife ingested when she killed herself. Retribution for my brother, Danny’s death, and the scars on Reina’s body. Retribution for Vic’s underboss, Val.

But retribution came with a price and that price was Vic’s life. Sure, he was living on borrowed time but once he ripped the life from our enemy he’d be thrown in solitary, spending the rest of his days by himself with nothing but the past to haunt him and the devil waiting to greet him.

My eyes lock with his as I realize this is goodbye, the last time Vic and I will be face to face. What started off as an alliance between outlaws to keep New York clean of drugs became a brotherhood of sorts. We were different and yet the same, both of us ruled different aspects of our city and our partnership allowed us to maintain control over our interests. When I first met Vic, I knew nothing about the man other than what the newspapers printed but then he shook my hand and from that very first handshake I knew he’d have my back and my club’s.

“I came here looking to raise hell on your ass for springing this shit with Rocco on me,” I start.

“He’ll do for you and your club what I no longer can,” he interrupts. “He’s young and he’ll probably make a ton of mistakes, just like you and I did when we were first starting out but he’ll always back your club.”

I shake my head as I continue to stare at him.

“You don’t know defeat do you, brother?”

“Defeat is for the weak,” he announces, bowing his head for a moment before lifting his eyes to mine again. “Rocco wasn’t my plan, Anthony always was, he was the man who I wanted to take control over my business. He was my plan, but he was also my daughter’s plan. I had to choose between Anthony being the man who ruled my empire or the man who guarded my daughter from that same empire. Plans change, Jack, you know that better than anyone.”

“Ain’t that a fact,” I sigh, leaning forward on my elbows as I pin him with a hard stare. The man could read people and I knew when he looked back at me he saw the sincerity in my eyes.

“I got you, Vic, and I got your girls as long as I’m breathing I’ll always make sure they are. Business will always be business but family is family. I can’t make any guarantees on the streets but you have my word your girls will always have a place in the Satan’s Knights family.”

I extend my hand across the table, watching as his eyes divert from mine to my hand and back. He slides his hand into mine, his grip just as firm as all those years ago.

The first handshake when he had my back.

And now the last handshake when I promise to always have his.

Dead or alive.

Heaven or Hell.

“You’re good people, Parrish,” Victor says.

“You’re not so bad yourself you guinea bastard,” I joke, giving him one final firm shake before dropping our hands. Victor chuckles, tipping his chin toward me as I brace my hands on the edge of the table and push out my chair to leave.

“See you on the other side, brother,” I rasp, standing on my feet.

“I’ll have the scotch waiting for you, Parrish.”

I could see it—me and him knocking back a couple of shots before we tangoed with the devil and paid for our sins in the afterlife.

Until then, brother.

I turned, starting for the correction officer guarding the metal detectors when I heard Vic cough. I don’t stop, I just keep walking, reaching the guard before I turn around and peer back at him. He was hunched over the table, coughing into his hand. One of the C.O.’s was behind him, helping him to his feet but he brushed him off.

I turned and strode out of the visitor’s room before he lifted his head and found me staring at him, leaving his pride intact—for it was all he had left.

I walked away from the prison and made my way to my bike, feeling as though Vic was already gone. I fitted my helmet to my head, about to straddle my bike when I heard my phone go off. Reaching into my jacket, I pulled out my phone and glance at the screen to see Cobra was calling me.

“Yeah,” I answered.

“Prez, we got trouble,” he replied.

Of course we do.

“What kind of trouble?”

“The kind that requires a lawyer and your ass at the seventy-ninth precinct.”

“Going to be awhile before I get my ass anywhere. I’m leaving Otisville now. Where the fuck is Blackie?”

“Don’t know. I called him too but he ain’t answering,” he replied.

“What about Wolf and Pipe?”

“Yeah, they’re being cuffed as we speak.”

“Fucking hell,” I seethe before ending the call and thumbing through my contacts to get Blackie on the horn. Motherfucker knows better than to ignore my calls.

He picked up on the fourth ring proving my point.

“Yo,” he answered.

“Don’t fucking ‘yo’ me. Where the fuck are you and be careful how you answer me. I ain’t in the mood to hear some shit about you and Lace.”

“I just left my N.A. meeting,” he explained.

I couldn’t get mad at the fucker for not answering his phone—not when he was off bettering himself and making a life for him and my girl.

“Cobra called—some shit with the cops is going down. Wolf and Pipe were arrested. I don’t know if anyone else was too but their bringing them down to the seventy-ninth precinct. I’m leaving the prison now but it will be awhile before I get back.”

“It’s been too fucking quiet,” he growled into the phone. “I’m on my way.”

“I’ll meet you there,” I say before disconnecting the call and shove my phone inside my pocket, revving my engine before peeling away from the prison.

Blackie was right—it’s been too quiet.

Only Satan knows what’s coming.

Cracking mu knuckles, I step away from my bike and climb the steps of the precinct, throwing on my game face as I reach the top step. These fucking pigs want to play with us then bitch we’re going to play. I roll my neck, working out the stiffness as I prepare myself to face officer douchebag, Greg Brantley—the motherfucker who has a hard on for me since the day he first laid eyes on my first wife, Christine.

I push open the doors and stride into the police department, waiting for the bells and whistles to go off signaling my arrival but that shit doesn’t happen. I ignore the cop pushing paper at the front desk as my eyes scan the room searching out Brantley, knowing for sure he’s the one behind this bullshit.

“Can I help you?”

“Where’s Brantley?” I clip, pulling my shades down as my eyes drill holes into the female officer in front of me. She licked licks her lips as she stares at me for a moment,
girl my people and your people don’t play nice together
.

“I’ve got this, Bailey,” dickface croons as he makes his way toward me. “What’s the matter? Parrish having a mental breakdown so he sent you to bail his boys out?”

I flash him a smirk as I glance around the room.

“Everyone with a badge has a pair of balls,” I say, turning to Officer Bailey. “I’m sure even she has a set hidden somewhere,” I accuse before pinning my eyes back to Brantley. “Why don’t you bend over and show her where you tuck yours away.”

The grin on my face widens as a gasp escapes Bailey’s mouth and Brantley grounds his teeth.