Page 225 of The Tempted

Chapter Thirteen

I dragged my ass to the compound, my helmet tucked under my arm as I strode inside. I spotted Blackie, Anthony Bianci and Riggs all sitting around a table and tipped my head toward them. I stopped off at the bar, placed my helmet on top of it and ran my fingers through my disheveled hair, a result of my helmet and Reina’s fingers.

I glanced at the prospect behind the bar staring up at the flat screen television plastered to the wall and slapped my hand onto the wooden bar to get his attention.

“Hey boss, what can I get you?”

“A beer,” I said, peeling off my jacket. I could still smell Reina—her scent potent, lingering on my face and my clothes. I draped my jacket on the back of the stool, took the beer he offered and walked toward the table where the men sat, waiting for me.

I grabbed the back of the only vacant chair at the table, flipped it around and straddled it as my eyes roamed the faces of the men staring back at me. Blackie’s expression was grim, his jaw tight as he narrowed his eyes at me. Bianci was leaning back against his chair and raised a brow in my direction. Riggs remained indifferent, his trademark blank stare locked firmly in place.

“What the fuck you looking at?” I asked, taking a sip of my beer wondering if they could smell her on me. I zeroed in on Blackie, matching his expression of distaste, knowing while I was coming all over my newfound addiction, he was half tanked with his.

Anthony cleared his throat, folded his hands and leaned over the table.

“Reeses and I paid a visit to Vic over the weekend,” he started.

“Yeah, how’s the poor bastard doing?” I asked, peeling my eyes from Blackie’s and focusing on Bianci, giving him the attention, he came here expecting.

“He’s still got a lot of connections, even on the inside,” Anthony stated. “More than I have being idle on the streets.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Didn’t think Vic would take up crocheting while doing life in prison, that man can’t let go of the mob, it’s imbedded in his soul.”

“Jimmy’s going against everything Vic created. He’s pulling out of all legit businesses, sticking Grace with a ton of debt. The motherfucker’s greedy and he won’t stop. If he sees a way to make a dollar, he doesn’t care about consequences, he goes for it. He’s making money, hand over fist, but it’s not enough. He wants more.”

“The well will run dry eventually,” I countered, taking another long pull of my beer.

“Not until the streets we live on are polluted, lives are ruined and people are dead,” he declared.

I stared at him, processing his words before I turned to Riggs.

“Give us a minute, Riggs,” I said, pulling him out of the coma he seemed to be in.

“Yeah?” he asked, looking confused.

“You okay kid?” I questioned, scrutinizing him.

“Kid’s probably got the shits,” Anthony surmised, suppressing a grin. “Just found out his favorite woman will be in town for a few weeks,” he continued, reaching over and squeezing Riggs’ shoulder.

“You got yourself a woman?” Blackie asked.

“Fuck no,” he protested, pointing his thumb toward Bianci. “This fucks crazy mother is coming home,” he groaned, turning to me. “Think you can put someone else on babysitting duty? Me and Carmela Soprano don’t exactly see eye to eye.”

“The only eye she sees of yours is the black one she gave you,” I added, laughing through my words.

“Don’t stress it too much, kid. She’ll be too preoccupied to pay much attention to you,” Anthony insisted, glancing down at the table, a small smile working his mouth.

“You got something you want to share, brother?” I questioned, cocking my head to the side.

He kept his head down for a second before lifting his eyes to mine, that smile teasing, his lips widened unable to shake it if he wanted to.

“Adrianna’s pregnant,” he said.

Seeing him genuinely happy, I couldn’t help but smile back at him, it was contagious.

“That’s a fucking beautiful thing,” I reached out and patted his back. “Congrats, real happy for you man,” I added.

“Thank you,” he replied, sincerely.

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