Page 233 of The Tempted

Chapter Sixteen

It took three days for Blackie to be added to the list of approved visitors allowed to see Victor. After Vic was sentenced it had taken me five months to be added to the list. Three days. That just proved that Vic’s connections ran deep from inside. You could take the man from the streets but you’d never be able to take the streets from the man.

He may have traded his designer suits for his prison blues but the man still kept with his appearance, freshly shaved, his graying hair combed back, he still was a man who demanded respect—locking him in a cage wouldn’t change that. I don’t know what kind of operation Vic was running from his cell but he was up to something. He had prison guards turning their heads, inmates at his beck and call and Lord only knows what sort of deal he had with the DA’s office. That was a connection he had for years.

Victor could follow through with his end of the bargain—there was no doubt in my mind about that. By the end of our visit with him he assured Blackie that he’d grant him the peace he craved. Although I wasn’t certain it would be enough because Blackie blamed himself for his wife’s death. But he was desperate, willing to usher the blame he harbored onto the G-Man because he couldn’t live through the guilt of it anymore.

Blackie got high on the hope that this whole thing would erase some of his agony. He had us meeting with a club up north that distributed high quantities of heroine. There was no driving back home from the prison. We regrouped and headed back on the road for the meet with the Corrupt Bastards MC. We went from breaking bread with the don to cutting H with a bunch of drug lords. But we accomplished what we set out to do and now it was a waiting game.

It was just a matter of time before Jimmy paid a visit to Vic. He played on Vic’s wife being alone, drowning in debt created by legal fees and the collapse of Vic’s empire but Vic never took the bait. Not until now. Now, when Jimmy came up, Vic would tell him that Grace would lose their house, and it was up to Jimmy to make a quick score. He’d let him believe that his back was up against a wall and had no choice but to agree with Jimmy peddling drugs through the streets. Vic would play the desperation card and lead him straight to us.

We’d be waiting for the motherfucker.

We brought back a sample for Jimmy and it was locked away in a safe I kept at the Dog Pound. Just a little taste for him and his men to start feeding the streets. The idea was for him to supply the dealers and small-time distributors with the heroine, get them hooked on the product and at the same time have Jimmy turn a quick profit. He was a greedy bastard so his dick would get wet the minute he made a couple of dollars, give him a chance to turn thousands into hundreds of thousands and forget about it. He’d be putty in our hands.

Once he was demanding higher quantities, the product would become scarce, leaving him with no other choice but to purchase an obscene amount of heroine. That’s when Victor’s part of the plan comes into play and all those dirty cops and crooked lawyers he had in his back pocket for years, would pinch Jimmy sending him up the river to a bloodthirsty Vic.

Five days dealing with all this shit, five fucking days out on the road with Blackie and on the heels of a manic episode. I needed a break from it all.

I needed a dose of purity.

Sunshine, I needed my sunshine.

If I was a halfway decent guy with a shred of compassion, I’d leave her alone. I’d cut ties and forget that there was goodness in the world like Reina. The game changed, the pieces on the board moved, and I no longer needed Reina for information on Danny. I didn’t need closure on my brother’s death and if I did, it wouldn’t be found in her. I should do the right thing. I should cut her loose.

Just let her go.

But I couldn’t.

I was a selfish bastard who wanted to own her, to claim her, to fucking brand her.

The flashing red and blue lights blinded me, alerting me that the cops were surrounding her apartment complex. I pulled my bike as close as I could to the building and killed the engine as my eyes scanned the surroundings.

The blue and whites stood guard outside the building, allowing only official personnel inside. Some of the residents were shouting at the cops, demanding to be let back inside their homes, spewing derogatory slurs at the men in blue.

I glanced around at the people that lined the courtyard, eyes searching for Reina, but came up short. Then I looked up at the building, counted four floors up and zeroed in on the third window from the left.

The window was cracked, the blinds slanted and the light on in the apartment poured through. She walked past the window, her shadow teasing me and without another thought I walked toward the building. I lifted the caution tape, ignored the cop that hollered after me and stalked through the entrance. The place was swimming with detectives and canine’s sniffing for whatever the fuck they were searching for.

I climbed the stairs, two at a time, until I reached the fourth floor. As I walked through the hallway I noticed some of the doors were open. Reina’s neighbors standing by waiting for word on whether life can continue for those subjected to life in the projects. Most of them were unfazed by what was happening. I bet they see a lot of this shit. I bet half of them are wondering when the cops will be gunning for them.

Reina’s door was closed, locking herself away from the dark shit, only for the king of darkness to demand she let him inside. I pounded on her door, ignoring the eyes of her neighbors and listened as the lock slid out of its place and the door opened a crack.

Her hooded eyes met mine, and I felt the air filtrate through my lungs. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until the moment I saw her. Shock invaded her features as she held my gaze, slowly opening the door a bit more.

“Honey, I’m home,” I whispered, my lips quirking ever so slightly.

Home.

She pushed opened the door fully, our eyes locking as she stepped aside never breaking our gaze.

Sometimes home isn’t four walls.

I stepped toward her, wrapped one arm around her waist and bent my knees a fraction, making our eyes level.

Sometimes home is a pair of eyes and a heartbeat.

“Aren’t you going to ask me in?” I muttered, my fingers kneading her hip.

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