Reckless Temptations (The Tempted Series Book 4) (7 page)

He took a huge bite, chomping away, when the thing I wanted to know most came to me.

“Your name,” I said.

“What about it?” He replied, as he chewed, reaching for his bottle of water.

“Tell me what your real name is,” I said, picking at the slice in front of me, still not sure the waitress didn’t spike it to get to Riggs.

He swallowed the food he was chewing and stared at me quietly for a beat.

“You said anything,” I reminded him.

“Robert,” he hissed, as though it pained him to say. “Robert Montgomery the third,” he finished, taking a big gulp of water, washing down the foul taste his real name left on his tongue.

I kept my face neutral, letting his name roll around in my head before I smiled, reached over the table and pinched his cheek.

“Robby, I like it!” I grinned before he flinched.

“Riggs, my name is Riggs,” he insisted, eyes locking with mine. There was no playfulness when he looked at me this time and my smile faded instantly. “Robert is just a name written in ink on a birth certificate.”

My eyebrows furrowed, but I knew when to leave something alone and remained silent as I wondered why he was so hell bent on forgetting who he was.

What a pair we made, huh? He was running to forget his life, and I was running to find mine.

“What’s the matter, you don’t like pizza? Isn’t that like sacrilegious?”

I looked down at the barely touched pizza and lifted it to my lips taking a big bite. To hell with you, waitress. I chewed, watching the seriousness fade from his face to be replaced with the sly grin I was accustomed to. He picked up a napkin, reaching over to wipe the sauce from the corner of my mouth.

We finished our pizza, neither of us asked anymore real questions. The rest of our time together we kept light, mostly flirty banter back and forth. Afterwards he gave me a ride back to my brother’s house and when I climbed off his bike and handed him back his helmet I felt disappointment settle in. It wasn’t until I was inside the house, the door barely closed behind me when I heard the chime of my phone and knew Riggs and I weren’t finished. We were just getting started.

I lined up my shot, ready to sink this bad boy into a hole and collect my fifty bucks from Bones, when the door stormed open to the Chapel and broke my concentration.

“Bones, the Bulldog needs to see you,” Blackie beckoned from the doorway.

I watched Bones place his beer down and grab his cut, slipping it on before he walked into the Chapel.

Lucky Bastard.

I averted my eyes back to the pool table just in time to see my ball roll into its respective pocket.

“You owe me a fifty spot!” I called out to Bones, only for him to flip me the bird as he stepped around the VP and into the Chapel. My eyes locked with Blackie’s and I tipped my beer bottle to him before drowning my sorrows in my brewsky.

“You too, Riggs,” Blackie added.

I nearly spat out the mouthful of ale but instead I swallowed and choked on it, resulting in a coughing fit.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t get all fucking dramatic. Get your ass in here,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir,” I replied while coughing up a lung and mock saluted him. I finally got myself under control, cleared my throat and tried not to grin like a banshee.

I took the only open seat at the large wooden table across from Bones and lifted my hand before I rubbed my index finger against my thumb.

“Pay up, bitch,” I teased.

“Suck a dick, Riggs,” he taunted back.

“Anything you earn the club gets half,” Pipe reminded me. “You need help in collecting?” He asked, as he elbowed Bones.

“All right, if you assholes are done maybe we can get the fuck down to business,” Jack growled from the head of the table. He waited for everyone to settle down, slamming his gavel down and bringing our attention toward him. “Need all hands on deck today,” he began as he turned his gaze toward me. “Even you, Riggs,” he confirmed.

“Aw, you’re pulling Mary Poppins off of Bianci?” Bones joked, earning laughter from our brothers.

“Eat shit,” I ground out.

“Just for today,” Jack reminded me. He could eat shit too. I joined the Satan’s Knights to be a man of honor, respect and loyalty. A man who wasn’t afraid to break rules and shit for the greater good of his brotherhood and his club. I did not sign up to be a fucking babysitter. I didn’t even like kids, not that Bianci was a kid, but well he had one, which made him guilty by association.

“Pipe has been working on a deal to get rid of the guns we have sitting over at Pops,” he explained.

Pops was about a hundred and ten years old, well, not really but he was fucking old. Before Jack was voted president of the Satan’s Knights, Pops son held the title, some guy named Cain. I don’t know much about the man but I know he meant a lot to Jack because he inked his name onto his shoulder. Cain was a big drug guy back in the day, sold and sampled, used and abused, and even though he had hepatitis, I’m sure he used until his dying day.

The Satan’s Knights had a shooting range up in Jersey but because each member has a rap sheet a mile long, and a mug shot on the wall, their names couldn’t be on the paperwork. The government was funny that way and wasn’t too keen on having outlaws run a shooting range so Pops ran the joint for the club. It was a pretty sweet deal, he did most of the dirty work, provided us a legit place where the club could house its weapons, all for a little kick back.

“Finally, got ourselves a buyer and a couple of g’s over what we were shooting for,” Pipe added. “No pun intended.”

“Who’s the buyer?” Bones asked.

“The Red Dragons,” Blackie answered, as he kept his eyes on Jack.

“We’re playing nice with the Chinese now?” Wolf questioned, genuinely surprised.

“No reason not to,” Jack assured the sergeant of arms. “Our club doesn’t stand for the shit it did when Cain held the gavel,” he argued, wrapping his hand around the wooden object before it dropped onto the table with a thud. “We’re not after their product nor are we interested in getting involved in their territory,” he declared, crossing his arms against his chest and leaning back in his chair. “I know we want to keep the streets clean but the truth is, we never were too good at it, and if it wasn’t for Victor Pastore helping to control the drugs coming in and out of the seaboard, we would’ve never accomplished as much as we have. Now, Vic’s in jail, he’s got pull, but not the kind that will stop the drug lords from polluting New York and without him and his crew aiding the cause, we’re fucked. Don’t need any more enemies, seems like we’ve got enough,” he added. “So we let the Chinese do what they got to do, and as long as they don’t interfere with our operations, we turn the other cheek,” Jack enforced, turning to Blackie who seemed to be holding on by a thread. “We turn the other cheek,” he repeated, mainly to the man sitting to the left of him.

“I heard you the first time,” he grunted.

“Now, The Red Dragons are meeting us at Pops for the tradeoff. They are buying ninety percent of our supply so that’s why we need all hands on deck,” Jack continued.

“Wait a minute, ninety percent of our supply? What the fuck are we supposed to rely on if things go south for us? Water guns?” I asked. Maybe it wasn’t my place to say anything, but fuck that. Things change in the blink of an eye, each of us knew that, so then what? We’re left holding our dicks like a bunch of incompetent idiots. Albeit, my dick was impressive but it wouldn’t fucking get me through a goddamn war, should the Chinese feel the need to rekindle their hatred for our club.

“Pops got word the new shipment will be in the harbor by the end of the week. We’re good. We still have all the guns at the shooting range that are in the lockers. But no one here is expecting war, Riggs,” he said, pausing for a moment before fixing me with a glare. Ah, fuck. “I appreciate the concern but next time you want to question my orders leave your vest on the table and haul your ass out the door,” he growled.

Two steps forward, two-hundred steps backward.

“Anyone else want to add their two cents?” Jack asked the quiet room. “Good,” he said finally. “Now saddle up, we’ve got to run,” he ordered, slamming down the gavel and adjourning our meeting.

We all moved quickly, rising to our feet and ushering out to the parking lot. I straddled my bike, my engine purring to life as the adrenaline inside me kicked into gear.

This was the stuff I got off on, the shit that made my dick hard.

I secured my helmet as the sound of all our engines roaring in unison awakened the animal in me and was music to my ears.

I might not have my patch yet but I was a motherfucking Satan’s Knight. I was a link in the chain of brotherhood and had finally found my place in the world, and was damn fucking proud of it too. Now, if I could just get the goddamn patch.

When we pulled up to the shooting range, Pops was standing out front waiting for us alongside the two dozen men that were a part of The Red Dragons. We dismounted our bikes and followed Jack toward the brood of bikers.

“Sun Wu, always a pleasure,” Jack greeted, pushing his sunglasses on top of his head.

“Parrish, it’s been a long time,” the Sun Wu character replied. “Glad we could stand on common ground,” he added.

I looked around, noting there were twice as many Red Dragons than there were Knights and while we looked like just a bunch of laid back men who loved Harleys and pussy, they looked like some serious fucking dudes that had a dildo shoved up their ass. They were like statues, perfectly still and eyes glued on us, watching our every move.

Jack and Wu continued to shoot the shit for a few minutes before we got down to business and made our way into the back shed out behind the range. Pops and Jack uncovered the crates of guns and “Jackie Chan” and his posse inspected everything. They talked amongst one another in mandarin, making this whole fucking thing like a scene out of
Rush Hour
. I was half expecting Chris Tucker to pop out of a crate and start singing “Can’t Stop Until I Get Enough.”

Finally, Sun Wu, handed over the suitcase and it was Jack’s turn to inspect what he offered. Once the deal was closed, hands were exchanged and half the Dragons loaded their cage with the guns. Jack suggested we go back into the range and have a shot with Wu. It was a gesture of good faith, a plea to let bygones be bygones.

Jack poured Sun Wu and himself a shot before passing the bottle to Blackie who finished dispersing the alcohol.

“Salute,” Jack said, lifting his glass toward Sun Wu.

“Gambier!” Sun replied, clinking his glass against Jack’s before both presidents downed the alcohol. He placed the empty glass on the counter and looked at the surveillance cameras that hid beneath the desk. “That’s a pretty impressive set up you have there,” he said, motioning to my handiwork.

Jack nodded, throwing his arm around my shoulder and patting me on the back.

“Riggs only does the best work,” he bragged. “This kid turned my house into Fort Knox,” he joked—but it was true. The security system I installed in Jack’s house, the one he never used because he always slept at the compound, blew this thing out of the water. Although, the best work I had done was definitely the clubhouse, that shit was locked up tight.

“Jackie Chan’s” eyes met mine. “I’ve gained a new property I would need to have heavily secured with surveillance equipment,” he started, turning toward Jack. “Is your prospect available for hire?”

“Kid talks for himself,” Jack replied, turning toward me. “But since we’re always in the business of helping
friends
, I bet he’ll say yes.”

I stared at Jack for a moment, assessing the words he implied, knowing that he wanted us to do whatever we could to make things nice between us and the Red Dragons. I turned back to Sun Wu.

“I have no problem taking your money,” I answered.

“Come again?”

“Time is money, brother. You want a state of the art security system like that one right there, it will cost you.” I declared.

Wu stared at me quietly for a moment before his lips spread into a grin and he turned toward Jack.

“You train them well,” he mused.