Eternal Temptations (The Tempted Series Book 6) (25 page)

“Try harder to remember,” I say through clenched teeth.

“It’s my folks that have me all out of whack, itching to shoot someone. I thought beating the fuck out of that weasel, Sommers, would satisfy me, but nope I may have an anger problem.”

“Clearly,” I mutter, turning right behind the sedan I was following. “What’s got you riled up?”

“Lauren didn’t tell you about my folks?” He crumbles up the empty bag of Reese’s and flings it out the window. “I suppose that’s a good thing,” he contemplates. “Maybe she forgot.”

“Talk.”

“My parents showed up on our doorstep, insulted your sister and ripped into me for my life choices,” he sneers.

“I thought you had nothing to do with your parents,” I say.

“I didn’t. They dropped from the fucking sky like a bunch of vultures.”

“Well what do they want?”

“I didn’t ask. I kicked their asses to the curb when they gawked at me and my family. Fuck that shit, fuck them, fuck their millions, fuck it all.”

“Yeah, you might want to look into that anger problem,” I advise.

“Oh, give it up man. If your pops showed up on your door step what would you do?”

“We’re not talking about me,” I evade.

“Yeah, you’d fucking whack that prick,” he surmises.

Probably.

“My father left my mother high and dry, turned his back on his kids and never gave us a second thought. You turned your back on your family and they show up on your doorstep anyway,” I counter. “Don’t know your folks but that shit has to count for something.”

“It counts for nothing. They heard they got a grandkid and are looking for him to rule their oil empire.”

“Not a bad gig,” I argue. “It could be worse. Eric could wind up sitting in a truck with Luca both of them locked and loaded looking to wreak havoc on the warden of a federal prison.”

“Shit, imagine that,” he laughs.

“Let’s not, let’s hope those two boys are more like their mamas than us,” I say. “Call your old man, Riggs. Look at what we’re doing, think about why we’re tailing this fuck home. Life’s too short for regrets, man.”

“You left the mob and became a philosopher. I can’t wait to see the A&E documentary they do on your ass,” he quips, tipping his chin to the car in front of us as it rolls to a stop at a red light. “Let’s get this motherfucker,” he adds, reaching for the door handle.

I nod watching as he pulls a ski mask over his face and jumps out of the car. Riggs runs around the front of my truck and right up to the driver of the sedan, pulling the door open as he cocks his gun straight at the warden of Otisville. He pushes him into the passenger seat and climbs into the front seat, speeding through the red light with me right behind him.

My phone rings inside my pocket and I drive with one hand to retrieve it.

“Mike, now’s really not a good time,” I growl, trying to keep up with Riggs as he swerves in and out of traffic with his gun aimed at the warden. “Jesus,” I hiss. I got saddled with two pains in the ass brothers-in-law.

“Forget the dance,” he says quickly. “Get me a priest.”

I told Mike about my plan this morning and asked him if there was anything I should add to my list of demands. He only had one request; that his girl gets to dance with her dad one last time.

“Priest,” I mutter as Riggs pulls the sedan down a deserted ally. “Got it. Need to hang up now, Mike,” I rushed, ending the call and grabbing my piece from the glove box. I pull the safety back and get out of the truck. I leave the engine running so we can make a clean break.

For a split second I wonder why Mike gave a fuck if Vic was read his last rights, but as quickly as the thought crossed my mind it disappears. Riggs pulls the warden out of the car, dragging him by his feet onto the asphalt.

“Do you have any idea how much fucking trouble you’re going to be in?” The warden spits at Riggs.

“Do you have any idea how much trouble
you’re
going to be in when I grab the piece of ass you’ve been hiding and bring her straight to your unsuspecting wife?” Riggs fires back. “Now shut the fuck up before I put a bullet in your ass.”

“What do you want? I’ll give you whatever cash I have. Take my watch, it’s a presidential Rolex,” the warden cries.

Riggs lifts the warden’s wrist and inspects the expensive arm candy he was sporting.

“Pretty nice watch for a man on the state’s payroll,” Riggs comments, dropping his hand before slamming his boot against the man’s chest, keeping his gun aimed at the warden. “I bet I know how you can afford that sweet watch and how you pay the mortgage on the fancy house you keep your wife in or the dope apartment you stash your whore in on the Upper East Side.”

I step into the warden’s view, kneeling beside him so he can get a better look at my face, my blue eyes pierce him like daggers.

“Warden, you remember me don’t you?”

His eyes flicker before narrowing as he swallows hard.

“Bianci, inmate number two-six-eight-three-five-nine,” he recites.

The motherfucker had the memory of an elephant, reciting my inmate number without error. That’s right, me and warden Valez go way back. Back to the days when I was incarcerated.

Back in the day, Vic couldn’t afford to send someone inside with me, with Val murdered and his organization vulnerable he needed all his manpower on the streets alongside him. He may have thrown my ass in jail without regard for the life I was leaving behind but he kept me alive. He greased Valez’s palm to ensure my safety while I was locked up, a fact I didn’t discover until recently. I was untouchable while I was in jail and no rival organization stood a shot of getting close to me.

If he really wanted me out of his daughter’s life all he had to do was squash his deal with Valez and the G-Man’s men could’ve taken me down. Yet here I am, free and married to his daughter.

Vic did that for me.

Now this one was for him.

“That’s right,” I said. “Now, I want you to listen carefully. My man over here he’s got a slippery finger and some daddy issues he’s looking to unleash.”

“What the fuck man?” Riggs says, smacking me upside the head with the heel of his gun.

“See? He’s a loose fucking canon. It’d be a shame if he shot you before you had a chance to do as I say.”

“Look, I’ve done my best for Pastore while he’s been in my prison.”

“I know and the family appreciates all you’ve done this far but we have a few more requests we need you to make happen.”

“I can’t do shit about his transfer, the Bureau of Prisons controls where he goes and because he’s ill, they are carting him to a medical facility.”

I knew all about that. What Valez didn’t know was we took care of that too. The Bureau had changed the location of Vic’s transfer, dragging his ass further away from New York and not to the prison that the G-Man was in. Good ol’ Riggs came through again, tampering with G-Man’s medical records and diagnosing the motherfucker with testicular cancer, placing him in the same prison as the Vic.

“It’s not about the transfer,” I explain. “Vic will be in Otisville until the end of the week and we intend to get our money’s worth out of you.”

“Do as he says motherfucker. I’ve got a man sitting on your whore’s doorstep and another one hiding in the bushes of your home, spying on your wife as she showers,” Riggs threatens.

“What do you want?” Valez growls.

“For starters, you’re going to reinstate Vic’s phone privileges. He’ll be allowed to call his wife as much as he wants until he gets on that bus,” I begin.

“Fine,” he hisses.

“I’m not finished,” I sneer as Riggs bends down, inching the tip of his gun against Valez’s mouth.

“No more interruptions, asshole,” Riggs reprimands.

“As I was saying, his daughters will visit him, the last time they see their father won’t be in a crowded visitor’s room with every Tom, Dick and Harry doing time watching them say goodbye. You’ll provide a private room for their final visits. You can keep a CO in the room with them but they’ll be allowed to touch their father, hold his goddamn hand if they want to. Same goes for his wife, when Mrs. Pastore comes up to say goodbye to her husband she’ll get the same respect,” I instruct.

“Anything else?”

“A priest.”

“He’ll be given his final rights when he’s transferred,” Valez says.

“Get the man a priest or so help me God…,” Riggs grunts.

“We want the priest present when the daughters come to visit,” I say, not really sure where the fuck I was going with this since it was Mike’s idea. I can’t imagine any kind of good coming from the girls being there when Vic is read his last rights.

“Fine,” he agrees.

Reaching into Valez’s jacket, I pat him down, searching for his phone. I pull it out of his jacket pocket and hand it to him.

“Call the prison, Valez,” I order, pausing for a moment. “Now.” He stares at the phone in my hand momentarily.

“Well, he didn’t fucking stutter,” Riggs growls. I watch intently as Valez reaches for the phone.

‘Thatta boy.

I’ve still got it.

Adrianna and Anthony went through the metal detectors first. My sister was a pro, all the visits she paid Anthony had taught her well, she didn’t even flinch when the female correction officer patted her down. This morning she called me and reminded me to wear a sports bra, anything with an underwire would set the detectors off and I’d either be forced to remove my bra or denied my final visit with my dad.

Still, even with the helpful tips from my sister and the few visits I had under my belt I felt like a fish out of water. I was ashamed to say I wouldn’t miss this and only because no more visits meant not seeing my dad anymore.

I lift my hands, spread them wide to match the way my legs are parted and stare at my sister as the officer pats me down, checking for any weapons or contraband. I roll my eyes, chewing on my bottom lip as the bitch pats down my ass.

“These people don’t know Daddy, huh?” I question my sister, averting my eyes to the guard with lingering hands.
Bitch, I don’t roll that way
. “Newsflash, Officer Feel Me Up, if I was going to sneak anything to my dad it would be a Soppressata and you wouldn’t be able to find it unless you had an x-ray machine handy,” I sneer, dropping my hands before I smugly walk through the metal detector.

“Be sure to tell your dad that,” Anthony says, tugging my ponytail. “He’ll get a kick out of that,” he teases, winking his crystal blue eyes.

I grab my sister’s hand as Mikey makes his way through the metal detector, snatching his father’s watch they made him remove from the basket and fastening it back on his wrist.

Adrianna squeezes my hand reassuringly as we are ushered through a series of fire safe doors, handed off to one guard after another before a big burly man dressed in a suit that was clearly three sizes too small in the waist, greets us at the end of long narrow hallway.

“Where the fuck are they taking us?” I whisper to my sister as I stare at the man who is locking eyes with Anthony.

“Bianci,” he mutters.

“Warden,” Anthony replies, holding his gaze. The two men stare off for what seems like forever before the warden glances over his shoulder at the metal door. He turns around, rapping his knuckles three times against the small pane of glass. Another correction officer opens the door and steps to the side allowing us room to walk inside.

My stomach rolls as Mikey presses his hand against the small of my back and together we follow Anthony and Adrianna inside the private room. I breathe a sigh of relief when I glance around the empty room, not ready for the moment I’ll see my dad. There’s a table centered in the room and six chairs, two on one side of the table and four on the other. I don’t question the other chair, figuring it was for a guard or something.

“Why didn’t they bring us to the visitor’s room?” Adrianna asks, turning around to face Anthony with worried eyes. “Did something happen?”

“Relax, Reese’s,” Anthony soothes, placing his hands on her shoulders as he bends his knees, making himself eye level with her. “It’s all good, baby.”

The door opens as I spin around to face Mikey and my eyes glance over his shoulder to the guard stepping out of the way for my father. I watch with trepidation as my father strides through the door. His head is down, shielding his face from my view but I notice his hair is grayer than the last time, even thinner but still immaculate, not a strand out of place.

“Enjoy your visit, Pastore,” the guard says before closing the door behind him.

Slowly, like a scene in a movie, my dad lifts his head and whatever response he was about to give the guard becomes lost on his tongue as his eyes find mine and my sister’s.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he whispers hoarsely.

Tears blur my vision as I smile widely and run to him, wrapping my arms tightly around him. He’s thin and another man may have been knocked down by the gusto behind my embrace but not my dad. Standing his ground, he wraps his brittle arms around me and hugs me back with everything he has left inside his worn body.

“My, girl,” he whispers against my hair. His voice is different, gone was the deep lethal voice that only warmed around his family and all that cancer has left behind is a raspy voice full of strangled breaths.