Lethal Temptations (Tempted #5) by Janine Infante Bosco

whispered.
    Because the idea of me and her—it was all I had left.
    The door opened, jarring the both of us and we turned our eyes to one of Jimmy’s men. He carried a leather pouch tucked under his arm and knelt before me. He unzipped the bag and pulled a vile out, followed by a syringe.
    Lace.
    Her.
    He roughly grabbed my outstretched arm and tied a band around it.
    “Don’t,” Reina yelled. “Can’t you see he’s not a threat to you people? Why are you doing this to him?”
    I turned my head to Reina, but all I saw was Lacey’s face. My angel with the sweet smile and sad eyes.
    “It’s all good, Reina,” I said, biting the inside of my cheek.
    “Leather and lace,” Reina whispered as the needle pricked my skin.
    I closed my eyes and remembered dancing with her, holding her close as we blocked out the rest of the world.
    A world where there was no maker.
    A world where there were no drugs.
    And Jimmy fucking Gold didn’t exist.
    The heroin took over.
    Fight.
    For her.
    “Leather and lace,” I slurred, fighting with every fiber of my being to get those words out.
    Her.
     
     

Chapter Eight

     
    I used to think drugs took me to heaven, and if I’m being honest, when shit gets rough, I look for the easy way out.  I’ll hit the bottle and think I’m escaping hell. The truth is drugs are my hell; they numb the pain for a while but if I don’t stay high all the time eventually I wake up, the numbness fades and the pain is only intensified. It’s not just the mental pain that is worse but it’s the physical pain which wasn’t there before the drugs, but is present now. A pain so severe you forget about the original demons that haunt you and lead you to the drugs, a pain that tears through you and makes you wish were dead. It’s a pain you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy.
    Well, maybe that isn’t entirely true.
    I wish worse for Jimmy Gold.
    A whole lot worse.
    I’d like to cut his dick off and feed it to him as he bled out.
    I hear his voice and decide that I’d rip the cocksucker’s dick off with a pair of dirty pliers.
    “Should we give him another hit?” One of his men asked.
    Him? He’s going to get his eyes ripped from their sockets with an ice cream scoop, or maybe a melon baller. Fuck that, I’ll carve them out with my knife.
    “Not yet,” Jimmy murmured, crouching down before me as he took my face in his hands.  “Time to give your president a message,” he said, slapping my cheeks. “Take the cuffs off him,” he ordered to the man standing behind him.
    One of the first times Jack found me fucked up he smacked me across the face and told me to stand up. I remember thinking it was physically impossible and refused. You don’t refuse Jack Parrish. Ever. He pulled me to my feet, holding me under my arms until I found my balance.
    “You don’t have to drown. You got legs that work, you stand the fuck up and keep moving. But if you don’t get on your feet and you choose to drown in the poison, then you’re a fucking pussy.”
    Jimmy rose to his feet, spinning on his heel, and pointed a finger at the other man. “Get the phone ready; make sure the lighting is clear so when we shoot the video there is no mistaking what Jack Parrish will be seeing.”
    The first douche bag un-cuffed me and pulled me up. On my feet, I stumbled, barely able to hold my head up…. but I wasn’t a pussy.
    And motherfucker, I’m not ready to drown.
    “What are you doing?” I asked as he dragged me across the room to the slop sink. He turned the faucet on and I lost my fucking shit, at least I think I did. I struggled to fight, pushing back against his pull but let’s be serious. I was no match for this son of a bitch, not with all the shit he injected into my bloodstream.
    Still, I’m standing.
    I won’t drown.
    Not now.
    Not by this prick.
    He grabbed a fist full of my hair and shoved my face into the basin of the sink. The ice cold water rained down over my head, awakening me and numbing me