22. Luca
Bones
T he clubhouse is a storm, a beast of motion and sound as we put the plan into place. But my mind? My mind is elsewhere.
I need to get back to Temper. See how she's doing.
I should have probably stayed away. I know I’m the last person she’d want near her when she’s vulnerable. The last person who’d bring her comfort. But the second I got the news about Jinx, I couldn't fucking stop moving. I needed to see her. Feel her. Make sure she was okay.
She was so quiet in my arms. She was never quiet before. Not even the night of my betrayal. She didn't stop trying to change my mind even in the last fucking moment.
A sharp pain stabs through my chest.
Fuck. I can't go there. Not now. I have a monster to hunt. Jinx should have just accepted his fate. If he had, his death would have been a hell of a lot less painful. He'll be wishing for the electric chair. He made a mistake with the appeal. A fatal one.
The FBI had their chance and the fucker is still breathing. Now?
Now it's my turn.
I'm about to call Church when I see him.
Luca Romano.
Strolling into my fucking clubhouse. Not a hair out of place. Suit pressed. Perfect. Deadly. And a look on his face that tells me he's out for blood.
Ah, fuck.
I don't have time for his or his brother's bullshit. Not now.
He walks straight to me, eyes locked, not sparing a single glance at anyone else.
"I don't have time, Romano." I cut him off before he can open his mouth.
"Bones." His voice is silk over a razor's edge. He breathes my name through a fake-ass smile, his anger barely leashed.
"What do you think you're doing? Killing our deal out of nowhere? Breaking ties with the Famiglia?"
I hold his stare. My face? A fucking wall.
"I can do whatever the fuck I want."
His smile sharpens, his jaw tightens. He's seething.
"Do you want war? Because that's what you'll get." His voice drops, dangerous. "Arcangelo is ready for it. He's itching for it. He feels disrespected, Bones. Our partnership was good for both sides, and you're killing it without even giving a real reason." His lip curls. "Spare me the 'we don't have enough manpower because the club split' fucking bullshit."
Interesting.
I've never seen this cold-blooded bastard so worked up over anything.
Especially not money.
Our deal? It's lucrative, sure. But for the Romanos, it's a drop in the ocean. This loss is heavier on us than on them.
I tilt my head, studying him. Truly looking.
To anyone else, he looks composed.
But his eyes? His eyes tell another story.
Unhinged. Frustrated. Ready to burn something to the ground.
Something is off. This fucker could care less about going to war. I'd be able to smooth it over with Arcangelo anyway.
I lean forward slightly. "Does your brother know you're here?"
A flicker.
Just a fraction of a second.
Gotcha.
"Of course he does. He sent me." His mask slides back into place, but it's too late.
"You've been playing with fire for weeks now. Not only did you make Francesca's marriage to that cazzo completely useless with the move here, but now you're pissing all over our fucking deal!"
His voice drips venom.
" Pezzo di merda, marcirai come un cane in una fossa! " (Translation: "Piece of shit, you will rot like a dog in a ditch!")
I exhale slowly. "I have no fucking idea what you just said, but I feel both insulted and threatened." My lips curl into something between a smirk and a snarl. "You better go before this gets ugly, fucker. The only reason you're breathing right now is because I still have respect for your brother. I'll be talking to Arcangelo about this."
He breathes deep, his mask smoothing out like glass. His eyes catch on my throat.
On the TRAITOR tattoo stretched across my skin.
A flicker of something. It's gone before I can catch it.
Then, just like that, he's smiling.
And I don't fucking like it.
He buttons his jacket, straightens his tie, and tilts his head. "Sure. You can do that."
His voice is calm now. Too calm.
"I'll see you later, Bones."
And then he turns on his heel and walks out.
I watch him go, jaw locked, fists clenched.
I know trouble when I see it.
And Luca Romano?
He's about to become a fucking problem.
Temper
It's hours later and night has already fallen. The weight of the day still lingers, heavy on my chest.
Ria and Layla hovered like two crazed mother hens until I finally put my foot down and sent them off for a sleepover. I need space. I need to think. That's just how I function now. I need silence to put my head back together.
I'm sitting on my back deck, inhaling the crisp mountain air, letting it cool the fire inside me. The night is calm. Still. Comforting.
And then I hear them. Footsteps.
His footsteps.
Even now, after all these years, I know them like my own heartbeat.
"I should get an attack dog," I say, not bothering to turn around. "You keep coming back into my space like a bad case of herpes. Maybe you'd reconsider if you suddenly found your balls between a rottweiler's jaws."
I hear the smirk in his voice before he speaks.
"No dog would stop me, baby, and you know that. Where's Ria?"
"I sent her home. With Layla in tow. I need quiet." Finally, I turn to face him. I raise a brow, my voice cold. "You know. Some alone time. No people. No annoying biker lurking in my shadows. Just me, myself, and I."
"Funny."
He takes a seat beside me. Too close. Too fucking close.
"How are you feeling?" he asks.
I snort. "That's a question only my therapist and friends get to ask. You're neither, Bones. Go home."
He sighs. "Please, let's just hide the knives for a few minutes. Please, Temper. I just want to know if you're okay."
I stare into the dark horizon. "As okay as I can be knowing my rapist and personal tormentor is getting another shot at life, even if behind bars. Or worse, that he might get fucking acquitted." My voice is quiet. I'm too tired to keep the snark going.
"I thought I was stronger than this. For years, I built myself back up, brick by brick. Smarter. Tougher. Stronger. Only to fall apart at the mention of his name. At the very unlikely possibility that he might get free." I exhale slowly. "I didn't break when I found myself face to face with you again. I didn't break when I did to your body exactly what that monster did to mine."
"I didn't break when I stood before all your brothers, the ones I once called family, and watched them bow their heads in guilt. But I broke today."
He leans forward, eyes burning. "You are stronger than him, Temper. Stronger than me. Stronger than anyone I've ever known. And he won't be alive for long. I promised you I'd take care of him. There's already a plan in motion."
"What plan?" My eyes snap to his.
He exhales. "It's better if you don't know the details. But think about this: if you got the chance to take your revenge on him, would you? It would mean you'd have to face him. Don't answer now. Think about it, there's still time. And when you decide, tell me. If you want your shot at him, I'll make it happen."
I grit my teeth.
"I don't have to think about it, Bones. I'd rip that fucker apart. Make him taste hell like he did to me."
He studies my face, searching for something. Finally, he nods. "So be it. I'll let you know when the time comes."
He looks into the distance, seeming to contemplate something.
I can see the tattoo on his neck. His self-inflicted punishment, carved into his flesh like a confession. I tried to erase it from my mind these past few months, push it into the recesses of my thoughts, ignore it. But right now, staring at it, I realize it never really left me. It lingers, just like the pain he branded onto my soul.
My fingers move before I can stop them, tracing the ink.
His muscles lock up, his breath hitching.
"Why did you come that night at the club? All those months ago?" I ask softly.
His Adam's apple bobs. "I heard Mama and Layla talking about some handsome fucker taking you out to dance." His voice is quiet. Raw. "I just... I don't know. I couldn't think. I just needed to see you."
"You're so stupid," I murmur. "Especially for doing this." My finger runs along the bold black letters. "Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the view. It's only fair after all. But you didn't have to do it. If you were smart, you wouldn't have gotten this brand, and you definitely wouldn't have moved here." I drop my hand and meet his eyes.
"I'm never coming back to you, Bones. You need to accept that. There's too much bad history between us. Too much betrayal. Too much pain."
He leans in, his forehead pressing against mine.
"I don't believe that," he breathes. "That there's no chance. I can't. Things are fucked up, because of me. But I don't believe everything is lost. My heart still only beats when I'm near you. I still only feel alive when I look into your eyes. Without you? There's nothing. No light. No warmth. No fucking reason to breathe. Only pain. Nothing else. I've lived it for four years and even hell would be better. I'm yours, my fiery Temper. I'll always be yours. No matter how much you make me bleed, the only thing that would stop me from coming after you would be death."
His lips curl into a small smirk. "And not even that. I'd find a way to glue my ghostly ass to you and haunt you forever."
Despite myself, a laugh escapes. "You've officially entered full stalker mode."
He leans back slightly. "Baby, you don't even know the half of it."
I frown. "What the hell does that mean? What did you do?"
He raises his hands, mock innocence. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."
Liar.
I narrow my eyes. "You may be stubborn and determined, Bones, but that doesn't mean reality isn't what it is. Even now, I feel it rising inside me, more and more each day. The need to make you bleed. To watch your pain. I thought I got it out of my system, but it's been crawling back for months. It's never enough. Not enough justice. Not enough retribution."
I lean in, letting him see the hunger in my eyes. "Right now, looking at you, I'd love nothing more than to grab a knife and see your blood drip."
He smiles. Smiles.
"You can do that, my fiery Temper," he murmurs. "You can always make me bleed. But only if it ends with me inside you from now on. I'm upping the stakes, baby. You want to see me bleed? Be ready to give something in return. I'll feed the beast inside of you."
My jaw drops.
This fucker.
"If I ever go mad enough to have sex with you again, I promise you, Bones, my vagina will literally grow teeth and chomp your dick off."
His eyes widen. "Well, that's a visual I'll never unsee. But my dick would be happy to die a martyr's death."
"Your cockiness is infuriating. And it will get you killed. Sooner rather than later!"
He stands, smirking. "We'll see."
His voice turns quiet. "Get some sleep, beautiful. I'll take care of everything. You just prepare your knife. Or gun. Or bat. Or whatever crazy BDSM shit you have in that arsenal of yours."
He brushes a finger over my cheek and turns to leave.
"Bones?"
He pauses and turns his face toward me.
"How did you know the news about Jinx?"
He grins. "Google alert, baby. Get some rest now. Sweet dreams. Although, they would be even sweeter if they were about me."
He winks.
I narrow my eyes.
If I have another dream about him, I swear I'll fucking kill him.
My fiery Temper, I love you because the world could be burning around you, and you'd still stand there looking like a fucking queen. Unshaken. Unmoved. And every time I see you, I remember why no other woman will ever be enough for me.
We might have talked last night, but that doesn't mean shit.
BLOCK!
I can't stop thinking about Bones' plan. The need to know is a literal itch under my skin. I took the day off from work because I fucking needed it.
I'm making lunch when I hear it. The knock at the door is short. Determined. Not the kind of knock you ignore.
I look through the peephole and the air gets sucked out of my lungs. Luca Romano. Fuck. I can’t ignore this guy.
I open the door just enough to see him standing there, dressed in one of his impeccably tailored suits, his dark eyes sharp, cold, watching me like a hawk ready to descend upon its victim. He doesn't belong here, in my quiet town, in my quiet life. He is a walking nightmare wrapped in Italian silk.
"I'm busy," I say, keeping my voice even, my fingers tight on the door. "Whatever you want, take it somewhere else."
He smiles. A slow, easy thing.
It doesn't touch his eyes.
"I'd rather take it inside."
I don't move. I don't want to let him in. But I see it in his face. The glint of something dangerous, patient but unyielding.
I have no choice.
I step back, letting the door swing open, watching as he moves inside. Silent, smooth, like a fucking predator stalking its prey. His suit doesn't wrinkle, his steps don't falter. Every movement calculated, every second a performance.
He follows me into the kitchen. I make a mental note of the gun taped beneath my kitchen table. Running from two dangerous MCs will make you hide guns all over the house. It's a good thing too, especially when someone like Luca Romano comes to visit.
"Coffee?" I ask, keeping my tone casual, like I don't feel the noose tightening around my throat.
Luca exhales, looking around like he's already unimpressed. "Doubt it's as good as what I'm used to." He shrugs. "Water will do."
Pretentious motherfucker. I pour him a glass, then take a seat at the kitchen table, right where I can reach my gun if I need to. Luca lowers himself into the chair across from me, his posture too fucking relaxed.
He takes the glass but doesn't drink. He just looks at me, watching. Studying.
And then, he gets to the point.
"My brother and I are not happy." His voice is smooth, almost bored. "Bones is making a mistake. A very expensive one."
I lean back, arching a brow. "That doesn't sound like my problem."
His lips curl up, not quite a smile, not quite anything human. "It is now."
I say nothing, waiting. Letting him show his hand.
Luca sets the glass down, tapping a single finger against the rim. "Your little accusation about the Romano deal being more important than you? I know about it. Don't bother denying it. It's costing us millions."
I blink slowly, tilting my head. "Again, not my problem."
His smile widens. Like he's enjoying this.
"We need this deal, Ely. Or is it Temperance now? It doesn't really matter," he says, his voice still soft, still pleasant. "Right now, Bones is trying to burn it all down to prove something to you. To prove you're more important." He exhales sharply, mocking, amused. "How romantic."
I watch him, heartbeat steady, unreadable. I know what kind of man he is.
Danger wrapped in silk, a snake in a custom suit.
Luca leans in slightly, his voice dropping lower. "I need you to fix him. Make him keep the deal."
I stare. Then, I laugh.
Soft. Cold.
"You actually think I care?" I shake my head, letting the disbelief drip from my words. "You think I give a shit about your deal? About him? About any of this?"
Luca watches me for a long, still moment. And then, without changing his expression, without breaking that easy smile, he shows me his teeth.
"You will."
His voice is velvet. A quiet death sentence.
I go still. The air in the room shifts.
And I realize something.
Luca doesn't care if I care. He doesn't need me to.
He just needs me to do what he says.
Or else.
I see it in the way he watches me. The way his smile never wavers but his eyes remain dead.
This is a warning.
A final offer.
Fix Bones, or he fixes me.
I inhale slowly, keeping my hands still in my lap, keeping my breathing measured. This is not a battle I win.
Not today.
I let out a quiet sigh, feigning defeat. "Fine."
Luca tilts his head, studying me like I'm a puzzle he's already solved. Like he knows I'll comply because I like breathing.
He stands, smooth as ever, adjusting the cuffs of his suit. "Good girl."
I feel the words like a slap.
He makes his way toward the door, pausing just long enough to glance back at me. "Do it soon."
I nod once, watching as he disappears through the doorway, the room suddenly too quiet.
I exhale slowly, then reach beneath the table, gripping the handle of the gun I didn't use. Just to feel it.
Then I get up, get into my car and head for the clubhouse.