A Dark Place (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 5)

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  “I have no reason not to.”

  She opens the leather messenger bag and produces a large accordion folder. “Everything was covered up, buried in a massive landfill over the last fifty years, and the footwork paid off. The entire case is in there. There are no copies. No digital footprint. This is it.”

  “And did you manage to verify with DNA?”

  “It took a good amount of finagling, but we acquired the necessary samples to run the tests, which were subsequently destroyed. It’s all in there.”

  “I’ll wire the money to your account.”

  She slowly tilts her head and rubs her lips together. “This is going to devastate Sal.”

  “I am aware,” I somberly reply. “Anna Ford and Luca Raniero’s daughter could pose a real threat to his future.”

  Gathering up her long red hair, she pulls it around to the side and suggests, “You could eliminate her…just like you did her brother, Chance.”

  “Half-brother,” I correct with a cocked brow. “And he was determined to let all of the secrets out. He needed to be removed for both Iris and Sal’s sake. The best I can hope for is that she leaves the school to Mierne because the daughter overwrites Sal’s claim.”

  “Unless it doesn’t see the light of day…” She crosses her arms over her chest. “But what are the odds Anna is going to take the truth of her daughter to the grave?”

  “If we were talking about the Anna Ford who embezzled millions by wits and charm from the mob, it wouldn’t even be a question. But we aren’t dealing with her anymore. Her mind isn’t as sharp as it once was.”

  “And you think she may slip?”

  “It’s a real possibility,” I say, clasping my arm around the folder’s valuable contents. “I don’t like the odds.”

  “You don’t like any odds.”

  “You’re right,” I snicker. “I rig the deck in my favor to win at all costs.”

  “If Mierne Risen is appointed new headmistress of Juliet, the Gennaro flag will fly over the school.”

  A smirk perks up at the corner of my mouth. “I call it seizing the opportunity for my children, including the one in Oki’s belly.”

  Megan isn’t the only one having girl time.

  “A link between you and Asia,” she mumbles, shocked. “How the hell…”

  “I love the presents Sal sends.” I wink as her mouth gapes open. “He didn’t send Oki Hada to do my laundry.”

  “If Gennaro reigns over Juliet, it will be a holy war between you and your sons,” she warns. “Sal may eventually forgive you, but Deacon never will.”

  “His Saint isn’t free from sin.”

  “There won’t be a Gennaro or Raniero flag over Juliet,” she realizes, covering her mouth. “Oh, my God…Dominic…”

  “Under the statue of the naked woman with the butterflies, Lotus bloom.”

  4

  UNh0lY W R E C K

  His Butterfly

  I love being pregnant.

  That said, I hate my non-stop need to twinkle, which is only getting worse the bigger I get. With my body tangled next to the sleeping Saint, I quietly remove myself. He’s no different from a bodyguard, extracting the prize from the pick-up location, and delivering it safely to the intended destination.

  This was a Raniero and Cruz reconnaissance mission.

  And I am the asset and the target.

  If I don’t go with Deacon willingly, I have no doubt he will use force. I will become a hostage of Raniero and Cruz, and while that may sound like heaven, it’s not. Not now. Not after the months we’ve spent at war. They are my biggest competition, trying to direct my flow, and I need to do this on my own.

  I need to prove that I deserve the crown jewel of Lotus.

  To everyone—my family, the boys, and myself.

  On my way to the bathroom, I pass by the dresser and grab my phone. I sit down on the toilet as the message flashes on the screen.

  “We need to go. I am in the lounge. The Lotus jet is waiting.”

  I finish up, grab some paper, and wipe. I am full of Deacon’s spunk. I bring it to my nose as tears bloom in my eyes, and I bite my lip.

  God, what do I do?

  I have one opportunity to run before I am sequestered—isolated in his castle. His people. Not mine. His way. Not mine. It’s the same internal argument I have been fighting for years. We do not exist on equal turf.

  Juliet is Sal’s home.

  “Iris, the message was read…”

  I quickly respond, “BRT.”

  I don’t bother to flush or wash my hands. I tiptoe into the bedroom to find one of the two most beautiful men in the world, on his belly with his hand gripped to the pillow. Sal is wearing Deacon out, and maybe I have contributed to it, but I never intended to be the cause of his exhaustion. I never wanted either one of them to hurt or be harmed because of the choices I made.

  But the decisions—we each make—affect all of us.

  Hastily, I toss on my dress and grab my things. I quickly scribble a note to Sal and seal it in an envelope. I repeat the process with one to Deacon.

  I cannot leave without saying goodbye.

  My handwritten sentiments will have to do.

  I glance around the room before grabbing his phone, pressing in the passcode of Sal’s birthday, and scanning his chat. Through silent tears, I type a message to Sal.

  “Everything I did, I did for you. The lies. The deceit. The killing. I know you are mad. And I also know we are through. I can’t stay in your world.

  You’re in love, and so am I.

  I am sorry those two things don’t add up to our being together.

  You were always my one.

  I am sorry I can’t be yours.

  When you read this, I’ll be long gone.”

  I sneak out the door and rush to the elevator—my palms sweat; my heart pounds. The doors close, and I realize the one thing I forgot.

  To fucking sign my name on the text message.

  Sal will think Deacon sent it.

  Oh. Fuck.

  I can’t go back now. It’s too late. What is done is done, and they’ll have to figure it out because if Deacon catches on to my antics, there won’t be any cry for help because no one will hear me in the basement dungeon of Scarlet House. I will be locked away by these men, for these men. These mad infuriating men.

  The elevator doors open, and the woman in the red coat smiles. She stalks closer, assessing my temperament. All things considered, she is probably wise to do such because I have become a mad infuriating woman.

  “You should know, I am not innocent.”

  “You never were, hussy.”

  She smirks. “Good to see you too, slut.”

  “Don’t say that,” I warn. “I’ve got a cunt full of Deacon’s swimmers.”

  She takes my bag as we walk to the car. “Thank God, you’re already pregnant.”

  “Thank God, his mistress is more loyal to his wife than him.”

  Kissing my lips, she whispers, “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “You fuck me over,” I threaten without care. “And I will kill you, Amber.”

  “Pregnant woman rampaging?” She laughs. “You’re notching them off, Lotus.”

  “No, love,” I calmly whisper. “I am just an opportunist.”

  “What is your plan?” she finally asks onboard the Lotus jet, “you certainly have one.”

  Taking a sip of my tea, I savor the chrysanthemum flavor and say, “Why should I tell you?”

  Her expression lights up, ready to fight. “Because more than anyone else, I have stood by your side through thick and thin since I first knocked on the door at the Houston loft. Kaci may have said she hired me for him, but we both know that is not the whole truth.”

  My head tilts. “So help you, God?”

  “So help me to get you through this, Iris.” She leans forward in the seat across from me with her elbows to her knees. In her elegant, sexy, black pantsuit, she looks worthy of being a contender in their g
ame.

  I miss wearing the pants.

  The fact is I am all of 5’2”, with a beach ball attached to the front of a size four frame. I look atrocious most days and stick to dresses as a safety precaution. I can hide better in a dress and coat, appearing to some that Fat Iris has returned with cake and Cheetos and chicken—lots of chicken. Battered and deep-fried, of course.

  “God, I want some wings,” I mumble beneath my breath as Amber blinks, unable to retain her laughter.

  “You are so pregnant,” she points out the obvious with a shake of her head. “Have you told him the truth yet?”

  “I haven’t ever really talked to my husband.”

  She licks her lips. “But have you told him the whole truth yet?”

  Feeling pressured, I stand and erupt, “I haven’t spoken to Sal about anything.”

  Her hands wave at my belly. “Don’t you think you should? You’re running out of time.”

  I walk to the bedroom and slam the door, but she is Amber. And she is a relentless bitch. I appreciate her that way most of the time. She opens the door.

  “I hate it,” I whisper.

  “What?”

  “Feeling under the gun on time,” I reply, sitting on the bed. “I had control over my time until this…” I grab my belly. “I don’t know when this baby is coming, and this one stupid little thing is driving me insane.”

  “Schedule a section,” she suggests. “Then, you control it.”

  “That’s not something I would do either.”

  “You asked for an alternative,” she says. “You didn’t say it needed to be one you would like. You want the random surprise of the water break. I get that.” She walks closer to sit with me. “Do you know what you’re having?”

  I shake my head. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

  “And when was the last time you saw a doctor?”

  “Before I left the States.”

  Her lips turn sour with judgement. “You haven’t been to a doctor since before you were married?”

  “No,” I mutter, getting up to stand by the wall. “Please don’t give me a lecture.”

  “As much trouble as you had, as sick as you were, and you haven’t had any prenatal visits?” Her review of my behavior feels like I should be sitting in the corner. “He is going to be so fucking angry with you.”

  “He already is,” I inform. “I don’t know if you know this, but I’ve been a little busy.”

  “You’re pregnant, Iris!”

  “Believe me, I know.”

  “And it’s not like you’re working just to make ends meet. You don’t have any excuses. You don’t get that right. You have enough money to hire a staff of a hundred for the rest of your life. Outsource some of the shit on your plate. Invite some others to come and sit at your table. You might like them if you’d give them half a fucking chance. And don’t say you didn’t have them. Sal set you up good before he left for Italy!”

  “With his people!”

  “His people are good people!” she screams. “That’s why he sent Deacon Cruz to be with you! Don’t be a damned idiot! Deacon would bend over backward and do flips all to humor you.”

  “And reap Sal’s praise!”

  “You’re jealous of them,” she observes. “Aren’t you?”

  “You’re damn right; I am jealous of them. While they are off running their show, I am sitting around with a damned moving box full of books attached to my belly.”

  She laughs. “You’re so stupid. You’re running the criminal underground, darling. You not them. You are the mofo boss, bitch.” She unbuttons her jacket, and it falls back onto the bed. “But, you suck at delegating.”

  From her black lace bra, she pulls out a stunning ruby necklace surrounded by sapphires and diamonds. I gasp. “Where did you get that?”

  “An old friend dropped it in my pocket.”

  “It was Baba’s…”

  “And now, it’s yours again.”

  I can’t hold back the tears. “So much of her jewelry was stolen that night.”

  “I know,” she says. “You don’t have to go back there, baby.”

  “What do you want for it?”

  “It’s yours.”

  “I am not buying that you’re just going to hand over a piece worth that much to me.”

  “Sal bought it for twelve back in 2009.”

  “… Thousand?”

  “Thousand,” she confirms. “And it disappeared when Bertie died.”

  “Cas?”

  “Maybe,” she says. “I don’t know the travel history.”

  “Where did Sal get it?”

  “From a little jewelry store owned by Sasha and Harold Kouri outside of San Antonio.”

  Rage floods my heart. “How the fuck did Baba’s necklace get from Chicago to San Antonio?”

  “You’re asking the wrong question,” she says. “The question isn’t how but who…”

  “What do you want?”

  She rises, undoing her pants and letting them fall. “I want in.” Stalking closer, she runs a finger beneath my chin. “Give me the one thing I want before I am just another piece discarded from the board.”

  “What do you want?”

  “The one who loves you like no other.”

  “You want Deacon,” I quiver as her lips press to mine. Her hand dips into my dress to cup my breast as her mouth winds a trail to my neck. I close my eyes, lost in the seduction. “Why should I give him to you?”

  Her blue eyes flick up to mine. “Because I will share. And she never will.”

  I smirk. “Why should I believe you?”

  “I am not a royal. I don’t have your bloodline. I don’t have anything. I was raised in a trailer park by a creek that liked to flood. I ate mustard sandwiches and cleaned up the froth from my mother’s mouth. I may not be a snobby rich offspring, but no one will fight harder than me to protect your interests. I have proven that time and again. I went to bat for you with Sal. I did dirty deals on a coast in Africa, swung back shots of vodka in Russia, and took a red-eye to Japan to earn points with Sal. I will honor the Lotus at all costs because I have nothing to lose. No millions on the line. No business to claim. I am your secret card hidden under the table…play me.”

  “Your father was an MC Pres…”

  “Ooooh!” she snarks with puckered lips. “And your family has ruled the East for hundreds of years. Let me be loyal to you. Let me serve you.”

  “… Are you going to kneel?” I sarcastically ask. “Seems so beneath you.”

  “No,” she contends, breathing against my lip before running kisses down my midsection. And she does it anyway. She kneels, laying her hands on my baby bump, and pressing her lips to my belly. She blinks up. “I will fucking crawl for you, Lotus.”

  I grab a fistful of her hair and tug her face away. “Will you surrender for me as you do for them?”

  “Until my last breath…Oinker.”

  “I ought to slit your throat.”

  “You won’t do that because it takes one to know one,” she says, winking. “You need me because you have alienated most of your friends. Trudy cannot stand you with one of her precious sons, much less having control of both of their sacks.”

  “She’s not fond of you either, Little Bitch.” I smirk. “And four balls juggle well.”

  “Just don’t drop them.” We laugh as she assesses, “And Megan is a meek mouse.”

  “Megan can be worked.”

  “Only if Dom’s leash turns lazy,” she rebukes. She isn’t wrong. Megan is tied up tight by her Master and probably for a good reason. “Cat thinks you’re treating her brother bad. And Jaid…”

  Tightening my jaw, I lift a hand flat. “Don’t. Go. There. You’re asking for a job…”

  “Your biggest problem is you feel alone in Sal’s world, but your biggest cheerleader is on her knees in front of you.”

  “What are you asking me to do?”

  “I am asking you not to be blind to the facts. Use you
r resources as well as he does. That is how you beat him. He isn’t better than you. He is smarter in allocation. He networks like a damn hustler on the street corner. Heed the lesson. And turn it against him.”

  “You’ll never get Cruz away from Sal…”

  “I don’t need Cruz away from him,” she maintains without fear. “I can put the Holy Trinity back together again. I need one hand-out, and I will turn it into a fucking feast to remember.”

  I consider the offer as I release her hair and trickle my finger over her cheek. She is spot on with all of it. She can move mountains with little to no help at all. Her instigation brought me to this place. She doesn’t possess money or means, but she has something far more valuable—a self-starting drive that does not quit. She is a survivalist. And perhaps more potent than all of us with boxes full of toys, tools, and tricks.

  “Feed me, whore.”

  “Thank you,” she whispers as her voice cracks. “For the opportunity.”

  “Takes one to know one,” I sass with a smirk before issuing a deadly warning. “But if you hurt my boys, you will end up buried in the yard. I’ll harvest your bones for my hellhounds to gnaw and slobber upon.”

  “I am aware, Ma’am.”

  We stare at one another in complete silence, comprehending what joining forces truly entails. Maybe this is what the former Mrs. Raniero wanted to do and never could, aligning the opposites—Deacon and Sal, Amber and me. I have to wonder what other eggs she nestled in the underbrush. The stomping march of the skeletons stops, sending a wave of excitement through me.

  A rotten flower—resurrected.

  I hoist my skirt up over my belly. “Ever delivered a baby?”

  II

  Second to None

  Summer 2019

  5

  No Shortcut to Paradise

  The Master

  Rubber soles pound the pavement as my heart rhythmically pumps. In stride, I attempt to take my mind to an even-keeled place where nothing matters.