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

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  “You’re so fucking good,” I moan as she rides my dick. Her breasts are in my hands as we free fall away from the puzzles, and I repeatedly sign the deal in her folds.

  “That’s you,” she whispers. “You are perfection.”

  We are fool’s gold.

  In the past, the Raniero’s and the Cristos’ never saw eye to eye. We are enemies, stuck in the attraction of equality, but I fear the switchbacks up ahead and the cliffs as we climb the ladders to success.

  “You make me forget everything I’ve lost.”

  “I can’t be apart from you again,” she whispers, clenching her wetness around my shaft as I wrap my fist around her ponytail. “Even if you aren’t mine.”

  “I will always be yours, Ghost.”

  I lie because that’s what addicts do when they claim to be fine. And I learned the trick from her blood—her sister and my deceased wife...

  My Mistress, my Pixie.

  My phone rings with Georgia’s tone, disturbing our fucking session. I have spent hours buried in Jaid’s orifices, quietly contemplating what my next move should be and what Sal Raniero’s next move should be.

  Those two things are separate.

  Don’t confuse them.

  The things I want are far more straightforward than the things Sal Raniero needs to survive in the ever-changing sewage system in which we reside.

  The ring is bubblegum pop, which I don’t particularly care for, but it always gets my attention regardless of what I am doing, including a hot sex session with Jaid. I pull out of her ass as she groans with agonizing displeasure. We were in the subspace high/Domspace high, battling our wills in an epic throw down match.

  “You best come back and defile my body!” she rants from the bed. “My holes are untamed.”

  “Barbaric bitch.” I grin and wink before answering the phone, “Raniero.” Georgia’s silence is enough to disturb my sense of equilibrium. Something is wrong. This is not a crash from our euphoric trip; this is catastrophic. She sniffles, and I gently encourage, “Talk to me, babe.”

  “The photos I sent to your phone were emailed to every Sibyl agent nineteen minutes ago,” she somberly says. This is dire. I can hear it in the sound of her breath. “I know you’re working on the Byrne case, but this is urgent and needs your immediate attention.”

  “Okay…”

  “I need you to not freak. You need to prepare yourself for the worst possible outcome.”

  Never a good sign.

  I cringe in horror at the pictures as every inch of my body turns numb. I don’t need to ask who it is because I already know.

  With a red gingham tablecloth and a bundle of white roses, he staged the gruesome presentation to show off his art. My skin pricks with abhorrence as I know who is responsible for the flaps of inked, bloody flesh cut and tattooed with in perfect trust and in perfect love.

  “Jesus…fucking…Christ,” I stutter out as every nerve ending fires with rage. My hands stop shaking. My jaw halts. My eyes dry like the desert sands. I shift on the fly from a stressed-out emo-junkie to an assassin built for one thing. “Lord, help us.”

  Madeline Grace followed, kneeling in front of me. I noticed two tattoos in perfect trust and in perfect love across the fleshy roundness of her breasts.

  “You have the symbol, too?”

  “It’s on my upper back. We call it the Mark of Talete.” With a smile, she clarified, “The mark of initiation.”

  With calmness, I command, “Georgia…I need a plane. ASAP!”

  “I am on it, Sir,” she replies with a tremulous voice. “Where are we going?”

  “We are not going anywhere,” I maintain, changing her dialogue. “I am going alone.”

  “Salvatore,” she gasps distraught. “The Lotus is throwing a party this weekend.”

  “The fuck…for who?”

  I light a smoke out on the balcony as she heavily sighs, “For the upper members of The Commission.”

  Staring out the window at the raindrops, I snicker, “… Are you fucking kidding?”

  “No, Sir,” she formally says as I exhale a cloud. “And Madeline is alive...”

  I blink at Jaid, chugging water and looking beautiful. I cannot panic. She is a trained black-ops agent, but there is a hard line where it gets personal, and her sister’s attack qualifies.

  “Where is...”

  “She was tied down with ropes. Her chest, including her breasts with the tattoos, were meticulously carved into angel wings. Not deep enough to kill her, but permanent scarification. He untied her, disappeared, and somehow she managed to call for help. Lukas is with Bertrand, who was in Berlin working on the Allegiance case. One of their contacts was abducted, missing for six weeks.”

  Cris Crow.

  As much as I want to tell Georgia about what I know and initialize our research on Cris Crow, I cant. It isn’t pressing.

  Finding the assailant is imperative.

  A priority.

  “Was she raped?”

  “No, but that is his sister,” she responds.

  I shake my head. “You seem to think that would matter with him. He won’t care who it is. It’s about the message in his madness. The victim is as strategic with him as the methodology of the crime. He’s smart. He’s dangerous. He’s deadly. And we need to stop him—now.”

  “She wasn’t wearing shoes, Sal.”

  “Fuck!” I roar, knowing Nico’s evolution is upon us, and he’s diverging from his patterns. “Get me another plane. I’m sending Jaid to Morocco to stay with Berk Polat. Please have Bertrand deliver the baby.”

  “… The Berk Polat?” she asks with a groupie girl awe. “That man is the poster child for survivalist.”

  “Ya, to Berk Polat,” I answer and repeat for clarification. “And he’s applying to be my hitman. I gotta go, G. Get me some planes.” I hang up on her because we could bounce ideas for hours, but that won’t bring us any closer to solving the problem.

  “Is there a reason you know Berk Polat?” Jaid asks, sneaking up behind me. She rests her hands on my shoulders and kisses my back. I could easily spend another twenty-four hours with her mouth on me, but I can’t. I have to find Nicky before more damage is done. “I worked with him when I was doing the drug cases with Eric Monroe. Berk’s a hell of a guy,” she praises. “Especially if you can get past the gruff.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me Jacqueline and Jack had a daughter together?”

  “Because I didn’t learn about Cris Crow until recently. I’ve been getting closer to my mom, and she’s been feeding bits of her life to me. I pulled Cris out of Moscow.”

  And gave her to me.

  “Yeah, what a wonderful meeting that was.”

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “I should’ve warned you, but I didn’t have time. I had to act and fast.”

  “How did you do it?”

  “I called Quinn and told him I had a living package for you that I needed delivered.”

  I lean my head back. “Fucker is always watching after me.”

  “Look, Jack was a mess of a man. He was impregnating women everywhere he could. He had Cris with Jacqueline Archer, Soryn with Hilda Hanson, and both Mierne and my mother were pregnant with his spawns at one time. You needed to know about Cris Crow before she turned on you for her father’s death.”

  The deceased man won’t die.

  Because the haunting pixie won’t leave me alone.

  I twist to face her. “Serene was pregnant with Jack’s child?”

  “She had an abortion because Mierne had just lost her baby with him.”

  “He was such a fucker,” I declare, assessing her emotional stability. “Are you capable of separating personal and professional right now?”

  “In your hands, I can do many things.”

  I show her the pictures on my phone. Her lip quivers, but she doesn’t react. “What do you see, Agent Grace?”

  “The angel wings are spectacular. He took great care in cutting them. This was not a rush
job,” she whispers, staring at the pictures. She blinks up without a hint of emotion and asks, “Do you have your tablet?”

  Rushing past her, I wrestle with my backpack, grab my iPad, and open the pictures before handing it to her. “I know the white roses represent Kaci. How close were they?”

  “Not very,” she answers, examining the pictures. “Hold on.” Touching the screen, she splits her fingers once and zooms in. “Under the white roses, there is a Saint Christopher medallion…”

  I snag my glasses from the backpack. I am getting so old. I take the tablet from her and mutter, “God…”

  “Saint Christopher is the patron saint of travelers, lightning, storms, pestilence, and floods…who is he going after?”

  “Deacon Cruz. And the angel wings are for my Angel…my Iris.”

  “You have to call him,” she urgently implores. “They’re in grave danger if Nicky shows up, and they’re not prepared.”

  “Fuck that. I’m calling Masa Nakamura and Reo Sato,” I reply, scanning through my contacts. “How long do you think we have?”

  “Maybe a day at the very most.”

  “I’m getting out of here for a few days,” I say, gathering my things. “I have to get away from here and think.”

  “Iris hurt you,” she reminds, getting dressed. “I am so pissed off at her for what she did.”

  “I will be in love with her for the rest of my life…”

  Her eyes slip into a state of loss as she whispers, “This is all just a dream. A fairytale with a nightmare finale. I don’t get to walk away from this with a happily ever after and a prince.”

  “I was never your prince,” I growl. “But I am quite charming in all things dark.”

  “Dark Prince.” She smiles and cries as reality hits. The detachment collapses, and she comprehends the heinous crime committed against her family. “My sister…”

  She buckles, almost falling to her knees, when I catch her in my arms. I lift her to her feet, and my hands press to her cheeks. “Look at me, Jaid. And listen to me because I am only going to say this once to you. I am going to get this son of a bitch and stop him.”

  Her face contorts in complete devastation. She’s breaking down. I am the one she needs to hold her hand and tell her there is a light somewhere in this darkened hell.

  I thought I needed someone to hold my hand, but I don’t. I only lose my shit when there is no one to hold onto; I need to hold them up, not the other way around. I am tough. And when there is no one using my strength, I fuck up in glorious fashion.

  Because I am built to protect the sirens, I am the fire serving as the fortress to their pristine waters and the wind guides, directing my perimeter and accelerating my game. And if anyone contaminates what was once pure, I burn them.

  “I am the motherfucking Capo,” I charge with conviction. “I will not be tested.”

  In a slew of snot, spit, and tears, she grieves, “It’s Nicky…my brother…”

  “I understand who the fuck it is,” I fiercely challenge. “He crossed a line when he attacked a Cruz, and he crossed another when he went after a Grace. This will not be forgiven. This will not be forgotten. He violated a Holy Saint and an Innocent Blessing. Forget any hope of bestowing mercy, there is no recovery after his evil deeds, and his strict repentance will be my unrelenting inferno.”

  56

  if you only knew

  His Ride

  “How is the A-situation, girlfriend?” Sal asks on video chat as I sit on the bed, fresh out of the shower. I laugh at the word. “Did she give you anything?”

  “Only half a dozen cum shots, babe,” I reply, running the towel over my wet head. He chuckles. “But I am certain Amber and Iris are in cahoots. There is no way they’re not. Amber is beyond dedicated to resuming her lucrative kneeling position before your unholy dick.”

  “Maybe she’ll suck my balls.”

  “You always enjoy that,” I agree with a crooked grin. “Especially when my tongue dips low.”

  Stroking his beard, he snorts as his face fills my screen. He’s fucking gorgeous. “It’s just weird to think about them working together because there has been so much bad blood between them in the past,” he says, pondering the issue at hand. “I am not sure Jaid is with them anymore. She is pissed at Iris about Costa.”

  “Jaid’s going her own way,” I suggest, crossing my fingers that she chooses to make herself scarce on the Sal-scene. I don’t need the confrontation of the sins I committed. No one needs to know that the baby she had is mine. How long can I keep it a secret? Who the fuck knows? “It’s possible that we’re only dealing with the A+I duo.”

  “It’s not only dynamic. It’s diabolic,” he points out. “I’ll figure it all out soon enough.”

  “I have to play handler and get her ready for tonight’s appearance,” I inform, not mentioning the obvious—The Commission, Sal’s bread and butter, and fraternal order of brothers are coming to the Nakamura Palace. “And then I will be waiting with Diablo to seize one Lotus and take her away from this mess.”

  “You need to be very careful,” he says, lifting a brow. “There is a lot of shit going down.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m not, but I am accepting the end of our marriage and relationship because it is all I can do. I need closure. I cannot make a girl love me who is very clearly involved with another man, especially one like that sleaze bag Costa,” he mumbles with an apathetic shrug. Her deceit destroys him, and I am left with a pile of remnants. It isn’t fair, and I should tell him the truth, but I can’t betray Iris. I swore to keep her secret, and I will. “I will have Joe Kaiser file the paperwork next week for a divorce. Iris and I are finished for good.”

  God, if you only knew.

  The Master

  “Are you going with Iris?”

  “That’s the plan,” he says, combing through his hair. “Diablo has made all the arrangements. We’ll be in the Caribbean come tomorrow. She’ll be soaking up sand and sun.”

  “Durante is going to be pissed,” I boast with a smirk. Fucking asshat. “He’ll probably blame me.”

  “He will,” he counters with an awareness. He is alert and ready. “You don’t react!”

  “Are you saying I am hotheaded?” I ask, kicking back to Jaid’s assessment. “Tell me, honestly.”

  “You can be a bit impulsive.”

  “Me?” I cackle, walking through the Narita airport on my way to a private plane bound for Gifu. That’s passion. My non-RSVP-ing self needs to look in her blue-violets long enough to know we are truly over. Besides, I am the future of The Commission. If she wants a deal with my brethren, shouldn’t she ask the hottest kid on the block? “… Impulsive?”

  “Costa is as powerless as they come. I don’t know how much longer I have with Iris before she pushes me away. She’s deep diving into Muerte’s waters without any inkling of the equipment she needs to obtain.”

  “You mean, like a dick?”

  Too shallow and misogynistic?

  That bitch fucked my ass over.

  “Not exactly, Nero. I fear she may suffocate at Immortal. I can’t imagine she will keep me around for long.”

  I smile at the group of young Japanese women as they giggle when I pass by. Another time and place, ladies. I have to say some prayers at a temple over a woman I hardly knew and have dinner with her disheartened husband.

  “Is she being distant?”

  “She has been since the news about the baby leaked,” he says, setting the phone down on the dresser. I watch him moving about. “She hasn’t been the same.”

  “Turn around,” I request with a smirk and tilt my head. “Let me see your fine ass.”

  He shows off his stark white ass and quickly spins back to face me. I catch a glimpse of his prize package, and the heat rises on my cheeks. I blush for this guy. I built an army for this guy. “When he showed up during the Servet weekend, she changed.”

  “… What Servet weekend?”

  “He
r first big party was for twenty-some fellows with Servet.”

  “Did they sign the deal?”

  He pauses, blinking like a deer in the headlights. “Why does it matter? You don’t need anyone else. You have The Commission. Anything else?”

  I leave the comments on Servet alone. I can talk to Berk directly and find out what the fuck is going on at the other end.

  If Iris won’t go to confession with a Nero, he will.

  “Just make sure she leaves,” I seriously say as I buy a coffee from a cart in the airport. “I need her out of sight until I figure out what the fuck is going on with Nicky.”

  His angelic face brims to the screen’s edges, but his blue eyes dull in the lens. What I wouldn’t give to see them in person…what I wouldn’t give to see him in person…I need him to ground out the crazy current now more than ever. But not this trip. I have to be in Boston by Tuesday for Carlo Torrente’s funeral mass.

  “What do you think triggered it?”

  “Stress induced most likely, but he’s going off the deep end, Cruz,” I warn, holding back the truth of his sister’s rape. “Everyone is at risk until we find him. “

  “I can’t believe he would attack Madeline Grace like that.”

  God, if you only knew.

  His Butterfly

  “He’s calling my phone again, Iris,” Masa says as Deacon does my hair and makeup for the Friday evening gathering with The Commission. It’s a meet and greet, a social mingle, and a brief induction to lay out the rest of our plans for the weekend. “I wish you wouldn’t have destroyed your phone. You need to talk to him.”

  Dredging the lake is the very least of what I am willing to do for my husband, if necessary.

  I blink at Deacon, lining my lips and painting them the perfect coral. He’s tensing up and giving me the cold shoulder more and more. “Give me the phone.”

  “Are you sure?” Deacon asks, worrying. “Please do not get yourself upset.”

  Masa hands the phone to me. I stare at it like a venomous spider in my hand. One wrong move and his words will act like fangs, sinking the poison in, from months of my betrayal.