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

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  “Trotter,” Serene mutters, opening the door to the farmhouse. I notice the luggage sitting in the foyer. “Why are you knocking?”

  “Because I don’t live here anymore,” I reply. “When did you get back?”

  “This morning,” she says. “I just called Lula to see if I can leave the kids with her until tomorrow because I am beat. I am too old to be pregnant.”

  I am not arguing.

  Between shifting hormones and constant fatigue, I am sure every woman is too old to be pregnant, and babies should be delivered via storks or pizza guys. Instead of warming bags with boxes, they could have thermal bassinets.

  Cause this shit is hard.

  I am not even going to try and make the argument that pregnancy is harder on men. Because it’s not, but it’s a different kind of challenge.

  For every strange symptom occurring to a woman, a man manifests with fret and fears of upholding the family. Pregnant women aren’t pacing the floor about the father’s health, but we get to worry about the woman, the baby, and the endless possible outcomes.

  My point is—it’s not easy for either parent.

  And it’s not easy for a late-middle-aged, looking at doing this entirely alone, strawberry-haired siren standing in front of me. Her proverbial cherry on top of the melted, curdled in hot Texas sun sundae is a cancer diagnosis. The absolute last thing Serene needed was Nicky’s stunt.

  I am just as pissed off by his selfishness in dealing with Serene and his children as I am by his loathing and violence towards women.

  The gross negligence is a crime in my book too.

  Serene and the children are the unseen victims.

  I call it winning the biggest asshole of the century award. I am not buying into his excuses. Fuck that. He knew what he was doing when he raped Hannah. He knew what he was doing when he fashioned angel wings out of Madeline’s chest. He knew what he was doing when he hacked Wendy into bits.

  Nicky isn’t insane.

  Quite the opposite is true. He is conscious of his actions. This is Nick Cristos being an attention whore and nothing more.

  Call it what you want.

  “You need to take it easy.”

  “Hard to do,” she says, sitting on the sofa. “How have you been?”

  “Not as bad as you but not much better,” I reply, rubbing my temple. “I only came here to say goodbye.”

  “You just got here,” she argues, disconcerted. “You can’t leave yet.”

  “I can’t exactly be hanging out with you either. I am waiting for Cruz to get in from Japan. We’re driving to Houston and then New Orleans for the funeral next week.”

  I swear my black pinstripe suit is going to become my mourning attire, exclusively reserved for funerals. Never to be worn anywhere else because the grim reaper blesses it.

  “I don’t expect to see you again,” she replies, grasping my hand. “I am surprised you came by at all. Delarte is trying to finagle the judge into allowing bond. Unfortunately, it isn’t Lily Miller-Armstrong.”

  “Corrupt as fuck?” I mumble, and she laughs.

  “Money, power, and greed, Kid,” she remarks with a smirk that quickly shifts to a frown. “It’s the holy trinity amongst these people.”

  “Amongst everyone,” I correct. “Why are you supporting Kill Rat?”

  Her expression shifts to a dreary, almost saddened state. “My mother, Florence McElvaney, was Irish, and I have been generously donating to various organizations over the years. It is nothing new, but everyone seems to think it is. They’re all pointing the finger at the ‘Archer’ connection. They think I am supporting Allegiance because of my brother.”

  “Gangs, clubs, outlaws,” I mumble, wishing I could crack my knuckles. “It doesn’t matter what you call them. You are funding terrorist organizations, Steph, whose only clear strategy is harming innocent lives to make their radical political and religious statements.”

  “And you are committing deplorable acts for men of the cloth. Your point?” she pauses, irritated by my accusations. “Do not judge, lest ye be judged.”

  “Don’t go quoting scripture at me when you ain’t been on your knees,” I warn, standing up. “You don’t see how the things you are funding are causing even more bedlam in the crypts? Are you fucking blind?”

  “No, but I am not handing over my estate to the scum of Trudy Cristos, either.”

  I hear the seething tone of her raking Ma’s choices across hot blue flames, but this is about more than Ma. This is about Jaid rubbing elbows with her father and fearing she may follow in his footsteps because the son he belittled is nothing more than a street urchin.

  “She’s your fucking daughter!” I yell, trembling with rage. “Just like Kacilyn was! You ignored both of them for years, and now you’re on some power trip to redo your youth by shacking up with a damn sociopath.”

  Her slap to my cheek stings. “He is your Unholy brother, and don’t you forget it!”

  “I forgot the second Nicky raped Hannah Cruz!” I roar, spreading my arms wide for her crucifixion. “Everything you did was a fucking lie! You are as responsible as Cristos!”

  “While you’re denouncing people like a false transcendent, don’t forget the precious white-haired vixen in the house on the hill!”

  It takes everything I have to not smack the holy fucking shit out of her as I lower and hiss, “You will not go after Anna!”

  “The hell I won’t,” she fumes. “It’s all her fault!”

  “And the death of your two daughters is yours! If you hadn’t been so damned determined to get McPhail out and Byrne in, Emily would still be alive!”

  “And you wouldn’t have married your precious Buttercup!”

  Sitting down, I breathe heavily and glance away, unable to stand the sight of her. Everything I believed in and thought was right is a fraud, a fickle fable designed to hurt. Every word from her lips and act from her hands serves the myth.

  On a professional level, I don’t have to accept Serene and Dale’s choices, and I can fight tooth and nail to stop them. They’re off the track towards a suicide mission—one I cannot control. I am not sure I want to.

  Taking a deep breath, I ask the difficult question, “Who is getting the kids?”

  “Mae, Kade, and Zachary, if he makes it, are going to my extended family in Oklahoma.”

  “I want Mae.”

  “You can’t have Mae,” she scornfully replies. “And even if you did want her, you would have to take her sooner rather than later.”

  “Jaid maintains she is getting everything,” I tattletale. Whoops. Slippage. It happens. “So which is it?”

  “There is no way in hell my kids are going with that tramp!”

  Despite our differences, we have a past, which cannot be ignored, but the children’s future concerns me the most. “Is she legally yours?”

  “Not unless Dale dies before me. He’s determined to woo Amber back and have a happy family while rubbing elbows with Stanis and the Pakhan.”

  His sudden death can be arranged.

  Would I do something so vindictive?

  It’s not even a question when it comes to Mae.

  “He’s only with Allegiance because he believes in their bottom line. Dale Archer doesn’t slum or ever go in the red.”

  “Oh, he’s going to the red.”

  “What do you know about Ella?”

  “Probably less than you do,” she says as we calm our fight as fast as it came. “Charlotte and Lelyah are with Stanis and Dale.”

  “How do Kit and Ella feel about that?”

  She shrugs. “They’re both against it, but she’s an adult. There is nothing they can do.”

  “I don’t understand how my Charlotte ended up like this,” I mumble, dismayed. “She’s not the standard.”

  “Many people who knew you a decade ago would say the same thing about you, Sal. People shift away from their core, find a clique to hang out with or fall in love, conspire with the same ideals, and ultimately c
hange. You haven’t been here for an extended period since you went to prison.”

  “But…” I interrupt as she lifts her hand.

  “That was in 2015. Four years have gone by, Sal. You have avoided Sugargrove and Juliet like a plague. It’s time to come home. It’s time to be a Master.”

  “I need to go,” I whisper, standing up. I offer her a hand. “You take care of yourself.”

  “You do the same,” she says as we walk to the door. “If I get bad…”

  “I will come running,” I promise. I mean it too. We are on the battlefield of war in business, but it doesn’t change the fact, this woman marked my past beneath her whip. Sares held a devil of a bite and guarded the gates to hell as Serene escorted me to a forbidden, hallowed playground. And in her most powerful lesson to me as her pupil, she duped my ass, dumping me into the arena to fight against Gods with no armor. “I will not forget.”

  She nods with a smile as tears form in her eyes, and I open the door to the night. “I love you, Lucas. I always will, even if we disagree with one another’s choices.”

  Embracing her tightly, I warn, “I’m killing your husband.”

  “I know,” she whispers without remorse. “Can you wait until after you bury me?”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” I respectfully reply to the woman who would’ve been a Queen. But it’s too late, and she never will. “I will honor my Mistress’ wishes.”

  63

  Into the Abysmal Sweltering Seas

  The Master

  With the morning sun barely cresting over the horizon, I step out of the black Ford F-250. Staring at the house, I note the bright red-haired, slight man exiting the front door. “Raniero, how are you?”

  “Good, good, Brody,” I say with a slight bow, lifting and showing off my hands. “Thank you for responding so quickly.”

  “You’re welcome,” he replies with concern. “Are you okay? Get in a brawl?”

  I snort, “You could say that.”

  “She’s ready whenever you are. Everything is disconnected and loaded. If I were you, I would back the truck up. The blast will be minimal. It’ll collapse inwards on itself. We’ll bring the bulldozers in for cleanup tomorrow. If there is anything you want, I suggest you get it now. Are you sure about this?”

  “I am,” I announce. “There is nothing left in the house. I had Lula and Ainsley pack everything up and put it in the storage barn at Juliet.”

  “Juliet is a good place for it,” he gently comments. “That place is going to need some help soon. I noticed the foundations are cracking, and there are a few places where the roof is leaking.”

  “Shit…” I mumble. “You should get me a bid considering I’m going to be the interim director come January 1.”

  “I can do that,” he says. “This is not an easy decision, but I understand why you’re doing it. I’ll take a look at your sketches, and we’ll break ground on something during the first part of 2020. You should be able to move into it by the end of the year.”

  “It’s not for me,” I reply, smiling. “It’s a present.” He tilts his head as I boast, “For Georgia and Buck. Every girl deserves a castle, and I can’t live here anymore.”

  “Wow!” With a stunned look, he smiles. “That’s a hell of a gift from a hell of a man! The whole family adores Georgia.” Rocking on his feet, he adds, “And Buck is going to propose soon. It would almost make you and me, family.”

  “I could use some family.”

  “I understand that one,” he thoughtfully says. “I’m going to be up here so much next year between Dom, the Swamp Shack, this house, and maybe Juliet that I’m going to need a house. Houston is getting too crowded.”

  “I should just hire you outright,” I ponder the idea. “Force you to move.”

  “Hey, you may not need to. I already looked at Archer’s place. It’s a beautiful property, but the house was built in the sixties.”

  “Blast it.”

  He cackles. “I may do that. I need one signature clearing any responsibility for remaining contents, and I will get out of here.” I scribble my name on the tablet. “One remote. Lift the safety latch, open the door, pop the button, and she is nothing more than a memory.”

  “How is the rebuild on La Chiesa going?”

  “Awesome,” he says, “You’re going to be happy. Should I ask who that is going to?”

  “I don’t know yet,” I answer. “Would you consider doing a full restoration out of state?”

  “What do you got?”

  “The Dollhouse in New Orleans is a fucking mess. Or so I’ve been told. I’m going to be there soon. I can send you photos.”

  He questions, “The shootout?”

  “Ya,” I reply. “And my Old Poppa’s fishery in Boston could use some love.”

  “As long as you’re in no hurry, I can be your guy. All I do is work. Mostly for you.” We laugh. “I am not complaining, Sal. You’ve always been good to me.”

  “I like spending money on houses and cars.”

  Champagne and diamonds.

  “I should mention I am having a bit of trouble finding the right artist to build the Swamp Shack gate.”

  “I’m not in any hurry,” I inform. “Deacon and I have to figure out what we’re doing with the flooding dip in the road.”

  “If you get stuck, holler,” he offers. “We don’t even have to bring a crew. I can operate a dozer if we need to dredge. I know you like getting muddy.”

  “I do!” I grin wide, feeling remarkably optimistic and positive about my decision. I cannot wait to move back home.

  “You have a definite, clear vision, involving those you love, which is great for me. You make my job a lot easier with your sketches. I’m going to bolt and give you some time.”

  He lays his hand on my shoulder as I say, “Thanks, man.”

  “You’re welcome, Raniero.”

  I wait until he pulls his mammoth, suped up truck away. I don’t need to go inside or endure any more memories because it’s time to make new ones.

  I’m the director.

  This is my life.

  And my legacy.

  Twisting my ball cap on backward, I turn away, flip the safety, lift the lid, and hit the button. The blast shakes the ground beneath my feet.

  It’s over.

  The dust cloud fills the air as I hop into the truck and wait for it to settle. Nothing remains but three broken fireplaces.

  They go down tomorrow.

  And from the ash, I rise.

  After blowing up my house, I bust into Anna’s side door, unannounced for breakfast. “I’m home!”

  “I thought I heard your truck! What are you doing here?” the little lady howls, wrapping her arms around me. Lula smiles as she tries to convince Kade to eat eggs.

  “I came to see two of my favorite women,” I inform, taking a pinch of his scrambled eggs and eating them. “Mmmm!”

  “I have competition!” Anna laments as I plant a kiss on Kade’s head full of strawberry hair. He’s the spitting image of Serene.

  I grin and laugh. “Where is she?”

  “Getting dressed in your room,” Anna says, rolling her eyes. “But she’s been gone for half an hour! Diva in the making!”

  I kiss Anna on the lips before dashing away. “I’ll be back!”

  “Do I have you all day?”

  “Yes, Ma’am!”

  “Woohoo!” I hear her squeal as I excitedly sprint up the stairs two at a time.

  At the end of the hallway, I drop to my knees and knock on my bedroom door. The darling little girl in a fairy costume with sparkling butterfly wings and a fake jeweled crown answers the door.

  “What is your name?”

  “I am the Dark Prince, and I have come to steal you and take you back to my castle,” I formally say. “You will love it there.”

  “Sweet,” she mutters unimpressed. Bouncing her squishy star wand on my nose, she professes, “I shall marry you.”

  “I would be honored to marry a princ
ess such as yourself.”

  With a firm tone, she negotiates, “Can I have a horse?”

  Tough crowd.

  I follow her lead, understanding random zigzagging patterns of thought. “What color?”

  “White!” she demands, opening her eyes wide like there should not even be a question in the matter.

  “My horse is a flaming black steed!”

  “Mine will have a rainbow tail!” she informs. “And a horn!”

  “You want me to buy you a unicorn?”

  “Yes!” She giddily laughs and spins away. Tossing her long, dark hair over her shoulder, she gives me eyes and dismissively says, “Oh! Hi, Sally!”

  My lips curl at her absolute perfection. “Hello, sweet Mae-Mae.”

  She quickly crawls in my lap. “Where did you come from?”

  “I was in Italy, Japan, and then I went to New York.”

  Playing with my necklace, she asks, “For the dead man?”

  “Yes, it’s called a funeral.”

  “I have something for you,” she says, so busy that I don’t have time to ask how she knew about Carlo. She runs to the nightstand, opens the drawer, and shows off the blue jewelry box in the gold wrapped present I left for Iris.

  “Was Auntie Iris here?”

  “Yes!” she yells. “She left last night with Bamber.”

  “Amber,” I correct, “was here?”

  “Mhmm! With Deeeeecon,” she says, crawling onto the bed. “We had burgers.”

  What the hell is going on…

  And why wasn’t I invited?

  I seek confirmation, “So Auntie Iris, Bamber, and Deeeee were all here?”

  “Yep!” she says, jumping on the bed. “Deeeee took me swimming!”

  “Did he leave?”

  “Nope!” she howls, barreling her body into mine. I grab her in my arms as she rushes past, and I don’t let go. “A man came. He talked funny and had a lot of hair.”

  “Do you know his name?”

  She shakes her head. “He was in a truck.”

  All of the emotion hits at once. My tears threaten to fall on her costume. Mae can finally say truck and not tuck. My wife was here. And my lover. “I need to go talk to Anna.”