The adrenaline line opens, overdosing my system as I snarl, rabid, and ready to infect anyone who crosses my path.
“Let him go,” I warn. “Right fucking now, Stanis.”
Standing between Amber’s legs, I take the open switchblade from her hand as Archer stays down, groaning in pain.
Old man ain’t what he used to be.
Life is brutal, challenging, and unforgiving, just like me.
One tough motherfucker.
Owning all that I am, I swiftly toss the blade, plunging it into his chest as the gun goes off, and Amber screams. Stanis’ gun drops from his hand, and he falls back dead.
Holding the gun, Fink smiles. “You want me to shoot him too?” He nods at Archer, and I glance down.
“He ain’t worth the bullet.”
I offer Amber my hand and help her sit up in the backseat. Lifting her under the arms, I set her down on the other side of the groaning oaf. She steps away, running to Fink and G-Man, and I close the SUV door before kneeling and threatening, “You ever come near what is mine again, and I will kill you. Tomorrow morning, you are calling Joe Kaiser and signing the forms to release custody of Mae-Mae Archer to me.”
“Fuck you!” he shouts in agony as I snap behind my back, and Fink hands me the gun. “You cannot take my daughter! I won’t sign under duress! This is coercion! Extortion! Blackmail!”
“You think I fucking care?” I press the barrel under his neck and snicker, “Let me put it this way, you can do it, or I can blow your fucking head off with you knowing that Mae-Mae will grow up in the Mullins house. Mae-Mae Mullins has a real nice ring to it. When was the last time you even held your daughter?”
“No…please…don’t do this!”
“I don’t know what the fuck happened to you, but you aren’t fit to be her father.” His tears blend into the bloody mess of his face as I present the worst possible outcome for him. I pound it in hard, amplifying hitting words to make a man buckle. Playing up the drama, I shake my head and somberly mutter, “Poor girl will never reach her kismet.”
The predestined fate, I know.
“Please,” he begs sobbing. “Boss, please don’t send her to Stroker.”
“I am taking your daughter and your girl because you are not brave enough for either one of them. You have been negligent,” I slam the final nail in the coffin. “She can have the Irish or the daego. Your choice, fucker.”
“I’ll do it!” he relents as I stand up and offer him a hand.
“Don’t you dare pull your gun on me,” I warn, knowing he probably has one stashed away. “Or I will drop you faster than you dumped a quarter of your net worth on an asshole.”
He nods, and I offer him a hand cause he’s worn by the time. And I’m a fucking nice, wise guy. “I’m sorry. I’ll take care of everything.”
Fastening his pants, he walks away in shame under the dim lights. “You want me to kill him in the morning, Sal?”
I snarl and shake my head. “Nah. Not yet. I want to see what he does next.”
Rowan Effect.
“What’s that?” Amber asks, stepping closer between the two SUVs. She bends over, picking up the filigree necklace with sparkling blue sapphires and pure white diamonds surrounding a perfect ruby red cabochon that I haven’t see in a decade. “What a find…”
“The necklace belongs to the Nakamura family,” I whisper, finally breaking down. I squat low with my elbow on my knee and my hand holding my bowed head. I glance up at her with tears in my eyes. “Fuck! Godammit! It belonged to her grandmother. The Suits took it when they raped Aki. I didn’t know, and I bought it from Sasha Amari Kouri and gave it to Bertrand. We never found it.”
With the necklace laced through her fingers, Amber unfolds a piece of paper she found on the ground with the jewels. “Oh, my God…” she hysterically cries, licking her lips. “I know why he is with Allegiance.” She hands the paper to me. “Jenne Pearson is his daughter with Ella Hemsworth.”
I crush the paper in my hand. “This is never going to stop.”
“Not until the Matriarch relinquishes her throne.”
“January 1,” I softly say as I soar from the wreckage in my mind—the phoenix rising from a tomb of ashen tears. “I am the Interim Director of Juliet, and the curse of mafia princesses will end.”
“… You’re what?”
I mischievously smirk. “You can call me Headmaster Salvatore.”
“I have a crew coming for the remains of Stanis Kozlov, and I have arranged a flight for you out of Dubai,” Fink says. “Whenever you are ready, Sir.”
“Thank you,” I say. “For what you did.”
“It’s my job.”
“Consider this absolution for Terry’s bachelor party that you took part in years ago,” I remark. “I forgive you. Please apologize to Iris when you can.”
“I will,” he graciously says. “Thank you for not killing me.”
Not everyone from that night is so lucky.
Amber smiles and offers the jewelry to me. “This belongs to your wife.”
“Make sure Lotus receives it,” I instruct, testing her one final time. “Don’t fuck me over.”
“Too much is on the line,” she whispers. “I am Sal Raniero’s mistress.”
“Would you like to get the hell out of here, Ms. Rosen?”
“Yes, please.”
I was becoming everything he hoped I would be—a scavenger picking the remnants from my enemies’ bones and blood—a Capo just like him.
His Butterfly
In the closet, we hide, waiting for the gunfire to cease as I clench Gabe’s gun to my chest.
“You need to leave with us,” Dante implores. “Please, Iris. It isn’t safe here.”
Holding the phone in one hand, I reply, “I have a ride coming.”
Dante opens the closet door as Gabe helps me off the floor. He peers out the window and covers his mouth. His head hangs low. “This was a massacre.”
With two extra clips slipped next to Cesario’s gun, I gaze outside at the absolute carnage. I want to ask where the police and ambulance are, but I know how this works. The significant losses won’t matter as long as the funds are deposited.
Money buys silence.
Silence buys time.
Time to do whatever the fuck they want in mobocracy.
“I am leaving,” Dante says. “Come with me.”
“I can’t,” I say, shaking my head. He hugs me. “Go!”
“I’m not leaving without you, Iris,” Gabe insists, crying. “My brothers are out there, lying in the grass.”
I wrap my arms around him. “It’s never easy. I will be home in Texas soon.”
He kisses me as I stare at the blood splatter on his face. I lick my finger and wipe some of it away like a mother, and strangely—Gabriel Herrera of ZERØ—the hideous cartel leader allows me to do such. “Please Lotus?”
“Go with Dante.”
“You’re beautiful even in red,” he mutters, blowing a kiss to me from the door. “I love you.”
I smile and wave, but refuse to return the sentiment.
My love is precious and infinite for one.
Taking a deep breath, I send a text message, “How long will you be?”
“We are less than fifteen away.”
I peer out the window at the corpses. Soleil’s parents, León Herrera and Lia Montesino, are dead. Carlos, Jorge, Rubén, and Salomé Herrera are all dead.
“Who secured the area?”
“Cris Crow, Jaid Grace, and Madeline Grace are all on sight.”
I tiptoe through the ransacked mansion and out onto the terrace. Immediately, I walk to the tent where I was dancing with Cesario.
Kneeling by his plump but deflated and defeated body, I check for a pulse. If it’s there, it’s faint, and I doubt he’ll make it. I slip his rings from his fingers and undo the clasp of his necklace. I carefully remove it with a gentle tug on the crucifix. I take his watch, wallet, and belt. I check his pockets.
I’ll pickpocket the stuff.
I am a rogue assassin.
“Is he dead?” Jaid asks in full tactical gear.
“I don’t know,” I reply, distraught. “It’s weak.”
Squatting down, she pulls the phone off of her hip. “I’m going to need a med-team for Cesario Raniero, STAT.”
“We can only land one at a time because there isn’t enough clearance with the trees. You want that before the Lotus extraction?” She blinks at me, and I nod once. “Affirmative.” She glances with concern at my belly. “Are you okay?”
“I will be fine,” I whisper, bracing through the torrent of a violent maelstrom. “I have to take this to my luggage.”
“I’m sending Cris with Cesario. She’s the least likely to be recognized.”
With trepidation, I question, “Who did it?”
“Muerte was released—alive,” she cautions as my eyes close tight.
Muerte was incoherent for our meeting.
How the fuck?
“I don’t even have words,” I mutter. “This is a tragedy.”
“Muerte sent a militia of forty on a mission to destroy his sons, who plotted his abduction and botched murder. All of his biological sons but Gabe and Miguel are dead. The ruling Montesino family was obliterated except for Lia’s brother, Fabian Montesino, in Dubai, and Raphael, the King, and Soleil’s grandfather.”
“Where is Soleil?”
“She was taken by other lesser Montesino family, reportedly to a safehouse,” she informs. They won’t be lesser for long; they’ll be the new royals. “We got here as fast as we could. You were warned it was a riotous climate.”
“So is Boston,” I retaliate, fuming mad. “And New Orleans. And Sugargrove. And everywhere we go.” I take a deep breath as tears trickle over my cheeks. “How many did you bring?”
“I brought a dozen and two choppers,” she answers, uninvolved. “Did you plan on this?”
“I don’t have to answer that.”
Standing up, she criticizes, “Do what you will.”
Marching into the house with determination, I spot a man in the foyer that looks just like Cruz but with short-cropped hair in full tactical gear. “… Diablo?”
“Apologies, I’m doing a final run-through.”
Stepping closer, I stare into his ocean-drenched blue eyes. God, I need Cruz. Not this one. “Who hired you?”
“From your husband, Mrs. Raniero.” He hands the sealed envelope over to me. “Your ride will be here soon, Madame Lotus.”
Pressing the envelope to my lips, I close my eyes, knowing his fingers touched the papers. “He got it.”
I blink as he trods away. Muerte didn’t do this. He was a fucking ghost.
A phoenix did this.
Burn it down and rebuild it.
“You didn’t know your father would be here, Sal!” I scream out as the inferno courts the hurricane, and we marry in pandemonium. “Or maybe you did, and you’re just a motherfucking monster!”
I arrive in my room and open the envelope. “Shit…” I crumple it in my hand and slide down the door. “Fuck!”
95
slaughter the cow, inherit the soul
His Butterfly
Stumbling from the bedroom, I float—a phantom with no purpose—through the house. I had so many questions, and he found the answers. And when he couldn’t find them, he dug —an archaeologist with busted knuckles and sweat-laden skin—to provide…to outfit…to supply my demands.
“Salvatore…”
In close proximity, the roar of the helicopter’s engine curtails my sweeping games determined to clean up the sewers before the baby comes.
Mama is nesting.
I step to the door and watch it drop from the sky. The medical crew discharges from the bird as they quickly gurney the wounded man. They don’t cover his head, but run lines, wires, and tubes to save him.
“God, if you can hear me, please don’t let his father die. It is the last thing he needs right now,” I sob, willing to bargain with the devil if need be. “Please, don’t take him, not yet. Not this way.”
Puddles of tears blur my vision as I watch the young woman—Cris Crow—board the plane with the first responders.
She’s a keeper.
Cesario was the only one who had a chance, even then it was slim. “There are a total of sixteen dead,” Jaid says as we watch one bird take off and another prepare to land. “I’m sorry about all of this.”
I give her a side-eyed glance as I consider her words. “I do not want, nor do I need your apology, Priscilla Cristos.”
“Is that how we are playing this?” she spitefully asks. “Great friends until the shit goes bad, and then we’re spoiled brats vying for a crown?”
“There is no crown to vie for; the crown belongs to me.”
She firmly presses her lips together. “You aren’t equipped to play in their game.”
“And you think you are?” I rhetorically ask, stepping past her as she grabs my arm. “Being a rapist doesn’t make you a man; it makes you a snake.”
“Iris, do not do this.”
“Take your hands off of me,” I warn as the second helicopter hovers over the grass. “Nowala, bitch!”
They cut the engine as I spot the man I want to kill. She yells—“Cristos!”—expecting him to save her, expecting he’ll care.
He doesn’t even acknowledge his daughter, running straight for me. “Are you okay, Princess?”
“I’m fine,” I report, dour. I cannot be good. There is no good here. “How is he?”
“He is okay, but he doesn’t know about Cesario.” I hand over the crinkled paper, knowing he would never have accepted it from his blood. “This is a serious violation and a game-changing accusation.”
“I understand,” I say, holding back tears. “And I can’t imagine…”
“You need to get on the plane with me,” Cristos warns. “That is what Sal wants.”
“We’re so past the point where what he wants overrules me,” I point out, laying my hand on my belly. “He can fucking chase me because I am taking the lead on this one.”
“If you feel as though you must assert your authority, I will stand beside you.”
“I just want to know how many times I have to let them shit on me,” I implore, restraining the tears they don’t deserve. “At some point, I shouldn’t have to beg for fucking scraps like a dog on the floor!”
“It’s part of the world we live in, Iris,” Jaid acknowledges with understanding. It is about the only thing we can agree on. “It’s not right, but it is the way it is.”
“Says you in full tac gear!”
She steps toward me. “Less than four months ago, I was where you are. Alone. Lost. And angry as a mother.”
“You tortured and assaulted Deacon Cruz!” I rip the gun from my belt, and it comes untied with the two long pieces of fabric hitting the ground, but remaining attached. The extra clips drop. I must look haggard with strewn about hair, a dress tainted in sanguine, and long black streaks lining my cheeks. “I will never forgive you!”
Cristos scowls at his daughter, unaware of her crimes. “… Priscilla Christiane?”
“I did it because we needed the bridge.”
“A baby is not a bridge!” I roar like a deity spouting mantras from the depths of Hades. I’ll take six pit vipers forming a haloed crown. “Look around, Jaid!” I spin on the grass at all the bloodshed. “This is what happens when the bridges burn. Soleil Herrera will never know her parents. They’re dead because someone wanted to build a motherfucking bridge!”
“You don’t understand!”
“That’s where you’re wrong!” I sermonize, preaching the gospel that she doesn’t have a choice but to listen to. “I am in an arrang
ed marriage and pregnant with Sal Raniero’s child as a repayment to our dead ancestors.”
“You love him too!” she scorns. “Say you don’t because I will love him so good!”
I seethe, “I bet you would.”
“Blame me, Iris,” Cristos volunteers as I swing the gun between them. They know better than to pull a nine on me. “You can kill my daughter, or you can kill me.”
“I am not taking your life for her sins!”
“Rie Ford,” Madeline softly whispers, approaching my untamed beast. “Stop.”
“… You? Really?”
“All of this can be resolved,” she says, attempting an impromptu therapy session on me. “We can work this out.”
My eyes widen as I spew, “Over fucking tea with tiny spoons and little wedges of lemon?”
“It doesn’t have to be like this,” she urges. “You can stop the hemorrhaging.”
I glance at the helicopter where I know he is. “I cannot stop the bleeding. Just like one of you Grace sisters couldn’t stop feeding Kate Capri.”
“What does Kate have to do with this?” Cristos asks. “I am not following.”
“One of you whores want to tell him, or should I?”
“Kate Capri is technically Katharine Anne Ford Raniero, the byproduct of Anna Ford and Luca Raniero’s affair. Kate is also Cesario’s sister. She was adopted as an infant, and one of your daughters found out. This daughter of yours has been selling inside information to Kate, causing additional strife within the underworld because of a vendetta to take Serene down.”
With abundant shock in his eyes, he mutters, “Why would one of my girls have done that?”
“Because twenty-some years ago, Kate needed to find a home for her baby, Cas Hope, and she asked her best friend, Serene, for help. Serene took the baby, giving it to the Neves family to be raised as Kaci’s sister, but the Neves belonged to Cinco MC, and Kate has never forgiven Serene for giving her only daughter to bikers. Serene is far from innocent, but Kate is determined to take her down. And one of your daughters is responsible for assisting Kate.”
A Dark Place (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 5) Page 76
