“Yes,” she says. “He was having lunch after the funeral with Anna, and I believe he was staying for the after-party.”
“Can we stop Serene from leaving the country?”
“That will take a call to Vega,” Mierne replies. “So you best make damn sure you are right.”
“Iris and Jaid were good friends. What if Iris is involved in this mess?” I mutter, slowly hopping up. “And Iris hired Serene.”
“Or your first instinct was right and Serene hired Iris,” Mierne maintains. “It would certainly explain Carlo Torrente’s death.”
“I know Iris constructed the plot of his demise,” I accuse with certainty. “And she played the Herrera’s.”
Mierne mutters, “Is she behind the shooting?”
“I don’t know,” I respond, unable to comprehend the motives of my wife. Her outlandish moves boggle and perplex my mind. I rub my eyes. “God, what if Iris did it all?”
“You don’t know. It is far more likely that Serene is using Iris,” Mierne thoughtfully contends. “Iris is not an instigator. She doesn’t start shit like this because she doesn’t like bloodshed. We know Serene does, by her acts at the church, which could have been all Nicky’s doing as well.”
I ask the one question we haven’t suggested, “What if Nicky is helping Kate?”
“I am calling Moses to keep Cristos and Vega to stop Serene,” Mierne fires back. “We’ve got to stop Nicky, and if we can, we hold his puppets and pawns.”
I can’t help but continue to wonder—what if, every bit of it was a ploy by Iris? I am confounded, lost in the gridlock of the labyrinth on the board. Crazed by the thought, I wander to the window and peek outside. “He’s out there.”
“What?” Mierne asks. “Dammit!”
Georgia rallies, “Shoot him!”
“It’s too far to be effective from this distance,” I reply, grinding up another piece of granola between my front teeth. “You got a rifle with a scope up here? I’ll kill him now, but I am not shooting a handgun out a second-story window from this distance.”
“No, crack shot,” Mierne cackles. “But that will change tomorrow.”
“He’s stealing your car.”
“I don’t give a shit about the fucking car,” Georgia says, standing very close to me. She is sniffing me. “He wants to try and escape in a bright pink restored Volkswagen Beetle, let him.”
I drop the blinds and dash for the door as Mierne asks, “Where are you going?”
Spinning around, I quip, “To talk to him…up close.” I smirk. “One shot.”
“That’s not a good idea, Sir,” Georgia says. “Your wife is pregnant.”
“And I’ve got a badge, and I am a motherfucking gangster.”
She hollers, “Shit!”
“Stay!”
His Butterfly
Cold drizzle clouds the air with misty fog. I can barely see the hangars on the other side of the airport. I call Sal again and leave a message.
“Hi baby, I am stuck at the airport. When you get this, can you call me and come and get me? The weather is awful, and Sofu kicked me off the plane. I love you so much. And so does Ariella.”
I call Deacon and leave a brief message. “Call me. I need help. I love you.”
I call Dom. “Hello, pretty girl!”
“I’m stuck at the fucking airport. Keishi kicked me off the plane. Can you come and get me?”
“Sure, we’re just leaving Lamb’s House. There was a huge group from the funeral and food took forever. Has Megan called you?”
“No one has called me.”
“Hmm. She’s not answering her phone,” he says, concerned. “I’ll be right there with my carload, sweetheart. Stay put.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. “You’re always there when I need you.”
“You’re welcome, baby,” he replies. “I love you.”
I click the end as the rain comes down harder, sheathing my entire being. I glance at my ring, and the diamonds seem even brighter when wet.
“Iris, I give you this ring as a sign of my eternal love for you,” he whispered, slipping the engagement ring and wedding band onto my finger. “And receive this collar as a sign of my eternal protection as Master to your submissive.”
At the end of the tarmac, I spot a black SUV headed my direction. I’m excited that someone sent a car for me, and I text Dom, “Cancel that. Ride here.”
A vicious gale blasts across the spacious field. I hold my hat when the car pulls up beside me.
“Hello? Are you here to give me a ride?”
The back door swings open to a man in a black mask. He quickly grips my arms as my hat topples off my head, and I am shoved inside of the vehicle. I lunge for the other side, but the driver locks the doors.
“What are you doing? Please don’t hurt me!” I scream. “I am pregnant with Sal Raniero’s baby!”
His hands are gentle.
With a tender temperament, Sal delivers me.
“We know!” He callously snickers with a noticeable accent. “Drive!”
“Where are we going?” My abductor rips off his mask, and I shiver in terror. “Alessi Ettore. What are you doing?”
I don’t need to ask who is driving—Giacomo Benedetto. These two have had it in for Sal since he joined The Commission. They’re jealous of my husband, but he has done nothing to provoke their agitation at him. In fact, Sal has avoided them.
And I will pay the price.
The Master
When I slip out the back door, I snicker, how many times have I broken into Mierne’s house?
Breaking in became a timed game to see how long it took for me to crack in. It also provided useful information on how tight her security was, and when I struggled too long to make it worth it, we upgraded it ten more times.
We practiced.
I always knew what I was doing, using Mierne as my spy. Make her look real bad. Make it look like I hated her. And flip the tables when everyone least expected it.
Amber isn’t the same.
I didn’t trust her for the longest time because I thought she was playing exclusively for Dom. And I couldn’t have that.
He has his place, and I have mine.
I don’t bother to draw the gun when I approach Nicky hot-wiring the old car. If he was any kind of car thief, he’d have already been long gone. But he’s not a crook. Nor does he seem to know a lot about grand theft auto.
I scan over the bike, tossed recklessly on the pavement. It’s leaking fluids, and the chrome is bent all to fuck. Someone will have a bad day.
Thank heavens it isn’t me.
“Going somewhere?” I ask with a friendly tone.
“You let me go,” he says, rolling down the window. “Or Cruz will never meet his son.”
When a kid gets involved, the game shifts to an intense match of sudden death moves. I don’t like it—at all. It’s an immediate flare to shift the priorities. Kid greater than Nico.
“Where is Lukas now?”
“I’m not telling you, but I am running away with my sister.”
The sentence sends a wave of nausea through me. I don’t appreciate the things Jaid has done, but does she deserve to be a reconstructed doll under Nicky’s knife? It’s a tough question, and not one I have time to debate.
The priority is Lukas’ safety, and then getting Nicky off the streets.
“Where is the baby?”
“I have got it,” he warns, fusing the wires and starting the engine. “And I will kill him.”
“You won’t do that,” I implore. With my arm leaning on the roof, I hover closer and absentmindedly rest my left hand on the door. “You don’t kill kids.”
He laughs, “And you won’t kill me.”
In a split second, he throws it into reverse, runs a deep slash with a knife over the top of my hand, and backs away.
“Fuck!”
“Duck!” Mierne screams, firing shots. “Stop, Nicolas!”
“You’re next bitch!”
She misses every shot before he’s too far away to matter. My hand gushes. “I knew better,” I say as Georgia hands me a shop towel and we walk inside. “That was my fucking fault.”
“There is no reasoning with him.”
“He says he’s got Lukas,” I report, tugging off my shirt and wrapping my hand up. “Find Cruz’s fucking kid so that I can end this shit.”
“I am on it,” Georgia says, texting away and raising an eyebrow at me. “But you need some clothes.”
“I probably have one of your old Henley’s,” Mierne offers. “And a hat.”
“Med kit still in the…”
“It’s in the drawer, sweetheart.”
“Georgia…Georgia…stop staring and get over here,” I demand. “Please.”
“Sorry,” she says, opening the kit. “What do you need?”
I glance over my shoulder at Mierne, smiling and holding my old ball cap. I duck down and she smooths over my hair and puts it on backward. I wondered where this hat was. “You have any saline?”
“Yes!”
“You two have done this before,” Georgia observes. “You’re like a dynamic dancing duo.”
“Turn the lights on, G.”
“Sal used to come to my house after Serene had her way with him or when he got in fights.”
I smirk. “I did.”
She hands the bottle to me, and I pop off the cap with my thumb and douse the area. Georgia says, “You’re seriously doing this here.”
“Ya,” I mumble, pissed at myself. “I ain’t got time for an ER visit.” I pull off the cap of the needle in my mouth and inject the lidocaine. “Shit!” I twitch with the burn. “I shouldn’t like this.”
But the pain is so good.
“You’re going to need antibiotics,” Mierne adds. “You want me to do the sutures?”
“No, I got this,” I assure, using all of my resources—left fingers, right hand, and teeth—without moving the left hand. “Ambidextrous,” I whisper with a wink and grin at Georgia. “I can’t believe I did something so fucking dumb.”
Laying her hand on my back, Mierne comforts, “You were distracted and worried that your wife may be to blame.”
“I’m still not sure…”
“Oh…lord…” Georgia mutters as I stitch the gaping wound closed. “This should not be turning me on the way it is…”
“Probably not,” I mumble, running the line of whip stitches through my flesh. “But I’ll forgive you if it is.”
“Does Iris know who she married?”
“Doubt it,” I remark. “And I am not telling her yet. Good stitches are all about the spacing and knots. Do you have smaller gauze?”
“Did you seriously just do all that in under ten?” Georgia asks as Mierne hands me the gauze.
“That’s slow,” I complain, winding the bandage around my hand. “You have any horse wrap?”
Georgia’s brow furrows as Mierne tosses me the black cohesive wrap. “This was the most devil-may-care shit I’ve ever seen you do.”
“You need to hang out with me more often.” A naughty grin slips over my lips. “I am cheerfully reckless most of the time.”
She giggles, and with concern, Mierne asks, “Do you need something for the pain?”
“Nah, I am relatively sober.”
“Relative sobriety looks ahhhmazing on you,” she praises as I chuckle. She gets it. All of it.
Georgia smiles as her phone beeps. “We have Lukas accounted for, and you will never guess where he is…”
“Tell me.”
“With his Grandmother Trudy.”
“Fuck!” I cross my eyes and drop my head. “I am bound and determined to face the wrath of Trudy Diaz today.”
Georgia giggles, “It can’t be worse than Nicky.”
“It is when she is the former-MILF refusing to speak to me.” I stretch the cream Henley on and grab my shit from the drawer. “Update on Megan?”
“It’s not good. She went into cardiac arrest on the chopper,” she reports. “Do you want me to call Dom?”
“I’ll do it,” I volunteer, understanding these are the terms and conditions I agreed to upon starting my own outfit. I must lead through good and bad. “Will you call the airport and see if the Lotus jet has taken off?”
“Deal!”
I try Dom’s number three times. “What the hell is going on?”
Setting down the phone, Georgia somberly whispers, “The plane took off over half an hour ago. We have no idea if Mrs. Iris Raniero was onboard.”
“She didn’t get off of it,” I fret, pacing. “She stayed on board. And she’s headed to Japan with my baby.”
107
Stalk the Prey
His Master
With Oki by my side and three kids—Raine, Finn, and Romeo—in the back, we head to the airport to retrieve Iris in the rain. They’re all singing some annoying children’s tune over and over again. We had a wonderful lunch with the extended family from Juliet.
The town atmosphere is homey, a Rockwellian-portrait of idyllic families despite being a bunch of rich kinksters thriving in mafia blood. Oki reaches for my hand and places it on her belly. I smile as she does.
With little traffic, I speed along the outskirts of Sugargrove on a two-lane highway as I have thousands of times when I see Iris’ text message light up my phone on the dash. “I guess she doesn’t need a ride after all.”
“Where are we going now?” Raine asks as I grab my phone to respond to Iris.
With one hand typing out a response and one hand on the wheel, I ask. “How about we stop at The Cowbelle?”
“Ice cream!” Romeo declares, always insatiably hungry. “Ice cream!”
I glance in the rearview at Finn’s afro, which is in desperate need of a trim. He wants a frohawk, but Megan is demanding it be long enough to look cool before cutting it. I can’t blame her. Finn says, “I want that pink one, please!”
Finn is the most polite of my three children by far, and I attribute this to Megan’s early rearing of him. His father, Pharm, may be a thug, but he certainly doesn’t speak like one. He’s brilliant, well-spoken, and charming—or he wouldn’t have evaded arrest all of these years.
I get Sal’s man-cination fascination with him.
Far more than Cristos, who makes no sense to me.
We’re a diverse bunch—the daego with the slicked-back hair, the Japanese doll beside me, Raine with her pink-streaked punk hair and mini-combat boots, Finn with his nerdy, yet athletic jock, and Romeo, who is a mini-me, including the slicked back mop. I smile, proud of the family I am building.
“No, Finn,” Oki corrects the young man who is as blind as a bat. “You want Bee’s Knees, the lavender one.”
“Bubblegum pink is always mine,” Raine says, putting the boys to shame. “I was born in pink and will forever be pink.”
Just like her mother.
Glancing between the road and the screen, I peck out the text, “Let me know when you make it back, precious girl. I love you. Can’t wait to meet Arie…”
I never see the other car coming until the bright pink car zips past my bumper, jimmying the front end. On the wet roads, I swerve, ricocheting into the oncoming traffic as a truck plows into the passenger side and we volley into the ditch, rolling—once, twice, three times—until we are right side up.
The kids are screaming as I taste the blood on my lips and peek at the grisly woman sitting beside me.
I cannot move, pinned in by metal, and covered in glass. The pain is unreal as I turn to look over my shoulder and spot Raine, lying unconscious against the door.
“No!” I screech, unable to get any volume due to the crushing pain in my chest. I sob hysterically, “Not my Raine!”
His Ride
After loading everything up, Berk finally leaves for Ma’s. I grab my things—keys, wallet, gun, and phone—to ransack the warehouse for tactical gear. I strip off my dingy white t-shirt and grab a sweat-wicking one. It doesn’t matte
r how cool it gets this evening; I will sweat on the hunt, prowling in the dark.
Hearing a soft knock at the door, I don’t bother with the peephole because I’ve got the nine in my hand. I’m not fucking around with anyone. I’ll ask damn questions when I’ve got a body on the ground.
I must be seeing things because the vision before me is like nothing I could’ve planned. “… Jaid?”
“Hi,” she says with her dirty blonde hair in a high ponytail. “I need to talk to you.”
“You’re not coming in my house.”
“Fine, I still need you to hear me out, please,” she begs. “Nicky is on the loose, and he called me. He wants help getting out of Texas.”
Shaking my head, I mutter, “Let me guess. You’re going to help him.”
“I am but not for the reasons you think,” she informs. “Serene left this morning, but she didn’t say goodbye to Nicky. He wants closure.”
I am starting to hate this guy more and more.
“So, they can work it out and have a happy family with a white picket fence?”
“I don’t know,” she mutters. “Nicky called and threatened to tell everything. No one wants that. I talked him down and promised I would go with him.”
“You’re not going,” I warn.
“Not a chance in hell, I lied my ass off,” she confirms. “I’ll end up dead.” She reaches into her purse, and I raise the gun. “Calm down! Please don’t shoot me! It’s just paperwork. I am giving you full custody of our son. I don’t want him. I don’t want to be his mother. I never did.”
I furrow my brow. “… What are you saying?”
“Someone paid me a lot of fucking money to do what I did.”
“… Who?”
“I’m going to find that out,” she says. “But I need you to raise Lukas. He is with Louise, who is taking him to your Ma.”
“How do I know you aren’t lying to me?”
“You don’t.” She holds out the envelope and places a long, thin box on top of it. “You have zero reasons to trust me. Please give this package to Sal. It’s for the baby.”
A Dark Place (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 5) Page 87
