Diary of a Submissive (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 4)

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  VII

  When Winter Comes In Spring

  62

  The Means

  His Butterfly

  The late March air enlivens my cheeks as I wait at the café in Strasbourg, France. My hot tea sits untouched as I check the messages on my phone. People pass by on the streets, living their happy existences, while I observe. I make no sudden movements.

  On my shoulder, I feel the gentle touch of her hand. “Iris…”

  My hand cascades up over hers as we gently grip one another’s fingers. We are soul sisters, bound together by the love of The Unholy.

  “Amber…”

  She moves the chair from the opposite side of the table closer to me. I expected massive changes in Amber Rosen, attempting to disguise her identity, but there aren’t any, which says so much about with who she is associated.

  A dab of light rose lipstick, and a sweep of mascara leaves her looking younger than she is. Her dark chocolate hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and her radiant blue eyes call my attention. She looks good—clean, healthy, sober, and scared shitless.

  The last one poses the most concern.

  She nervously asks, “Who is with you?”

  “Trudy is in Paris.”

  Her smile puffs her cheeks out. “I’m surprised she let you come alone. Can we go to my place?”

  “Of course,” I whisper. “You want my tea?”

  “You’re still not feeling well,” she comments as I shake my head. She slams the cup. “You need away from the stress.”

  “I am the Lotus.”

  “And I am yours.”

  Her small apartment is a far cry from her former luxurious accommodations, but I don’t expect much more. She is easily adaptable in her surroundings like the venomous snake in the grass, never seen until stepped on. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Water?” I say, taking a seat on her couch. It’s quaint and comfy, a grandmother’s house but with sparse decor. “How long have you been here?”

  “Since I left Rome,” she answers, pouring the water. “What are you going to tell them? I assume Trudy Diaz is not on board.”

  I take the cup from her hands as she sits beside me. “For all intents and purposes, Trudy Diaz is broke, and any investment by her into Etienne would be too insubstantial to make her worth the risk, considering her close ties to the sons.”

  “The two sons,” she quips. “Sal and Deacon.”

  I don’t react.

  “Do I want to know what the buy-in is at?”

  “Probably not,” I reply, sipping the water. I squeeze her fingers, sitting on her lap. “But don’t worry, I have you.”

  “You know I didn’t do it,” she implores. “And I don’t need you to have me.”

  “I know that,” I reassure. “You were nothing more than the middle man. Someone hired you, and you sought out two women willing to do the job—Petra Soryn and Cas Hope.”

  “Yes.”

  “But everyone blames you,” I caution. “Everyone is looking for a fall girl. And I hate to say it, but you’re it.”

  Her lips line in a frown. “Soryn is pissed because of her father’s disappearance, and she suspects The Unholy’s involvement. Cas is just angry. You should be far more concerned with what she plans on doing. She lost the only family she has ever known. Two brothers—Javier and Camilo Neves—and her adoptive mother, Regina.”

  “… Who killed her?”

  “You don’t want to ask me that,” she whispers, glancing down. “The answer is easy, but the questions…”

  “Who?” I beg, needing quick answers on my limited amount of time. “Was it The Unholy?”

  “If you’re asking me who I think did it, I will point my finger to Nico.”

  “Why?” I frown. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It does if you think about Serene’s ties back to the Neves. She gave them two children—Kaci, who belonged to her, and Cas, who belonged to Kate. They were raised as siblings, and Kaci was taught by the Neves and Cinco to be the way she was.”

  “With a heavy dose of influence from the great love of her life.”

  “Yes, Jack Kerris played into it. His involvement started early,” she says, easing closer. “By the time CAE acquired her, she was already manipulating the pieces of Cinco. All her being a lab rat did was turn a menace into a monster.”

  “Her mother blames…”

  “Serene blames many people, including Kaci,” she informs. I hadn’t ever considered the two-sided coin Serene had been forced to carry. “Kaci hurt a lot of people.”

  “Mostly, Sal.”

  “And Serene adores Sal,” she contends. “It would do you well to remember that next time you ask me who funded the shooting.”

  “… Serene did it?” I gasp in disbelief. “Her daughter was there!”

  “It was supposed to be in and out to kill McPhail and prevent the Irish from having another rep from Boston in Sanctum. One of the girls went nuts.”

  “Which one, Amber?”

  She slowly eases closer and whispers. “Which one do you think, Lotus?”

  “Cas because she has nothing to lose.”

  “And Soryn?”

  “She is going after Sal and The Unholy,” I answer, breathing against her lips. “Who are you after?”

  “You.” She smiles. “As for who went after the congregation, I don’t know, and I won’t claim to know. What I do know is I am your silent right-hander until the end. I don’t know how you weaseled Jaid back into Sal’s world, but props to you.”

  “A lot of late-night phone calls,” I reply. “The abduction almost ruined her…”

  “That would’ve been a shame.”

  “Sal issued kill orders on you.”

  “I know,” she says. “But, his fiancée feels a little bit different.”

  “We’re done,” I softly confide. “Sal has some real problems developing at a very rapid rate.”

  “… Drugs?”

  “It’s so much more than that.” I nod as the tears bloom in my eyes. “I can’t even explain what is happening. I feel like I am caught in the storm with no shelter.”

  “Do you love him?”

  “I love both of them,” I finally admit as she sighs. “But he is getting involved with Deacon’s sister. He claims they’re only friends.”

  “Bullshit,” she angrily hisses. “There is no way Sal has a female friend he hasn’t fucked. That doesn’t exist. You want me to show the little girl what a real woman can do?”

  “No,” I maintain, lifting a hand and noticing my sapphire ring. “We aren’t touching Hannah Cruz and not because of Sal.”

  She scans over me before whispering, “You’re in love with Deacon Cruz.”

  “I am in love with both of them.”

  “Keep telling yourself that,” she challenges. “But you know the truth, and so does your soul. And I’m just empathetic enough to see it written all over your face.”

  “I cannot be with Deacon.”

  “You are the Lotus,” she argues. “You can be with whoever you want to be with. Don’t let Kaci Hope’s fucked up agenda dictate how this turns out. There are very few people willing to go to battle with the program. Win the fucking war, Iris. Do it for yourself. Do it for the girls.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Right now?” she giggles. “Two things. Enough money to buy into Etienne. I won’t take your handout, not this time.” She lays her hand on my bare knee and skims up to my thigh. “And you.”

  “I’m worried,” I whisper.

  “About?”

  “The loose cannon of Cassidy Hope.”

  With one hand on my thigh, she moves the other to my neck and runs it to the dip of my cleavage. “You want me to come and take care of that problem for you?”

  “No, I know you’re going to Moscow,” I reply. Her hand moves from my thigh as she undoes the buttons of my shirt. “I’m supposed to be persuading you to return to the States.”

  “But?”
she says, slipping her hands over my breasts in the lace bra.

  “I came halfway across the world for something else entirely.” My hands rush over her hair, welcoming her sensual touch, and I pull the band to release her ponytail. “I need you to be gentle with me, Amber.”

  “Oh, I’m going to be delicate…sweet…giving…”

  “I’m pretty sure someone is following me,” I confide.

  “… In the States?”

  I nod.

  “You need to be careful. Use Kali and Ho, that is why you pay them,” she whispers, undoing the front clasp and flicking her tongue against my nipple as her fingers tenderly caress the other. She blinks up. “I won’t be nice if anything happens to you.”

  “I don’t expect you would be.”

  She stares at my breasts in the light. “Are these bruises?”

  “I’m into kink.”

  Her eyes meet mine, and I know she doesn’t believe me. I grab my phone and open the photos. “Holy shit…what the hell?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Yeah, it does,” she snaps. “Who did this?”

  “We got a little too rough on our last night in Boston,” I whisper as my voice cracks, and I try not to cry. “He’s got a problem.”

  “He does now,” she claims as her hands float beneath my shirt. “Me.”

  “I will,” Trudy says with a serious tone as I arrive the next day in Paris. One glance of her expression, and I know something is wrong. “Alright, Hannah. I love you.”

  “Trudy…”

  “My son beat the hell out of Sal,” she mutters. My heart seizes in fear, worry, dread…I know what happened, and I know why—Deacon. “He’s in the hospital.”

  “Oh my God…” My knees buckle as my body slumps to sit on the edge of the sofa. “What happened?”

  “I don’t have the details,” she says, pissed. “All I know is Hannah found him hanging from chains in the game room. He was beaten to a bloody pulp.”

  “Holy shit! Is he going to be okay?” I cry, “How bad are the injuries?”

  “He has three severely bruised ribs and stitches on his cheek.”

  “I have to call Deacon.”

  She aimlessly gazes at the coffee table. “He won’t answer.”

  “He will for me,” I plead, grabbing my phone from my purse by the door. “He has to.”

  She follows me across the room. “When is the last time you actually talked to my son?”

  “… At the cemetery.”

  “Yeah,” she snickers. “He isn’t going to talk to you, honey. You need to let him simmer down.”

  “I need to get back.”

  Shaking her head in regret, she says, “There is nothing you can do. I checked my GPS. Deacon is back in Colorado. Dom is taking care of Sal, and he isn’t letting anyone near him.”

  “Not even me?”

  “I’m not going to beat around the bush with you, Iris,” she cattily says. “Dom isn’t even letting Hannah near him.”

  “But I should be there,” I whisper.

  “… For what purpose? To cause more strife? To make my son murder my Sal?” Trudy asks. “How much more shit are you going to stir between them?”

  “I didn’t do it!”

  “Bullshit!” she hisses. “You knew when you went to Boston; you were lighting the fuse. You knew! And you did it anyway. This is on you.”

  “I went to stand by my man,” I defend. “What happened after that is on him!”

  “And he never would have done that if you weren’t baiting him.”

  Internally, I rage at the audacity of this woman, but I understand she is Deacon’s mother, and her influence is strong. I need her on my team, so I concede, “Lines were crossed on both sides.”

  “No,” she says. “Lines were crossed on three sides. Deacon isn’t innocent. He may be justified for his reaction, but he knew better than to push that far with Sal…and with you. You’re pitting these boys against one another in a cage…your cage, your rules, your domain. And I will do everything in my power to stop you.”

  “Good luck with that, Trudy.”

  It instantly becomes clear where I stand with Trudy Diaz. She doesn’t want me anywhere near either one of her sons. I rush to the bedroom, pack my things, and leave without another word.

  I won’t stay where I am not wanted.

  If I need anything, I have the means.

  I don’t need Trudy.

  And I damn sure don’t need a man.

  63

  FiX Me

  His Butterfly

  I fly to New York.

  After being sick in the hotel room for two days, I finally call Carlo Torrente and arrange a meeting for dinner. I text Kali and inform her not to bother to come here because I will be headed back to Texas in a few short days.

  “Do you have any updates on Sal?”

  “No,” she replies. “Dom Gennaro is being…a dickhole.”

  I heavily sigh, though I’m not surprised. Dom will always side with Sal. He is predictable, dependable, and a commander in the Sal Raniero army.

  I don’t have one of those.

  I have me.

  I’m not a fool, and I trust Amber about as far as I can throw her. She will do what benefits her most and clings to those on the upswing. She’s really good at waving her thumb in skimpy shorts and hitching a ride. She’ll give you a blow job until she bites your dick off and steals your eighteen-wheeler, your wife, and your dog.

  I plan on using her until I feed her to Nicky.

  It was part of our verbal agreement for his ships. He cut the price, and I promised his feast on Amber Rosen. He vowed to keep his habit in line until I gave the all-clear. She’s too important to die yet, especially since she is in negotiations with Allegiance. She is getting in bed with the bratva, Stanis Kozlov.

  Probably…literally.

  Lotus will not be getting involved.

  But I have to hand it to her; it takes balls to go after those who killed her father. Understandable…stupid as fuck but understandable.

  And to think, she may not live to see her destiny on Nico’s spinning wheel of fun. Pity.

  I wear a modest black dress for the meeting with Torrente. I do not wish to align with him, but I don’t want a war to break out between our businesses, either. It’s a measure of good faith that could pay out in millions. When someone suggests or attempts to come after me, he’ll remember the sweet Lotus he shared a delightful evening with because the uppers should always meet when in town.

  We spend several hours at the upscale Italian eatery. He’s older, easily charmed, and I feel confident in his company. We part ways with a respectful handshake.

  In the reception area, I wait for my limo to pull around when his right-hander approaches me. “Miss Nakamura…”

  “Durante Costa,” I say as he kisses my hand. He is remarkable—dare I say, dangerously—good looking. “You should’ve joined us for dinner. How long have you been here?”

  “Long enough to know what I want,” he suggests with a simmer. “Can we speak for a bit, somewhere private?”

  The limousine pulls up as I extend my hand. “Of course.” He offers his elbow. “Are you always such a gentleman?”

  “When in the presence of a powerful woman, I am always well behaved.”

  “I’ll have to remember never to be weak,” I quip.

  He laughs. “I don’t think you possess that quality, Lotus.”

  “Just drive,” I tell my chauffeur as I slide into the limo. Durante follows. “What can I do for you, Mr. Costa?”

  “You already know things are not stable.”

  “In what regard,” I ask, pulling out my cigarette holder. He flicks his lighter, and our eyes meet. I inhale and slowly move. “Be direct with me. I’ve dealt with enough reptiles lately.”

  “I’m looking to relocate.”

  Gazing out the window, I ask, “Are you asking me for a job?”

  “Carlo is wanting to retire despite Veronica�
�s insistence of not relinquishing the business, but I can tell you—in confidence—if Campanelli and Raniero go after Torrente, he will leave it to the children because he doesn’t have another war in him.”

  Taking a breath, I glance at the raindrops on the window. I remember the night with Sal outside of Mario’s when we made love in the alley. “And don’t tell me, let me guess—his children don’t want a Costa involved?”

  “You got it.”

  “Because of your ties to Morpheus.”

  “And my ties to Herrera,” he reminds as I smile.

  “Muerte and his Immortal.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replies. “My mother left Mexico as a teenager and moved to Puerto Rico, but the fact remains, I am his grandson.”

  Starting to wonder if I’m the grandson savior.

  “How do you feel about Immortal?”

  “A cartel and a mafia are far different beasts. You know this.”

  “I do,” I say, directing my focus on him. “But I have to wonder why you are in my vehicle.”

  “I like going where the control is. That is why I was with Carlo Torrente.”

  “And out of everyone, you could be soliciting to…”

  He interjects, “You are in the top three.”

  With a giggle, I question, “Who are the other two?”

  “At one point, Sal Raniero was running next to you.”

  “He’s fallen from grace,” I blurt without thinking.

  “I’m aware,” he tenderly whispers. “I’m sorry for your personal losses, but business…”

  “Business doesn’t stop,” I interrupt, taking a long draw on the smoke. “And neither do I.”

  “I’m curious about working with Campanelli, but with his tight-knit family I won’t be able to get a leg up. There are many Campanelli just waiting for a piece of that pie.”

  “You’ll be mopping floors for years,” I contend. “Well-beneath your skillset.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he says. “Saint Cruz is interesting.”

  I try not to react.

  This is business.