“First rule—don’t ever ask me why. Second—turn in your letter of resignation and go to Sugargrove. There will be a job opening soon at the Sugargrove PD, and you will take it.”
“Okay,” he says as his brows furrow. “Wh—”
“You will be working to ensure the continued safety of Lotus and The Unholy members while infiltrating…”
“Wait…” he says, lifting his hand. “Are Lotus and The Unholy merging?”
“We are absolutely merging, but not before some things change. And your position in Sugargrove is very integral to that large scale, global changes occurring. If you stand by my side, I’ll reward you. And if you go against us, I will sever you limb by limb and make you disappear into the swamplands where Boudreaux comes from. Do you understand what I’m telling you, Cody?”
“Yeah, you want the police on your payroll in Sugargrove.”
My eyes ignite with a spark as I flick a brow up and offer a deviant smirk. “Would Salvatore Raniero do that?”
“Yeah, he would if it meant protecting his relations.”
Patting his shoulder, I say, “I’m glad you see things my way. Cinco is our new enemy. And Boudreaux is next. We’re going to need a lot of protection.”
“Does the mayor have the funds?”
I laugh. “When Joe Kaiser wins the mayoral election, I guarantee the Sugargrove PD will have plenty of resources.” With my best flamboyant gloat, I wave my hand and sass, “Maybe even some new sporty cars.”
33
Juggle Better, Boy
With Cody Cameron and Mock on my team, my gumption and balls are massive as I strut back into the cellblock in the late afternoon. Things appear much the same as I head back into my corner cell with Naby. He’s on his bed reading when I startle him by saying, “Get up, Nabs.”
He drops his book on his chest. “Sal!” He jumps up and runs to hug me.
“Whoa! Wait!” I bark out, lifting my casted hand. “I’m kind of sore, so no hugs. I need a smoke.”
Confusion parades across his gorgeous face until I tilt my head. He seems to understand as he says, “I got you.”
We manage to finagle our way out to the yard with little to no commotion. It’s just another day at Wiggs. He lights a smoke with the lighter we have stashed and offers me a drag. “I need you to be my hands.”
“You mean like before?”
“I mean like if I have to make some phone calls, I need you to hold the receiver and not rat me out to anyone,” I inform as we sit on an empty bench. “I need you to be my right hand.”
“If you need me to stroke…”
I slowly pivot my face towards him and interject, “That is not what I mean, but I’ll keep it in mind, thank you.” He gives me another puff. Naby is a good kid and deserves a shot at redemption. “I have a lot of work to do in the next few weeks, but I need you to tell me what all happened while I was gone.”
Crossing his dainty legs, he sighs. “Well, Handcock was out, so everyone was on edge. The nights were terrible—lots of screaming. The days weren’t much better. The only difference was everyone could see what was going on.”
“Did they get you?”
“No…” he pauses as his body tensed, and he inhales off the cig. He realizes what he did and profusely apologizes, “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Sir.”
“It’s alright,” I say, bumping his thigh with my cast. “Tell me what you were thinking after that no.”
“Handcock didn’t find out I was your cellmate until the day he was moved. I’m on his radar, and it’s only a matter of time.”
Rocking back, I angrily fume, “Shit!”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing. You haven’t done anything wrong. What else?”
“That guy you’ve been looking for…Rupert Carroll…he came by the cell looking to talk to you.”
Sherman “Violet” Hendrix.
Violet wants my debt—a visit with his son Halton—paid. I cannot say as though I blame him. If shit is shifting within the framework of Cinco, then his position is unstable. He’s right to be asking for his son. “Anything else?”
“After lunch one day, I was moving laundry to the facilities and saw Carroll and Handcock talking alone.”
Fuck.
“Did they see you?”
“I don’t think so,” he says as I nudge him for another drag. “But I could be wrong.” I finish the smoke, and he steps it out. “Oh, Kevyn Abo was released early.”
Good boy, Deacon.
“Are you hungry?”
“Not particularly,” he answers, flipping the box open and offering another smoke. Nabs pays attention. I shake my head. “I have a bunch of stuff from the commissary in our cell.”
“Then come on,” I urge, standing up. “We have a phone call to make.”
We meander between the library and the phones as we wait. The phones are always packed after lunch and dinner, but there is a wall of glass between the two, so I can see who is coming and going. Naby is flipping through books when I notice Violet making a phone call.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Looking at science fiction.”
I don’t look away as I mumble, “No, no. Not you. Do me a favor—quietly walk out there and wait for a phone—see if he drops any names.”
Giddily, he replies, “Oh! Eavesdropping! I feel like a spy!”
Rolling my eyes, I prod, “Ya, Nabs—Go!”
Whoever Violet is talking to has him upset. He keeps glancing up, shifting his weight, and if I were to guess, he’s trying not to yell. My surveillance doesn’t stop as Ronnie walks up and whispers, “What are we doing?”
“Trying to figure out who the fuck Rupert Carroll is on the phone with.”
She hurries back and gives me a stern, scolding gaze. “I could just pull the phone records for you, Sal.”
Finally, I break away from the scene and blink down. “You have the phone records?”
“Yeah,” she mentions, keeping her voice low. “Not only do we have a log of all calls dialed out, but we also save the recordings.”
“And you have access?”
“I do,” she teases, “for a fee.”
I cock my head and give my best daego, “… What do you want from me?”
“One—you told Tucker to ask me out!”
Standing my ground, I profess, “I did no such thing!”
“Do you swear to me?”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I up the ante. “Give me a Bible.” I give her a flirtatious smirk. “What else?”
Leaning in close, she sexily whispers, “Two—I hear you have a lot of new colorful skin,” she taunts, slithering the word s—kin out to an absurd length as her brow arches high up on her forehead.
My whole face twitches as I try and restrain my laughter. “You wanna see it?”
“Oh, baby…do I ever…”
“Phone records for flesh?”
She bounces with a winning smile. “Phone records for your flesh, any day.”
In Ronnie’s private office, Naby stands guard by the door as she pulls up the records for Rupert Carroll. “I can play any of these from this year. If you need me to go further back, I can. We index them by the inmate and the year.”
“You don’t need to.”
There are only five calls, and they’re all to the same 956 area code—South Texas.
Cinco.
I don’t need to hear them to know what he is doing. He’s trying to make a deal, and Cinco isn’t cooperating. From what I know via Mock, my guess is they’re cutting ties, but in this business, if one isn’t performing according to plan, there is always someone waiting in the wings.
In Violet’s case, that is Handcock, Allegiance, and Stanis. He’s switching teams after all these years in prison, and I can only imagine that has to do with Cas’ recent upheavals. It’s an incredibly precarious position to be in, especially in prison. And there is only one reason I can think to force Violet’s trading sides—money fo
r Halton.
“Can you pull mine up?”
“One sec…” Punching in my name, she says, “Here you go.” Scanning over the long list of calls, she mutters, “Damn boy! You make a lot of calls.”
“Delete them,” I say, propping on the edge of her desk and stretching my bare chest in front of her face. She’s ogling so hard her mouth drops open. “All of them, please Ma’am.”
From the chair, she glances up to my eyes. “You want me to break the rules?”
“I want you to override the system and delete every phone call I’ve made.” Her brain sputters with the obstacles as I hunker closer and whisper, “Trust me.”
“Done,” she says, highlighting them all and putting in two passwords. She searches for my name again, and nothing appears. Rocking back in her chair, she smiles, letting her eyes have their way with my skin before she reaches forward and touches the ink on my lower abdomen. She simmers, “What…did…you…do…”
I spot Naby, anxiously waiting by the door as I stand up and encourage, “Go on, look.”
Her fingers curl around my waistband as she giggles. “Wheee! Heee!”
I laugh as Nabs awkwardly gives me a half-smirk. He wants to see but not yet. The tease is too good. “I hate to interrupt your drooling, but I need to make a phone call on a private line, please.”
“You want my personal cellphone?”
“Would you let me use it?” I ask, but before she can respond, her drawer is unlocked, and she’s pulling it from her purse. I give her the number as she holds it to my ear.
“Cruz.” His gravel sounds across the line as I smile.
“Any luck on Halton?”
The motorcycle engine stops rumbling in the background. “Yeah. I’ve got him. Whenever you are ready, I can bring him up.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in Houston at the moment, but I could be there in probably two hours,” he informs, lighting a smoke. “But we’ve got issues. Everyone is getting nervous about how much you’ve been in solitary.”
“Fuck…” I take a deep breath, thinking about how to navigate our way through the snake pit. I need to take care of both, but which is more pressing? On the fly, I decide, go with it, and hope for the best. “Take care of famiglia first—always.”
“I was contacted by a Mock,” he informs, exhaling. “We met up at a diner.”
“Who is we?”
“Ma and me.”
Oh. God.
“Tell me your Ma didn’t,” I fret, knowing Trudy Diaz’s promiscuity better than most. “… Deacon?”
With a searing tone, he challenges, “Why are you sending a stranger to watch over your most valuable asset, Sal?”
Shocked, I glance up and profoundly confess, “Because I need you with me.”
“Are you sure Mock isn’t a replacement for one of The Unholy?”
“I’m certain, so did he fuck your Ma or not?”
I hear his laughter and know the tense moment has at least temporarily subsided. “What do you think? Did you see Mock?”
“Ya,” I reply, smiling. “I did, and he saw me.”
“Why do I feel like you did something?”
I laugh. “I might have done a little something…something.”
“Do I need to ask how much longer this is going to last?”
“It won’t be long now,” I mutter, glancing at Naby, waiting patiently by the door. “Do whatever you have to do to calm the fam, and then bring Halton.”
“Will do,” he replies with a groan. “But you owe me one for reeling him out of the bayou. It wasn’t easy for me. And I hate how good you sound on the phone.”
“Would you prefer to not talk to me?”
I hear his breath as images of the three of us float through my mind like snowflakes on a sunny day. The memories shimmer like diamonds before dissolving into the cesspool surrounding our feet. “Nah, it’s just been a few weeks since I’ve seen you. I need you to keep standing. No more run-ins with those hands. I need them.”
“Be good, Cruz.”
“I will.”
That night the block is relatively subdued as Naby says, “Did you get all the art in solitary?”
“Ya,” I reply, trying to get comfortable. Talking to Deacon always gives me issues, and I know when I finally do drift off to sleep, I’ll wake up soaked with the nocturnal jiz all over me. Unfortunately, Nabs knows this about me too. “Mock did it.”
“I miss him,” he reveals with remorse. “I never knew how much until now.”
A good minute passes when I sympathize, “I understand.”
“Do you need anything else, Sal?”
“Be my hand.”
Without question, he quietly gets up out of bed and pulls the front of my pants down. He slides his hand around my shaft as I close my eyes and let it happen. He needs a guiding force, and I need a fist-pumping my cock.
We don’t speak.
We don’t kiss.
After working my erection to full throttle, I seize control and buck my hips up fast before ejaculating all over his hand and myself. He cleans me up and returns to his bed without a sound.
Someone trained this bitch well.
Thanks, Mock—I owe you one.
Closing my eyes, I realize the one thing I hadn’t considered in my grand plans of letting another Sir take care of my asset. I understand why Deacon was right to question me.
I trained Iris.
Fuck.
34
On My Knees
“You seriously cut the webbing?” Allison reprimands several days later as we sit in the infirmary. Rolling my left arm onto its side, she sighs. “Tell me you didn’t pull them off.”
“I was stopped before that occurring.”
The furious look eliminates any possible hope of getting it on with her. She’s not built to be mine; she won’t take it in hate. “If these aren’t healed, you have no one to blame but yourself.”
“I’m aware,” I acknowledge as she snips the plastic and removes the cast. She repeats the process on the other one, but I keep my fingers still.
“Stretch them, naturally,” she encourages, shifting her gaze from my eyes to my hands. “Don’t push it. Go slow. Gentle.”
Giving a disdainful look to the soft casts, I mumble, “Are those necessary?”
“Do you want to finish healing?”
I roll my eyes. “How long?”
“In an ideal world, six months,” she contends as I gently rub my palms. “How are they?”
“I feel like they were crushed.”
With professional demeanor, she takes one arm and lays it between us and begins therapy. She’s rubbing, kneading, and working my hands over with the lightest of touch. It feels amazing.
“They were, but Tristan is good. The breaks are healing. We’d know if they weren’t, but you can’t be running these fists into any hard objects—bricks or bones. They’re delicate.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” My politeness earns some of my cookies back into the jar. “Did you go out with Tristan?”
“I did,” she says, not reacting. Uh oh. “And then I spent the weekend in his apartment.” She smiles as I boast a proud grin. “Oh, don’t get too excited. We’re both so busy, and I doubt it will ever take root.”
“But you had fun?”
“I did,” she admits, switching to my other arm. “He’s charming, but I don’t know if I can reasonably wait until we have enough time for a relationship to have a child.”
“You need me to spit in a jar?”
Giggling, she blushes. “Not yet. We have another date this weekend. We’re going to a rodeo benefit thing.”
“… Rodeo benefit thing?” I ask, chuckling. “You gonna reverse cowgirl that shit?”
“Raniero!”
“Hmm?” I smirk. “Just curious.”
Acting like she longs to confess something, she bites her lip, still concentrating on my hands. “Can we talk like we haven’t fucked?”
“Shoot.�
�
“He’s very…how do I say this…not into the same lifestyle as his brother or you or me.”
I tilt my head and arch a brow. “… He’s vanilla?” I say like it’s a terrible flavor or an incurable disease. “Like genuinely bland vanilla?”
“Yes,” she confides, glancing up at me and crossing her eyes. I try not to burst out. “I mean, it’s good sex but boring as fuck when you’re used to being suspended and laced for hours with ropes. Those come off and it’s pleasure and pain and so deliciously good. And I don’t know if vanilla is ever going to taste good to me again. I’m a slut for good shibari.”
“Believe me, I know.” I wink.
“And I’m fairly certain, judging by his attitude, that he either doesn’t have the inclination or has cut himself off of what is arguably a birthright in the Kerris lineage.” The hurt in her eyes is real and a hint of guilt courses through me for suggesting their hookup. “I feel a bit empty, like a hollow shell of who I’m supposed to be. We could make it work, but I’m not sure if I want to.”
“I can tell you aren’t doing well, but wait—is it a time problem or uncertainty by you?”
“More uncertainty by me,” she admits, sitting back in the chair. “Stretch your fingers. But I didn’t want to make it seem like I’m asking for too much. It’s easier to say, and we don’t have enough time for one another as opposed to—Oh, I found this great and fascinating guy, but I’m so wrapped up in the kink that he’s boring as fuck.”
“You’re not the only one who has said they can’t reestablish into, forgive the word, a normal relationship.”
“No, no,” she says, studying the movements of my hands. “I know what you mean. Vanilla isn’t our sixty-nine flavors and then some. The dynamic isn’t there and it fucking sucks. Which hand feels stronger?”
“The left by far.”
She examines them both again. “Don’t compensate. Try and use both equally.”
“Does that mean I need to learn to jack off with the stranger?”
“Yes,” she deadpans before laughing. “Absolutely! And imagine she is me.”
Famous Last Words (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 2) Page 27
