Famous Last Words (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 2)

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  But she gave me the tools to embark on a grand voyage and ascertain victory if I kept an easy pace. This being me—an easy pace—became the paradox.

  Kaci, much like Naby, preached to my deaf ears about rolling with it and silencing my inner voices. And the sucky part was they were both right. If I calmed down and took it in stride—or in Deacon’s case, came many times—I was much happier.

  For a guy like me, it sounds stupid, I know.

  I should be able to process this as fast as any case file.

  Ha! I wish!

  I’m lost in labels—Mafia son. Assassin. Masochist. Sadist. Dominant. Bisexual.—and therein, the source—triggering back to my childhood and the expectations of others.

  How do I identify without anyone else involved?

  For years, I believed I was a submissive, but I’m not a true bottom dweller. With my over-analysis, I do not profile like one. I know who I am and what I am, but my refusal to see it for so long has left me with irreparable blindspots. I can blame my dad. I can blame Kaci. But truthfully, the fault is my own because I know better.

  I have years of training under my belt. I recognize warning signs and subtle nuances of psychological patterns, and I did nothing to stop my meltdowns.

  Even now, when I can feel another one rumbling in my chest, I don’t take the necessary precautions to hinder its manifestation. I allow the monster to erupt from within and self-sabotaging to leave me paralyzed on the floor.

  Because without the pain, who am I?

  Pulling open the door, I peer inside like looking down into a well. I want to shout out to hear my voice echoing back at me, but I spot Pico, kneeling before the altar. I stop.

  “Go on,” Naby encourages, offering a supportive smile. “I’ll watch out.”

  I’ve avoided talking to Pico Neves because we have a shoddy history based on hatred. His contempt of me as—“The Sal Raniero”—built a wall between us, but his presumptive reasonings were nothing more than hearsay. He didn’t know me because we didn’t talk.

  Taking a deep breath, I decide to trust Naby and move in for a closer inspection. I fear how this will end. We may end up beating one another to a bloody pulp, but I don’t think he’ll kill me for one reason alone—I am his brother-in-law.

  In his world, killing me would be offensive. I’m family, and whether he appreciates it or not, he respects the integrity of it. That’s not to say he wouldn’t break my nose or bust my jaw, but outright murder—naw.

  Not Pico. Not with me, anyway.

  I stop just shy of his feet, bend down to genuflect, and take my space beside him. This isn’t a Catholic Church, but it doesn’t matter. Our religion dictates the doctrine, but we’re adapted to fake it until we get where we’re going because we’re sinners.

  If that means saying our Hail Mary’s in a Baptist church or finding peace in a Buddhist temple, then we do it because—anything for forgiveness and salvation.

  But it doesn’t mean I won’t zip a blade along someone’s throat, either. It’s a touchy edge this place we are, and we both feel it as the younger generation, the new age of mobsters and outlaws.

  “Nero,” he mutters with his head bent as his forearms drape over the armrest on the kneeler. I spot the absence of a rosary in his hands, but his fingers seem to know the count of his penance.

  “Pico.”

  “What can I do for you?”

  “Make it, so we don’t kill each other,” I truthfully confide.

  He cackles but doesn’t lift his head. “It isn’t me you need to worry about.”

  “My brother, Javi, is coming for you.”

  I blink several times, not understanding why he would rat his brother out to me. “What happened?”

  “Cam left,” he mutters, almost sobbing. “He’s wandering. I think he’s going to end up with The Brethren. I was sent to cause shit with Allegiance.”

  “Thirty pounds of meth is a lot of shit.”

  “You and I both know Cinco has house rules.”

  I lick my lips. “I’m well aware, but what’s the deal with Handcock?”

  “He wants his cut… He’s trying to weasel his way into our deals with the South American cartels.”

  “And what about Herrera?”

  “We don’t discuss Immortal.”

  Oh. Fuck.

  He may as well have said Cinco calls Immortal for a good time. Problem with them hooking up is Immortal has a lethal bite.

  Pico wobbles ever so slightly like his knees are bothering him. He’s a few years older than me, but his life as the youngest Neves brother hasn’t been easy, many times he has been forgotten, left out, and eliminated all together. I fully expect at some point, Pico will go renegade on Cinco, and it may cost him dearly.

  “What can I do for you, my brother?”

  My right brow, on the side away from him, arches up high.

  What is this brother you speak of, Pico?

  We’ve never been close, but I have to trust him because there is no one else. I feel indebted to Mock for watching Iris, and in return, I feel obligated to repay by securing Naby. “I need protection on Barnaby Shanks.”

  “I can do that,” he says with a nod. “You need to be careful, Salvatore. Allegiance wants you gone.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “Who is the Warden working for?”

  His side-eyed glance catches mine. “If you don’t know, then I suggest reassessing your internal issues.”

  “… Gennaro?”

  “Don’t be blind to those closest to you,” he warns with a low voice. “But you need to get your girl out of the states. There is going to be an epic war for the Lotus flower.”

  I tilt my head with curiosity. “Keishi isn’t unifying.”

  “Not yet, but he will…”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because they’ve refused to deal with us. They want no part in larger organizations they cannot absorb. Javier refuses to listen to me, but Lotus is gearing up. Nakamura is about to make the Horsemen look like a joke. He has plenty of family—all boys—with male grandchildren, but Iris is the only granddaughter.”

  My hands turn clammy and start to tremble.

  How the fuck did I miss that?

  “… The only one?” I ask, confirming his statement. “Iris is the only girl?”

  “Rumor is Keishi wants to make her the Queen to flip the deck. No one is expecting him to make his sole granddaughter the heir to the Lotus fortune.”

  With my mouth dry like cotton, I inquire, “How do you know this?”

  “Because I have connections, Sal. Diaz was in the middle of solidifying a deal with Lotus when he was murdered.”

  “You know?”

  “I do, but Cinco doesn’t yet. They’ll find out soon enough on their own.”

  His knowledge is too vast. He must be moving away from Cinco sooner than I expected. “Who are you getting all your intel from?”

  “Cam and The Brethren.”

  “Are you switching, too?”

  “If the move continues to behoove Cam, then I would be stupid to stay with a dying Cinco. Don’t you think?”

  “Who is Cinco dying to?”

  “If Immortal doesn’t absorb them, one of the cartels will. It is only a matter of time. But my father and brother are far too concerned with what is happening to the north in Texas than in the south. It’s a stupid move on their part. Lotus is infiltrating fast, and they wanted Diaz eliminated as much as anyone, but not like this. If Lotus had moved into Houston, they would have gotten Immortal off Cinco’s back for a little while, but it’s wide open for the taking now. The second Cinco finds out Diaz is dead, the dam breaks on Immortal, and the carnage will be significant. I wanted out.”

  Suddenly, the lights illuminate. “You aren’t in here for the meth.”

  “No,” he replies, solemn. “I’m here waiting to be moved.”

  “You sold out…”

  “I bought out,” he replies. “Free and clear.”

&
nbsp; I close my eyes. “You’re a sitting duck in the Wiggs Cinco house.”

  “I’m aware,” he skitters with a twitch in his eye. “I have specific instructions from my father to take out Violet, and I’m trying to buy time. If you want me to send up a smoke flare, I certainly can with your boy Naby. I’ll get moved and so will he, but you’ll need to get out of here soon because the only thing holding Cinco away from you…”

  “… Is you,” I interject, squeezing his hand. “Why did you do it?”

  “I loved my sister, and you treated her good. I blamed you for a long time, but we need to move on. We have to, or we perish. Consider me a friend, Sal. But don’t abuse the privilege. Do you want me to make a move?”

  I don’t think about it because I can’t. I thrive in pain. Knowing the moves of Amber are causing aftershocks impacting Iris, I uncaringly growl, “Do it.”

  He slowly rises as I recite The Lord’s Prayer. “Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name…”

  His footsteps trace back down the center aisle as I remain with my head bowed and quietly saying the words. There is no easy way out of this war, and no matter what we do, the violence permeates throughout our genetics. We cannot escape it, neither Pico nor I. All we can do is try to survive.

  And sometimes, survival comes at a cost.

  At the squeak of the door, tears dripping onto my hands as I lower my forehead onto my fingers. Silence fills the void until I hear the dire screams of Naby’s horror.

  “Sal!” he cries out as I stay down. “Help me! He stabbed me! Help!”

  “And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil,” I whisper, kissing my hands and the invisible rosary. Giving an intense gaze to the statue of the Virgin Mary, I pray, “Forgive me. But this is about more than words. If that makes me a sinner or a saint, I don’t care because the only thing that matters is my Angel.”

  39

  When the Gloves Come Off

  Word spread like wildfire that Naby was stabbed three times by Pico Neves. No one knows I called the hit. No one knows I did it to save both of their lives.

  Pico Neves was promptly removed from the unit, and I assume, escorted into federal custody. Naby was airlifted to the university hospital for surgery. And immediately, I called Kary Vega to confess my sins.

  “You did the right thing,” he says as I sit rocking in Ronnie’s office. “If you hadn’t done it, they’d both still be in.”

  “I need you to find a way to keep Naby from coming back in here.”

  “He had less than two weeks before he went up for parole. The judge has already granted his compassionate release. He’ll likely be in medical care for the next three months.”

  “And you’ll keep someone on him?”

  “Already done.”

  “And Neves?”

  “He is in our safehouse in Colorado being interrogated. After he completes his obligation, they will be releasing him.”

  “Are you going after Cinco?”

  “I wish,” he informs as I quiver with rage. “They’re waiting for Immortal.”

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” I shout angrily. “Do you know how many people are going to die?”

  “You think they care?” His rhetoric is correct, and I hate it. There won’t be a turf war, but a siege dry-gulching the Cinco resources. Women will be raped and taken hostage. Children will be murdered. The men will succumb to the ways of Immortal, or they will be executed. “Despite their numbers, Cinco is seen as nothing more than a nuisance motorcycle gang; Immortal is the big kahuna.”

  “If they think they can stop Immortal with what they’re bringing to the table, they’re fucking stupid.”

  “Hey, hey… I agree with you, but I can’t change it. I know there is going to be carnage and all I can say is tie up your loose ends.”

  I understand what he’s saying, but it doesn’t mean I like it. If Jaid was still at my loft in Houston, I would need to move her. Or anyone else for that matter. The buddy system will become the standard. Thankfully, we have moved Trudy and Deacon to Sugargrove already. Sheriff Cody Cameron is spurring our growth with the help of the new mayor, Joe Kaiser.

  “What are you going to do about Cas?” Vega asks. My unwillingness to discuss the troublemaker has led us here to the proverbial Cassidy Hope bridge. Neither one of us wants to cross it. Her entanglement with Cinco runs deep, but what I know that few do is she is Kate Capri and The Maestro’s daughter, Sebastian Dubois’ sister, and heir to L’Académie. Jack Kerris, and perhaps Tristan as well, have deep connections to the chateau school in France, and if they decide to challenge Cas and Sebastian, I will have to hold Anna’s hand when the verdict comes down.

  Nico has been trying to buy the place, but the Maestro’s wife, Desirée Marciela Tolan Kerris, has so far refused to sell.

  Why does all this matter?

  Because the classic BDSM school in France serves as a retreat for many of the men involved spinning through the codex in my mind, if Cas assumes her place, she gives Cinco a spot in Europe, which is something they currently do not possess.

  “I need to see someone to start on a plan.”

  “Who?”

  “Father Phillip Quinn.”

  Vega gasps. “What are you planning on doing?”

  “I need to go to confession.”

  “Sal,” he warns, worrisome over my intentions. “He isn’t divine.”

  “I never said I needed divinity; I said I needed a doer, not a dreamer.”

  Even I know how corrupt I’m starting to sound. The blackness courses through my veins and radiates with pure hate. Hate for everything our fathers gave us. Hate for the traditions I’m expected to continue. Hate for being born in the first place. It’s a vicious fucking cycle.

  “He was Reckless Rebellion, the elder Saint Cruz’s priest, and a killer.”

  Two days later, I’m sitting in the grief room with Father Phillip Quinn. Vega knew I wasn’t messing around.

  “Salvatore,” Quinn stands to shake my hand. “How are you doing my boy?”

  “Who paid you to kill Victor Saint Cruz?” I ask, refusing to let his hand go. “You can tell me, or I can kill you now.”

  Retribution is a strange thing with me.

  I don’t typically act on impulse. I prefer to stash information until I can use it as bribery. Things work much better if people are living in fear.

  The murder of Deacon’s father is an unforgivable act in my eyes. I knew the man, and out of all of our fathers, he was probably the closest to a decent human being. He ran his club, making his money and keeping to himself.

  “Does this concern one Diamond Downs?” he asks, rubbing salt into my festering wound. “She was nothing more than a stripper Sal. She was a menace to society. Someone did a favor by eliminating her presence.”

  “She was Deacon Cruz’s bride to be, and someone fucking killed her and tied Dominic Gennaro up in a closet, so why don’t you confess your sins before it is too late, Padre?”

  “… May we sit down?”

  I give a distinct nod and blink as I release his hands. He isn’t out of my grasp yet. “It is time for remittance of your sins. Cleanse your soul and set them free. Or die with them, either way, I don’t care.”

  “Wait…” He lifts his hand as his eyes scour over the table. I open the bottle of water and set it in front of him. “The things I tell you must never leave this room.”

  … Really? … Now?

  “Zachariah and Victor were heavily involved. The plan was for their children, Diamond and Deacon, to run their business, but The Arrangement between The Four Horsemen changed all of that. Victor told Angelo Gennaro he would eliminate Diamond to pay for the debts.”

  “She was fucking pregnant with his child!”

  “No,” the old priest cries. “She wasn’t.”

  “She was fucking pregnant, Q.”

  His eyes roll up to meet mine. “She wasn’t pregnant with Deacon’s child, son.”

  “
With Diamond showing like she was, Victor figured out there was no way the baby could’ve been Deacon’s.”

  I’m stunned, but I do my best not to let it show. “I had a baby…”

  “Yes,” he mutters, hunkering over. “When Victor discovered it, he couldn’t let it occur, or it violated the agreement and put him at risk.”

  “And then you killed Victor…”

  “I did what was necessary for the continuation of Reckless Rebellion. I killed one of my best friends because I do not condone the killing of any woman or child. There are hard limits, Salvatore. You know this much. Accepting the facts is far more of a challenge than acting on them.”

  My mind flutters back to a time when Father Quinn provided a harsh discipline to my struggling masochist. I remember it like it was yesterday.

  In the rectory behind the church in Sugargrove, I earned my place with every douse of his holy water, lash from his whip, and moan from his lips.

  Lighting a smoke, I reply, “You played God.”

  “No, I did it to take a stand for Trudy’s little blue-eyed boy with golden hair.”

  I rub my eyes and realize what he is saying. “You killed Victor to protect Deacon.”

  “No,” he clearly states. “But much in the same way you protect Deacon, I will protect you.” His words take shape in my mind and collapse into flames. “I sense you brought me here for a reason, aside from asking me to abolish your sins with Deacon Cruz, which you know I cannot do. I won’t tell you of all people who to love, Salvatore.”

  Choking back my tears, I clear my throat and stand up. “I need you to start a war between Boudreaux and Allegiance, who recently took over Rampage.”

  He wipes his glasses with the tissue and adjusts them on his face. “What would you like me to do?”

  “I don’t care,” I muster without concern. “Just distract them.”

  “Be careful what you ask for, son,” he says with wisdom. I tilt my head. “I know many things.”

  “Unless you know where Diablo Cruz is…”