Every Minute I Love You (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 3)

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  Despite the gruffness of his words, I know he only wants what is best for me and this is just a pit stop on a long track back to Iris. We’re lip-locked when I stand up and he pushes my back against the tree. His hands are all over my sweaty body, gliding up underneath my shirt and dipping into my pants. I harden fast as he lowers to take my cock in his mouth.

  His sweet lips caress over the head and his mouth fully gulps the shaft. Blowjobs with Cruz are fucking ahhh—mazing. His fingers cup beneath my balls as he brings on the serious moves to send my mind spiraling and my dick ejaculating. His other hand demandingly grips into the flesh of my ass and forces my bucking like a wild man.

  I’m about to explode when my phone rings.

  “Fuck!” I angrily hiss. “That’s Georgia!”

  He releases my dick from his mouth. “Should I hand it to you?”

  “Yes,” I say, placing my hand on the back of his head and encouraging him to not stop. After pulling the interruption from my pocket, he promptly returns to sucking me off as I answer, “Raniero…”

  “We need to talk, honey cakes.”

  “About?” I ask, propping against the tree as my eyes roll back in my head. I hold his head steady at my cock. Don’t fucking stop, bitch. “I’m a bit…” About to come in Deacon’s throat… “Busy at the moment.”

  “Pico would like to meet with you in Washington.”

  My mouth opens wide and I close my eyes. Silencing the grunt, I long to release. I let go and feel his swallowing my spunk as I stroke his cheek. Dear fuck. “When?”

  “As soon as possible… he says it’s urgent.”

  “You know you really should just come work for me, Georgia.”

  She sighs. “I can’t yet.”

  I’ve been harassing her to accept my job offer. She seems to feel some loyalty for Sibyl which is bullshit. She needs to be by my side. Deacon is licking my semi-erect cock like a damn lollipop. He glances up with those blue eyes and I know he’ll have me fully at attention in a matter of minutes, only this time a blow won’t suffice. I’ll need more.

  “Tell Pico I’ll be there by the end of the week.”

  “Sure thing,” she eagerly replies. “And Sal, tell Deacon I said hello.”

  I’m about to tell Deacon Cruz a whole lot more than hello.

  4

  One-Night Hussy

  I take a midday commercial flight out on Friday. I considered ordering a private jet, but it seemed like too much hassle at the time. I didn’t know what Pico wanted, so a weekend visit seemed like my smartest move.

  With the short visit, I’m already dressed in slacks and sport coat before taking a taxi to the place in downtown Seattle. I have my backpack but nothing else.

  Ace’s Bar is on the top floor of a business building. Judging by the overly attentive, gay maître d’ and hot waitresses with their ass cheeks showing in scanty shorts, I think Pico picked this spot with me in mind. I arrive before him and take the prime spot in the corner.

  With black lacquer accents, floor to ceiling windows, and mirrors everywhere, the space is opulent. “Hi! What can I get you from the bar?”

  “Some water,” I say to the waitress. She’s thick in the middle and her tight shirt shows off her voluptuous rack. I take note of how low its unbuttoned and notice her cleavage wrapped in purple lace. “And whatever you have light on draft.”

  “You got it.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Flo,” she says, leaning over and placing a coaster in front of me. My eyes catch hers and we spark a connection. “Yours?”

  “Lucas.”

  “Nice to meet you, Lucas.” She winks with a light blush rising on her cheeks. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

  Sitting back in the lounge chair, I stare at her curvy derriere shaking back to the bar. Her black booty shorts are snug in all the right places and give a hint of what waits underneath. She bends slightly over the bar giving a full-on view of all that ass I would love to smack my palm into. Her figure reminds me of my girl and the pierced beast knows.

  Fuck.

  I’m such a damn sucker for a girl with curves.

  Spotting Pico at the entrance, I wave and he comes over. So much for fantasy time. “Nero,” he says, shaking my hand as I stand up to greet him. I lay my fingers on his arm and we give one another a brief bro hug.

  “Is there a reason you called me across the country?”

  We take a seat and Flo brings my drinks. He orders a beer and scoots his chair in closer as I pretend to pay Flo no mind as she sashays back to the bar. “You need to know Javi is coming for you.”

  I can’t say as though I am surprised, but I offer a humble, “… Me? What could Javi possibly want with me?”

  “He wants The Unholy…to dismantle the organization before it takes hold…”

  I take a sip of the beer and give his remarks a sour reaction. “He’s scared.”

  “You’re damn right he’s scared. You’ve got Delarte Cristos’ support in your back-fucking-pocket and everyone knows. Everyone is paying attention to see what you do next. You’re the fucking Raniero kid and you could really fuck shit up.”

  I shrug off the notions of my criminal underworld celebrity status. Pico isn’t telling me anything I don’t already know. I expect most of the players have an awareness of my place in this world. Having Cristos holding my hand only insures one thing—my impact will be felt globally and there isn’t a goddamned thing anyone can do to stop it now.

  Those who didn’t become my allies when they had the opportunity will regret it and my foes will become targeted enemies. I won’t make trouble unless provoked. I’ll keep to myself, but my neck of the woods isn’t Sugargrove, Texas anymore. The Unholy is expanding with international deals—some profitable, some philanthropic—cause we’re nice guys, right?

  “I’ve got an offer on the table from The Brethren.”

  Now, that’s a piece of a pie I wouldn’t mind having some of—Zachariah and Ezekiel Evans know what they have and so do I. The entire PacWest locked up tight with a bright red ribbon. They have deals with Lotus to further their growth without violence, but the stipulation comes at a steep price.

  “I’ve heard rumors of the 80/20 split.”

  “It’s not that bad,” Pico says as Flo returns with his beer. “Closer to 60/40.”

  I’m not a fool and Lotus isn’t either, eventually it will be my estimations as they dismantle The Brethren. “Does Zach or Zeke have a plan to keep their footing?”

  “They’re expanding into Canada and dipping their toes into South America with the smaller cartels. They’re in talks with the Pacific Rim outside of Lotus.”

  With a heavy sigh, I lean back. “Do they realize they’ll get eaten alive in SoAm?”

  “They realize the money moving their cargo is worth the risk.”

  I’m not so sure. The cargo centers around cocaine and other narcotics, but it’s only a matter of time before it shifts to bangs and humans. “And are you doing it?”

  “For a brief stint to raise some capital…”

  “You need money to fight for Cinco,” I guess, locking my fingers together. He blinks, acknowledging my assessment as correct. “You’re going against Javi for a dying club. If you think Immortal is going to stand down…”

  “I think the club was built on a foundation of family and that is where it should return.”

  I can’t blame the guy because the parallels between where I am as a Raniero and where he is as one of the founding namesakes of Cinco are evident. His great grandfather helped to build the small group of Mexican men meeting in a church and his son (Pico’s grandfather) undermined their allegiance by sharing their plans to buy a plot of land in West Texas. He went directly to the oil men, the land was sold out from under Cinco, and the Neves’ clan was ousted from the club.

  It took Pico’s father, Juan Neves, many years to bring the family back into the fold. His grandfather was never forgiven for the betrayal, but he made a small
fortune reforming his own small band of outlaws in Arizona, which would later be absorbed by Lotus some twenty years ago.

  Over the years, Cinco morphed into a motorcycle club, but they remained based around the idea of brotherhood, family, and God. It was a simple mission, but Javi longed to change them into a contender in the criminal underworld. His visionary plans had Cinco running alongside Immortal.

  Unfortunately, Javi Neves failed to understand one thing. Immortal runs with no one. Lotus barely does, which is why The Brethren getting in with them is so enticing. I had my opportunity and lost it because of my association with one reckless mistress.

  I couldn’t blame them.

  Amber was a fucking hothead.

  And I haven’t seen her since the night at the club.

  Still, her past actions are enough to send Lotus far away from where I long for them to be. Pico getting in with The Brethren, who are in talks with Lotus, could ease my way back in.

  “How much do you need to solidify the deal with Zach?”

  “It’s not that I need the money, Nero,” Pico says, eyeing me. “It’s do you want in on the deal?”

  After I refuse to answer Pico on The Brethren deal, I send a quick text to Dom letting him know the details. I sat in Ace’s observing Flo. The bar was packed, wall to wall, and she handled everyone like a pro. She was attentive without being pushy, and I knew I’d leave her a well-deserved tip. We had flirted for hours and I studied that ass like a map to a lost treasure.

  “Can I get you anything else, Sir?”

  I blink at the word.

  “How much for the night?”

  Her mouth drops open, not anticipating my question. “I know some of the other girls are open to solicitation,” she says, hastily grabbing the empty bottles and dishes from my table.

  “Are you not?”

  In a state of disbelief, she stutters, “I can send one of them over.”

  “But I’m interested in you.”

  “I get off in ten minutes,” she says as I hand her my credit card. “I can meet you in the lobby by the elevators.”

  “Deal.”

  We don’t say another word. I pay my tab, grab my jacket, and leave. I’m staring out the window at the Seattle skyline when she appears out of her uniform in a knee-length dress and boots. Her brown hair is enriched with platinum highlights surrounding her round face. She put on red lipstick and powdered her nose. She looks incredible.

  “Can I buy you a drink somewhere, Flo?”

  She shakes her head in complete silence. The uncertain look on her face is balanced by a starry-eyed stare like she cannot believe I would have asked her for after-hours time. “Flouncy Marianne Greer.”

  “… Flouncy?”

  “Yes,” she says with a smile. “My parents are a bit out there. My older brother’s name is Rush Adam Greer.”

  “Just one sibling?”

  “Yeah,” she answers, gripping onto the railing. “I’m twenty-two. You?”

  “Almost twenty-six.”

  There is a nervous energy between us that I cannot pinpoint. “Are you from around here?”

  “I’m actually from Millsap, but I came here to go to school and ended up taking a job at Ace’s to help pay the bills.” I glance around and she laughs. “You have no idea where that is…”

  “I’ve never been here.”

  “Where are you from, Lucas?”

  “Boston.”

  “When do you leave?”

  “I can catch a flight anytime.”

  Her hand brushes over mine. “Can you drive a stick?”

  “Yeah,” I reply, not knowing where this is going.

  “Come on.”

  I follow her downstairs and out into the cold night air. It’s raining when I grab her hand and she leads the way to her old truck in the back lot. I help her in and head around to the driver’s side. I get up into the jacked-up beast. “Is this yours?”

  “It was my brother’s until he joined the military. He’s been enlisted for seven years. I started driving it because he didn’t want it to lock up.”

  She opens her phone and turns on the GPS to map directions. “Where are we going?”

  “My house in Millsap because my apartment is full of three other girls.”

  Hmm.

  There is possibility in that…

  I think about offering up a swanky hotel room, which I can easily do, but something about this girl has my interest piqued. I want to see where she comes from. “No parents?”

  “They moved back to Texas after I graduated,” she says, fastening her seatbelt. Oh. Shit. Texas. “I was born there, but I didn’t want to leave Washington, so they left the house in my name. My horses are there. I go up every weekend. During the week, I have a guy who comes by to care for them.”

  I drive for the next two hours in rain, sleet, and snow. She says nothing to me but sings along with the radio. It doesn’t irritate me at all. In fact, her sweet soprano relaxes me.

  I’m not sure what I’m thinking, driving up into the mountains with no car and a girl I don’t know. She poses no threat, this much I know. Girls like Flo are as innocent as they come. If anything, I intimidate her, but I won’t take advantage of this.

  I turn onto the driveway at her house. It’s a nice spread with an older two-story set back from the road.

  “Keep going until the end of the road. That’s my grandparents place.” I feel the tires slipping in the slosh, but I take it slow and steady around the winding, gravel path. A dog darts in front of me from the bushes on the left. “That’s Groucho. He belongs to my aunt.”

  “Family compound?”

  “Yeah,” she giggles. “There will be another house up on the right. It belongs to my brother, Rush, and his wife. My Uncle left it to them when he died.”

  “Do they have kids?”

  “Two, a boy and a girl.”

  We pass by her brother’s house. “What are they all going to think about you bringing a stranger home?”

  “Nothing,” she says, staring at me. “I’m the girl with six cats. No one pays any attention to me unless Rush is home.”

  I hate to ask if the girl is a virgin, but I already know the answer. God, I can’t be that guy.

  We arrive at the modest log cabin house with one light on inside. “Were you going to come home tonight?”

  “No,” she says. “I was going to come home in the morning.”

  “When do you have to be back in Seattle?”

  “Tuesday.”

  One day longer than I expect, but I can make that work if she’s interested. Worst case, I pay a fuckton for an Uber to take me the two hours to the airport.

  I know, I know. I’m engaged. I have a girl who loves me. Yadda yadda. I’ve heard it all from the inner voice blaring in my mind. But I’m not… I’m not in love with Emily like she is me. And truthfully, I don’t believe I can as long as Iris is out there.

  I hop out and we head inside.

  “Make yourself at home.”

  I take a seat on the sofa as I continue my profile of the young woman. A white cat jumps in my lap. Her tag says Meg. A few seconds later, another one, a long-haired calico, hops on the sofa. This one’s name is Dakota. Immediately, a solid black one joins in on our fun. I snort at her name tag, Chiquita.

  Flo returns in sweat pants and a loose long-sleeved shirt with the neck torn out. She grabs a couple of beers, hands one to me, and flops on the opposite end of the sofa. “I see you made a few friends. They don’t come out if they don’t like the person. They cannot stand my aunt.”

  I smile. “Why, did you bring a guy here that you don’t know?”

  “Because you’re Sal Raniero, engaged to Emily Granger, and you met with Pico Neves. I’m not oblivious, Lucas.”

  The next morning, I wake up on the sofa to the smell of bacon cooking. I eye the empty beer bottles and the half empty bottle of whiskey. We drank. We talked. We laughed.

  She tossed me a pillow and covered me up.

&
nbsp; Flouncy Greer is a caregiver.

  And damn if I didn’t need some care.

  I peer over the back of the sofa and spot her curly hair piled high up on her head. “Sleep well?”

  “I need a shower,” I say in a post-hazy drunken stupor. “And tea.”

  “Breakfast will be ready in about twenty minutes. Go take a shower,” she says, pointing to the hallway. “Last door at the end. Go through my bedroom. You’ll find the bathroom. I don’t keep shampoo and soap in the guest bath.”

  “You don’t mind?” I wearily ask, stumbling over. “I don’t mind grabbing the shampoo and…”

  “Just go take a shower, Sal,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I don’t care.”

  Her room is nice with pink, black, and white floral decor. The girly atmosphere continues to her bathroom. Unfortunately, I’m in the shower by the time I realize I forgot my backpack with extra clothes. I lather with her rose scented wash and peppermint shampoo. I smell like a damn garden by the time I get out and wrap a towel around my waist. It’s fluffy and white.

  Thank God.

  Her back is to me when I meander to the kitchen where the spread in the small nook is fit for an army. Biscuits, gravy, sausage, bacon, scrambled eggs, and orange juice. I pray she can cook because I’m starving. She turns and gasps. “Holy crap, that’s a lot of ink!”

  I laugh at what she notices. I spin away to go get dressed.

  “Get back here and eat and tell me who Iris Amarie is…”

  What begins is a conversation I never planned on having—least of all with a complete stranger. I’m scarfing biscuits and bacon and discussing my personal life in such intimate detail that I’m probably stupid for doing such, but something about Flouncy tells me she just wants to listen.

  An hour and three cups of tea later (she is consuming an entire pot of coffee by herself and I’m so fucking jealous that I’m frothing at the mouth) she quizzes, “Why did you solicit me for…whatever last night?”

  I shrug because I really don’t have an answer. “I needed to escape.”

  “And do you still?”