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

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  Walking past the trash containers to the end of the path, I crack open the bottle and the cork thumps with a declaration of freedom. I’m thinking of this contract as the first step to my own. In moving Iris, I’m choosing to make strategic moves based on my own knowledge without templates or highlighted notes from Kaci. This is my test and every minute means I’m one step closer to goal.

  And I like winning.

  Opening my phone, I search for the red light district in Tokyo. I get over a million hits and decide to take the subway from Ginza to Shinjuku for the Kabukichō area. I finish the bottle and walk to the terminal.

  The subway ride is complete immersion, my baptismal plunge into Japanese culture. Old and young, tourists and locals all collide as we ride towards where I probably belong. I note a young teenage girl standing near me with a small stuffed green worm-like toy dangling from her backpack. It has one eye missing.

  With her crooked teeth, she smiles as I glance up. The subway comes to a halt and she unclips it from her bag and places it in my palm. In her best Japanese-accented English, she says, “Be careful.” She closes her eyes with a nod. “And have fun.”

  “You too.” I close my eyes and tilt my head. “Thank you.”

  Like a fresh sprout out of the earth, I’m so damn green until I meander deeper into the darkness amongst the smells of street food mixing with the stench of sex. I pull off my tie, draping it around my neck, and unbutton my shirt.

  On the streets, people pass in club outfits and bondage gear. With the festive atmosphere, I spot the commotion of a live scene and hear the unmistakable crack of a whip.

  I speak this language.

  Quite fluently.

  I wedge my way up to the front of the crowd as a Dominant man is giving a demonstration on his young female sub. She is adorable in her pink leather gear and takes his playful strikes with many giggles. My mind soaks in all of it as the firm grip of my ass steals my attention.

  Cruz whispers in my ear, “You’re not hard to find.”

  “No, but I am…”

  His hand moves to the front of my trousers. “Mr. Raniero, it seems you have a problem.”

  I chuckle. “How the fuck did you find me?”

  “GPS tracking isn’t that complicated.”

  “My phone,” I snarl, knowing I brought the personal one with me tonight in case Iris called.

  “Would anyone like to try?”

  Imparting a crazed look, I open my eyes wide and suggestively grin at Deacon. “No, no, no… Sal!”

  “Then I guess we’re checking into a love hotel.”

  17

  Come to Daddy

  “Would you like to see my dungeon?” The Chairman says to me.

  “Certainly, Sir.”

  We walk deep into the bowels of the behemoth castle, far beneath the underground, down steps and steps of broken cement, to long ever-growing hallways.

  I note the squirreling of rodents and the silken webs spun taut as the lantern remains on the tips of his ripened fingers. The chilled temperature blasts through my bones like a million tiny ice picks. His ancient hallowed halls, ignored for the most part, become a sacred walk for me.

  Because I know…

  The rickety door jostles free with a stirring slam of the hinges as we step inside an arena. More steps of broken concrete threaten the balance with their jagged edges and rubble of disrepair. We skate in the sand at the bottom of the magnificent dome, along the empty space, approximately ten feet wide surrounding the pit.

  He dislodges the chains, protecting his possessions, and tugs the lever to open the gates of doom. The engine cranks to life, whirling and hissing from being disturbed from slumber. The huge trap doors open flopping each wooden plank back and rolling onto itself.

  “Are you ready, Sal?”

  With trembling hands and a dry as cotton mouth, I reply, “Yes.”

  He punches his fist against the large blue glowing button as the lights power on in his tomb of ruination.

  I peer through the bars and note two tables with two chairs each. “Do you like the art I have done?”

  The right table draws my attention first. I panic at the sight of Deacon in iron shackles attached to a man who plagues my days and terrorizes my nights—Handcock. He escaped from prison when I was there. Peering up, he says, “I see you, Sal. I know what you came for.”

  I glance to the left table, crying at the sight of Iris and Jaid connected by similar slave chains. “Let them go! They cannot be in there with him!”

  “Do you like who you have become?”

  “What are you going to do?” I scream in his direction. “They cannot stay there. Handcock will kill them all.”

  “Each table will battle until death before a grand audience. The two remaining will then fight for their victory and be free.”

  Studying the odds, I sob—whatever happens—I lose. Even if Deacon wins against Handcock, he will then eliminate one of the girls. I consider the match of Iris and Jaid and while the winner may seem simple to determine, it isn’t. Iris is conniving, manipulative, and quick. She will not go down without a fight, but against Deacon? Against Handcock? Regardless of who wins, I ultimately lose, the only question is how much?

  “You can no longer have it all, Salvatore,” The Chairman challenges, slobber dripping from his mouth. “You must choose. And if you don’t, the choices will be made for you.”

  A minute passes and I’m thrust into an elevator with The Chairman. We’re going up or down, I cannot tell which. “Where are we going? I need to see Iris!”

  “And you will,” he declares as the doors open to nothing but the space above the pit. “Survive the fall and you win it all.”

  He pushes me out and I go tumbling through the sky—down towards the opening grate. I will not hit the cement and live. Iris is about to have my brains splattered all over her body.

  My blood will be on her hands—the paradox to my problem of late—I cannot have her blood on my hands.

  Soaking in sweat, I awake with a wail I will never forget. “I surrender my hands to you!”

  “Hey, hey,” Deacon calmly says, edging into the bed beside me. “We have to stop it.”

  “We can’t stop it. It’s too late.”

  “What day is it?” I ask, darting from the bed with a groggy coma paralyzing my brain. “What the hell did we do?”

  “You partied for a good twenty-four hours, Sal.”

  “Holy shit…”

  Sitting up in the bed, he mutters, “You don’t remember going to the club and whipping the two girls?”

  “No.” I open the curtains to the overcast, gloomy sky. “How much did I do?”

  “Too much.”

  “I’ve never been so fucking wasted to lose days.” I scratch my balls and turn to look at him. “Oh, fuck…Dom…”

  “He’s fine,” Deacon soothes, easing closer to the edge of the bed. “He said he expected it. And to tell you the truth, so did I…”

  “The last thing I remember was eating those chicken skewers with the sub girl.”

  “Yakitori. And sake.” He opens a water bottle and hands it to me. I take a long swallow, glancing around the derelict room with the crumbling ceiling and peeling ornate golden wallpaper, as he lights two smokes. I cannot believe I crashed out – completely wasted – here. “And more sake. And between flirting innuendos you fed her gyoza,” he informs as I furrow a brow with a question. “Fried dumplings. At one point, she had her feet wrapped around your hard cock.”

  “In the middle of a restaurant…”

  “I wouldn’t call it a restaurant. It was a sex club, and baby, you were starving.”

  “Shit. Motherfucker.” I duck my head and pull my hair. “By the time the crêpes came, you tossed a spoonful of whipped cream on her throat—dinner was over and so were you.”

  “Oh. Dear. God.” I am mortified. “Tell me I didn’t…” He broadly smiles. “Tell me I didn’t lick it off of her?”

  “You ended up doin
g far more than licking her neck after another two rounds of sake. You did a round of knee service after playing with her fasteners for a good hour. You were so damn cute.”

  I breathe. “And you didn’t think to stop me?”

  “Nah,” Deacon says with a shrug as I empty the bottle of water. “You needed the release. I stood guard the whole time, sipping on three beers, and letting you party on like a rockstar.”

  “I had a ten thousand dollar a night call girl at my disposal and I fucked the girl on the street?”

  “No,” he corrects, tossing another bottle to me. “You didn’t just fuck the girl on the street. You went for the triple homer—all three holes—at different points in the night. I thought her Dom was going to stop you after you made her do clean up service the first time.”

  Unable to handle the truth, I sit on the window ledge and grimace through the horrors of my ruthless sex acts. “Tell me I didn’t do that…”

  “Oh, you did… and she took it like a champ. She licked her shi….”

  I lift a hand flat. “Don’t…”

  “Her Dom sat there stroking his cock over his pants all night, adjusting himself, and promising me that he would propose.”

  “Well, at least someone will be happy,” I sigh and lean back against the glass, briefly praying it gives way so I can fall to my death from a seedy brothel hotel in the middle of Japan. I glance out. It’s two floors and knowing my luck with these kinds of things, I’d live but have two broken wrists and never be able to jack off again. “What the hell were we doing?”

  “Swapping tabs printed with rainbow lotus flowers,” he says, flicking some out of his suit jacket. “I saved some because I knew you would want to see them.”

  “I bought these?”

  “Technically, yes… but you made Saori crawl to the dealer with the stack of cash you stuffed in her corset.”

  I want to hide in a hole. Long gone is the memory of my nightmare, but the sweat on my skin remembers everything from the last forty-eight hours. “These are from Lotus?”

  “I would assume one of their distributors,” Deacon says, placing the LSD in my hands. “I don’t think The Chairman is in the cellar making acid.”

  I chuckle once and shake my head. “How many did I?”

  “Honestly, I lost count... but a lot. You said the sex was the best you’ve ever had. I was a bit offended at first but watching you made it worth it.”

  I scratch my head. “I need a shower.”

  “Not here, man.” Deacon removes the hazy envelope of drugs from my hands and returns them to his coat. “You need to get back to the hotel.”

  “… Dom is going to kill me.”

  “Not until you’re sober.”

  “I’m not sure that is going to occur in the next month,” I say, walking to the bathroom. I scan my eyes over the broken tiles and torn linoleum on the floor as I take a piss. He’s right. I don’t want to shower here. I’m not even sure I want to be in Japan anymore. Boston is starting to sound more appealing by the minute.

  “You were a very naughty boy, Sal,” Deacon announces from behind me as I wash my hands in the stained sink.

  Splashing some water on my face, I take a glimpse of myself in the mirror and claim, “Naughty doesn’t quite capture the depth of my bad.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” he says, talking to me in the mirror. “But when your Dom comes out, you are incomparable and the control in your chaos is absolute beauty.”

  Several hours later, I’m soaking in our swanky hotel suite tub with Cruz. I’m nursing on a constant, steady stream of fluids—water, juice, and tea. I’ve yet to puke, which I expected, but aside from the dehydration, I have to say I feel pretty good. My dick feels like it went to the fair, walked around and rode every ride six times over. “How many condoms did I go through?”

  “At least the dozen I had on me.”

  “Thank God, I wrapped it.”

  “Because I told you to when we went to the john together like sissy girls.”

  I exhale a line of smoke rings. “We went…to the bathroom…together?”

  “Yeah, I handed you the bundle in the stall. I told you do not do what you are about to do unless you wrap it.”

  “You took them in your fist and yelled Come to Daddy…”

  “And I thought the low point was the tail end service job…”

  Several weeks after we return from Japan, I get a late night message from Georgia.

  KV Requests Immediate Long-term Assistance on – HELLER – TX/OK/NE/PacWest Traf X-Post

  After I flip through it, I give her a call and we once again discuss my job offer. She wants me on the case; I want her by my side. It seems a fair trade.

  I close the windows open on my screen before noticing the 1,064 emails in my personal RideTrotter account. “What the…”

  Opening the mail, I see they’re all from DandelionFlyin. I grin. Every single one has the same picture of her little red toes on a beach. I hastily type out a response – “Can you talk?” – and hit send.

  I go to the guest house where Deacon is staying, and I wait.

  I talk to Iris one final time, knowing full well the risks I’m taking in moving her. It is the most difficult call of my life.

  “Have I asked you to marry me today?”

  “Mhmm,” she lightly giggles. “I don’t think so, Master Nero.”

  A stupid grin smacks across my face as the tears wash over my cheeks. “Marry me, Iris?”

  “A thousand times I will say yes, Lucas,” she answers, sobbing. “I will marry you for all eternity.” I hear her breakdown as she succumbs to the heartache. “Hurry. Please. I don’t want to lose to you.”

  “Even if you lose and call me, you’ll always win,” I maintain, closing my fingers to a fist and opening them wide. I want to hold her hand. I want to touch her skin. I want to kiss her lips goodnight and cradle her in my arms. “Because you will never lose me.”

  “You make a girl not want to compete,” she sasses, trying to recover. “I should take the loss just to hear your voice tomorrow.”

  “Take it, baby,” I encourage through gritted teeth as I stand up. I cannot handle the impending silence in the phone laying down. “Spread your wings and claim me, because I am yours. More than words…”

  “I love you, Sal,” she breathes.

  “I love you, Angel baby.”

  The phone clicks.

  I cry.

  And Deacon helps me forget.

  Pieces of the night before rest on the floor as I peek open one eye. The zip ties, cane, condom wrappers, and lube wait to be picked up and put away as the phone rings again. My legs are twisted up in Deacon’s goose down comforter. The soft, white fluff nestles against my rock hard cock, urging my sleepy waking bucks, as my ass stays up and uncovered. My legs split like open scissors around the plushness. I lunge towards the phone and spot an envelope.

  “… Raniero,” I groggily rattle.

  “I’m sending you a video clip one of the agents found while scanning through the security footage,” Dom barks, pissed off.

  “… Of what?”

  “You’ll know when you see it…”

  Blinking to clear my eyes, I mutter, “Hold on.”

  I press the arrow, playing the video. It is an empty shadowy hallway. I see Deacon leave. One minute and four-seconds later, Amber appears outside of the door and hands a brown paper bag off to Mitch. The clip cuts to a shot in the parking lot of the escaped Handcock, standing outside of the getaway vehicle. Mitch comes up with the paper bag and the pair leave. We were infiltrated and under siege by my mistress.

  “… What the fuck?”

  Replaying the nightmare, I watch the exchange of what I can only imagine were Deacon’s swimmers. My body shivers, knowing Amber’s deceit jars my serene slumber with an ice-cold deluge.

  Get up, muthafucka.

  With my voice trembling, I grumble, “Who found this?”

  Dom pauses. “Do you want to know?”


  “Ya, I do.”

  “Prissy Pants.”

  “Jaid,” I snort, laughing. “Mierne said she was the most dangerous player on the team. Leave it to her to find this.” Cracking my knuckles, I close my eyes. “Whatever Cas and Mitch are involved in, so is my former practice slut.”

  “Yeah,” Dom acknowledges, exhaling deeply. “My only question is, what do you want to do about it, Boston?”

  Sitting up, I stroke my chin, understanding every one of my tribe is in danger. I must do something to prevent the enemy from taking opportunistic moves. I need to batten down the hatches and tighten the ship. “Have her immediately picked up… and we’ll become eleven if Jaid is auditioning with intel like that.”

  “Fair enough with Jaid,” he agrees with a serious tone. “Where are we taking Amber?”

  “There is one more house not in use.”

  His breathing stops. “You cannot send her back to her hometown. The Allegiance is running rampant in the Ozarks. Stanis and his men will eat her alive.”

  “Let them feast,” I hiss, lighting a smoke. “No boundaries. No bars. No perimeter. No discipline. Penetration attacks without warning to those with Machiavellian ways.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Snakes live in jungles. Rats stay in cages. Sharks remain in the sea,” I growl, lacing my fingers in each other and cracking all of my knuckles. “And monsters like me compromise the barriers. We break the fence. Stalk the prey. And punish without conscience.”

  “Salvatore.” The tone in his voice expresses concern for my sanity. “You can’t…”

  “My former mistress just fucked her sweet ride for the final time.”

  With a light chuckle, he whispers, “You best be certain because she won’t survive.”

  “Are you trying to talk me out of it?”

  “No,” he alleges, understanding those who cross The Unholy will suffer. All the contaminated must be eradicated. “You best not change your mind.”

  “The change already occurred,” I inform, rising naked. “I’m done with second chances, complacent agreement, and denial of identity. I’m done living for everyone else. It’s time to be selfish. It’s time to be a bastard. It’s time to be a Raniero.”