“… Is Iris aware of this?”
“The future Mrs. Raniero is very aware of this,” I snicker, opening the curtains to see Deacon’s pearly white ass swimming in the chilly pool. I overtly stare at the man collared by me. Emily waves at me from the garden and everything is fine. “I’ll see you at the hotel.”
“We’re leaving in a half hour,” I reply, ending the call. The plan is simple. Deacon and I are meeting Dom and Nico in New York City. We’ll wait there until we have news of Iris’ abduction. It is the week of my twenty-seventh birthday.
Grabbing the envelope off the nightstand, I understand the gravity of the crime we are about to commit. I pull a knife from the drawer and slice it open to see the transfer of two million in funds to Dom. He can argue the use of it to save his family’s dying financial business. The truth is it’s already been converted and sent to the Goro gang. I sit down on the bed.
And I breakdown.
Alone.
18
Never Saw This Coming
After the short flight to New York, we check into the hotel. We have a two-room suite. Dom and Nico aren’t here yet, and for that, I’m thankful. Deacon plops onto the sofa and I grab a couple of beers from the minibar. “Here we are again,” he says, clicking on the flat screen as I hand him a bottle. “What the fuck did you do?”
His blue eyes spike to meet mine. He quickly sets his beer down and stands up. Pulling at the hem of my Henley, he isn’t messing, but I refuse to let him take it from me. “It’s nothing.”
“Bullshit!” He flares with a concerned anger. “Get that fucking shirt off now!”
I set my beer down and tug the back of the neck over my head to reveal the makeshift bandages running up my right arm. “Jesus! Fucking! Christ! Raniero!” The blood has soaked through and marked the sleeve of my shirt up. “What the hell are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking I just paid two mil to have my girl tied up and thrown onto a cargo ship.”
“I’ll be back,” he says, heading for the door. “You, sit down, and do not fucking move.”
I stare at my phone and place it on the coffee table as I unwind the gauze from my battlefield scars. They’re still oozing. I down one of the beers and then the other. Lula calls, but I don’t answer. Allie texts, but I don’t respond. Emily sends a photo of her smile, but I ignore it.
All I can think about is her running down the driveway at Juliet and jumping…jumping…jumping into my arms. She penetrated clean through my armor and there was nothing I could do but wave the white flag.
Iris is my weakness.
Thinking about the dream I had in Japan, I hysterically sob because there is no doubt who wins my heart in the end. I’d spit on Handcock’s corpse, say a farewell to Jaid, and kiss my lover goodbye all for the love of Iris.
It’s never something I considered, you know? How do we prioritize loved ones? When did adulting get so fucking difficult? When did I have to choose more than mustard or ketchup for my hot dog? When did homework lose the home and become all work? When did I get so fucking lost?
“Sorry it took me a minute,” Cruz says, startling me. “Great, you’re getting drunk.”
I look down at the three empty mini bottles of whiskey. I blink.
Fuck.
I’m losing my shit.
“Did you do this handiwork before you left?”
“Yes,” I mutter as he examines the seven lacerations lining my arm. He wipes them with a warm damp cloth and sprays some cleanser over them. “I’m sorry.”
“Do you remember doing it?”
“I don’t even remember drinking the booze.”
His lips purse tight. “You handle stress like a fucking soldier on the front lines until it comes to Iris. And you crumble like no one I’ve ever seen.”
“I love her…”
“I can’t keep watching you do this shit,” he seriously says, waiting for my arm to dry. “You gotta stop, Sal. Eventually you are going to kill yourself.”
Beneath my tears, I mutter, “Please don’t tell Dom.”
His jaw sharpens to a hard angle as his head shakes ever so slightly. “Tell me one reason I shouldn’t.”
“Because you love me.”
“Love can only go so far if you won’t keep your heart near me.” His expression twists with agony I cannot explain, like it’s taking everything he’s got to not beat the crap out of me. “You don’t trust me…if you feel like you need to do this,” he yells, lifting my arm to show me the damage. “Then we aren’t right. You are failing—not because you are cutting—but because you aren’t giving me the chance to love you. Give. Me. The. Fucking. Chance.”
“And I should…”
“Yeah, you should because I’m good for it,” he declares, and I know he is right. “I don’t want to see this again. I don’t want you to be so alone that you start feeling like this is the only option because it is not. I am the only option. Goddammit! Why the fuck can’t I override Kaci’s damn programming in you just once? I see you listening to me, but I know it isn’t sticking. I’m just a reel of tape you’ll scratch off and go back to this.”
With a deep breath, I mumble, “You have to lay new track. Take out the old.”
“I don’t know anyone who can do that!”
“There’s one…” He leans back and looks up at the ceiling. “The answers aren’t there.”
“Then where the fuck are they because I’m going to be a fucking pirate and go steal them for you.”
“Guam.”
Licking his lips, he nods. “Then I’m going to Guam.”
I snicker, “You can’t. We’re locked into this…”
“This guy you are turning into isn’t you. I’ve seen you load tea with booze at nine in the morning. I’ve watched you drop acid and snort lines and fuck girls you wouldn’t have touched with someone else’s dick. You are having blackouts. You are losing time. And Iris is on the line.”
I rub my hands over my face. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he says, gripping my hands. “Just don’t blame me when everything comes undone because I’m starting to feel like I’m the only responsible adult here.”
“I need her back.”
His hands lay against my cheeks. “Then I will bring her back to you because I love you that much. I’m not going to sit around while you kill yourself over a girl. Not on my watch, Raniero. Never.”
His commitment to me is unreal. “Clean your act up before the curtain falls and you can’t stop it.”
A minute passes as we stare at one another. “I hate Boston.”
“I know you do,” he eases, ruffling my hair with his fingers. “I know you do.”
He solidly embraces me as his offer to be the crutches to keep my ass standing pounds against every muscle in my body. “This isn’t about how much I love you.”
“No,” he says, putting his head against mine. “This is about how much you trust me. I already know when it comes down to the end. I know we don’t end together.…it will be Iris and you…and I’m not ever going to ask you to change that. I just want to see you happy.”
“I’m so far from happy.”
“You have to go through hell to find happy.” He offers a subtle smile. “No one ever said hell was easy. And I know you’re going to do more stupid shit. I know this isn’t over. You’ll drink again. You’ll get wasted again. You’ll screw a bitch I don’t think is good enough. But if I don’t fight you every step of the way and pull you back onto those tracks, we won’t ever get to the destination. If I can’t be the one to lay a new track, then by God, let my rails hold you steady through this storm.”
“You’re a slut for my kind of trouble.”
“I’m just a whore for you.” His grin widens as he ever so gently brushes two fingers over my cheek. “I will find a love of my own when you prove it can happen. You’re my fucking hero, Sal. And when I crash and burn…”
“I’ll hose you down and put you back together,” I mainta
in, acknowledging what a pill I’ve become. “I’ll pick your ass up and send you out again.”
“You better...” He winks. “Just don’t go too far. This,” he says, glancing at the bloody lines on my arm, “scares the fucking hell out of me. The blackouts scare me. But we will get through it. All I am asking is that you try to trust me.”
“I don’t trust anyone.”
“Just trust one. Trust me.”
On April 29, the four of us are dressed in our suits as we catch a Broadway show and grab a late night dinner at a diner. Deacon has been watching my ass like a hawk as we wait for the call. Nico is stealing fries from my plate as I stare at the burger. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep.
The days are lulling on with the pace of a dying turtle. And every day I wake up with the hope that today will be the day my girl is kidnapped and crated across the waters. It’s a heinous place for my mind to be. I’ve spent years of my life fighting the one the thing I have now become. And the worst part is it’s a double-edged sword. I’m not only the uprising mafia son but a human trafficker. Go me. I got a great batting average.
I brace my chin in my hand as I prop my elbow on the table. “Let’s get out of here,” Dom suggests. “We’ll go back to the hotel and have a drink.”
I nod as everything passes in slow motion. Pay the check. Ride in the cab. Take the elevator. The boys are yammering on, but I can’t hear them. All I can hear is Iris saying, “I love you.” I can feel her in my hands and taste her on my lips. She’s right there, trapped beneath an unbreakable bubble of my creation, and no matter what I do—she isn’t coming home. She’s being handled because I freaked out over Leeza Torrente. I let a case get in my head. I watched the horror of Jas and I didn’t want that to be me.
So, I did the unthinkable.
And now, I’m an unimaginable monster.
“Let’s take a bath,” Deacon suggests, grabbing my arm. “Because you’re looking like shit on your birthday.”
He’s taking off my clothes and I don’t care. I don’t care because I’m not really here. I’m thousands of miles away in Guam, loaded in tactical gear, stalking my prey, and getting ready to take advantage of the opportunity to seize the asset. My black gloved hand will cover her mouth, and I’ll whisper in her ear, “It’s me, Angel. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, baby.”
But I ain’t got shit.
No. No. No.
I ain’t got nothing but a damn phone that won’t ring and two mil missing from my bank account.
“Step in,” Deacon suggests, holding my hand. “Sit down.”
I’m living with the commands of my submissive. And how much sense does that make? This is what D/s is. This is how it should be done…this up and down…this let me teach you, so you can take care of my ass when I’m nothing. Zero.
Dom meanders into our open bathroom door. “We just received word. They’re in Guam, surveying the target now. Who is answering the phone when Mock calls?”
“I will,” I say, snapping out of my dark trance and peering up to Dom. My breathing stops. “No one else needs to do it. This should all be on me.”
I blink to Deacon with a look that says I-don’t-know-if-I-can-do-this. His sad blue eyes skirt over mine with a reassurance. I light a smoke. “Yes, you can,” he whispers, clutching my calves in the water. “You can do this.”
“Whoa,” Nico strides in behind Dom, shocked by the sight of two men in a bubble bath. He’ll get over it.
“You should try it,” Deacon challenges with a perfect white grin. “You might like it!”
“We have problems,” Nico mutters, teasingly flipping Cruz off and turning away. I’ve gotten used to their playful jabs and most days, I find humor in it. Not today. “I just talked to Serene. Anna wants her granddaughter back and is willing to negotiate.”
“What the hell?” Dom crosses his arms. “… Finally, willing to negotiate?”
“She wants Unholy protection on Juliet and she is willing to use her power to bring the deal to the table,” I inform, setting my jaw. “If Anna is calling a meeting, something has her scared.”
“Holy fucking shit,” Nico says, glancing at me. “You bent the old woman to our will?”
“It’s only taken years,” I claim, smashing out my cigarette and dipping my hands in the water. They drip as I rush my fingers through my hair. “And Mierne’s sabbatical of an abduction solidified it.”
“What are we doing with her?” Nico anxiously asks, almost excited, as he rubs his hands together. “Can I come?”
Simultaneously, Dom, Deacon, and I say, “No.”
He feigns a pout and leans against the door opening. “She has fucked us over more than once. She will do it again. And then she is mine.”
“That’s my sister,” Dom points out, parking his rump on the round velvet makeup stool. “You won’t be laying a hand on her until I issue the order, assuming whatever she does, I don’t kill her for.”
“You won’t kill her,” Deacon harshly remarks. “You’ll pay someone else to do it. Clean shot. Easy. Done.”
“Shame,” Nico perks up, flicking a brow up. “She’s done so much harm.”
With a light steam coming from his ears, Dom reminds, “And you will keep your serial in the bowl. Got it?”
“I will, but I might spill the milk.”
Dom scowls at Nico’s sarcasm. “Neither your blades nor your rod is to come anywhere near my sister.”
A half-hour later, in a tub of cold water, my phone rings. “It’s Mock,” I whisper, closing my eyes and accepting the call. “Raniero.”
“Sal… she’s gone!”
Drowning in Deacon’s sad blue eyes, I play out the lie, “What do you mean she’s gone?”
“We went to the market for dinner, came back, and she is gone. Vanished. Disappeared.”
My nostrils flare with anger as I forget about all we have done. “Find her!”
“Sal… there’s blood…”
Instantly, my fake anger turns to a real fiery ball of rage as I quickly rise from the water. The wait is over; let the incineration of everything around me commence.
“What do you mean…there’s blood?” With a fury to match my own, Dom tosses me a towel. I pace into the living area, dripping wet, as the boys follow me. “How much fucking blood?” I yell into the phone. “Answer me, Mock!”
“Enough to cause concern,” he replies as my heavy steps take on a beat of their own. “The bedroom was destroyed. The clothes she had on were torn and left on the floor.”
“What the fuck?” I howl out, swinging back to jab my fist into the wall. “How? Where the fuck is my girl?”
Deacon grabs my arm and shakes his head. He mouths a silent, “No!”
We buckle to the floor and I rock in disbelief at how our plan could go so horrifically wrong. I may have just killed the one love of my life.
“Whatever happened here, Sal,” Mock slowly replies. “I guarantee she fought hard.”
“Check the cameras,” I coerce, knowing it will be in vain. They were disabled remotely by Dom days ago. “And call me back.”
The phone crashes to the floor as Deacon wraps his arms around me. Dom is on the phone with the Goro gang in an instant. “Do you have her?” he forcefully asks. “What do you mean she wasn’t there?”
The panic-stricken look of Deacon’s face squeezes my heart to almost stop. We are in trouble. This is out of our hands. We were had. And we’re out of control.
I feel like I’m going to convulse in a violent act. I want to kill—everyone—around me as Deacon takes control of the situation and demands, “Get the envelope out of my suit coat.”
“What the fuck are these?” Nico asks as Dom wears through the rug on the phone with the Goro gang.
The phone call is escalating and intensifying. I know hits will be issued. I know promises will be broken just like they broke theirs.
“LSD tabs,” Cruz says, taking one and sticking it on my tongue. “We need a plane home. Now!”
; “I’m on it,” Nico replies as Deacon places one more piece of paper in my mouth. “When do you want to leave?”
“As soon as fucking possible.”
“They claim she wasn’t there, but I’ll get a team on it,” Dom says, sitting nearby on the arm of the sofa. “I’ll see who all is available and we’ll go from there.”
“I’m doing it.”
“There is no way in hell you are working this case, Sal,” Dom warns, locking his fingers together. “You are considered part of her family, too close to the victim, and this is off-limits. And neither am I.”
Deacon looks up and asks, “Can I?”
“You are not a field agent,” Dom respectfully counters. “I cannot send you overseas and even if I could, you don’t have the necessary training.”
“No, but I’ve been shadowing Sal for six years and I’ve learned a lot about research.”
I make an impassioned plea, “Cruz picks up details like I do.”
“I’ll send you to Nebraska,” Dom consents with a nod. “You can work with Georgia and Jas.”
With the kaleidoscope of colors spinning in my mind, I understand I fucked up. This was a massive mistake, but there is no going back.
And I may never see Iris alive again.
Gone.
19
D33¶ $T4CK$
After moping around the house for three weeks, I come to terms with having zero clue of Iris’ whereabouts. I’ve driven myself into a whiskey and weed stupor and aged a good five years. I’m certain when I was shaving this morning, I spotted a single gray hair in my beard.
I lost Iris.
Not only did I lose Iris, I lost Iris by sending a rogue militia gang to abduct her. I didn’t just fuck up; I FUCKED UP BAD.
I take a shower and wash the sins from my skin, but they resurface like a stain that won’t go away. Flashbacks of the time with Saori arrive at the most inopportune times, broken and jagged like torn puzzle pieces to a picture I cannot solve. My dick hardens at the thought of Saori and tumbles back to when I was standing in the alley with Oki.
Every Minute I Love You (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 3) Page 15
