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

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  She called me Nero.

  Jumping out of the shower, I run to call Deacon with the news. He doesn’t answer, so I call Dom. He picks up on the first ring. “How did Oki know my name was Nero?”

  “One of us probably said it over the meeting?”

  “No one said anything but me…”

  He doesn’t have an answer as we speak for a minute longer. I hang up discouraged. With no other choice, I call the command center at Je Suis. “Georgia?”

  “Sorry, bro.”

  “Jas…”

  “I need you to do a background search on Oki. She is a high class call girl working in a hostess bar in Ginzo.”

  “Oki at Yanagi?”

  “Yes?” I panic, fearing she undermined our plans. “Anything.”

  He sighs. “No, but I’m not Georgia and I don’t do this as well as she does. I will get her on this as soon as she returns from Calgary.”

  “What the fuck?” I ask, stupefied. “Why is my lead research expert in Canada?”

  “Body near the train tracks,” he informs as I heard the slow wind of one of her toys. “They found a fourteen-year-old wrapped in barbed wire.”

  “Jesus fuck,” I mutter as my focus shifts to her case. “Tell me you aren’t winding the dick.”

  “No,” he laughs, letting it go. “The whale.”

  “How bad is this case?”

  He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “They’ve found over three dozen bodies.”

  “Oh my God,” I mumble out, not having understood the profoundness of the case. “I thought these were old cases that she was making connections with. Send the file over. ASAP.”

  “Is the Sal Raniero about to come out of hiding?”

  Grabbing my tablet, I chuckle, “Possibly.”

  “Youngest victim?”

  “Twelve, in the woods of northern Washington.”

  Wandering through the house in a towel, I walk past Emily—baking homemade motherfucking snickerdoodle cookies—and blow a kiss to her en route to my study. She waves and smiles. I grab a smoke and sit down to look at the details of the file in my Sibyl account. “Oldest?”

  “Twenty-six.”

  “Hell…” I say, scanning over the list of names, dates, locations, and brief description of death. “Is this the case she’s been working on for months?”

  “Yeah.”

  I grab my hat and twist it on backwards as Emily scurries in with a plate of warm cookies. With the smoke dangling from my lips, I point in a circular direction around the desk. She tiptoes over with a smile and I grab her ass. Her mouth gapes open and she gasps.

  “Tell Georgia to send me each individual file as soon as she gets back,” I say, stubbing out the butt. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Will do.”

  “Later, J.” I end the call and grab my fiancée, pulling her to straddle my lap.

  “Yes?”

  “Why are you so beautiful?”

  “I’m not,” she says, giggling.

  “Why are you in my kitchen at ten in the morning on a Saturday, making cookies?” Her lips move but nothing comes out. My eyes widen. “Yes?”

  “Because I’m lonely.”

  I tilt my head. Emily has good reason to feel the way she does. We’ve barely spoken since I returned from Japan, and our sex life has been almost non-existent.

  “Come on,” I say, holding her body close to me as I get up. Her legs wrap around my waist. I take a few steps and say, “Sec.” I adjust to hold her with one arm, hand her a cookie, and shove one in my mouth as I mumble, “Is the oven off?”

  “Mhmm…” She laughs and smiles. And it is good. I take off, sprinting through the vast house and darting up the stairs, taking two at a time. The towel on my waist falls off as she clings to me. She trusts me; she knows I won’t drop her. I set her down in our bedroom and disappear into the closet. I toss a pair of jeans and a t-shirt to her. “What are we doing?”

  “Getting dressed.”

  Nibbling on the cookie, she says, “Where are we going?”

  “Shopping.”

  There are a few things I know about myself. One—I’m not the shopping companion Deacon Cruz is. Two—if I don’t do something about the relationship with Em, I’m going to end up without anyone to love.

  And that is a fate worse than death for a guy like me.

  I can handle no one loving me. I can be a legit dickhead most days, but not having a girl to pamper and spoil, particularly one I like—is not a place I want to be.

  Emily isn’t my first choice.

  But she is my only choice now.

  I have no clue if Iris is even alive. And despite our sending a team of twelve Sibyl agents to locate her before we even left New York, we remain empty handed. There is no indication the Goro gang is lying. We have had continuous eyes on their known warehouses. Nothing. Silence. Dead air.

  So, I can keep loafing around the house until I kill myself or I can get the fuck up and live my life. Buying things for those I love makes me happy. And every time I pull out my credit card to buy Emily another dress, another outfit, shoes, necklace, or makeup… She smiles like I’m her hero.

  We go to a little café for lunch, and I drive past the BMW lot, contemplating my next purchase. I pull into the restored house on the outskirts of Boston which serves as a beauty salon and spa. I called ahead, and they emptied their appointments. I’m Sal Raniero. And sometimes, I abuse that power.

  “What are we doing here?”

  “Hair? Nails? Hot Rocks?” I excitedly question. “Anything you want.”

  “Couples massage.”

  “… Seriously?”

  She mischievously smirks. “Okay.”

  We change in separate areas. I check my personal phone which I’ve been carrying around like a damn binky. I want Iris to call. I need her to call. But it’s all wishful thinking.

  She hasn’t called in three weeks.

  And she probably isn’t going to.

  Because she is deceased.

  I decide to leave the phone in my dressing room because if I take it to our room, I look like I’m distracted by work…or waiting on a call from a woman I love more than Emily. I won’t hurt her like that.

  She doesn’t know Iris is missing.

  Or that I did an insidious, unforgivable, monster-like move. And she won’t. Because if Emily finds out, she may decide I am a sociopath with violent tendencies. And she may decide I am not worthy of marrying.

  I cannot handle the loss of another girl.

  In the fluffy white cotton robe, I meet her in our private room. I untie hers and help her up onto the table with a light grip of her fingertips. She bends to kiss me and I cover her back with the sheet. I strip off my robe, lay down on my belly, and pull up my sheet.

  We’re staring at each other in the twilit room, her big blues slipping into the soul of my moss-covered emeralds. I try to stay hidden, but I can’t as she lifts her fingertips to me and whispers, “I know something is wrong. You don’t have to tell me. But if you need someone to talk to just know I have two ears and lips that stay sealed tight.”

  Tears flush into my eyes. “Iris is dead.”

  “Oh my God…” The horror in her face is real as the door opens with two women. They are quiet in the delicately scented room. Their hands knead over our bodies as we quiescently converse with blinks and expressions. No more than a few minutes into the massage, Emily loudly says, “I need a minute alone with my fiancé, please.”

  I cannot stop the onslaught of tears from dripping over my cheeks. I’m beyond touched to know this woman – by all accounts the future Mrs. Raniero – has the assertion and wherewithal to protect and defend her man.

  Me.

  Emily is watching over me.

  “What happened in Japan?”

  “We went for a meeting with some investors, and while we were in New York, I received a call that she was missing.”

  The very first thing out of her pretty pink lips is, �
�Do you need to go back to the Orient?”

  God, do I…

  But what good would it do?

  Sitting up on the edge of the table, I shake my head, “No, we sent a full search and rescue team. They haven’t come up with anything.”

  She hops off the table and stands between my legs. The sheet is wrapped around me and she lays her hands on my thighs. “If you need to go—even for an extended period…”

  Stop being so good, Em.

  Just stop because I’m not a good guy.

  I don’t deserve your love or you.

  “It won’t do any good. There isn’t anything I can do over there that isn’t already being done. It’s a massive undertaking. They are searching everywhere from Guam to Japan.”

  “Is that where she was?” she asks, looking up to meet my empty gaze. “Guam?”

  I nod, confiding partial truths. “Is it possible your dad found her?”

  “If he did, she’s gone.”

  With a focus I can only describe as pure love, she scolds, “Don’t think like that, Lucas.”

  By Memorial Day weekend, we’re all on Cristos’ yacht in Florida dancing and drinking. I’ve turned to Emily as Deacon is on an all-out manhunt to find my girl. He says I’m too close to the water, but as I gaze out into the Atlantic, I acknowledge I’m drowning. These waters connect around the globe to the waters surrounding Guam. I imagine her lifeless body floating beneath the surface and falling into the dark abyss. Water is the life source, and yet, the one thing to kill me.

  Kaci’s stunts didn’t bring me down.

  My father’s ruthless actions didn’t sabotage me.

  But in losing Iris—I want to quit existing.

  Emily is holding her baby brother and I smile. It’s a nice image. Wrong girl. Wrong baby. Pretty picture. “Nico and I have been talking about moving back to the farmhouse.” I overhear Serene mention.

  “What?” My head spins faster than a top as I glance between Dom and Nico. “You can’t be serious…”

  “I’m totally serious, Kid,” Serene replies, sipping on her lemonade. “I need to get home to Texas. It’s where I belong and Nico agrees.”

  “Are you aware, just because Delarte isn’t going to kill Kade, that one of the others might try?”

  “I am,” she says with a nod. “And I cannot keep living like this. I need my horses and land and Texas. I want to raise Kade in Texas.”

  I turn away and shake my head at her stupidity. I want to let it go. I should let it go. But I can’t. “And you think him being raised in Texas is more important than having the security here?”

  From the corner, Swain eyes me as tensions rise. Emily shifts her gaze to the deck, and I must be the one behaving like an insane person until Dom says, “He’s right. It’s not safe there.”

  “Why?”

  I don’t bother to mention we’re meeting with Anna in Tennessee in three days to discuss the future of the good doctor Risen. “Because something is going on.”

  “You mean aside from the mistake of bringing on Dr. Wendy Cruz?” Serene angrily roars. “I’m not sure who to blame for that, but it was the dumbest thing anyone has done in ages.”

  No, I have one to top that.

  Dom asks, “Is that why you are going home? To protect Juliet?”

  “I’m going home because it is where I belong,” Serene declares with a fierce determination. I blink to Nico who seems none too happy about her unilateral decision.

  Poking the hornet’s nest, I ask, “How do you feel, Nicky?”

  “It is a mistake,” he answers and disappears into the cabin. I chase after him. “I don’t want to talk about this with you.”

  “Whoa! That’s insulting.”

  He turns away with a despondency like I’ve never seen in Nico. “I’m sorry. She is threatening to take Kade and leave if we don’t go. We’re not in any sort of agreement and there is no discussion with her on this. It’s Serene’s way or Serene’s way. I no longer have a vote.”

  Chills instantly spring up all over my skin. I thought their marriage was full of happiness and bliss, but the thing with Nicky is he hides everything – feelings, money, bodies – really well. “You and Serene… Aren’t doing well?”

  “That’s putting it mildly,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “She is leaving tomorrow.”

  “Let me send Swain with her and Kade,” I offer, extending a helping hand. “And how about you come to Tennessee with us? We could really use the help, and you may just need a breather.”

  “Not unless the breather is going to involve a really great pair of stilettos attached to a screamer.”

  I’m not the only one fucked up with an addiction problem, and with his confession, I mutter, “Shit.”

  Suddenly, the track I’ve been searching for is no longer my own.

  And maybe that’s where I’ve been going wrong all along.

  20

  The Matriarch Woes

  For reasons which mystify me, we decide to take Nico’s Escalade on a road trip to Nashville. We’re all three smoking so much, it’s like we’re hotboxing in this bitch as we sing rap song after rap song. I’ve even got Dom singing in the backseat, which is a real accomplishment. Meanwhile, the back of the vehicle is loaded down with more bangs and ammo than I ever thought possible.

  “All of this is not going to fit, Cris…” Dom said, staring at the wobbling, unstable stacks. “There is no way.”

  Raising his hands, Delarte headed for the house and barked an order, “I need you to take it. It belongs to Serene and Nico, I don’t want it here.”

  Flipping my hat around, I wedged into the mix. “Just give me a minute,” I insisted, working the problem of the bulky black cases as Jaid and Emily looked on. I was bent over and setting them on the ground when I noticed Jaid’s smooth, tanned legs stepping forward. She started helping me and soon after, Emily stomped off with a sour expression plastered on her face.

  “What is her problem with me?”

  Dom snickered, “Her problem is the way you look at Sal.”

  “We’re not discussing this,” I said to Dom, grabbing two cases at a time. “Not right now.”

  Moving the smaller cases, Jaid asked, “What do you mean?”

  “You look at Sal like you’re madly in love with him.”

  She took a breath while I started sweating in the early morning sun. I felt my cheeks flushing from their discussion.

  “We have a history,” she defended and I couldn’t help but grin. “And maybe we were lovers at one point but we haven’t…”

  I stopped in front of her and dropped my shades on my nose. “I had my dick in you less than a year ago. She’s going to be a bit pissy. Just leave her alone.”

  Jaid handled corners the way I do—fast and unforgiving. She snarled, “And if I had a choice, I’d be on that dick before you left.”

  “And this is her issue with you,” Dom pointed out. “You have no problems in hooking up with what she perceives to be her man.”

  “Does he have a ring?” Jaid cattily boasted. “Show me that and I’ll stop, until then, bitch better get ready to fight.”

  I didn’t understand why today of all days, Jaid was choosing to claim me, but she was. And I can’t say it didn’t arouse me. I reloaded the boxes, fitting them all inside, and said, “I got to go get gas and ice for the cooler because Nico believes in bottle pissing.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Inside fighting with Serene,” Jaid informed, glancing at me. “I’ll ride with you.”

  “Oh, lord,” Dom said, rolling his eyes.

  “What?” Jaid blew up, extending her hands like a quasi-daego-in-the-making. “You got a problem with me, too?”

  Dom rolled his eyes and huffed, “Other than the fact that you’re my ex-wife, no…”

  She flipped him off and went to get in the passenger seat. “Do not be gone long,” Dom warned as we shook hands and he pulled me closer for a bromance hug. “If you play that card, it might
feel good for a bit, but Emily will not be able to handle it.”

  “I’m going to get gas,” I insisted, feeling like I needed to make an apology for something I hadn’t even done, as my voice screeched. “Zoom zoom. So, we can get the fuck out of here before Stephanie is in Nico’s serial bowl.”

  “Bring me a donut!”

  I slid into the driver’s seat only to find Jaid had removed her shirt. She was in her scanty bikini top and blotting the sweat from her skin. “Stop staring and drive before she grabs one of those guns and kills me.”

  “Emily doesn’t have it in her,” I said, putting the car in drive and pulling off.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure.” Her eyes skimmed over my shimmering guns and the new scars. “She’s been with you for well over a year, and I’m positive, she is taking notes.”

  A few minutes passed as I pulled into the ATM to grab some cash. There was a line and I waited—impatiently. “… And are you?”

  “What?”

  “Taking notes?” I asked, taking her shirt and wiping my face off. Tucking her feet beneath her in the seat, she curled her upper body onto the middle console. I finished with the shirt and she was right there.

  “I’ve been taking notes since 2009.”

  Fuck.

  I hated how confidently arrogant she could be. It reminded me of the one thing I loved so much about Kaci. I knew why Nicky couldn’t win an argument with any one of these Holland women. They were relentless in their confrontation. And though Emily wasn’t, the more time she spent with them, the pushier she became. “What are you doing?”

  “Just getting closer.”

  “You know I’m engaged.”

  “To the wrong sister.” Jaid smiled with deception on her mind. Her dainty fingertips eased over my bicep. “And we both know it.”

  Thankfully, the car in front moved so I could use the machine. I was flattered by her flirtation and taunted by her tease, but none of that mattered. I had genuine feelings—uncertain ones—for Jaid and had for years. I'd done my best to deny them since our trip down memory lane in Nebraska, but the simple fact was I remembered the in and out sway of her hips and how well we fit together, every time I went up or down my staircase.