“I don’t want to be a Sibyl agent.”
“You don’t have much choice,” she says, planting a kiss on my lips. I don’t react. “You are in the game, and I want to increase your odds of winning, Saint.”
“… What do you know?”
“I know what you did.”
Yeah, so do I.
I close my eyes, hating that the red-haired witch has my balls in a noose. “And for your silence?”
“Let me give you a few pointers, some lessons, straighten things out a little.”
I snarl, taking the bait and swinging it wildly like a flail. “I will never be straight.”
“You’re not as crooked as you think,” she rebukes.
“Honey, I am as crooked as you think.”
10
Soul-Depleting Hellcat
The Master
Two days later, we’re in the City of Light along with Tai and Marshall. Iris isn’t happy, but I don’t fucking care. She needs security, and they’re good. I pray that Tai will be better at handling my tempestuous wife than Kali Ose was. Aside from the fact that Kali sold Iris out, she was horrible at dealing with her temper tantrums.
Iris likes things her way.
And people need to accommodate that with additional assistance as opposed to driving home any ideas of changing her plans. She won’t. She’s stubborn. Tai informed me this steadfast determination and unrelenting focus is an Asian quality. I’m not sure I am buying it because it’s like saying all Italians are hotheads.
Okay…retract that.
How about, my wife may just be beautifully insane?
They’ve gone shopping, and I’m sitting outside some Parisian café with my shades on. It’s a great day, beautifully warm with a slight breeze. I’ve got my phone in one hand and a cigarette in the other. It’s quiet. Dare I say, peaceful.
Across the walkway from me, there is an enormous fountain, and families are together. Children are laughing, and people are smiling when I spot a woman in a blue dress, making a prominent beeline for me.
Oh. Fuck.
I consider abandoning my glorious spot, but instead, I toss my phone onto the metal table, set my jaw, and spread my legs a little wider. I rub the week-old scruff on my face, drop my hand by my dick, and snarl like the bastard I am.
Come and get it, little bitch.
Without any invitation, she sits in the chair closest to me. She swipes a smoke from my pack and picks up my lighter with trembling hands. I draw the line right there, taking the lighter and flicking it for her. She inhales and exhales, “Thank you.”
“Why are you here, Amber?”
“Because I lost Diablo.”
I frantically blink as I toss off my Bollés. “Excuse me?”
“Iris hired me to keep an eye on Diablo, and I lost him.”
This is all news to me.
I light another one for myself, and with the cigarette viced in my lips, I squint and say, “Slow down. When did Iris hire you?”
“About…” Her eyes nervously waltz. She must not be using. She’s too coherent and aware. “A few years ago.”
Uh-huh.
Some people function better on drugs.
Amber Rosen is one of them.
Her skittishness sends my anxiety through the roof, and I’m only on…well, let’s not go there just yet. Cautiously, I ask, “Where did you lose Diablo Cruz?”
“We, um…were in Tokyo…and then we went to…Washington…and, he disappeared.” She nods as her eyes fill with tears. “I failed her, Sal.”
“You didn’t fail, Amber,” I reassure, for reasons even I’m not sure. “So, you came all the way from Washington to Paris to tell me this?”
“Um, no…first I went to Texas, and then I went to New York…and then London.”
I slightly shake my head as I attempt to decipher what she is saying. There is an error in reading her code. “Do you need some money? Drugs? Tell me what you need.”
This part is the part I hate.
The part where I feel responsible as her Dominant, and that I must take care of this woman for the rest of my life. I want to kill her. I do. But I can’t because it goes against some fucked up moral compass Kaci hardwired in my brain years ago. I am bound to Amber in ways I cannot even describe.
She digs in her Balenciaga bag with her perfect-come fuck me red-manicure. Something isn’t right. Something is very off. “How much is Iris paying you?”
She hands over the wadded papers and catches my stare. “A lot.”
“… Are you broke?”
“Who said I was broke?”
My double-D advisory board.
A screaming toddler by the fountain garners my attention. He dropped his ice cream. If I were in a better mood, I’d buy him another, but I got a fucking mess in my hands already. No creamy drips needed. “Everyone.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “Not broke. Smart. Hid everything.”
“Where?”
“Places.”
“Amber, where is all the shit I gave you?”
“Juliet,” she says, continuing her one-word responses. “All the furniture and things are in the storage buildings. My clothes are at Scarlet House in a spare bedroom, and my jewelry is in a safety deposit box at the bank.”
“Have you been living with Anna?”
She nods. “When I’m in town.”
“How is she?”
“Aging, rapidly,” she confides as I grab my glasses and look at the paper. “She misses you, Sal.”
“What is all this?”
“My passwords and codes to get into everything.”
“And why do I need this?”
Tears pour from her eyes. “Because he’s going to kill me.”
“Who?”
“The man Stanis hired.”
I push my glasses up into my hair and lean over with my elbows to my knees. “I need you to slow down and back up. Why were you babysitting Diablo?”
“Because Iris doesn’t trust that he can’t be bought. And he is broke. I’m not broke, but he is very broke.”
“When was the last time you used?”
“A couple of weeks ago,” she assures. “Look, I know you…um, think I’m out of my mind, but I’m not. I’m tired, Sal. I’ve been running for years to try and pull shit together for Iris. And I am just drained. I am not crazy. He is going to kill me.”
The robust look in her blue eyes compels me to believe her words. “Did Diablo hurt you?”
“No,” she says. “He won’t hurt you either.”
“He killed Val.”
“Only because your father tried to pay him to off Deacon.”
“So he killed my sister?” I question with a shrug. “Makes perfect sense.”
“I know it doesn’t…but he’s not all there.” She taps her noggin.
None of us are.
Stretching my arms above my head, I sigh. I don’t like thinking about Cruz being in danger, but as long as he is with me, it is a fact of his existence. “Why were the police called out to the Gennaro residence back when Deacon was Sheriff?” She licks her lips and peers in my coffee cup as I offer, “Finish it.”
She does without question.
Little actions say so much.
I firmly believe that if I told her to get down on her knees and beg in the middle of this French market, she would do it because she is submissive to my Dominant. And it will never change for us.
Some pairings are unbreakable.
“Dom and I were in disagreement about how much to tell you concerning Iris’ involvement with me. I wanted full disclosure, and he wanted to shelter you from the truth,” she whispers as I nod to the waiter for another coffee. I raise two fingers. “But…you can’t be mad at him, Sal. He is your Master, and he would do anything to protect you.”
“Iris is bad,” I admit. “She plays.”
“Expertly.” She grins wide as a light giggle escapes from her lips. “Iris is really good, Sal,” she praises, though I didn�
�t ask for her vote of confidence in my wife’s spectacular abilities. “Really good.”
But I don’t think she is saying it to blow smoke up my ass either. The waiter delivers our coffee, and she smiles. “How much of the strategy has been yours?”
“Probably more than you want to think about.”
“Who else advises Iris?”
“Jaid was,” she says, staring at the cup. “But she’s been busy.”
“She’s pregnant.”
“Her marriage is falling apart because of external stresses.”
“… Merritt?”
She nods. “And the fact that she is an Archer-Cristos. She’s being pulled in two directions. They both want her skills.”
Hell, I want her skills.
Her ability to ride my cock on an elevator do research is impeccable.
Bar none.
“Who is she going with?” I ask, knowing damn well I could pick up the phone and ask her myself. But that is too risky.
“If I had to guess, she is going to pull a you.”
With a broad grin, I laugh. “… A me?”
“She’ll go renegade and carve her legacy out.” She gulps down her coffee. “If her uncle doesn’t get in the way.”
“Dale?” I quiz, rubbing my lighter between my fingers. “I thought they were over.”
“He has been working with some overseas investors,” she says, straight-faced with a slight lift of her brow. She is sober and sane. “Who like vats of vodka.”
I tilt my head, hearing her message loud and clear. “How much?”
“Twice what he gave you,” she says. “Archer is pissed off, Sal. Losing Jaid. The shooting of his niece at her wedding. Your disappearance in Cruz. He’s a jealous fucking wreck. And you know how he is. You know it, I know it…” She takes a breath. “Now, he is working on Cat, just to get back at you.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I angrily reply, downing my java and standing up. I offer her my hand. “Like fucking hell he is staying involved with Cat. He’s gearing up Allegiance to destroy me. Hell, maybe even pinch Lotus.”
“Pretty much,” she agrees, taking my hand. Mere inches apart, she whispers, “So what are we going to do about it?”
“Are you ready?”
“Use me, Master.” She drops my smokes and lighter into her bag. “Where are we going?”
“To check you into a hotel. You need some serious sleep, a couple of five-star meals, a massage, and maybe a haircut.”
She sheepishly grins. “There is only one thing I want.”
I lean closer and whisper, “I’ve got first-class tickets on the train, Stardust.”
The rails chase me down like demons.
“What do you know about Dale’s business?” I casually ask Serene on the phone from the lobby of the hotel. I set Amber up in a suite for the next week. “I have intel that suggests he is funding Allegiance, which means Cristos and Archer are holding Stanis’ hand.”
“I honestly don’t know anything,” she says. “Nicky hasn’t mentioned anything, but we aren’t exactly winning awards for marital bliss. How are you doing?”
“I’m alright,” I respond, watching the people. “Feeling pretty good about where I stand. Is Mae still staying with you?”
“Yeah, why?”
I hate to ask her this. “Can you keep her with you? We have reason to believe that Dale is getting in over his head.”
“I will keep her as long as I can, Kid,” she appeases, understanding the underlying severity of what I am saying. “Is she in danger?”
“I don’t think so, but it’s not something I want to risk…”
“I’m pregnant.”
Bomb. Drop. Kaboom.
The hostess smiles, and I point to the whiskey glass on the table. I raise two fingers with a wink. She grins, shaking her ass as she walks off. Spinning at the bar, she glances over, and I give her a half-cocked grin. Bitch just got a helluva tip. And no, not that tip. Pervs.
I’m a married man, but…
Damn. That ass.
Fuck. Serene is pregnant again.
“How far along?” I am tempted to ask if it is Nicky’s, but that is skating on thin ice. I need Serene fluid and talking to me. I need her trust. Better to not rock the boat. Course, Nick sold all those.
“Only six weeks,” she mutters as I wonder if Nicky even knows. I don’t ask; I can’t. “I am very upset about the whole thing.”
“Do you not want Kade to have a sibling?”
I hear her breathing as the sexy little number with two whiskeys on a tray bends just so and offers a decadent view of her cleavage. I blink up to her easy green eyes and hand her a c-note between two fingers. I’d pay good money for this girl just to walk around in vintage lingerie.
Some things never change.
“If you need anything else,” she whispers, pointing to her name tag. “I’m Kasey.”
Not just one bomb.
Life is wickedly cruel sometimes. And words should not sound the same with different spellings.
Damn fucking homonyms will be the death of me.
“I do, but Sal...” Serene’s voice blurs into a haze of Kasey’s tits and my dead wife’s reminder to watch for the clues. “My scans are bad.”
Crash. Burn. Flatline.
“What are we doing again?” Kasey whispers to Amber in the dark hotel room. As they bump and grind in the silk and lace, I bought from the boutique downstairs. I paid a fucking fortune for mediocre romantic weekend get away attire for middle-aged, sex-starved women to turn on their uninterested tubby hubbies.
It’s not terrible lingerie; I’m just spoiled as fuck.
“We’re dancing.”
With my jacket draped over the back of the chair, I sit with my white dress shirt unbuttoned and watch the girls while downing a fifth.
My emotional stability just got raped by an arena of crazed fanatics.
Amber kisses Kasey, tongue-lashing goodness galore, and I want to feel it—but it is gone.
Serene is pregnant.
Scans are bad.
Dale is funding Allegiance.
And Aki Nakamura put money into the rivaling communite gangs, solidifying my belief that Iris’ grandparents disagree about what is best for Lotus.
Feeling is gone.
Emergency shut down.
I eye my phone on the end table, lighting up with a message, and swiftly get up to open the door.
“Room service,” Cruz teases, blazing in like a bad boy. “Holy hotness…is that Amber?”
“I need you,” I calmly mutter, leaning against his shoulder. “Bayou.”
Immediately, he knows we are on a no questions asked, no judgements passed basis. He is my designated savior to drive my head away before a fatality occurs. I expect his wrath, the parenting tone, the get-your-shit-and-get-in-the-car.
“Suck my dick.” I do a double-take. What did you say? He sees the confusion in my eyes. “Suck my fucking dick, bitch.”
“God, I love you,” I mumble as I kneel, and his fingers twist in my hair. I undo his belt and jeans. His dick in my mouth is a welcome relief, an IV bag of much-needed fluids.
I can stop thinking.
“Oh, my God!” Kasey squeals with a high-pitch. “Two gu…”
“Get on the bed,” Amber demands as Cruz’s eyes are locked on her tight. There is some dark magic swirling between them where saving my ass becomes the unifying goal. “And spread your legs.”
Kasey whispers, “What are you going to do?”
“I’m gonna fuck the hell out of you.”
11
Bless Me In Your Flames
His Butterfly
Desolate roads all look the same.
It doesn’t matter if it’s Japan, Texas, or Northern France. They zigzag across the terrain, navigating the way back home, warming my heart.
Even though I was born in Chicago, I’m genetically predisposed to being a country girl. My mother was born in southern Devon in a small hamlet ne
ar the water. Despite the Lotus Palace being in Gifu, my father was born in a coastal village.
The ocean is in my blood.
Many people, including my two sexy traveling companions, have speculated as to why I bought Les Pétales and L’Académie de France from Desirée Marciela Tolan Kerris.
Perhaps a little bit of family history is in order.
Desirée married Phillipe Kerris, and they had two sons, Jackson Phillipe Kerris and Tristan Julian Kerris.
My parents were not the only ones protecting their mafia offspring by using the mother’s maiden name.
I do not get this privilege.
My baby will be born a Nakamura or a Raniero with an enormous target on his or her back. There is nothing I can do to eliminate it. We are too entrenched in the unsavory to save the child from the unneeded harassment that will surely follow. If we choose Veramonte or Kettles, the child is still condemned to always look behind their backs.
I have considered using my paternal grandmother’s name of Kikuchi.
According to what I have been told, The Maestro—Jacques Marceaux—was a devastatingly handsome man who ran L’Académie with a fierce resolve. He was also a lewd philanderer and cunning businessman, who had an affair with a young Katharine Anne Capri.
Kate ended up having a lengthy affair with The Maestro and bore two children, Cassidy “Cas” Dawn Hope, and Sebastian Desi Dubois. In her fears of being a young, out of wedlock, single mother, Kate Capri asked her best friend, Stephanie “Serene” Archer Smith-Stanton Cristos, for help.
Serene paid David “Marshall” Hope to be listed as the father on the birth certificate and sold Kaci off to Regina and Juan Neves in South Texas. Though the Neves worked for Serene’s father, Holland Archer, Serene used her stepmom and biggest baby dealer in the South, Virginia Archer, also Dale’s mother, to facilitate the transaction with the Neves.
Serene promised she could help, but failed to mention that the outlaw MC gang, Cinco, would raise Kate and The Maestro’s baby. Kate was livid, but by that point, it was too late, and thus began the hate-filled rift that has existed for years between Serene and Kate.
A Dark Place (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 5) Page 9