A Dark Place (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 5)

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  “Raze, and I had sexual intercourse. It was no big deal,” I reply, trying to get up as he spins my chair with his leg back to face him. “Don’t make this a thing. Remember, I am supposed to negotiate?”

  His arms spread wide as he fumes, “He’s a fucking Servet!”

  “And I am married to a Nero. Your point?”

  “My point is I didn’t think you would…with…”

  “Because he’s Servet? Or because he’s Middle Eastern? Or because he is their Golden Boy?”

  “Because he is a fucking madman!” he shouts, losing his shit. “Do you have any idea what those guys do? They aren’t human.”

  “But your crowbar is?” I question, not giving in. “You’re being a little overbearing.”

  “Overbearing?” he angrily yells, glancing out the window. “This is not overbearing!”

  I sit back in my chair, understanding he will not let me leave. “The real question is who gave Raze the key. There are only three. I have one. You have one.”

  He shoots a glare at me. His soul is untamed as his cage comes unhinged. “Who has the last one?”

  “If I tell you…”

  “Please don’t say, Reo Sato.”

  “No,” I reply. “Not Sato. The Chairman.”

  “Jesus fuck!” he yells, raging. “Why the hell?”

  “To control the outcome,” I answer with barely a whisper. “He thought I would flinch or fight, but I did neither. I invited that son of a bitch to take whatever he wanted and begged for more.”

  He tosses his head in disbelief. “Why did you do that?”

  “Because Servet also funds my grandmother’s beloved communites.”

  “Holy fuck, Iris!”

  “It was a masterful play on my part,” I charge, believing every word. “But it doesn’t change the facts—I slept with another man—not my husband or his lover.”

  His frown displays the brokenness I feel as a single teardrop trickles down his cheek. “I promised to keep you safe.”

  “And you are,” I reassure. “Raze was a perfect gentleman.”

  “… As he was raping you?”

  “It wasn’t rape, Deacon.”

  “Then it was coercion!” he argues, wanting to fight. “You never would have done it if he hadn’t pushed.”

  I sit up, resting my hands on his hips and glancing between his blue eyes and denim jeans. “Just pull out your dick and help me forget.”

  “You want to forget?” he rants, borderline throwing a tantrum. He quickly unzips and holds his dick in his hand. “Suck my fucking cock, wench.”

  He never misses a beat.

  And I hate him for that.

  And I love him for that.

  Deacon and Sal grew up together. Where the lines overlap, I find myself. I cannot be without either one. They call me their spoiled princess, but I’d rather be their bad bitch.

  My lips engulf his cock, slowly kissing and bringing up his erection. I rarely give Deacon head, but I need to prove I can now more than ever before.

  And better than someone else.

  VI

  the ghost of strigiformes

  Early Fall 2019

  49

  Two Houses

  The Master

  The clamor of a ringing phone wakes me up at 4 AM the next morning. “Raniero,” I groggily say. I hear the sound of groans and tears. “Talk to me, Mass.”

  “He beat the fuck out of Ronaldo, tied Ilaria up, and…”

  “Who? What?” I sit up in a daze, tangled in the sheets, and click on the light. “I need complete sentences and full details if you want me to help you.”

  “There isn’t anything you can do,” he cries remorsefully. I’ve never heard Mass in this much anguish. We are trained not to break—another thing that commonly fails. All of the emotion has to go somewhere, and usually, that’s inward. We are the masters of self-inflicted agony. “All we can ever do is clean up the pieces.”

  “I still need to know,” I reply, bowing my head as I realize he isn’t going to tell me. He fears I may go off the deep end into a pool of drugs, booze, and whores—all legitimate concerns. “Please…”

  “Nico Cristos beat the fuck out of Ronaldo,” he reveals with an even-keeled tempo. He’s breathing and calming. “Tied Ilaria up. And brutally raped and stabbed Hannah.”

  “Oh my fucking God!”

  I stumble out of bed and grab a smoke as I step out onto the balcony, completely naked in the damp Ireland mist. “What the fuck is going on? Are we all spinning on retrograde?”

  “I don’t know, but I have two pieces of advice. It’s up to you which one you choose. As your security expert and business associate, I implore you not to make any sudden movements. We do not know Nicky’s location or his state of mind…”

  “His state of mind is fucking crazy!” I yip, exhaling a cloud of nicotine. “He needs to be stopped before another incident occurs.”

  “Hold that thought, Sal,” he pleads. “If you act on this, you could cause a landslide that we aren’t prepared to cope with right now. There is nothing good that comes from Daddy Cristos targeting you. And I don’t want to see your hands grasping from the rubble while you suffocate underneath the pile. It is my recommendation to keep this on the low down.”

  “… How is she?” I ask, feeling guilty that I hadn’t asked about Skeeter prior to now.

  “She had surgery to remove the glass fragments, and they also cleaned and stitched up the tears. She is expected to recover physically.”

  I want to roar like a beast and hit something hard—like a stone wall—but one gets the police breathing down my neck, and the other earns my hand in a fixator. “He ripped her up… There was severe trauma to the region.”

  I stare at the lit path surrounding the posh resort hotel. “What is your other advice?”

  “As her former Dom and lover, I want him dead and buried,” he seethes. “But now…as hard as it is for me to say this…you cannot take out one of your own right now, especially with his connections.”

  My nostrils flare as I breathe heavily and grind my jaw. “I’m going for a run before I do something dumb.”

  “That is probably for the best.”

  “How long will she be in the hospital?” I ask, pacing the short distance of the balcony. “And where is she going afterward?”

  “The doctors are saying five to seven days with the abdominal wound. They want to make sure she doesn’t need any further surgery or get an infection. After that, she is going back to the Villa with me.”

  “I was going to ask…” I stub out the smoke in the ashtray. “If you talk to her, give her my love.”

  “I will,” he replies. “And I will give her all I have, so don’t worry.”

  “You’re going to buckle for a girl.”

  He snickers once. “Sometimes, we’re forced to bend in ways we don’t necessarily anticipate.”

  “It’s called fate,” I say as the sun crests over the horizon. “And sometimes it’s for the best. Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

  “Neither will I,” he maintains. His dedicated vigilance to Hannah is admirable. “I don’t think she plans on talking to anyone but me. Her mental state is not good.”

  Hanging up the phone, I understand exactly what she is going through. Hannah was innocent.

  Past tense.

  She just got a first-hand introduction into our seedy existence. We all had that moment when we realized we weren’t invincible. Happiness gets destroyed by others traveling their way through the labyrinth of carnage. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  Even if her body isn’t infected, her mind is—she is fully christened as a Cruz now, verifiable and vindictive. She is the Queen no one sees coming.

  No one but me.

  And Nicky’s hellacious acts are enough to trigger the explosion.

  I hit the trail around the hotel by five in a hoodie, joggers, and running shoes. I consider my innocence lost. It didn’t happen when I made
my first kill in a shed with a machete, or even when Sibyl abducted me with a burlap sack over my head, but in a dark alley with a man violating my sacred orifice.

  The game shifts when a sexual assault gets involved. I’ve been around long enough to watch the transitions.

  I run fast into the woods as the sun breaks through the clouds and burns my skin. I am a creature of the darkness. I am nothing more than a vampire.

  I was never the same after that moment. I encouraged him to take me instead of Kaci. And the fucker did. He took me to the pits of unimaginable hell. I have DNA proof of who it was, and I’ve avoided retaliation for far too long.

  I scout around in the foliage. I am lost when I buckle to my knees and howl as the animal emerges from my soul.

  Being born or reborn hurts—a transitory phase of the unknown—lodged in a dark passageway, flooding with fluids and fighting for the first breath.

  Fighting for the light.

  In the middle of the night, I got swabbed and scraped with two men watching over me. One was Jack Kerris, who I killed. And the other is Dale Archer. “We’re going to put a block in your head, and you will never remember it.”

  A cocktail in an IV.

  Some hypnosis by Georgia.

  None of it worked; my computer cracked through their codes.

  And a hacker was born.

  Bending over, I heave near the trail, covered in sweat and grime as people scurry about in the morning light. The rugged black boots appear under my face, and I scan over the cargo pants and gray hoodie to the blonde hair and blue eyes.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that you knew Jack and Dale premeditated my rape by Mitch Daniels? Or that you were only fucking Dale to get intel?” I ask as tears form in her eyes. “Answer me, Jaid!”

  “Because I wanted you to be a God.”

  In the hotel room, I take a long, hot shower. I emerge from the bathroom with one white towel wrapped around my waist, and another draped over my shoulders. “I ordered coffee and danishes.”

  I nod. “Thanks.”

  “Do you want to talk?”

  “Only if we can have a real conversation with no lies,” I somberly reply. “I cannot handle the shit between us.”

  “Deacon Cruz is the father of Lukas.” Her words up the ante as she unloads the contents of her entire financial future into my palms.

  I open my eyes wide, and my mouth gapes open as I speculate, “… You got proof?”

  “Yes,” she whispers, acknowledging my need for accuracy. “I’ve had two paternity tests, and both confirm that the baby is Deacon Cruz’s child. Victor Lukas Grace Cruz.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” I croak as the tears well in my eyes. “What the hell happened?”

  “You said you wanted the truth. I didn’t say you were going to like it. I got back from Mexico…”

  “I sent Abel,” I quickly argue, hoping to find a frayed rope in the deep, blue waters. “I thought you would find solace in him.”

  “I didn’t,” she compellingly says as her voice cracks with emotion. “Abel was great. Great with the kids and great with me if I wasn’t going back to the nights at the compound in my head. But I was…constantly going back. Mentally, I couldn’t stop it. And you sent Cruz, and he wanted to listen to me…we happened…he was tender and good…so good.”

  Holy fucking Saint.

  He is mine.

  With callousness, I vent in shock, “And somehow his dick just ended up squirting inside of you as you were dropping eggs?”

  “Pretty much,” she bursts, erupting in tears. “Neither of us planned it, but Abel found out and started using and staying out all night. And that is when I knew we were never going to work. He was too broken; I was too broken. And all I could think about was not being where I should be.”

  I ruffle the towel through my hair and toss it by the bathroom. “… Which is where?”

  “With you…and this world…you calling me and inviting me onto the team was the best thing that ever could’ve happened. Being back in your life reinvigorated my recovery from what Immortal took away.”

  “You vanished on me,” I painfully sob. “I was at Sibyl interviewing Red Blum when I got the fucking call. I fucked that case up because you went missing.”

  “I knew Dale was responsible when Mitch Daniels swiped me in Washington.”

  “Your father was behind it,” I flatly say, leveling it out. “Delarte Cristos was behind your abduction.”

  “Yeah, my father had his daughter abducted,” she grimly replies. “He wanted to do business with Immortal, and I was his passport, but I promise you, I wasn’t playing the game then…”

  “How can I believe that? You are Delarte Cristos’ daughter. This could all be an orchestrated ploy to infiltrate me. God knows, Rowan did.”

  “I am not Rowan,” she pleads, sitting on the chair’s edge by the window. “Because my mother knew…”

  I rapidly blink as a thousand crows fly through my head at lightning speed. “… Serene knew?”

  “She’s been fighting all of his efforts with Allegiance and getting nowhere, Sal, but at least, she is still trying.”

  “How much of this does your half brother know?”

  “All of it, I’d imagine, considering Nicky’s married to my mom.”

  Which also makes her half brother—her stepfather.

  “Fuck…”

  “I can’t change what I did with Cruz anymore than I can deny being an Archer-Cristos, but what I can tell you is this shit with Kill Rat is bad. Stroker Mullins is working with Stanis. They’ve been using Rowan, and I’m worried about her safety.”

  I’m not. I can’t handle the similarity to the ghastly apparition floating in my head.

  I hear everything you think, Raniero.

  Shut up, Hope.

  Unlikely.

  “That means he is also working with Dale and Delarte.”

  “Yes,” she wholeheartedly confirms. “All of the border murders are their fault. They’re trafficking much more than anyone thinks.”

  “The pipelines?” I cautiously ask, grabbing a pair of sweats and dropping the towels on the floor.

  “You knew?”

  “Of course, I know. What I don’t know is how to permanently stop it,” I reply, pulling up the pants. “The problem is we shut one outpost down and ten more pop up. It never stops. And the sick part of it is every business bases its margins on supply and demand.”

  “Read it,” she whispers, digging in her bag and producing a spiral notebook. Tossing it on the table, she says, “Kaci knew everything, but she didn’t have any proof. She knew Dale was funneling girls into sex rings—those pipelines— before she died.”

  “Amber has been saying Dale was bad for years, and everyone has been blowing her off,” I mutter, popping my ball cap on backward before I snatch the notebook. “No one fucking believed her because she’s a cokehead.”

  “The stripper who cried wolf,” she whispers. “She’s one of the smartest women in the game, Sal. I would reconsider everything Amber has told you. I am not saying she hasn’t done some bad shit. She helped Kaci lie about Diablo being Merritt’s dad and Dom being Raine’s dad, but she isn’t after you. Amber was never your enemy. She may be your biggest untapped asset.”

  I wouldn’t say untapped.

  I flip through the book and smile at Kaci’s handwriting—tiny capital print letters everywhere. She never wrote in cursive. I close the book, saving the intel and memories for another day when I am mentally stronger. All that matters now is Jaid.

  “I wasn’t playing when they shoved me in the back of a car and drugged me. I wasn’t playing when I was screaming on their enormous dining room table as their men, one after another, had their way with me. But I am damn sure ready to play now.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “I am here to help you with research on Thomas.”

  Rubbing my damp scruff, I snicker, “Are we negotiating, Ms. Cristos?”

  “I prefer M
s. Grace, but I understand that I am in a position to be Queen Cristos from my valiant efforts of fucking filthy thugs.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Looking straight into my eyes, she elaborates, “I was rescued, and my father rushed to my side. He was there when I went in, and he was there when I came out.”

  “… Huh?”

  “Little details you didn’t know,” she whispers, rehashing the painful memories. She grabs my hand and says, “Dad showed up in Colorado with all of his attorneys shortly after I was rescued. He is turning over the bulk of his estate to me because of my diligence in dealing with Immortal. He dies, and the Kingdom of Cristos is mine. So, are we partnering up, Raniero?”

  “Holy fuck!” I boom, unable to hold back. “Jaid!”

  She cackles. “Ironic, isn’t it? I paid the price, but they’re going to pay the piper…”

  “He felt guilty enough,” I blabber out, brainstorming. “To give it all to you. What about Madeline?”

  She shrugs. “They have zero relationship, and she doesn’t want anything to do with it. She’s talking about retiring from Sibyl now because it’s all corrupt. Every bit of it—from the criminals to the officials—she can’t win.”

  “And what about Nicky?”

  “He’s a damn lunatic,” she truthfully admits. “My father is many things, Sal, stupid is not one of them. Dad gave Nicky the shipping business, but he turned around and fucking sold the ships for chump change to Iris. Nicky doesn’t want the business; he only wants the blood. And Dad’s marriage to Trudy Diaz is nothing more than a farce; he’s trying to weasel his way to you through Deacon.”

  I shake my head as a tear runs down my cheek. I know in my heart she’s telling me the truth about everything.

  “And you want Sal Raniero to align with you?”

  “More than anything,” she desperately implores. “Because together, you and I can work to end all of the shit they’ve pulled. We can figure out how to stop the villainy of our fathers. Help me take this to the next level. We’ve been told we are the future, the up-and-comers, and the ones to watch for our entire lives. Well, the future is here, and we’re the kids to take it home for the next generation. Help me before it’s too late.”