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

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  I run my hand over my slicked-back hair and mess it up. “If Jaid is so dangerous, why did you give her the bulk of your estate?”

  “She doesn’t get a dime until she’s thirty-five, that has never changed, but the Red Crow is signing everything over to her.”

  One of them is lying.

  Jaid absolutely is, but I am split between the man, who has cared for me, and the Mistress who blistered my ass against hay bales.

  “She isn’t following in your footsteps?”

  “No,” he replies.

  “Iris is aiming to kill you for the CAE,” I implore. “She isn’t going to rest until you are dead.”

  “She needs to stop looking at me. I may have invested in it, but I had nothing to do with her training.”

  “Atticus Huit claimed you, Phillipe and Desirée Kerris, were to blame and that you came up with the entire idea.”

  He snarls. “Of course, he did, but what is the motivation behind everything we do, Salvatore?”

  “Money, greed, power.”

  “Ehhhh,” he buzzes. “Love. Love is the great motivator behind everything humans do. And who do I love?”

  With a sudden shock to my system, I whisper, “Serene.”

  “So, you try that puzzle piece with everything you know—from marrying Kaci to your relationship with Serene—and tell me if you get the same answer.” His voice wavers as he is visibly upset. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about training someone to be an isolateric assassin.”

  I tilt my head. “… isolateric?”

  “One focused movement to depletion. She was training the brain to failure. Her whole goal was to build unstoppable killers. The programming is more than a code in the cortex; it’s ingrained with a series of triggers.”

  “… In me?”

  “I may have invested, but I had nothing to do with what happened to you. And when I found out, I did everything in my power to keep Entropy safe. Everything I did was for those original eight, Diablo, and you.”

  “I don’t know who to fucking trust anymore,” I lament. “Everything is so fucked up.”

  “Serene encouraged the development—even on her spawn—Priscilla, and now her grandchild - Emily’s son, Noah - with a damn v2.0, Diablo. She built fucking monsters, and if there was a leak in the system, she eliminated them like Janna Hahn. She would’ve even killed Kaci if cancer hadn’t beaten her to it.”

  Bending over, I grip my hair and rock. “Jesus!”

  “If you want to worry about someone coming after you, I suggest you stop gallivanting the world and look out your back door because pure evil is right fucking there.”

  “Iris…”

  “She is the worst off because they didn’t train her once, but twice. They modified her to make revisions to know if they could repair all of the v1.0.”

  “What the fuck am I going to do?”

  “Decode her slowly,” he suggests. “Keep your post and guard what is yours because they could go off.”

  “How much of this does Nicky know?”

  He shakes his head. “I have no idea.”

  “Has Serene experimented on him?”

  “I don’t know that either,” he says. “I stopped speaking to my son, but he was messed up long before Serene ever came into his world.”

  Tears stream down my cheeks from the torrent of emotion smashing into my mind. “I’m going to kill your son.”

  “You may need to eliminate my daughter too.”

  “I’m nothing more than an insect pinned in a science experiment, left to die in a darkened room,” I mumble, losing my shit. “There is nothing I can do to get free. My heart is imploding.”

  “You’re going to find freedom,” he gently consoles. “In every step, you reaffirm your convictions—your willingness to fight, the strength of your tenacity, and the ability to search for the light will break the ties. Don’t become a cannibal and eat yourself away until there is nothing left but a shell.”

  A Sal shell.

  Swiping the elegant crystal vial, I lean across the console, kiss his lips, and whisper, “I’m a masochist.”

  “Goodbye, Salvatore,” he whispers with tears in his eyes. “It’s been a pleasure. You are my greatest asset and my biggest threat. Godspeed son.”

  Getting out of the limo, I march into Oscurità and release Rowan Tully.

  I am trained for this.

  But I’m not a good guy.

  83

  D-FAM

  His Butterfly

  Tonight is my last night at the beach house in Tulum. Juarez Herrera has been missing for three days. He was kidnapped, taken from his stringent security guards while smoking a cigarette during the gala.

  I didn’t buy it; I doubted anyone else did either.

  I felt terrible for the man. He was old, and the children were hungry. Money. Greed. Power. Kill the King, and the offspring shall feast on the corpse.

  Over the last three days, I’ve learned that it wasn’t Máximo who orchestrated the plot to bring down a King, but his son Mauricio, the eldest brother to Zoe Hess. According to Gabe, Máximo doesn’t want Muerte’s title, and neither does his brother, Gonzalo.

  As much as I hate to admit it, Gabriel has been wonderful to me. He has catered to every need and desire without pushing his sexy self upon me, which hasn’t been easy on me. He is one of many in the Herrera clan who are remarkably good looking—men and women.

  No sex-based discrimination here.

  Mia Herrera, Gonzalo’s middle daughter, is model-worthy. Máximo’s daughters, Montserrat and Zoe, are beautiful, but in a more classic sense. I cannot even guess as to how many hours I once spent drooling over Zoe, but she hasn’t been the same since the boys from Cinco had their way with her during a four hour home invasion.

  Máximo’s five children each have a different mother, and he raised all but Zoe. After a few years of working in the oil fields, he divorced her mother, Deb, when Zoe was four. Deb ended up with a woman named Cindy, who was a biker. For what club, I don’t know.

  Supposedly, Máximo remarried a much younger woman, who he is no longer married to; I have the count at him having six wives, but I could be way off.

  I dress in a lightweight sundress, shunning any undergarments because I am fat, pregnant, and my dining companion is the gentle Gabe. He’s making homemade pizza. If the past few days are any indication, the pie will be exquisite and his company dazzling.

  I’m excited to be leaving for Brazil because, for one, I am gaining too much weight eating Gabe’s food, and two, it’s one step closer to going home. I have texted Raze several times. He has assured me the deal—regardless of what the Pakhan or Cristos wants—will not be going down.

  Unfortunately, I cannot ignore all the dick pics he sends me. Or the sexting sesh we had last night.

  Keep them on the line.

  Like sheep lured to the slaughterhouse.

  With bare feet, I stroll toward the kitchen and hear the voices of two men. I peek around the corner to spot Gabe and a man that is twice as handsome.

  As if that should even be possible…

  In a white long-sleeve Henley, showing every ripple of musculature, he is breathtaking with ebony hair, fading to a long moussed top and bangs. His thinned goatee with a dangerous shadow causes a curl in my toes on the icy tile. He’s taller than Gabe with a broad, white grin that spells—‘Oh lord, it’s gonna be a stormy night.’

  I bravely reveal myself to the men and whisper, “Hello…”

  His eyes are the same translucent pistachio as Gabe’s, and his magnetic smile doesn’t just demand attention but declares it. His attitude is as authoritative as his sinister grin.

  “Hi, I’m Dante, Gabe’s cousin,” he introduces as Gabe pulls the two fantastic smelling pizzas from the brick oven.

  I want to ask how old he is because his baby face doesn’t look a day over twenty. His put together composure and jacked physique seem to indicate I’m off by at least a decade.

  “Dante is in
ZERØ.”

  “Oh, fancy,” I snark a little too boldly. But I’m Iris, and I don’t stop there. No, I go on to step right in it. “You like abducting and enslaving women too?”

  “Only the pretty flowers,” he oozes seductively. “I like plucking them when they’re wet.”

  With his heavy Spanish accent, plucking sounds like fucking, and I am about ready to come in less than two dozen of his words. But I don’t let it show. “Do you keep them in a vase?”

  “No,” he replies. “Glass boxes. Preserved. Kept and contained.”

  “I didn’t meet you at the gala the other night.”

  “I was busy,” he eases as Gabe slices and plates the pizza. “Abducting my grandfather.”

  Ruthless. Bastard.

  “What was it you said, Iris?” Gabe grins, remembering—Damn. Fucking. Alpha. Males.

  “I said, I will be having dinner in my room.” I grab my plate and say, “Good evening, gentlemen.” And I turn and march right the fuck off.

  I hide behind the corner, eavesdropping for a moment as Dante asks, “Did I say something wrong?”

  “Nah, too much testosterone for her delicate ears.”

  In my room, I open the windows, needing some fresh air. I glance at the tub where the remnants of bloodshed are nothing but a bad memory. The pizza looks terrific, but I can’t eat. Not now.

  No one seems to have any faith in me.

  I hear the knock at the door and ignore it until it squeaks open, “… Iris?”

  “What Gabe?”

  He sits on the edge of the ottoman, where my feet rest. “What’s wrong?”

  “Everyone wants me to fail.”

  “No,” he says. “You are unique and different in our sandbox. We want to pull your pigtails and chase you around, only to try and sweet talk you to get your attention. Do you have any brothers?”

  “One,” I reply. “But I wasn’t raised with him. I grew up an only child.”

  “Being in this with Servet, ZERØ, and even Nero is going to be like having lots of older brothers you never dreamed of having. We’ll pick on you hard and fight for you even harder. You need to give all of it a chance before you discount what we bring to the table. I didn’t mean to offend you. Neither did Dante.”

  “He’s just a kid.”

  He laughs, “He’s older than me.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-seven,” he answers. “Dante is thirty-five.”

  My mouth gapes as I clarify, “He’s thirty-five?”

  “Yeah,” he cackles. “He gets this all the time. People think he’s some young, good-looking, pompous kid.”

  “Well, two of those are right.”

  “He can be an ass,” he says. “But underneath his wrapper, he has a heart of gold.”

  “Probably stolen,” I sass, irritated. I was looking forward to another quiet evening alone with Gabe, not because I planned on anything happening. I like him, despite our differences. “Both parts. The heart and the gold.”

  “Careful, he’ll rob yours before you even know it’s gone.” He stands up, curls his finger under my chin, and kisses me—a soft peck. “Eat, Iris. We leave for Brazil tomorrow.”

  After eating the pizza, I pass out cold in the chair. Waking up with a chill, I shut the windows and spot Dante down on the beach.

  He’s alone.

  No swimsuit.

  Right outside my window—how bold.

  How grotesquely arrogant.

  With his body blessed by the Gods, he runs to the water, swims a bit, and returns to shore. He does this several times, and each time, he stretches his arms out wide as if he is praying for the moon and stars to acknowledge his holy masculine presence.

  I quickly change my clothes into the bikini. I look like a beach ball tied between two black strings. I grab the fluffy white robe off the hook in the bathroom and sneak out into the hallway. I tiptoe to the nearest exit just around the corner and step outside.

  He’s still there.

  Butterflies flutter in my belly as I glide into the sand, cool from the night ocean breeze. He spots me and waves but doesn’t bother to cover himself.

  “What brings you out here?” he asks as my robe falls open. “It’s a beautiful eve now matched by a beautiful woman.”

  Oh, please.

  “You’re swimming, naked…”

  “On my beach,” he reminds, flicking his brow and walking into the ocean. “At my home.”

  Fucker.

  I drop the robe, desperate to talk to him without all the sexual innuendo and hoopla brewing between us, and I decide to eliminate it.

  With my toes barely in the surf, I yell, “Dante!” He does a one-eighty amid a rapid white crest, and I drop my bikini and fling my top. “Do I have your attention now?”

  He lowers down, letting the water wash him ashore. Landing at my feet, he smiles and blinks up, covered in sand and droplets of water. “Yes, Lotus?”

  His hands wrap around my feet as he presses his burning hot mouth to my skin. I melt, wanting his lips to move higher, upward, faster…harder.

  In a ballsy move, I blatantly ask what I want for the most. “What would it take for you to call off Juarez’s execution?”

  His eyes dance with intrigue, and a smirk curls in the corner of his mouth as he rises like a merman from the sea. “Three things.”

  I gasp at his ludicrous regard and ask, “Three things?”

  He holds up three fingers in front of my face. “One, you go swimming with me. Two, I want points in Lotus. Three, you let me make love to you for the next week.”

  I consider his stipulations and counter in my banter, “How many points?”

  “Three,” he gloats. “Comped. Free. Gifted. To me.”

  First, these bastards want half my fleet, and now to save Juarez Herrera, I agree to give up millions in revenue. “One.”

  “One point? Don’t insult me, Nakamura.” He turns back to the ocean, and I latch onto his thick bicep. With his head lowered, he gives me a side-eyed glance. “May I help you?”

  “One is plenty!” I argue. “That is millions!”

  “Three because of the apocalypse this will cause,” he replies, adhering to his challenge. “Immortal will likely cease to exist after Juarez passes by natural causes, and do you know why?”

  “Tell me,” I bargain.

  “Because Lotus will have usurped the cartel, and I need to maintain my lifestyle.”

  “… Your lifestyle?”

  “I have a penchant for nice things, pretty things, expensive things,” he informs. “If I release Juarez, he will immediately come after me. I will be on Immortal’s most wanted. What you are asking me to do isn’t without a huge risk, Lotus. There is more on the line than one old man. You are talking about bringing down an entire multi-generational family; it will be a coup.”

  “Do I like you enough to have you up in my business for the next fifty years?”

  “I don’t know,” he whispers, grazing a wet finger along my neck. “But, I could spend all of eternity in yours.”

  Shit.

  I’m starting to think he seriously means all of his corny, romantic lines, making them far less cloying and me far hornier.

  “You only want me as a prize piece for your overblown guns!”

  He glances at his arms. “I work very hard for those, ma chéri.”

  I sigh. “You are incorrigible, egotistical, and haughty!”

  “… Haughty? Really, baby?” I roll my eyes as his drop to my breasts. “How bad do you want it, Iris? How bad do you need it? Is the hottie on the beach worth it?”

  His finger trails over the collar of diamonds I forgot to remove and lingers, slowly inching between my breasts, resting on my ribcage. “You could rip my heart out.”

  “That’s what I am trained to do,” he confesses, holding the weight of my breast in his hand and thumbing the nipple. I stop breathing as my body betrays my business acumen. “I am not easy.”

  “Très difficile,
” I whisper as his mouth closes around my nipple and suckles ever so delicately. I could come with this man just playing with my tits. His sensual foreign tongue and his daunting eyes provide no escape for the captive.

  “Like you cannot imagine, Buttercup.”

  He twists away, easing into the shallow water. “Dante!” He glances back. “Do you know my husband?”

  “Doesn’t everyone know Salvatore, Mrs. Raniero?”

  “Harder!” I moan beneath his weight. I agreed to a swim in the ocean naked and four percent cause I pissed him off. His glorious and divine cock thrusts, catapulting my mind to a place where nothing else matters.

  Dante is magnificent with a huge dick, possessing absolute control, swaying his hips and precisely stroking…strumming a long lost sonata…deep in my core.

  In this act, I’m assuring an old geezer will live to extinction. By paying this stipend, Dante promises that Muerte will know who saved his life, and the Lotus will be rewarded. He’s been moved to a hotel, bathed and fed, guarded until the birthday party for little Soleil. At which point, he will be released into the world, one angry as hell mofo.

  I don’t hear the door open when Gabe sneaks inside. And I don’t care when he puts his cock on my lips and demands, “Suck Papa, Chica.”

  I’m falling for the Spanish outlaws, their sweet nothings, kind-hearted gestures, and mischievous, playful charms.

  We’re crossways on the king-sized bed, so I can stare in the mirror and watch his muscles moving into me. Gabe teases me with his cock, rubbing the glossy tip on my lip. I cannot take my eyes off of the men and their wicked ways.

  To be captured, like this, by them…

  “Can we do this again?” I beg, no longer caring what is right or wrong. After months of so little, I am famished. The dam is bursting, pouring from my source onto his throbbing cock. “And again and again?”

  We’re rocking in unison as every drive Dante makes, so does Gabe. We’re getting closer to the end, and I wonder if they’ll stay the night; I wonder if I will sleep between them.

  Gabe erupts, pulling from my lips and shooting hot, white cum all over my tits, and shortly after that, Dante explodes like a geyser inside of me. I let go, releasing all control, and trusting their tides to carry me home.