Diary of a Submissive (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 4)

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  “I’m his 5k an hour when he comes to town.”

  “Ahh,” he mumbled, stunned. “Small world.”

  We fucked all weekend, and I billed his dad, and now my heart is doing loopy-loos over what is occurring in the back lot.

  “We can’t go through the main lot,” Nicky informs, wedging his face between Sal and I. “It’s too packed from R&T.”

  “How many are there?”

  “At least four,” he replies, munching on potato chips. I’m nervous, and I can fuck with some emotional binge eating. I steal one and let it melt on my tongue like a communion wafer as the fountain blurs in the puddle of my tears.

  “And Trudy identified two of them as her rapists.”

  “Holy fuck!” I’m not sure how he did it, but we sped up and went the long way around the campus.

  “They’re in the overflow!” Nicky yells, pointing behind the median of trees. “What are we doing with them?”

  “Where the fuck is Cruz?”

  “He’s right there!” Nicky yells, hopping out and running towards him.

  Oh. God.

  Saint Cruz is raging.

  “There will be bloodshed tonight.”

  “Yes,” Sal growls, getting out and tossing his jacket at me. “Stay.”

  I cover my mouth as Deacon strides with a substantial step alongside Trudy and Nico. There are four members of Cinco, and I do not think they’ve come to have a summit.

  Pulling up on a four-wheeler, Dom asks, “What are you doing here?”

  “I was told to stay,” I say as he veers the four-wheeler into the grass, parks it, and climbs into the driver seat. Staring at the boys, I warn, “If you drive, I will jump out.”

  “I am not driving,” he insists. “Those are my sons.”

  I hold his hand resting on his thigh. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “I wish I had an answer for you, beautiful,” he mutters. “But I have nothing. Either way, you choose, you lose. And I am not sure that is a loss any of you can handle.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Because I’ve talked to both of them,” he says. “Sal was very wrong in his recent choices, and you have every reason to be upset. Deacon is as I would expect him to be.”

  “And how is that?”

  “Devoted,” he mumbles.

  My phone lights up in my lap with a one-word text message from Kali. “War.”

  “… Do I want to know?”

  Refusing to let my tears fall, I whisper, “Probably not.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Issued orders as a Queen should.” I hastily type back a reply. “Are the targets down?”

  “Negative. And Cinco isn’t merging with Immortal.”

  “Fuck.”

  Digging in Sal’s jacket, I grab a cigarette. My hands shake as Dom lights it. “I have to go,” I whisper, exhaling. “I am the only one who can stop this.”

  “Iris!” Dom harshly scolds, “You cannot go out there!”

  “Neither one of your sons has enough influence or reputation yet for pulling this off,” I reply, stepping out of the UTV. “Let me do what I was meant to do.”

  The lights on the bikes are blinding as I see the silhouette of Deacon with his platinum hair dangling in his face. He’s leaning against a tree behind two Cinco members and smoking a cigarette as he stares at the two still on their rides.

  I pull down my hair and shake it as I approach them. With filthy hair, mascara tears, stains on my dress, and enough balls to own this shit, I arch the back and hoist the boobs as I say a silent prayer.

  It’s death, dismemberment, or deals in the boy’s club; I am no fool.

  “Get back!” Trudy warns as I block out her fear. “This doesn’t concern you, Iris!”

  I don’t react to a word she says as Sal spins to glare at me, and Deacon peers up with that look—love and protection—and steps forward. His hand is inches away from his piece, and I know how fast he is. And that is nothing against Sal, but it isn’t Sal’s job to fire the trigger anymore. He has a fully capable, sexy as fuck right-hander to fire off whatever he needs pulled.

  “Pico Neves,” I welcome, extending my hand as Deacon straightens up and shifts to a defensive stance. His gaze is serious, stern, and ready to kill. “I don’t think we have been properly introduced yet.”

  “You need to get out of here!” Sal yells as I ignore him. “Now!”

  “Ms. Nakamura,” Pico warmly says, kissing my hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  “… Are we at war, Mr. Neves?”

  “We may be,” he says, smirking with a nod. “Indeed, we may be.”

  “You killed four of my men tonight when they attacked the Irish.”

  “I am well aware,” he says as Deacon and Sal exchange glances. No one knew I issued the hit. No one expected Cinco to go running to Kill Rat’s defense either. “I suppose we’re having a bit of a skirmish.”

  “I won’t give up Houston.”

  “You promised to let Kill Rat run it,” he reminds with a shrug. “Are you reneging?”

  “I’ve decided in light of recent occurrences made by The Chairman that it is in my best interest to not relinquish what is mine,” I calmly say as Deacon shakes his head. “But apparently, I have a few dinghies now.”

  He laughs. “You have a whole fucking fleet of cargo ships.”

  “Stupid fucking girl,” one of his men on the bikes shouts. “Bitch doesn’t belong here!”

  Over Pico’s shoulder, I scowl at Deacon, who is ready to shoot. “That was sarcasm, you cocksucking moron!”

  The man reaches for his gun as Pico lifts his hand. “What do you want, Miss Iris?”

  “You allow Deacon to have the two men who raped Trudy Diaz, and I will give you access—free of charge—to my ships for one year while you restore Cinco to its former glory.”

  “Your boats are far away…”

  “A quarter of my skiffs are headed this way,” I inform, keeping my composure. “I will give you access to crate whatever the fuck you want for one year. No cuts. No points. Free. For two rapists.”

  “… You for real?” he quizzes, considering the more than generous offer. “Why would you do this?”

  “They don’t call me Queen because I’m sitting on the bench,” I confidently note. “You need a measure of good faith from me. After being friends with both Reckless Rebellion and Sal Raniero for years, I am respectful of your position, but not your two scumbags who assaulted Ms. Diaz.”

  He nods. “Death for dishonor.”

  “Yes.” I promise, “Never again.”

  “Access for one year on your rowboats?”

  I smile as he plays my game. “Free of charge. Ship whatever you want.”

  “Deal.” He extends his hand. I take it, and he kisses mine. “You should come down south.”

  “I hear the food is incredible.”

  “It is,” he says, holding both of my hands. “You like tamales?”

  I glance at Sal, trying not to laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a tamale.”

  Nicky’s SUV pulls up as the Tennessee Twelve emerge, and I glance at Deacon, urging me with a wave of his hand to look away. I hear the rapid pings of guns with silencers hitting limbs and weakening the two.

  “I’m sorry Iris,” X apologizes, laying his hand on my shoulder as Deacon’s boys gather the two. “We’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

  “It’s been a good meeting.” Pico nods, content.

  “You tell Cas Hope to give me a call,” I request. “And if she so much as thinks of handing out ret on this, I will come after her—solitarily. This doesn’t involve Cinco, and I vow to keep you out of it, but if she messes with me, I will rain blood on her head.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” he says as X, Sal, and Deacon are all shaking their head. “I will deliver the memo.”

  “Is he your right-hand man?” I ask, glancing at the handsome young man.

  “Yes, Alejandro.”

  He smiles at m
e. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Pleasure Ms. Nakamura,” Alejandro replies, kissing my hand.

  “Let’s try and keep the peace,” I suggest with a smile. “Shall we?”

  “Are you coming after Kill Rat?”

  “No,” I demurely answer. “They’re coming after me.”

  The boys’ expressions shift, understanding that Sal is no longer the bait, and I am. “We will go now.”

  “And if you happen to see Emiliano Navarro,” I add with a toss of my hair. “Tell him to get the fuck out of town.”

  “Should I tell him you said such?”

  “Tell him his favorite water lily said hello.”

  In my peripheral, I note Sal twitching before Pico embraces him. Alejandro and Pico shake Deacon’s hand, and in a most surprising turn, apologize to Trudy on behalf of their brothers’ gross negligence. It won’t matter for the fate of the two, but the notion could begin to repair the damage between RR and Cinco. Doing better is the most we can hope for.

  We watch as they leave.

  “One…how do you know, Navarro?”

  “I know many people Raniero,” I reply. “Does anyone have a cigarette?”

  With a trembling hand, Trudy hands me one as Deacon lights it. She acknowledges, “You just got revenge for me.”

  “I made a deal.”

  She rapidly blinks. “With bikers….with guns…holy fuck, who are you?”

  “Trudy, I know how to handle a biker,” I assure. “And I’m the motherfucking Queen of Lotus.”

  “The cleavage didn’t hurt,” Trudy remarks. “But hell, you are fearless.”

  “Hardly,” I admit, giggling, “I almost pissed myself.”

  “You did a good thing,” she praises. “A real good thing, Darlin’.”

  Shaking his head, Sal asks, “You ordered Lotus to hit the Irish?”

  “I was pissed.” I shrug, taking a drag on the smoke. “I still am.”

  “And now you are going to be their number one target,” Sal warns. “It was a dumb thing to do.”

  “I am not worried,” I contend. “And don’t insult me, Mr. Raniero. I just rebuilt your fucking business. I’m more concerned now about how to lure Immortal out from their wretched lair.”

  “Big girl panties,” Trudy says. “Real big…real tiny…hopefully, real cute.”

  “Or none,” I chime as she winks.

  “Do you know which one insulted my girl?” Sal asks Deacon as I walk away and flip my middle finger at the Italian street thug.

  “I do,” he snarls. “And I got dibs. You ain’t getting your pretty hands dirty on this. This is personal.”

  “Iris!” Sal shouts, walking towards me. “Iris Amarie!”

  I spin back and spit. “What?”

  “Thank you,” he softly says. “Truly.”

  “Don’t make me knock you off the board because you can’t keep your fucking mouth in check. And if you don’t think I will do it, you are nothing but a fool in love. We may be lovers, but this was pure fucking business.”

  I quickly turn, whipping my hair, still full of yard debris—my potpourri hair—and get in the UTV with Dom. “Take me anywhere but here.”

  “Burger? Pizza?”

  “No, booze and blood sports will be my late-night entertainment.”

  He blinks at me. “You cannot be serious. Cruz is going to…”

  “I am fully aware of what Deacon is about to do,” I reply, unwavering. “I want two bottles of ice-cold pink champagne, a slice of white cake, and a courtside seat at the warehouse.”

  “As the Queen commands,” he obliges with a nod. “I’ll make it happen.”

  44

  The Water Lily

  His Butterfly

  With my dress in shambles, I asked Anna if I could get one of my outfits from Scarlett House. She agreed, and I cleaned myself up. I have on a cream-colored pantsuit with a dark blue cami. I realized when I walked into the warehouse, that cream was probably not the correct color to wear for this evening’s event.

  I cannot promise my locks are nature free.

  In a silver feed bucket, four bottles of pink champagne sit in twenty pounds of ice as the vanilla sheet cake sits on a nearby table.

  Eating his third piece of cake, Nicky asks, “Where the fuck are they?”

  “Who knows?” I reply as he feeds me a bite. “Why are you here?”

  “Fun?” he garbles. “Something to do.”

  “But, you won’t…”

  “No fucking way.”

  I eye him cautiously. He’s a curious one—this Nico Cristos—and nothing like his father. “How much would you charge me to kill Amber Rosen?”

  “If I can find her, I’ll do it for free.”

  I lean closer. “If I find her, will you do it…quietly?”

  “Absolutely,” he says with a nod. “I can make that bitch disappear.”

  X is rubbing my shoulders as the Tennessee Twelve sprawl out on the bleachers behind me. His lover, Oscar Sato, is at Lakeside playing dominoes with Tank. This is only pertinent because every minute, X holds his phone over my shoulder to show me another picture.

  In the background, I notice a woman. I lean back to X and whisper, “Why is Mierne there?”

  “Club slut.”

  I blink several times and raise a brow. “… All the boys?”

  “All but Deacon and well, me…obviously.”

  “Deacon doesn’t…”

  “No, Ma’am!” He quickly replies like the thought is unheard of—Deacon Cruz having a one-night stand. Out of nowhere, the rowdy group of bikers’ cheer as the performance pair walks in with Dom. “And speak of the devil. Woohoo!” He gets up, clapping and yelling.

  “You!” Sal booms in jeans, hoodie, and ball cap as I rise with the rest of the group. It must be a respect thing amongst them. I don’t know. I only know this is not how we do this where I come from. “Are leaving!”

  “The only reason this is happening is because I negotiated the deal.”

  “Iris,” he warns as I push back harder by giving him an evil eye. “Lil girl…”

  “I can go pop Trudy’s two rapists off if you would prefer…”

  He lowers his head to his chest. “This is no place for you to be.”

  “I do not care,” I sass, holding my red cup full of champagne. “I’m not leaving.”

  When in Rome…or the homicide arena…

  Don’t wear light colors!

  And drink out of their cups to not offend.

  Taking one step forward, he lifts me onto his shoulder. “Goddammit! This isn’t fair! I’m paying for them! I bought myself two rapists, and I am gifting them to Deacon!” I beat on his back. “They’re my rapists! Mine!”

  “She’s right,” Deacon agrees with a low rumble, casting a glance to Sal and being the voice of reason in an insane situation—which is quite scary. His ability to evoke a calmness—a spiritual warrior—is unrivaled.

  “Tell me you don’t agree with her,” Sal discredits again. “This is my future bride!”

  “She paid for them, and if it were anyone else, we would let them watch. You know this, and you’re only upset because it’s Iris. Put her down, brother. Or I must let them go with her,” he rebukes. “Your choice. You decide. She gives them to me, or she can take two pet rapists home.”

  Deacon wouldn’t let them make it that far.

  Sal sets me on my feet. “When this is done...discipline is coming.”

  It isn’t fair or right, but I say nothing as Deacon’s jaw locks with a faint pulse, and his nostrils flare. Tensions are tighter than they’ve ever been between the three of us. They’re about to maim and mangle in some sort of sparring competition for my attention.

  Little do they know, I don’t need their battle.

  Deacon shrugs off his cut and swaggers towards me. He wraps it around me in a statement that infuriates Sal. So, Sal…never to be outdone pulls off his hoodie and drapes it over the cut. Deacon’s jaw throbs at the disrespect.


  I quickly reverse it—hoodie with the cut on top—but not before Deacon yells, “You got a fucking problem with me tonight?”

  “I got a problem with you most nights.”

  “Boys,” Dom intervenes. “We are here to do justice. This shit going on between you two over Iris can wait.” He said it. Not only did he say it, but he also said it out loud.

  Sal walks over and puts his hat on my head backward before giving me an epic Raniero-tongue-lashing. “I love you, Angel.”

  “I love you,” I whisper as Deacon snarls like he is about to rip Sal’s throat out.

  Nicky bumps my arm and whispers, “Are you fucking Cruz?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “That’s not an answer,” he says. “I need to know if you want me to sell what’s left of the cargo ships to Cruz or Raniero.”

  “Cruz has money. Sal does not,” I reply, watching the boys prepping. Cruz is quiet, stable, and steady. Sal is cracking his neck and knuckles. Sipping my bubbles, I turn to Nicky. “Why not sell them to me?”

  “You have the money?” He laughs. “Who should I be dealing with though?”

  “Your loyalty is with Sal,” I point out.

  “No,” he laughs. “My loyalty is with my wife, and currently, she is all about that Buttercup.”

  “Then I guess I know which man you are dealing with—me,” I mock as Neil pulls the curtain and reveals the two men sitting in wooden chairs. Their arms are bound behind their backs and their legs are cinched tight at the calves. They’re gagged with red cloths and blindfolded with black. “Make your choice wisely.” I stand up, pulling off the cut and the jacket and dropping the hat. “Don’t hesitate. Lotus don’t bloom often.”

  I sashay over to the rapists as Deacon and Sal trade looks of concern.

  From my pocket, I pull out a pair of black gloves and toss a grin to Sal. I put only the left one on and throw the right at Sal’s feet. “Cement blocks in the river, baby.”

  “What is she doing?” Deacon asks. “Baby girl?”

  Quickly, I take the blade from my pocket and pop the razor-sharp edge open as Deacon mumbles, “What the hell is that…”

  “That is a hell of a blade,” Nicky marvels, bounding for me.