“Cruz is growing his outfit at a monumental rate and taking a lot of risks,” I point out. “I wouldn’t consider him stable.”
“I could go home to Daddy.”
“You could,” I suggest with a smile. “But what fun would there be in that?”
“Precisely,” he laughs. “I am a Latino and an African American, Miss Nakamura. I understand your issues.”
I blink in shock, feeling under the microscope. Rarely does my mixed heritage ever come to play anymore. “You understand the split.”
“I do,” he assures. “And I would like to help you take Lotus to a place you might not ever obtain.”
“You want Immortal.”
“I do,” he admits. “The only way I can get there though is with some help. I need to build reserves.”
“I assume this will lead to a contingency of peace between Immortal and Lotus.”
“I would hope so,” he says. “My loyalty will be yours.”
“What do you know about Cinco?”
He smirks. “I know Pico Neves needs money, and Cas Hope needs to be eliminated.”
“You have funds?”
“I have enough to start a skirmish,” he taunts. “Would you like me to go after Houston?”
“No,” I reply. “Deacon…Saint Cruz…will eat you alive if you try. If you want it, you must change your entry points. Go west, young man.”
“… Baja?”
“And travel back east.”
“Towards Houston?”
“All the way to New Orleans,” I say, sweeping my finger through the air. “But you won’t make it past the Mississippi without pissing off your father. And something tells me as Morpheus’ only son, you don’t want to do that.”
He snarls. “In time, I could have all of Mexico and the Coastal distribution locked down.”
“That’s a lot of gambling,” I muse. “What is in it for me?”
“What do you want?”
“The preservation of the parish.”
“That sounds personal,” he claims.
“Because it is,” I confide. “I will help with the acquisition of Cinco and annihilating any insurgents, but you must agree to leave Saint alone.”
“He has business already formed between Brethren and Morpheus. Why would I want to start trouble?”
“Because that is what control does,” I inform with a smirk. “Power festers with a deadly infection called greed.”
“You have my word.”
“Then, you can have my support on one other condition.”
“Name it.”
“Stella Raniero,” I say. “Was she a ploy or true love?”
“We both know the answer to that.”
“Then we have a deal, Mr. Costa,” I agree. “Would you like it on paper, or would you prefer I seal the deal on your dick?”
“I am humored by the latter, Miss Nakamura.” He blushes as I test him. “But your desire to preserve the parish as you say proves one thing—you are as true to Saint Cruz as the RR tattooed on the inside of your wrist.”
“And you proved your worth,” I confirm, extending my hand. His lips press to my skin. “If it falls apart…”
“You have my number, Iris.”
“Pleasure doing business with you, Durante.”
I take a short trip to Boston. There is only one reason, and her name is Michelle Veramonte.
In my rental car, I pull up outside of her house and note the moving van as Chelle waves. “If you’re looking for Vinny, he isn’t here.”
“I’m not here to see Vin the Sin…”
“How is Sal?”
“I wish I knew, but Dom Gennaro isn’t letting anyone get near his boy.”
“O—kay,” she remarks, pursing her lips. “What can I help you with?”
I hand her the regal purple envelope. “You’re about to be a very wealthy woman, and I would like to extend an invitation to join my little tea-sipping club.”
“Is this a sampling of the tea?”
“Yes,” I say as she rips open the envelope.
“… Are you serious?”
“I am.” I smile. “If you want to buy in, let me know soon.”
“Why me?”
I laugh. “Because you are pissed, Chelle. Thirty years to a drug-dealing schmuck who kept his dick in Stella all those years.”
“What about Fran?”
“If her loyalty can be purple and gold, then she is invited too.”
With a scrutinizing, insecure gaze, she assesses, “You are…as diabolical as them…”
“I try,” I admit, taking her words as a compliment. “Sometimes, the best dick in the joint belongs to a woman.”
She asks, “A mil for a point?”
“You got it.”
“How much do you own?”
“Thirty-five, not Lotus funds,” I lie, knowing full well where I got the money and what I am about to do with it. Thanks, Sally boy, for your skills.
“And you think you can do this?”
“No, Chelle,” I confidently say. “I know I can.”
“Is it truly an equal split?”
“Yes, I will not skimp you on charges. We each take the hit on delivery of goods and services, and we each make equal returns. I expect nothing more.”
“Why would you do this?”
“Because I can,” I say. “And because I know I can restore L’Académie to its former glory.”
“By running guns and drugs in Europe?”
“Yes, the boys won’t touch it,” I boldly state. “They’re frightened by the shifting states and lack of delineation, but I have no problems causing strife.”
“You need a hundred?”
“I only need eighty,” I counter.
“With me, you are halfway there.”
“Oh, no…” I correct gloating. “With you, I am already there.”
“I just don’t understand why I cannot see him,” I yell at Dom one morning. I’ve been staying with Anna at Scarlet House since returning home because that girl is in my house. “I have a right to Sal.”
“That’s debatable,” he argues, clinging to the front door of his new house. He won’t even let me in. The Gennaro household is Raniero proud as he may as well raise a flag with a picture of Sal’s pierced beast on it. “Please, Iris…don’t do this.”
Walking away, I sigh and flip him off. “Fuck off, Gennaro!”
The door slams as I head to the truck, parked in the driveway. Speeding from the other direction, I spot Megan’s sporty Fiat at the end of the driveway. She’s getting the mail. I run as fast as I can to the truck and speed to block her way in. There is no way that bitch knows how to off-road in that car.
I whip the new Raptor close and sprint towards the mailbox. “Where is he, Megan?”
“You shouldn’t be here,” she politely warns, walking back to the car and trying to open her door. I slam it. She pulls her phone out of her back pocket. “Iris, you need to go. Don’t turn this into something.”
“Megan, please!” I beg, letting the alligator tears drip over my cheeks. “He is my fiancé. He was in the ICU for three weeks. How would you feel?”
She giggles. “He wasn’t in the hospital for three weeks, sweetheart. He’s Sal. He was in the hospital for like a half a day before he left.”
“Where did he go?” I clutch her arm. “Please…”
“He’s in Japan.”
Motherfuckingfucker.
I hug her. “You need to go, Iris!” Dom roars, heading towards me and swinging his stinging cane. “Now, Iris!”
“Thank you, Megan!” I kiss her lips, giving her a little tongue cause I’m a bad bitch. “So much!”
She smirks at me. “Go! Before you get in trouble!”
“Trouble is where I live, honey.” I blow her another kiss, and she grins.
I tear out of the driveway, making ruts in the grass, and floor it into town. I park his new beast front and center at Ruby’s Salon.
Hannah is on the pho
ne, making an appointment. “Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds.”
“Hello,” she says, trying not to cut her eyes and putting the overly sweet frosting on way too thick. “How are you today?”
Threatening to bite, I hiss, “Did you know he left?”
Her nose twitches. “My relationship with Sal Raniero is none of your concern.”
“Your relationship with my fiancé is absolutely my business!”
“No,” she says, standing.
God, she’s fucking gorgeous with Deacon’s intense blue eyes and lips. Bastard. She walks over to the display of hair products. Her ass is…so much there.
“Hannah!”
“It’s really not,” she sweetly replies. Motherfucking Sal. “I won’t stoke the hate, Iris.”
Great. Fucking. Great.
She’s a peacekeeping, Cruz.
I start crying—real tears—and she tilts her head at me. Rushing over to the counter, she grabs the box of tissues. “I’m sorry,” I say, stumbling into a chair. “It’s all hitting me.”
She sits and holds my hand.
Bitch.
I want to hate her, but I see why Sal likes her, it’s real fucking clear.
“It’s going to hurt,” she comforts. “And I don’t have any answers on how to make it easier.”
I bite my lip. “I thought we’d all be together.”
“I know you did,” she says, getting emotional and wrapping her arm around me. “But I don’t want to be your enemy.”
Did she just kiss my head?
“I should go.”
“Would you like your hair washed?”
What?!?!
No! I want Sal and Deacon back.
“Are you going to do it?”
Serve the Queen, wench.
With tears in her eyes, she nods. “Yes, Ma’am, I can do washes. We even have bottles of champagne, and one of the ladies brought in cupcakes from Kate’s Bakery.” She blots the corner of her eye. “I’d love to wash you.”
I want to be a nasty fucking cunt to Hannah.
“Where did you get your lashes?”
“Upstairs at the new lash place!” She excitedly volunteers, “I know the girl who owns it if you want me to call and get you in.”
“Please,” I say. “And do you have someone who can get some color in this mop?”
“Yeah, of course!”
Six hours later, my black and auburn mane is gone. I didn’t cut anything more than the ends, but I let Josie put in a spiral perm and have her way with color. It’s now a light auburn with warm cinnamon highlights.
Between my hair and eyelash walk-ins, I shared a Cobb salad from Mario’s with Hannah. It fucking sucks. Like really. Because I like the girl and we could be friends. It’s an interesting concept because I don’t have many of those.
By the time I finish with my new lashes, the hair salon is closed, but I see her inside, finishing up. I knock on the door.
If I were a real gangsta, I’d pull out a gun and shoot her here.
Thanks for the day, bitch!
Kapow!
But…I am the Lotus.
“I just wanted to say thank you for everything,” I whisper as she smiles. “I’ll do my best to avoid you.”
“I don’t want you to avoid me, Iris.” She takes my hand. “I want you not to hate me.”
Tears well up in my eyes, and I lick my lips. “I don’t hate you. I’m a little upset with Sal.”
“You have every reason to be,” she assuages. “You even have reason to be upset with Deacon.”
I furrow my brow, which the lash girl, Jillian, did a tint on. “You don’t need to throw your brother under the bus.”
“I’m not,” she says. “But he shouldn’t have gone as far as he did. I was the only one outside of Dom to see the damage Deacon inflicted. He could’ve killed him.”
“And you’re angry with him?”
“We have worked out our issues,” she offers. “You can be angry at someone and not hold a grudge or want to kill them…or beat the ever-loving piss out of them.”
My mouth gapes open. “He…”
“He pissed himself, Iris.”
“Did you see Deacon?”
“No,” she whispers. “Deacon attacked him late Friday, going into Saturday, and I didn’t get home until Sunday at five o’clock.”
Home.
Swamp Shack.
The trinity.
I close my eyes as tears trickle down my cheeks. “So, he hung there…”
“Over thirty-six hours in and out of consciousness.”
“Oh…my…God…”
“If you need to place blame, don’t only look at Sal,” she encourages. “He may have triggered it, but Deacon didn’t have to go that far. He didn’t have to play into Sal’s issues.”
“I am sorry,” I regretfully say. “I should go.”
“You should call Deacon,” she implores. “Really.”
“You’re biased,” I fire off. “You want Sal.”
“No,” she argues. “Sal didn’t tell me he was leaving, either. We are just friends.”
What?
“You’re not sleeping with him?”
She breaks into a fit of laughter. “No, we’ve had one kiss.”
I jar backward. “One kiss?”
“One kiss.”
“No scenes? No sex? No, nothing?”
She leans in and looks me dead in the eye. “I haven’t even seen his dick.”
“Oh…my…fuck…”
That’s not Sal.
He sticks his tongue in everyone’s mouth with the hope of getting his dick in an orifice too.
“Iris,” she whispers, clutching my hand. “Deacon is in love with you.”
With a dumbfounded expression, I questioningly stutter “… What am I supposed to do with that?”
“Follow your gut because you are the only one who knows how you feel.” With her big blue eyes staring into mine, she shrugs her shoulders. “Take a risk. Jump.” She smiles. “And don’t look back.”
“Do you need anything?”
Shaking her head, she says, “No.”
“Give me your phone,” I demand. “Please…”
She walks over to the counter and brings it to me. “I’m programming my phone number. If you need anything at all, call or text…anytime.”
“Thank you.”
“And Hannah…”
“Call me Skeet or Skeeter.”
“Be good,” I say, embracing her close. “Have a good night.”
I walk out and note an SUV across the square. Getting in the truck, I take a deep breath, start the engine, and swing it into reverse. I know whoever it is, they’re going to follow me. I send a quick text to Kali.
“Being followed. Meet at main entrance to Juliet. Get photos.”
But I…I have a choice to make.
I’m at the dead end, and I must decide if I’m catching a plane for the Orient or driving this big ass new bitch Northwest as fast as I fucking can.
Two men love me.
One is in Japan with Masa.
One is in Colorado at the safe house.
My cold hands grip the wheel as I floor it to Juliet.
64
Scars in the Sea
His Butterfly
“Take his truck and go,” Anna encourages as I talk with her over dinner. “Don’t let these boys bully you. Show them what you are made of, Iris.”
Holding her hand, I cry. “But this is a choice.”
“Yes,” she consoles. “And you have to make it.”
“How did you decide?”
“I didn’t,” she says. “I let the time waste away. You can mend fences, but you can never get back the time. Make your choice wisely. They’re good men at heart. Loving any man will never be easy. It doesn’t matter if his name is Sal or Deacon…Luca or Jake or Pietro or Keishi…none of them are easy.”
“I know,” I say, looking at the ceiling and letting the tears fall. “It’s just so hard.”<
br />
“If you want easy, I recommend a vibrator.”
Amidst the tears, I laugh. “Oh, Anna…”
“Don’t compare them,” she urges. “Stop thinking about what life will be like with this one versus that one. And listen to your heart. She knows what she wants.”
“I’m not going to get out of this with both of them, am I?”
“Probably not, sweetheart,” she confirms, rubbing my fingers. “But it doesn’t mean that in time the other one won’t be a huge part of your life. You’re going to have to give him time to recover, but I promise you, whichever one you decide to not be with, he will recover.”
“They’re strong.”
“Exactly,” she affirms. “Or you can stay here as long as you need.”
“Oh, God…I don’t know if I can do this…”
“You know what you want to do,” she urges. “So, do it. Stop dillydallying.”
With icy hands, I graze my fingertips along with the diamond necklace. “… Can I put my collar in the safe?”
“Of course,” she says. “But, you best call me when you arrive in Colorado.”
I slam the tea. “… How did you know?”
“I knew the moment Charlie wouldn’t let you in the door, and Deacon rushed to find me,” she informs with a smile. “I knew the look of passion in his eyes, and then I saw yours. There is something undeniable happening between you. And I’m not the only one who sees it.”
“… Sal?”
“Yes,” she confirms. “Salvatore called me, and we talked for several hours. He loves you so much, but you need to be happy. That’s part of the reason he is in Japan. Sal knew you wouldn’t leave Texas with him here because of the obligation you feel in your heart. You have a lust for Deacon, which you need to explore.”
“... Lust?” I question, shocked.
“Yes, lust. It may be love, but either way, it is impeding growth or connection with Sal. Do what you need to do.”
Standing up, I mutter, “I’m so tired.”
“So is he,” she says. “Obligation does not make a romance. Love makes a romance.”
“Love fights for one another.”
“You gave that up when you left Texas,” she quips as I start to regret my comment. “You don’t get to go back into the ring now. Sal isn’t going to stay stagnant for long, dear. He isn’t going to wait for you while you figure out if you’re in love with Deacon. He’s tougher than that.”
Diary of a Submissive (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 4) Page 53