Every Minute I Love You (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 3)

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  “Where is home?”

  “Sugargrove, Texas, Sir.”

  She picks up her chopsticks and with adept skill, eats. “That’s funny,” I confide, rubbing my fingers on the silver handle of the fork. “Sal said the same thing.”

  Her blue eyes light up as she smiles. “You will meet Keishi.”

  “When?”

  “In a few days,” she replies, slurping up her noodles. A minute later, she says, “Don’t let any of it intimidate you.”

  “It’s a bit overwhelming.”

  “What is?”

  “Sitting here with the future of the criminal underworld,” I admit. “You are it—the one. You’re going to have all the control.”

  “Not all,” she says. “Some. And I am the same as I ever was.”

  “More than some,” I argue. “You know you’re top tier.”

  “What I know, Deacon, is that I’m the first mutt to be nominated to take my sofu’s place upon his death. If his council appoints me, I will be the first Chairwoman.”

  Leaning back, I set down the fork, lick my lips, and smooth my hands over my hair. Studying the strain in her expression, I observe, “You’re scared.”

  “Like you cannot believe. You boys have a small history to live up to comparatively—a couple generations—I have centuries. The Nakamura crime dynasty has existed since medieval times. Keishi is placing a tremendous pressure in my hands.”

  “Have you considered not taking it?”

  She answers my question with one of her own. “It isn’t really an option is it?”

  “Not for you,” I say, feeling incredibly sympathetic. “So, what is your goal with The Unholy?”

  “Moving forward, I need coverage.”

  “Do you plan on running the empire from home?”

  “I don’t see why not,” she says. “Keishi lived stateside for years.”

  “You’re asking for an almost impossible task,” I point out, understanding the massive target she will have on her. “Protecting you isn’t the same as Keishi.”

  “No, in addition to the normal confrontations, some of my cousins would prefer I dropped dead tomorrow. I’m aware of the risk I’m burdening The Unholy with, but I’m asking for something you are quite capable of doing and I’m willing to pay substantially well.”

  My eyes shift to the soup container. “May I?”

  “Eat whatever you would like.”

  Placing a spoon in my hand, she rubs her finger over mine. “What if we decline your offer?”

  “Then I will have no choice but to let the pieces fall where they may.”

  “This is the decision you’ve made?”

  She nods. “It’s the only choice.”

  “In essence, you’re saying we can protect you or become your enemy.”

  Reaching into her pocket, she pulls out her phone and holds it over the table. “Maybe you would like to consult with your lover on this, Mr. Cruz, before you insult me.”

  The Lotus Queen works a helluva shakedown.

  And the Iris I remember is as gone as the Sal I once knew.

  36

  Really, Bitch?

  In the parking garage, I sit in my car debating if I’m going into Raniero Enterprises on Monday morning. We have a midday meeting with Gage Boudreaux. I hate the son of a bitch because he likes to slip down into Deacon’s turf and stir shit up. He’s a menace.

  And now, Handcock is trying to wedge in under the safety of Boudreaux’s umbrella because his sister, Megan, is his house slave. If Handcock brings his forces with Allegiance and others, we’re in serious trouble. It stands to be the equivalent of a permanent power outage.

  Or the uprising of a potential top-tier player that no one ever saw coming. I see it because I spend hours thinking about the moves of the pieces, like a chess game. Except the board is multi-layered and constantly shifting—both the pieces and spaces.

  And I still don’t know much about owls.

  My phone rings in the passenger seat. “What are you doing?”

  “Pondering the shape of breasts,” I deadpan to Deacon. “You?”

  “Watching a loaded cannon point at The Unholy.”

  “I’ll go back to the boobs,” I mention, lighting a smoke. “Are you with her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you been in her?”

  “No, I haven’t,” he replies. “And I’m not sure I want to be. Have you offered her protection?”

  “I was actually thinking we should go without, so I could study the shape of pregnant tits.”

  “Dammit, Sal, I’m serious.”

  A grin erupts on my cheeks as I chuckle. “Yes. Why?”

  “Because she’s telling me if we don’t shelter her ass that she is coming after us.”

  I glance at the cars trickling into the garage. Very few come to the top. I like it on top…ya…because I always want the highest perch on the tree. “I would expect no less from Ms. Nakamura.”

  “You knew she had this…. negotiating thing…”

  Cracking my knuckles, I snort. “You mean her art of persuasion.”

  “I’m not sure there is any art to it.”

  “Then she hasn’t started the foreplay.”

  He heavily sighs. “You know talking to you isn’t always easy, especially when you've got pussy on the brain.”

  “Not pussy. Tits,” I correct. “You wouldn’t want me if I was easy,” I reply as I note Daisy arriving for work. Garrett is nowhere to be seen, which is odd. I scratch my beard and rubberneck at her walking to the elevator. “Give Iris whatever she wants. If I don’t agree with it, I’ll worry about adjusting it later. Don’t spend your brief window of time fighting a battle you won’t win.”

  He comes back swinging, insulted. “You think you can win it?”

  “I don’t know if I can or not,” I admit, knowing my opponent plays a mean game. “But I’m not worrying about that right now because she is there and I am here and Unholy is nowhere near to getting into Lotus.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” he confides with a low, elusive rumble. “I think you're much closer than you think.”

  “Give me one good reason to believe that.”

  “I'm in Japan.”

  “Okay,” I reply to his geography lesson. “And your point?”

  “I wouldn't be in Japan if you weren't causing a stir. You're making a wave, Sal. A big one. And I wouldn't want to be anywhere near it when it finally crashes into the shoreline. You can't see it because you're in the water and you won't feel it because you'll ride in on it. The impact will be significant, so don't go underestimating yourself.”

  “Can I kill Boudreaux?” I segue the conversation, not wanting to think about the water, the mountain, and me. Propulsion isn't a math problem in this case. And Jaid’s fly over idea won't really work, so I'm trying another method. If it fails, I'll try another because I'm relentless and in love.

  The Chairman will not let a valley peasant sit beside his rare flower that only blooms at the pinnacle of that very high mountain. Fact. And maybe that is also the reason I'd rather off Boudreaux than meet with him. My father may think he has Cristos—really, I have Cristos—but most of his other deals are small, seedy things. He’s a cheap gangster and I have to elevate beyond the genetic predisposition.

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Deacon suggests, like he actually considered the notion for half of a second. I’m not surprised. There is a legitimate reason to kill the son of a bitch—his association with Handcock. It may have started as a quarter million he stole from Saint, but it isn’t that anymore.

  Nissa grew that shit like green in a hydroponic greenhouse (literally) and if she split it, they had well over ten million in cash and assets. It wasn’t Lotus money, but it wasn’t worth scoffing at either. “Maybe we should offer to buy it…”

  “… Nissa’s business?”

  “Yeah,” Deacon says. “Why not? We give her enough cash to make her disappear and get away from Boudreaux and Hand
cock. If she really has control of the business, she can be bought out.”

  I sighed. “That’s assuming she isn’t locked up tight with Handcock. She may send us a big fuck you.”

  “It’s worth considering.”

  “Fine,” I agree, rolling my shoulders when I notice Garrett pulling in. “Make the offer. But this is your gig. I’ll fund it, but I’m no weed farmer. I gotta go.”

  “Be good out there.”

  “You too.”

  Immediately, I call Cat. She answers on the first ring. “What is going on with Daisy and Garrett?” She says nothing. “Catarina…”

  “What?”

  “What is going on with Daisy and Garrett?”

  “I may have done something.”

  This is how my really bad day started.

  And it only got worse.

  My fucking slut of a sister decided a few months ago to go for a ride on the rod of Garrett Wheelerson, which would have been fine if he wasn’t married to my secretary, Daisy. They had both been at various departments with the Raniero business since back when it was the Fisheries.

  Daisy actually did receiving on the docks during college and she knows many facets of the front business. On the other hand, Garrett is a wizard with numbers and makes all the shade disappear into the real.

  In a nutshell, he cheated.

  She is hurt. And all those times I thought they were in love was actually his kissing ass to try and win her back. Little did anyone know, his stunt with Cat started a trend, and while they were done, he was not. He was on the prowl in the accounting department and so far, we’d lost two employees due to his affairs. If that wasn’t enough, Garrett had started stalking my train wreck of a sister because no one else could compare to Catarina Raniero.

  I wasn’t happy.

  I didn’t want the meeting with Boudreaux, but I knew my father wouldn’t do it without me. Striding inside, I considered walking into Garrett’s office and knocking him on the floor, but ultimately, I understood he had enough knowledge to burn my entire inheritance down to the ground.

  “Hey,” I say from just inside his door. “You want to go for lunch on Friday?”

  “Oh, hi…Mr. Raniero,” he stutters as I wonder what Cat sees in him. The nerdy little twerp was not her type at all. He isn’t bad looking, but appears more like he belongs in a lab with a white coat and test tubes. “I will have lunch with you.”

  Damn straight, you will.

  You will and you will enjoy it.

  “Meet me downstairs at eleven-thirty,” I say, tapping twice on the door frame and walking to the end of the hall where Cat is. I don’t bother to knock, but maybe I should’ve because she’s got Daisy lip-locked in a Raniero-tongue-lashing for the record books. “Whoa!”

  “Sal,” Cat says, backing away. “Don’t go.”

  “I’m not getting involved in this.” I walk away like the grown-up I’m trying to be. I duck into the men’s room. I’m taking a piss when Cat walks in and locks the door. “Unless you grew a sprout, you’re in the wrong zone.”

  “I’m sorry,” Cat pleads from behind me. “I got involved with Garrett and the thing with Daisy and I just happened by accident.”

  I shake both my heads and turn around as I zip up. “Are you telling me this isn’t some threesome thing?”

  “No!” She follows me to the sink as we talk in the reflection of the mirror. “Garrett was a mistake. Daisy is…”

  “Not Deacon!” I counter, grabbing some paper towels after washing my hands. “Look, I don’t care if you’ve got your nose all up in Daisy’s muff cause fuck knows even I considered it, but what the hell were you thinking with Garrett?”

  “At first he was an excuse for Cruz…a random hook up…until I realized he’s packing a good ten plus.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ!” My hands lift in daego-style because the last thing I want to know is the details of Garrett’s wiener. “Don’t say things like that!”

  “Sal…you’re bisexual…”

  “That,” I say, pointing my finger. “Has nothing to do with this.”

  “No, I mean… I can’t compete with you against Deacon.”

  “There is no competition.”

  Crossing her arms, she looks away. “That’s where you are wrong. You don’t know how much he is in love with you.”

  “And you don’t know how much he thinks about you but is scared to go out with you because of me. Maybe I should just get out of both of your lives, so you can go be happy together,” I reply, storming towards the door. “It would be a lot easier on everyone. My sister can go be with my lover and make little RanCru hellions.”

  “Sal,” she pleads. “They wouldn’t be Raniero anything because they’d just be Cruz.”

  I sit through the meeting with Boudreaux nodding and pretending to not know what a snake in the grass he actually is. My father decides to continue the meeting at dinner this evening. Of course, I’m expected to go. And I will, but because I’ll spend six hours working tonight, I blow the whole joint early and go home for a run.

  I’m on my way out the door when Dad observes, “You don’t like him much.”

  “I think he is fundamentally about the benefit of one—Gage Boudreaux. He’s looking to grow, but I’m not sure RE is the right place for him.”

  With a hand on his jolly, round belly, he runs the other one over his hair. “I’ll bring Vinny this evening and see what he has to say. Enjoy your afternoon.”

  I’m out of the restrictive tie and dress shirt by the time I step foot in the parking garage. I see Daisy, who has said nothing to me since my stumbling in on her and Cat. I dodge to take the stairs instead of the elevator, but it is too late when she laces her hand to my forearm.

  “I want to apologize for everything,” she says with a desperation in her eyes. “I never meant for it to turn out like it did.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “I feel like I’ve failed you, my marriage, and my friendship with Cat. I’m sorry.”

  “Stop apologizing,” I kindly repeat, not offering her any excuses for bad behavior. We all do it; we all have to own it. Mind you, this is my logic and not everyone agrees. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  We part and I head home. I take the freeway because at this time of day, I know the traffic won’t be that bad. I’m five minutes from home and I start thinking about Daisy being my executive assistant, leading my thoughts back to my previous one—Amber. I miss her laugh. I miss her smile. I miss talking to her. I recall the hand off of Deacon’s swimmers she gave to Mitch Daniels.

  I don’t miss her anymore.

  But damn, a good secretary is hard to find.

  37

  B.L.O.W. up

  His Butterfly with The Master’s Ride

  “Good morning, beautiful girl! Happy Birthday!” Deacon chimes, peeking in my bedroom. “It’s a gorgeous day out.”

  The breakfast tray in his hands is full of my favorite things—flowers, pancakes, bacon, and coffee. I sit up as he slinks over in running pants. His hair is damp like he’s fresh out of the shower. He smells clean and good and so much…Deacon.

  Unless Sal is so down he cannot see straight or working out, he is always clean. On the other hand, Deacon is either filthy from playing hard or spotless. With that said, he changes his clothes more than any man I’ve ever met. He is a bit of a fashion whore, even if it only involves having sixteen pairs of baggy jeans—he’ll have every single one.

  Since he’s been here, I’ve been basking in his fascination with my bathrooms. They’re traditional with low rise tiled tubs and open showers with no doors. And Cruz spends a lot of time in the shower, so he always carries a soapy aroma, which in turn, makes me discreetly curl my toes.

  Sitting on the bed, he asks, “What would you like to do today?”

  “I want to go for a walk.”

  “Where to?”

  “Just around the property,” I say, taking a sip of the java. “Has Sal had coffee yet?”

 
; He laughs. “Nope. But if you ask him, he can tell you the exact number of days it’s been since his last cup.”

  With a blush on my cheeks, I giggle. “… Is he behaving?”

  “As well as he can,” he replies before I feed a bite of pancake to him. “It’s difficult. He’s lost without you.”

  “I can’t say he’s alone in that.”

  His tenderness pushes through my tough exterior as he gently prods, “What did you do? I mean, how did you get out of Guam?”

  “I called my grandfather and he arranged for my transport.”

  “Did he use Lotus affiliates?”

  She shakes her head. “No, a man by the name of Orochi Goro reached out.”

  Her answer confirms what Sal already suspected. The Goro gang stole the two million and started a bidding war to move Iris, and then lied about their knowledge of it all. “Did they treat you well?”

  “I’d prefer to not discuss the details.”

  We finish the breakfast without another sound.

  He takes the tray with the dishes and disappears to clean the kitchen. I feel bad about the honesty in our conversation, but it isn’t something I want to rehash. I’m alive and in the end that is all that matters. I get up from the tatami bed and take off my clothes when Deacon barges in and asks, “Do you want another cup of….”

  Glancing over my shoulder, I note his open mouth and eager blue eyes. I refuse to turn around, paralyzed by my own truth. He stops to stare at my back as I cross my arms over my breasts.

  “Say it…”

  “Coffee…”

  “No,” I reply, understanding his shock at seeing me naked for the first time in almost two years. “Thank you.”

  “When did this happen?” He quizzes, asking about the new shape of me. “I mean I knew you seemed smaller when I hugged you, but…”