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

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  There are times when a guy like me should never get into a limo, especially alone. Holly and Kim were everything a young man like myself could’ve possibly dreamed of having—malleable, nimble, pliable, and damn fun.

  After our all night party of ecstasy—literally and figuratively—one too many glasses of champagne and a half a box of used condoms, I was feeling every bit of my twenty-eight years.

  “Dear God, I have a hangover from hell,” I whine and cover my head with the sheet as I wake up in the hotel suite.

  “You need to get up,” Cat yells—or at least I think she is yelling—and nudges my bed. “You have another cake tasting at three.”

  “I don’t want any more cake,” I moan. “You’re going to say I’m getting fat.”

  “I swear if you do not get up out of this bed right fucking now, I’m dumping the entire pitcher of ice water over your head.”

  I peek out from beneath the sheet. “You have breakfast?”

  “I do.”

  “Did Vinny send you?”

  “Of course, he did,” she says. “And your phones have been going off all morning.”

  “Where is my car?”

  She tilts her head like I’m crazy. I duck under the sheet again because the light is too bright. Someone needs to shut off the sun during the day.

  “You’re more worried about your new toy than your fiancée.”

  “I actually like my car,” I mumble, grumbly.

  “You’re such an ass sometimes,” she snaps, stomping off. “I drove your car home and spent the night with Emily in the house you made me hide two murders in!”

  I don’t hear her coming back, but when the freezing ice water hits my balls—I freak. “What the fuck’rya doing?” I jump out of bed faster than a cheap floozie five-fingering a wallet and barreling for the door.

  Uh-bai! I’m outta here!

  “Jesus Christ, you’re naked!”

  “I was sleeping!”

  “And now, you’re up,” she observes, glancing down. “But no longer up. Get to the shower before you miss the cake tasting because I am not marrying Emily. You are! You get to go do this! Not me! It’s bad enough I have to experience the agonizing torture of her trying on dresses and knowing I will never be the bride.”

  I give her comatose gaze. “… Do you want to marry Emily in a dress?”

  “No!” She scorns pushing me towards the bathroom. “Shower! It’s already one.”

  The water is a sobering reminder that life exists beyond this walk of shame. “I gotta stop doing drugs every time Vinny is around.”

  “No, shit!” She quips as I peer out the shower door to see her sitting on the dressing counter. “What’s your passcode into your personal phone?”

  “Can I trust you or will I need to kill you after I tell you?” She flips me off. “871909. It’s Iris’ birthday backwards.”

  “Speak of the devil…” I pause for about a hundredth of a second before slinging the shower door open so fast it falls off the tracks. “Dear fuck! Stop showing me your cock!”

  “… Did she text?” I run out of the shower like my ass is on fire, soaking the bathroom, and seeing the string of missed calls that started at midnight. “Oh, fucknasty…”

  I grab my phone from her hand, and she tosses a towel to me. “Cover that thing up if you’re calling her.”

  Pacing around the suite, I don’t know what to do. Cat steps outside of the bathroom as I crouch low to the floor and grip my hair. “What the fuck do I do?”

  “The typical response when a person of the female persuasion calls a person of the male persuasion – if you like them – is to call them back. Otherwise, you ignore it.”

  I rub my eyes. “Shit…”

  “Just call her.”

  “What do I say?”

  “Hello, I’m the new Prince of Darkness who sold my soul off to The Commission, do you want to marry me?”

  I give her the evil eye. “I’m serious!”

  “So, am I,” she says, walking closer. “What would you have said to her yesterday or the day before or the day before that? You’re making this far more difficult than it should be, Sal. Nothing has changed.”

  “Everything has changed!”

  “Maybe for you,” she points out. “But not for her. Just because you elevated doesn’t mean she did. Don’t go looking down on her because she is still the one you love. Look up, ideally from one knee.”

  “Be normal.”

  “Right,” she says, nodding. “Pretend you didn’t have the coveted meeting of a lifetime yesterday and whatever you do, don’t tell her about the hookers.”

  “They were quality entertainment specialists.”

  “Entertainment for your dick,” she replies, shrugging. “They were ten thousand dollar a night hookers.”

  “… For each of them?”

  “Yeah,” she says, sitting on the arm of the sofa. “And Vinny gave them twenty-five.”

  “They were good…”

  “Salvatore!” She blinks like a swarm of gnats just instantaneously flew in her eyeballs. “Call the bitch!”

  “Ok, shhhh!” I say, placing my finger on my lips. “It’s ringing!”

  “Phones do that,” she sarcastically claims. “It’s okay.”

  I stand up, walk to the window, and pull back the curtain. It’s a cloudy, spring day. I gaze down at the parking lot and grip the bridge of my nose. “She’s not going to answer,” I mutter under my breath, strumming my fingers on the glass.

  “Hello,” a woman, not Iris, answers. “Is this Sal?”

  “Ya, who is this?”

  “My name is Kali Ose. I’m calling to invite you to Japan on behalf of The Lotus Chairman and His Council. If you agree, you will need to meet with our associates in San Francisco tomorrow at 5 PM. I will text you the address. A private jet will be bringing you abroad.”

  I blink at Cat, staring at me and waiting for some sort of resolution. “Please tell The Chairman, I graciously accept his offer.”

  “Goodbye.”

  She hangs up.

  And the noose, formerly around my neck, cinches around my heart.

  After tasting fourteen more flavors of cake, we decided on a nice light lemon with fresh raspberry filling and buttercream for the bride’s cake. Mine is dark cacao cake, not sweetened at all, with thirty little layers of alternating cake and dark semi-sweet ganache.

  I deserved a blue ribbon for finally getting Emily to pick one.

  Maybe a few gold stars…at least one.

  With The Commission watching my every move, I decided to not say anything to The Unholy about my unplanned, impromptu trip to Japan. No one needed to know. Cat was running things in Boston, and Deacon was holding down the fort in Sugargrove.

  I asked Agent Randy Bianchi to lie and say I was in Washington if anyone asked. In exchange, I promised to do actual foot work on the Bordertown Murders when I got back. He needed my ass in Washington, even though he was in Florida. He said it was import-ant. He said the case would change my life.

  Of course, I passed it off as one of those things guys say when they want favors paid back. It didn’t matter at the time. I had somehow managed to snag a meeting with The Commission and get an invite from Lotus all within twenty-four hours. I was doing good. The chest was pumped out. My shoulders were high. I was standing tall. Intimidating, even.

  Going to Japan was ultimately about The Chairman and I negotiating a contract for his granddaughter. Another form of an arranged marriage.

  But this was one I wanted.

  He needed protection on his beloved flower, and I had the means, mind, and motivation to do it. And on top of all of that deliciousness, if I pulled everything off, then I’d be not only a pledged member of The Commission but one connected to Lotus. It stood to be a double victory.

  Inch up a little taller, boy.

  After being picked up in San Francisco, I board the luxurious Gulfstream G650 bound for the Orient. With the Lotus emblem everywhere, I know t
his is The Chairman’s bird. I am the only passenger, just getting comfortable, and thinking I’ve made it when my private line buzzes. We are less than ten minutes from taking off. I do not want to answer it, but I do because it’s Prissy Pants.

  “We need to talk,” she says.

  “I’m working,” I lie—not exactly a lie, more of a half-truth. Iris is work.

  Her heavy exhale blows through the phone. “No, you’re not.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because you took your tracker offline,” she quips with a pissy tone, like I owe her an explanation. I don’t owe her shit. “Why don’t you tell me the truth?”

  Knowing she is spying on me, I sigh, “I wish you weren’t so good.” I stay silent, wishing an answer would magically appear before my eyes. “I’m taking a little vacation.”

  “You met with some big guys yesterday.”

  “Yep,” I confirm, understanding she is Delarte Cristos’ daughter, and that plays heavily into the choice words of chess we play. I don’t fully know whose team Jaid is on anymore—mine or his. It’s not an easy call like Deacon. He will die for me. He will wear a Sal Raniero letter jacket until the day he dies. She’s also not like Iris, guarding my interests at every turn even though she’s thousands of miles away. Or my sister Cat, who picks my ass up without question when I’m nothing but the douche canoe Kaci warned me I would eventually become.

  But Jaid…

  She’s not Amber, who I don’t trust. Or Cas, who I really don’t trust. Or Mitch, who I want to murder with my bare hands. I could go on, but suffice it to say—I love Jaid and I always will, but we are not good lovers because she is my cocaine. And I will overdose on her; I will kill myself on Jaid. This much I know.

  We are fantastic partners, though. And therein lies the hiccup.

  “I’m going to Japan,” I confess, waiting for her verbal derailment. It doesn’t happen. I wait. And wait. She says nothing until I finally say, “Thoughts?”

  “Be careful who you trust.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I ask as the flight attendant smiles at me. “Who are you referring to?”

  “Everyone, Sal.” The hint of panic in her voice sends a shiver through my spine. “Don’t trust anyone.”

  “I don’t understand what we’re talking about…do you mean everyone?” I say it slow, annunciating every syllable. “Or a specific set of people?”

  “I mean, everyone.” With her foreboding message running through my mind, I think about asking the pilot to delay. “I’m sending you a file. Download it before you take off.”

  “Okay,” I reply, completely sideswiped. She is acting really nervous, and that isn’t common for her. Nothing usually wobbles the ground beneath her feet. “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Call Dale if things get rough,” I suggest, stretching my fingers. “Don’t even think about the past.”

  “The past is all I can think about Sal. The stupid mistakes we’ve made along the way. The warning signs we’ve all ignored. We should’ve stopped, regrouped, and considered every action and its implication. But we didn’t.”

  My heart pounds in my chest, restrained by the binding rope of my love for her…for Deacon…for Iris. “What can I do?”

  “Just promise to come back to me.”

  “I’m coming back, baby.”

  We’re taxiing down the runway when she whimpers, “Famous last words. Bye, Phoenix.”

  She hangs up as I whisper, “Ghost.”

  Leaning back against the seat, I close my eyes as the email with the file arrives. Her message causes a rush of anxiety. My palms sweat and my eyes blur.

  “These are out there. I thought you should know.”

  I click open the file and see picture after picture of Iris and Deacon together—holding hands, laughing, and…fucking.

  Graphic. Explicit. FUCKING.

  I knew. But I didn’t know.

  Not like this. Not with this much intimacy.

  I knew my lover fucked my girl, but I didn’t know he made love to her. And that little difference changes—everything—as we prepare to take off for Japan.

  “Do you need anything, Mr. Raniero?”

  “Whiskey and a glass?”

  “Double shot?”

  I shake my head. “The whole bottle.”

  VI

  And the Willow

  52

  Turn My Little Masochist Cravings On

  In my slightly inebriated state, I watch the plane touch down in Tokyo. Over the course of the flight, I consumed most of the bottle. It wasn’t enough to numb the ache of what transpired between Deacon and Iris, but I was also fairly certain nothing could. He loved her, that much was clear, but unfortunately, it looked like he loved her a little too much.

  During the entire flight, I questioned if I would’ve boarded the plane had I known. I’ve determined—I don’t know. Nor will I ever know because we only process the information as it is given, and I cannot rewind the clock or even begin to remotely know how I would’ve felt or where my head would’ve been at.

  All I know is what I know.

  I boarded a plane. Jaid sent pictures. Iris and Deacon had fun. And I took off.

  The plane stops, and I grab my things before heading down the stairs. The limousine and two blacked out SUVs are waiting nearby on the tarmac with several of the Lotus members waiting in their silk suits and shades. It doesn’t matter the nationality; we all look the same. I pop my Bollés on and stride towards them with determination in every step.

  I am Sal Raniero.

  I will not be intimidated.

  A moment skips through my muscle and bone when I realize she is here, on this very continent with me. My blood fires like molten lava coursing through my veins.

  She is close…nearby…me.

  I take an immediate count—960 days—without Iris. I haven’t had coffee in 1,059 days. And right now, as much as I hate to say it, I’m not sure which I want more.

  Two years, seven months, and 17 days.

  It’s no wonder I’m fucking tired as hell.

  “Salvatore Raniero?” the front man asks in perfect English without even a hint of an accent. I find this odd because I have more of an accent than he does.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He waits a beat too long, drawing up suspicion in my mind. Jaid’s conversation has left me on edge like I shouldn’t trust anyone ever. I have no reason to believe this man isn’t about to blow my fucking head off.

  He smiles and opens the door. “Please, take a seat and make yourself comfortable.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Do you need anything before we depart?”

  “No,” I say, getting in the car and pulling out my pack of smokes. He promptly produces the lighter from his pocket and flicks it. I nod and say, “Thank you.”

  “We’ll be driving for quite a bit, if you need to stop at any point, please inform your driver. Feel free to help yourself to the bar. Pillows and blankets are available beneath the seat. Enjoy yourself.”

  He closes the door and I sigh with relief. We drive with the limo sandwiched in between the SUVs. I’ve been a lot of places and seen a lot of things, but this caravan is a new one. We’re about ten minutes into the trip when the phone in the console rings.

  Out of habit, I say, “Raniero.”

  “Nakamura.” I stop breathing, hearing her bubbly voice. “Where are you?”

  “We just left Tokyo.”

  “Okay, I have time to take a bath.” Her words bring tears to my eyes because that is my Iris. “I’ll tell Kali.”

  “What’s with all the cars, babe?”

  “You’re the intended of the The Chairman’s granddaughter.”

  And that is when, as we pull onto the congested highway, I realize this is truly occurring. Almost three years of diligent work and it comes down to one trip across the ocean. I’m humbled, grateful, and forgiving for whatever the pictures portrayed. It doesn’t matter.
They are the past and this moment is the present. And she is my future. “This is really going to happen…”

  “Yes,” she whispers. “Are you doing okay?”

  “Ya, I mean, it’s been a helluva twenty-four hours. It's been a helluva couple of years.”

  The noise of water rushes in the background as she giggles, “I know, it will calm soon.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I have my ways,” she lures, flirting. “I keep an eye on things I love.”

  “You’re very hard to track down,” I mention, knowing I’ve not got a clue as to her whereabouts. “Little rogue.”

  “It’s easier to stay moving. Change the scenery. The pace. I’ve been all over Japan.”

  “… Are you serious?” I ask, intrigued to hear her stories.

  “Yes,” she reveals. “My family has about two dozen houses all over.”

  “Where am I going?”

  I hear her breathing and I close my eyes. “Do you want me to scare you?”

  “Yes. Scare me, baby. Bring it.”

  “To the Grand Palace,” she says. “It is the main familial residence.”

  “Are you there?”

  She moans, trying to determine her answer. “Not yet. But I will be soon. If you behave, I’ll show you where I am.”

  “… Behave, huh?”

  “Yep,” she declares. “Make yourself at home, Sal. You got this.”

  “I know,” I assure. “The question is do you?”

  “I’m ready.” The splashing subsides and I wonder where she is and what she looks like in the environment here. I know she's changed, but so have I. “I just hope you’re prepared.”

  “For?”

  “My grandfather,” she says with concern.

  “You’re making Keishi sound like a twelve-headed beast.”

  She laughs. “He kind of is, babe.”

  “Then I’m out numbered cause I only have two.”

  “You only need one, Salvatore,” she whispers. “I’ll see you soon.”

  With the window down, I take in the sights, sounds, and smells of the backroads of this exotically strange place. It’s not my home, but it is part of her heritage. I want to remember every minute of this.