Stealing Iris: A Dark Mafia Romance (Blood Ties Book 1)

by Sahara Roberts

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  DANTE

  I spent the longest days of my life at the house I grew up in. Two small rooms still sitting at the back of the ranch. My father picked the location because the ground is too sandy to plant, so he didn’t waste valuable land. The house is close to the river. As a kid, I’d try to catch a good wind so I could flick bottle caps into the water.

  It’s the first place I thought to go. I needed to be alone, surrounded by overgrown mesquites, an outhouse, and a handful of creatures that can kill me. Turns out, no matter how far you run, you still long for what you want. Close enough to want to reach out and close your hand around the thing that burned you the most.

  With nothing stronger on hand, I head to the nearby well my father and grandpa dug before I was born. Grabbing the metal bucket off the peg, the handle squeaking in protest, I drop it in. The bucket lands with a splash, sinking deep and filling to the top. Grasping the rope, I pull back, a few feet at a time, welcoming the weight to help me burn away my stupidity. Though nobody in their right mind would want to touch water from the Rio Grande, the dirt and sand on this part of the ranch filter out the impurities, leaving everything clean enough to consume. A scoff escapes me. Funny how things can come out lily white when you least expect it.

  Her face comes into focus, her expression pleading for understanding. I can’t…

  The phrase goes through my head for the millionth time. Why would I assume she would leave Conrado? I’m still baffled. How could she choose him after he offered her up in public, for fuck’s sake? She’d been embarrassed as hell, yet she’d kept her mouth shut.

  He even dressed her with an eye to undress her easily. How many more men had he planned to offer her to? My head fills with an image of him pulling back her top to show off a perfect breast to anyone willing to shell out the cash. My stomach tightens, and my anger flares up again. Goddamn that son of a bitch.

  Cupping my hands, I plunge them into the bucket, bringing water up to splash my face. Then there she is again, coming out of the motel bathroom in a towel. Two more handfuls don’t erase the image from my mind. I don’t know if anything can.

  In a fit of annoyance, I grab the bucket, bend at the waist, and dump it all over my head. Straightening, I send a virtual river down my back and chest into my pants. Hell, maybe that’s what I need, to dunk my dick in cold water. That should be enough to cool me down. The snort is a surprise, even to me.

  Putting the bucket on the hook, I head back to the house, my toes squishing in my shoes. I spent way too much on these damn things to have them hauling water, but what the hell. I stop at the doorway, the bare walls of my childhood home glaring at me in accusation. My family would have welcomed the money I used on shoes to keep the occupants fed for months on their meager rations. It’s hard to imagine I grew up out here, but I did.

  I take a deep breath and lean on the doorframe, shoulders sagging in defeat. I’ve let my success push me too far over the edge. I expect everyone to do what I want, when I want, even if I have to find a way to make it happen.

  Hell, I chose not to pry into Iris’s life. I wanted her to be different, and the mistake cost me. She must have her reasons for wanting to stay with Conrado, reasons I don’t want to think about right now. Losing her hurt, and I hadn’t felt anything for anyone in way too long. The fact she’d been so different from the others made her special.

  Any other guy would have picked up the pieces and gone back to his life by now. It’s time I head to town and deal with my shit. A hot shower and a good meal will carry me a long way toward normal. Then I can decide what to do next. Maybe I’ll buy a yacht and get away for a while. Only I’ll go to the West Coast because two hundred miles isn’t nearly far enough away from the temptation to find her.

  *****

  CONRADO

  Click-click-click-click-click. The dial on the safe goes flying around. Once it stops, I put three fingers over the knob and move it slowly. It gives me a rush, thinking about the payout as the white line on number eleven hits the marker. I turn the handle for that final snap and pull back the door.

  Stacks of bills, wrapped in different-size rubber bands, sit there waiting for me. They’re not smooth and flat, like I expect. These bills have been around, so the ends stick up, making the bundle look bigger.

  “Duuuude,” Iz says from behind me.

  I reach in and grab two handfuls, pulling them out. I’m fuckin’ rich. A stallion—no, a bull. One of those big motherfuckers that throws the rider. “Whoop-whoop.” I bring one hand to my lips and drop a loud smack then do the same with the other before I drop the money on the desk and go back for more. It took forever, but I nearly got what I need for the deal.

  “Dude, you sure we got enough?” Iz leans forward.

  Man, he always has to be the fuckin’ downer. I toss the last of the bills on the desk and frown. Every single time…and he wonders why I don’t bring ’im along when I’m trying to deal.

  “Don’t worry, man.” I wave him off. “We’re close then we hit easy street.”

  I like how Dante and those dudes roll. Private jet. Escalades. His guys at the door, checking out the guests coming in for the party. That’s what I want, a big fuckin’ house that’s mine. Mi cantón. And a bitch in every room. Maybe I’ll find the ones from my favorite porn site. I can’t help but grin because I know this deal with Dante would make it happen. It’s stupid money.

  “These people are talking millions. Millions.”

  “Fuck, dude.” Iz throws his hands up in the air. “If you’d closed the deal for this chick…”

  “I know, man.” I stomp a boot down and hold up a thumb and index finger. “I was this close. This close.”

  The way the shit went down wasn’t my fault. I’d set it up perfectly. If Iris had done what she was supposed to do, I’d be making big plans right now instead of sitting in this shitty little office. But no, even with her tits out, she couldn’t hold his attention. I scoff. Maybe she ain’t classy enough to someone like Dante.

  Lucky I worked a backup plan, giving the guy at the party my digits. Maybe the guy at the party will still call for her. I bet I could get more outta that fat bastard. Then I’d have a chance to do this without getting into more of the money from my other deal. He’s gotta know finding a virgin ain’t easy. Especially for a guy like him. That’s if he calls.

  Sometimes it feels like life and everyone in it just fucks me over. I got nobody on my side. Nobody wants me to do good. Not even my mom and for sure not that bitch Iris. Dante’s the biggest player in town, and he passes on her? Shit makes no sense. It’s like she did it on purpose.

  Wait… Did she do it on purpose? I think back to the other night. His guys cut me off real quick. I shoulda stayed with Dante, and I woulda met the right people. As it was, I barely got to give the guy my number. Hell, how was I supposed to know we couldn’t work something out on the floor? I was Dante’s guest. Damn, did she set me up? Best I find out right now and, if she did, she’s gonna pay with everything she’s got.

  “You know what?” I look up at Iz, who’s still staring at the stacks of money with lust in his eyes. “Get Iris the fuck in here.”

  *****

  IRIS

  “Hey, Iris!” Iz, Conny’s sidekick, waves me over toward the stockroom. “Rad’s calling.”

  I give Iz a thumbs-up. Both he and Conny thought the nicknames they’d come up with made them sound tough. But to me, “Conny” would always be followed by “girlie-man,” in Dad’s parody of Schwarzenegger’s accent. A smile plays at my lips as I lock the till. “Be back,” I say to Carol as I head up the aisle, past the Employees Only sign to the darkened area. The only light comes from the office, where Conny’s pacing, just inside the doorway. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, so I take the last few steps slowly, glancing into the dark corners with heightened awareness.

  “You…” I wipe my palms on my jeans, trying to push past the knot in my throat. “You were looking for me.
”

  Conny stops at the edge of the desk. “Get your ass in here.” He does that hand-waving thing he likes to do, but the stiff angle of his shoulders screams for me to keep away. I take a couple of steps but stay as close to the doorway as I can.

  “I know what you did,” Conny sneers, his eyes glassy, and his mouth twisting with every word.

  Great, he’s high and he’s pissed. And from the sound of it, I’m the reason. Fear shoots through me like an ice storm, freezing my brain. What can I say to help settle him down? How had he found out about what happened in the motel, or the truck? Had Dante told him? I shift my weight then take a half step back, just in case. A pair of clammy hands clamps around my arms. I crane my neck around to find Ismael standing behind me. “Hey again.” He grins, jutting out his chin.

  This asshole is the reason Conny’s pissed off. He probably egged him on about the big-brother crap. Not that Conny’s ever truly been any kind of brother or protector.

  “You think,” Conny continues on his train of thought, “because Dante invited you to his place, you’re all that.” He looks me up and down, his nose wrinkling in distaste. “And I’m supposed to be your guest. Me.” His nostrils flare. “I’m supposed to be fucking grateful you’ll take me?”

  “No.” I shake my head in confusion. “I don’t.” What lies has Ismael been feeding him?

  Conny blinks hard, like he is trying to focus. “Don’t. Lie. To. Me.”

  “I didn’t ask to be invited,” I assure him. “You wanted to go.”

  Conny’s hand shoots out, catching me across the jaw. “Stupid bitch. I don’t need you. And he…” In his current mood, words escape him. My stomach twists so hard I’m afraid I’ll puke. No matter what, this isn’t going to end well. “He don’t need no hood rat like you to suck his dick.”

  “I didn’t—” His hand catches me again. Pain blankets the side of my face. Blinking back tears, I do my best to stay still because having him chase after me will only make things worse.

  “Dante,” Conny spits out, jabbing his finger in the general direction of the front door, like Dante’s waiting outside, “has a house full of putas like you. Better than you.” He points his finger at me. “He can fuck a different one every night.”

  Anger comes bubbling up from deep inside. “I’m not a puta.” The words are out before I can bite them back.

  “Puta,” he shoots back, his voice dripping with distaste.

  “Anything I am,” I yell, “you made me.” What little I messed around with my boyfriends had never gone beyond light petting. I’d always thought one day Dad would walk me down the aisle, and I had to deserve to wear the white dress Mama wore. Now I’d lost both of them. The thought I’d locked tight in my heart finally broke through. Tears escape, and I let bitterness and anger spike my voice. “What you and your miserable excuse for a mother did to me.” Though I may later regret it, I said it because it’s true. And mostly because I know it’ll hurt him.

  It did. And I enjoy the stark fury in his expression for a fraction of a second. Then he shoves his fingers into my hair and grips my scalp. Wrenching me forward, he slams me down on the desk. My teeth bite into the inside of my cheek as my face flattens against the wooden top. I howl in pain, but I have no one but myself to blame for pushing his buttons.

  “Puta.”

  My shoulders tighten. The coppery taste of blood coats the side of my mouth.

  “You ain’t nothing to a guy like Dante.”

  He leans down next to me. “If you ruin this for me…” he threatens, spittle speckling the side of my face.

  “I won’t help you screw Dante over.” Regardless of how things ended, I can’t be part of what he’s trying to do to Dante.

  “I don’t need your help. Everything I need is right here.” His hand comes down hard on my right cheek, and he squeezes until his fingers dig painfully into the curve of my bottom. “I’m going to hand you out to any pendejo willing to pay a dollar for your ass until I have the 50K I need.” Ismael is standing at the doorway, laughing out loud at Conrado’s threat.

  He would probably be the first one to step up because, like Conny, he’s always looked at me in a way that made me feel dirty.

  “How about a little taste of this,” he says, rubbing his hand over his crotch.

  “Yo, you can have her ass, bro.” His fingers slide between my legs while I squirm to get away. “This pussy, is all mine.” He pulls on my jeans, which move down way too easily since I lost weight.

  “No.” I struggle to push up, but he anchors his hand at the back of my neck.

  “You have no idea how much they pay for a cherry like this,” he says, as if it’s a normal conversation. “Especially on someone who looks like her.” I keep trying to pull up my jeans, but the air-conditioning hits my bare bottom, and I know what’s going to happen, again. Only now it’s two of them.

  “No,” I sob, pushing to get up off the desk. The door squeaks. Is someone coming in, or had Ismael moved from the entrance? I want to die just knowing Carol or Oliver will find me like this.

  “Yeah, she’s prime, dude.”

  “What’s going on here? Conrado!” It’s Olga, and I’ve never been so happy to hear her voice. “Ismael, you get yourself out of here,” she scolds, her voice harsh. “You let that girl go.” Conny’s hand comes off my neck, and I nearly sag in relief. “What’s wrong with you? The door is wide open, and there’s customers up front.” I get up off the desk, clutching at my jeans and stumble away. Shoving Ismael, I run past him to the bathroom, where I can lock myself in.

  I need to calm down before I can face anyone.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  DANTE

  Just when I thought I might be able to sneak in for some comfort food, I find Bunny putting a Help Wanted sign in the front window. She looks up, straight into my face, so it’s impossible for me to keep going when I’m grasping the handle. She winks, waving as I push through the glass door.

  “Well hey there, handsome. Didn’t expect to see you back so soon,” Bunny says, with a level of enthusiasm I’m still not used to. She cranes her neck, trying to look behind me. “Is Iris with you?”

  After years of conditioning, I don’t react, even though she’s tugging at my guts.

  “No.” I shake my head slowly. Why didn’t I keep walking when I had the chance? “Things didn’t work out.”

  Her head jerks back in surprise. “You dumped her?” The accusation in her voice cuts deep, maybe because she’s someone close to Iris.

  “No, actually I wasn’t the one to decide.” Maybe that would be enough to set her straight. But the way her expression hardens reminds me of Tino, so we’re nowhere near done.

  She pulls back, tilting her head and folding her arms. “Did you try to push her into something she didn’t want to do?”

  Now there’s a loaded question. Things hadn’t been that simple, so I borrowed from what Iris once said to me. “Things were complicated.” Yet I braced myself for more because she asks questions matter-of-factly and with no regard to privacy. As if a dozen people aren’t hanging on her every word, wondering if I’m some deviant.

  She unfolds her arms, her expression relaxing. “Yeah well, such is life.” With a quick exhale, she goes around the counter, tapping at a spot where I can sit. “What can I get you?”

  “Chile relleno.” Every step is like trudging through high water. I pull out the weathered log stool, ignoring the people I can feel watching me. “To go.” Because I’m not going to sit through another round with a female version of Tino wanting to interrogate me.

  “You got it.” She hustles over to the kitchen entrance and pushes the door open to shout my order before stepping back. “Coke?”

  “Sure.” Pouring it might focus her attention somewhere else. But when she brings the drink, she lingers. The best I can do is settle on a neutral smile.

  “You’re not working the kitchen?” Hopefully this will sideline the next round of the interrogation.

 
“Not today.” She grabs a towel, wiping down the counter, though the area is spotless. “Had to let a couple of people go.” She exhales, twisting the corner of her lips. “One of them was the cashier, and she’s family,” she adds, shaking her head. “It’s getting to where you don’t know who to trust anymore.”

  It’s the one thing my clients complain about most. They can’t find someone to trust, either for themselves or with their money.

  “Don’t be too hard on Iris.” Bunny’s voice is low and thoughtful. “Little sister’s had a hard life.”

  The flyer with her father’s picture jumps out at me. “Yeah, I guess she has.”

  Bunny keeps one hand on the counter, twisting her torso to look back. “That’s not the worst of it.”

  I switch back, giving her my full attention.

  She tilts her head in a slow move. “In fact, having him gone might be a blessing in disguise.”

  The statement is so unexpected, the corners of my mouth drop.

  A fork clatters on a plate. “I heard that,” a man snaps from the back of the room.

  With a quick swivel, I catch a short, barrel-chested, man pushing away from a table at the back.

  “Cappy,” Bunny calls out, waving him over. By her cheerful tone, I assume the older guy’s a regular.

  He draws a napkin over his mouth. “It’s not right to speak ill of the dead, young lady.” His craggy voice, evidence of a longtime smoker, belts across the room. His steps are slow, his left heel dragging as he comes closer.