Hearts On Fire (The Santiago Trilogy Book 3)

by Catherine Wiltcher

  “Anna?” I say gently.

  She turns at my voice but her blue eyes are dead.

  Oh God. Oh God. What have I done?

  “Can I get you a shower, a drink…anything?”

  She shakes her head and goes back to staring out of the window. I jerk my head around to Dante in desperation and find myself staring straight at Joseph instead.

  “Give her time,” he mouths.

  But I can't. I just want the unbroken version of Anna back.

  “Is this because of my father?” I say, swinging back to her. “Is it because he might be involved? Anna, I’m so–” My words turn to dust as she turns to face me, her expression full of hate. I’ve known her for seventeen years and I never knew her features could twist like that.

  “For once, Eve Miller, or Santiago, or whatever the hell you call yourself these days, this isn't about you or your fucking family!”

  “Cut it out,” says Dante sharply.

  “Don't fucking speak to me either,” she hisses, acting like a mean girl caricature of my best friend. “I hate what you’ve done to her. You've turned her innocence into your own personal fuck toy!”

  “Get used to it, sweetheart.” He slams his drink down next to Joseph’s. “I’m not going anywhere. And, by the way, I lost ten fucking men busting you out of your cage, little bird, and I can easily put you back there.”

  “Dante, please,” I cry, but Anna is already pushing past me and running into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

  I go to follow when a firm hand connects with my shoulder and pushes me back down into the seat. “Seatbelt on. Time for landing,” snaps Dante as Joseph shuts his laptop with a bang.

  “But–”

  “No buts,” he says, dropping into the seat next to me and thrusting an apple into my hand. “Joseph’s right. She needs time. Now, eat this and tell me everything your father said to you.”

  25

  Dante – Afghanistan 2002

  They torture us for seven days straight. It’s like a seesaw of pain. When they’re done with Grayson, they chuck me back into the mix. I can last for hours with their shitty waterboarding attempts, but when they take turns to smash their boots and sticks into my knee? That’s when I really have to concentrate.

  Neither of us is talking and it’s pissing them off. Five-fingernails down apiece and they’re starting to lose their tempers. They bring in some other guy, a beast of a man, to beat the crap out of us, but every night they chuck us back in our cell, as empty on information as we are on food. Oh yeah. They’re starving us as well.

  On the eighth night, dark thoughts start closing in on me. I can feel them crawling out of the shit-stained walls and wrapping their hands around my skin. This is my payback for the murder I’ve committed. For the life of sin I’ve led. Every man and woman I’ve ever kissed with a bullet is here haunting me in this cell tonight.

  I wrench my eyes open and stare blindly at the darkness. All of a sudden I’m like a kid at confessional with an uncontrollable urge to talk.

  Grayson is lying unconscious in the corner. He’s sporting a broken nose and broken arm these days but those blue-grays never flinch. I’ve decided not to kill him. It looks like we’re going to die here anyway. Besides, he’s the closest thing to a friend I’ve ever had. There’s no bullshit with him. He gives it to me straight. And the fact he’s not singing his heart out for his freedom tells me all I need to know about his character.

  “You ever regretted anything in life?”

  I say it out loud to the silent room but I’m not expecting a reply.

  “Regret is for pussies…sir,” croaks a voice from the corner.

  “I’m not your ranking soldier in here, Grayson. Not anymore, so let’s drop the ‘sir’ crap. Start with the basics. My name is…” For a moment I hesitate. I want to say Sebastian. That’s the name I gave myself when I boarded the first flight out of Cartagena. It’s a name from my mother’s side of the family. The side that isn’t dead and buried to me.

  “You forgotten it already?” He sounds amused. It’s a strong man who finds a scrap of humor in this situation.

  “You want that other arm broken? …It’s Dante.”

  “Thought it was Sebastian?”

  “Yeah, well there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

  “Spanish or Mexican?”

  There’s a pause. “Colombian.”

  The loose stones on the floor displace as he shuffles onto his back. “I went to Colombia once. Scored the best blow I ever had.”

  “Probably mine,” I say dryly.

  “What bought you to the US?” I can tell I’ve peaked his curiosity now.

  There’s another pause. “I was running from a life that held no interest for me anymore.”

  Grayson snorts. “Yeah, family will do that to a person.”

  You have no idea.

  “What’s your story?” I ask him. I’m devising a sort of comfort from talking to a virtual stranger in the darkness. It’s liberating as hell.

  “Name’s Joseph, si–” He stops himself just in time.

  “Why d’ya join the military, Joseph?”

  “I like shooting guns.”

  “You ever killed anybody?”

  “A couple… I’m not going to deflect the question back at you. I know what you did when that car bomb went off at the base near Kabul. I know you saved those men by shooting down the second and third vehicles. I heard what happened when the chopper went down.” There’s a new measure of his awe and respect in his voice.

  Glory Days. Tainted by a past with no room for forgiveness.

  “I killed a few more than that,” I muse.

  “In Colombia?”

  My dark chuckle confirms it. “You ever heard of the Santiagos on your travels?” It’s been years since I last spoke that name.

  He snorts again. “Jesus. Yes. That family make Escobar look domestic. I mentioned them to a couple of guys in a bar in Leticia once. Never seen men so scared. They have the whole country sewn up. Corrupt officials, the works.”

  That figures. Leticia was one of my father’s main territories.

  “Ask me that question again, Joseph.”

  “Which one?”

  “The one about why I came to the US. And then sit back and listen.”

  “Why’s that?”

  I rest my head against the wall and sigh. “Because I have really a fucked-up bedtime story I want to share with you.”

  26

  Dante

  If the ocean is my kindred spirit, then Africa is my ally. There’s a reason why I moved my former business dealings here shortly after I was honourably discharged from the military. The span of sunburned horizon, peppered with its pockets of vivid green, allowed me to slip into the shadows. Before my brother wrecked the party, I always had a sense that Africa had my back.

  We slither across Nairobi town, locked into an endless coil of steaming traffic. There’s little lane control and moped riders are weaving in and out of the vehicles like suicidal dickheads. Still, I find myself embracing its familiarity. There’s a comfort to it, which is something I’m sorely lacking from my fellow occupants in this SUV. Eve won’t speak to me after that confrontation in the aircraft and Joseph is point-blank ignoring me too. As for the girl, she’ll only be happy once she’s pissing all over my grave. I despise what Sevastien’s Bratva did to her but if she comes between Eve and me again, I’ll finish her myself.

  The private hospital is on a quiet street in Karen, one of the more exclusive neighborhoods in the city. We use the secluded entrance, designed for celebrities and wanted criminals alike, and a team of the best doctors my money can buy are there, waiting for us. Anna is ushered away for immediate assessment, while Eve takes a seat to wait for our first prenatal check-up. I’ve taken up position next to her silhouette, standing over her, hands in pockets, glaring at anyone who steps our way. Truth be told, I’m shitting it. And I don’t do shitting it. I’m Dante Santiago, for fuck’s sak
e. But she was out in that forest for hours. The fall could have... Fuck! The confirmation of Isabella’s death yesterday has rattled me to the core. I can't lose two children in two days. I deserve to…but I can’t.

  “How’s your jaw?” Joseph pauses next to me on his way to check on the girl. Maybe he’s seen something on my face again?

  “Suitably chastised,” I say evenly, brushing my knuckles against it. It hurts like hell but I deserved his anger. In the heat of the battle I lost control. I lost sight of what was important.

  “Petrov wants details, and he’s insistent on continuing our truce. Divers have confirmed that no bodies were found in Sevastien’s vehicle.”

  Well, isn't that a bitch?

  “I’ll call him when I’m done. Any news from the team in Morocco?”

  “Due an update in twenty.”

  An officious-looking doctor has appeared in the doorway and is busy introducing himself to Eve. “Keep me posted,” I tell him. “He won't be doing business in Amsterdam anytime soon. I suspect he’ll try and regroup there.”

  “And Myers?”

  “He’ll try and make contact with Eve again. When he does, I’ll know about it. He’s up to his fucking eyes in this again.”

  “You better get going,” he says.

  Eve is motioning me over to her. Why do I feel I’m stepping into a snake pit?

  She slips her hand into mine as she lies there, waiting for the sonographer to fire up his machine. Forgiven at last.

  “Well?” I snap at him. Patience has never been my virtue. In truth, I don't prescribe to many of them.

  “Just a moment.” He slides the internal sonogram wand underneath Eve’s blanket and I feel the whoosh of air as she exhales sharply.

  “Jeez. I prefer you,” she whispers.

  “I prefer me too,” I drawl, attempting to make her smile.

  We stare at the screen waiting for fireworks, a magic trick, a miracle…as the sonographer fusses around with his equipment to manipulate his field of vision. I love driving my dick and my tongue into my wife’s cunt but that’s as far as my fascination with her internal organs go, and then I see it – a bleep, a flicker... It’s so faint but it’s more than enough to ignite a flame inside my black heart. And then I know.

  This is more than obsession.

  It’s more than the thrill of the kill.

  It’s the blinding realization that the smallest atom in the universe can bring a megacity to its knees.

  Joseph is waiting for us in the white hallway outside the room, back against the wall. Standing guard as usual. I wouldn't have it any other way. As soon as we appear, he’s surging forward to greet us.

  “Well?”

  “Nine weeks, or thereabouts.”

  He holds out his hand to me and I take it gladly, and for a brief moment I’m back in that fucking cell with him in Afghanistan, breaking all the rules in the name of the survival. I watch him turn to Eve.

  “Congratulations, sweetheart. ”

  “I guess this means Whit’s finally off the hook?” I hear her whisper as he kisses her cheek. “I’ll tell him the good news.”

  He should be so lucky. Thanks to him, I dropped a pregnant woman into a war zone. Whit Harris and my hunting knife will be having a little get together as soon we return to my island.

  “Eve,” I say, tugging her away from him. “Take a seat in the waiting room. I’ll be with you shortly.”

  She breaks from my side with a smile that makes me want to fist her hair and slam her up against the wall. Fire in all the right places. That’s what I’d thought the first moment I saw her and it's never been smothered, even for a moment, no matter what hell I’ve put her through. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for her now. Her light and grace is my universe, but other darker elements still need to be eradicated.

  “Give me the highlights from Morocco,” I say, leading him into a side room and closing the door.

  “They found Petrov’s men hanging from a building in a village near Erfoud, Throats slit. Bratva warnings carved into their chests. Here.” He hands me his iPad to show me the images.

  “So he knows we’ve uncovered his dirty desert secret…” I flick through them quickly, and then hand the device back to him with a grimace. “We’ve lost the element of surprise. It’s only going to drive him deeper underground. We still don't know why he has a camp out there, and neither do we have its location. Tell the team to keep digging. We need hourly reports, not daily.”

  “Sanders keeps calling. He’s thinking about making a deal with the Italians for control of New York.”

  There’s another man with no patience.

  “Tell him to stop being a dick,” I say irritably. “Once we have Sevastien, his Bratva will fold like a house of fucking cards. It’s only a matter of time.”

  “The dead from Amsterdam have already been repatriated into Colombia and the US, and I’ve authorized the transfer of one million dollars into each of their respective family’s bank accounts. Oh, and there’s this.” Joseph reaches into his pocket and holds out a cell phone. “It’s Eve’s. Reece grabbed it from the safe house when he was laying the explosives. I’ve put a trace on it already, just in case. I’m betting fifty dollars Myers was responsible for all the dropped calls before Amsterdam.”

  “I wouldn’t put anything past that piece of shit,” I say coolly. “I’m out of contact for the next day so I need you to keep on top of Morocco. Any hot leads, message me.”

  “Off the grid again so soon?” There’s an unpleasant gleam in his eye as he says it.

  “I’m telling you about it this time so you can keep your fists to yourself,” I counter dryly. “I’m flying Eve down to a private resort off the coast of Tanzania. She needs a honeymoon and I need to figure out why the fuck she’s having PTSD flashbacks. Take the jet back to the island later today. I’ve hired another.”

  “I’m not going anywhere until Anna’s recovered, and afterward she’s coming back to the island with me.”

  My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Get back in your fucking box, Grayson. Does she know any of this?”

  “She will do.” His gaze is undaunted. There’s no way he’s backing down about this.

  “And what if she wants to return to Florida instead?”

  Blue-grays start glimmering. “If I need any tips on how to kidnap a woman, Dante, I know where to find you.”

  “Fine. Do whatever you want with her,” I say, turning to leave, my mind already shifting back to Eve. “Just keep her the fuck away from me until she learns how to spell gratitude.”

  27

  Eve

  Twenty minutes after witnessing the wonder of our baby’s heartbeat for the first time, we’re standing on a sidewalk outside the private hospital shouting at one another. Well, I’m the one who’s shouting. Dante’s issuing orders at me, and then smashing his fist into the side panel of his SUV when I don’t comply.

  “I swear to God, Eve Santiago, if you don't get in that fucking car…”

  “I’m not leaving her on her own, Dante. I can’t. You saw how bad a shape she’s in.” My guilt is causing me more sickness than my pregnancy today. It’s burning a hole in the back of my throat and making my heart ache.

  “Joseph is sticking around with five of my best men. What the fuck do you think’s going to happen? Sevastien and his Bratva have had their fun. She’s not worth the trouble anymore.”

  My mouth flies open in dismay. “How can you talk like that, after what they did to her? What the hell is wrong with you?” Someone took out this man’s sensitivity chip at birth and crushed it under the legs of his crib.

  “You’re not getting in the car, Eve. That’s what’s wrong with me!”

  “Is our marriage even legal?” I jab my finger at him in a fury. “Because I so want a divorce right now!”

  “Oh I’ll give you your ‘divorce’, mi alma,” he purrs, switching tack on a dime, and chucking his double entendre at me like it’s a live hand grenade. “Just sign on t
he dotted line and I’ll remove…” His gaze drops to my heaving chest. “Something.”

  He’s so close he’s practically wearing me. All my senses are spinning wildly like needles near a magnetic field and a pulse has exploded between my legs. This is what we do. We fight, and then we fuck, and then the Ferris wheel spins around for us all over again.

  “Do I get the Ferrari?” I say, tipping my head back to glare at him, flinching as the tight knot of muscles beneath his T-shirt brush against my breasts. He wields sex over me like a higher authority and I’m a zealot for his religion. Wait…what? Anna. I need to stay for Anna. He’s not winning this argument so easily.

  “And the houses in Tuscany and St. Bart’s,” he admits. “I’m keeping my army, though. I wouldn’t want you getting any ideas.” His knuckles skim a trail down my arm and another wave of arousal soaks my core.

  “Will this be acrimonious?” I’m breathing hard now, as is he.

  “Oh, I’m counting on it,” he says softly, the golden flecks in his eyes holding me captive as he leans in closer. His hair is so black it’s glinting shades of blue in the bright Kenyan sunshine.

  “I need a lawyer,” I mutter as he inclines his head.

  “I can recommend a few.” His hot breath is lacing my cheek. “On what grounds are you divorcing me again?”

  “Your unreasonable behaviour.” I tip my head back as his lips starts to graze my skin.

  “Bullshit. I can be much more unreasonable than this.”

  A gasp of laughter catches in my throat. “Oh, I can believe it.”

  “It’s only for one night, my angel. I’ll fly you back tomorrow. We need this time, you and me. I’m still on the back foot after how I reacted to your father. Give me one night to make it up to you.”

  A concession? From him?

  “Will you at least let me say goodbye to Anna?” I curl my arms around his neck, conceding on a moan as his rich scent seeps into my bones.