A distant bell rings and a young nurse pushes past me in the direction of the noise, her green eyes opaque with tiredness. The security guard surveys me wearily and jabs a finger towards the reception desk. I slide my gaze away from him and take a step in that direction. The bright lights are forcing me to focus. My fears are threatening to consume me again.
Dad has to be ok... he has to be ok... he has to…
“Evie, sweetheart?”
My head jerks up but I don’t recognise my mom at first. She’s a true Southern Belle, the definition of grace and composure, but tonight’s events have distorted these virtues. Worry is etched into the soft lines around her mouth and forehead, her eyes are red-rimmed, her make-up non-existent, her short, dark hair is wild and unkempt. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her in such a bad way and I feel another stab of guilt for being so sharp with her on the phone earlier.
“He’s out of theatre, Evie. He’s in recovery.”
“Oh, thank god!” Tears of relief cloud my vision as I accept her embrace, surrendering to it completely like I used to as a child.
“He’s going to ok, sweetheart,” she soothes, brushing away the stray wisps of fringe from my eyes.
“Despite the fact that someone tried to use him as target practice,” I mumble, trying to smile through my tears.
My mom’s laugh somehow turns into a sob too and we hug each other that little bit tighter. “One of his colleagues called me from the ambulance. He went to the quays to check out a suspect container and was ambushed on the way. He took two bullets to his arm and shoulder but I’ve just spoken with his surgeon. There’s no reason to suggest he won’t make a full recovery.”
I take a moment to digest this.
“Why was he out there so soon after the other night, mom? Why would he take that risk?”
“There were rumors one of the Santiago’s might be here in Miami.”
I step back in shock as she pats the skin under her eyes and her cheeks, rubbing away the last traces of smudged mascara. Mine and dad’s inexorable quest for justice takes a heavy toll on her sometimes.
This is big… no it’s huge. A Santiago here on our home turf? No wonder dad was so keen to follow up on it. I feel a fierce love and pride for him then as I’m reminded that destroying the cartels is personal to all of us. Not only was tonight a chance to take down one of the chief perpetrators, it was a chance to take down one of the men responsible for my brother’s death as well. I know my dad. He’s going to be gutted when he wakes up. He’s going to blame himself for getting shot down when he was two-thirds to victory.
“Can we see him?”
“Of course. Though he won’t be awake for a little while.”
She takes my arm and gently leads me through a twisted maze of cream corridors. I find I can endure people’s curiosity again. What greets me back is a whole spectrum of human emotion, from mirror images of my own relief to the anguish of the alternative; emotions that could so easily have been ours if the bullets aimed higher.
The same emotions we faced together as a family five years ago.
My mom ushers me into a private room and I gaze down at the unconscious figure in the bed, mentally phasing out all the wires and tubes and scary, bleeping machinery around us. My dad looks so fragile. Broken. There’s no hint of his usual force-of-nature personality and it frightens me to death.
“Good fortune’s playing on our side this week, Evie,” I hear my mom say. “That’s three lucky escapes for my family. You stay safe for me, young lady. I don’t think I can take any more drama.”
You and me both, mom. We’ve all had enough pain.
“Perhaps it’s time to reconsider your job. There are safer ways to earn a living, you know.”
Not this again.
“But I’m only a reporter–”
“Who writes implicating words about dangerous criminals!” Her anger burns bright then fades just as quick. She looks shattered suddenly. “It could have been those sort of men who abducted you the other night. They might have been trying to scare you off.”
I say nothing. I can’t. She’s skirting dangerously close to the same conclusion I’m coming to myself. I can’t walk away from my job, though. It’s the last piece I have left of my former life.
“Perhaps now isn’t the best time to be having this conversation,” she concedes, heading for the door again. “I need to have another word with the nurses. There was talk of moving him up to a new ward.”
“Ok, mom.”
I acknowledge her exit with a tight smile before returning my gaze to dad. I stare and stare. Who did this to him? Who pulled the trigger? Was the tip-off just a ruse? The DEA have been circling the main cartels in Miami for a while now. Three shipments alone have been intersected in the last month. Millions and millions of dollars worth of cocaine seized and my dad’s been heading up the operations.
I pull my chair closer to his bedside, deep in thought. Was he getting too close? Has he irritated the wrong people? Has he finally caught the attention of the Santiago’s?
All of a sudden there’s a strange prickling sensation on the back of my neck. I’m being watched. No, it’s more than that… I’m being consumed.
I turn to the doorway and then quickly rise to my feet, my chair falling backwards in my haste to stand. I barely hear the crash behind me. My mouth is frozen in a silent scream and my heart is thumping wildly against the front of my rib cage. I can feel myself falling, falling…
It can’t be.
The same devil from my dreams and nightmares is standing right there in front of me. Seventy-two hours fall away to nothing, it’s as if they never existed. He’s dressed in black again, his dark eyes are burning with vengeance and there’s a gun in his hand.
A gun pointing straight at my head.
4
Dante
She just stares at me, those flawless sapphires widening in shock, and I swear to god they’re punching a hole right through to what’s left of my heart. Her face is scrubbed clean of make-up and her hair is scraped back into a rough ponytail. My angel looks pure this way. Untainted. Somehow she’s even sexier in jeans and a denim jacket than she was in that black skirt. Fear is creeping into her eyes now but there’s a touch of defiance too. It makes my balls tighten just looking at them.
Fuck.
Does this woman have any idea what she does to me? What the hell is she doing here anyway? Is this man her lover? I feel the hand by my side clenching into a fist as the beast reawakens inside.
Shades of red are now clouding my vision as I step further into the room and close the door behind me, yanking down the blind to shield the rest of the world from my twisted brand of justice. I pull so hard on the cord that the damn thing snaps in my hand. I toss it away as I lift the safety and aim the muzzle a little to her left. I’m going to enjoy every last minute of this…
“Stop, I’m begging you! He’s my father!”
Her father?
My finger hesitates on the trigger as she throws herself forward to block my target with her arms outstretched. All traces of defiance are gone. She’s pleading for leniency from me now.
If only you knew, mi alma. I’ve pulled the trigger on countless others for less.
I have no choice here. This message needs to be delivered. Until recently the DEA have been nothing but flies to us: irritating as hell, easy to swat, and with a focus more backwards than anything else. Now they’re getting a little too accurate. The flies are turning into wasps and they’re learning to sting hard. To lose one shipment in a month is careless but to lose three? The DEA’s strike rate just hit the fucking jackpot.
It’s up to me to give them a reminder of who’s really running the show around here. In the past a few dead agents tended to hammer it home so the play was set. Our cousin, Nicolas, was in charge of setting up the local side of things. My plan was to fly in, get the job done, seek her out and then reward myself with her body, but life has a way of complicating the hell out of ever
ything.
“Get out of my way, my angel,” I snarl. “I’ll deal with you when I’m done.”
I can’t help admiring her courage, though. She must love her father to do this, to sacrifice her life for his. I felt nothing for mine. I felt even less when I pulled the trigger on him.
Her face blanches. “How did you find me?”
“Who says I’m here for you?”
Are you curious, my angel? Have you been craving my touch as much as I’ve been craving yours?
There’s a fresh flare of pain in her eyes and for the first time I find myself questioning the validity of this hit. I can easily find another ten DEA assholes to eliminate before dawn.
“He’s a good man. Please don’t hurt him. I’m the one you want.”
I raise my eyebrows in amusement. “Is that so?”
She flushes but meets my gaze head-on, daring me to contradict her. My eyes flicker to her full breasts pressed tight against her white t-shirt and my cock twitches. I need to screw her out of my system, and sooner rather than later. She’s developing a dangerous habit of pricking my conscience.
“Please! I’ll do anything…”
Anything?
It’s always the same script. First, they plead then they beg. She’s stalling the inevitable by trying to appeal to my humanity. I feel a flash of pity for her then because I left that behind in some middle-eastern shit-hole over a decade ago.
She takes a hesitant step in my direction, her blue eyes slamming into mine. “Take me instead. I’ll do whatever you want. I won’t fight you. Just leave my father alone.”
I stare back at her impassively, not giving a thing away. Truth is I’m more than tempted. Different scenarios flash before my eyes, ones of her arching her back in pleasure as I grind my tongue into her pussy, me fucking that stunning mouth of hers, her lush body folded over the side of my bed as I screw her into oblivion.
Oh my angel, that might be the best suggestion of your life.
A second later a huge explosion rips through the hospital and we’re both thrown to the floor under a hail of shattered glass and flying debris. Rolling sideways, I have just enough time to maneuver my body to cover hers before a second explosion rocks the building.
I’m smart enough to realize that this pyrotechnic show is for my benefit. I’m under attack. Garcia’s men have been hot on my trail since I landed and I’ve been forced to lay low for the past twenty-four hours. Then Nicolas got word that a top DEA agent had been shot up and was laying in a hospital a few miles away. Easy prey. Nothing sends a message more effectively than violating a man when he’s exposed like that.
“Dad,” she croaks, trying to push me off of her. “I need to check–”
“Stay down,” I growl, not budging an inch. I need to get the hell out of here before the cops show up but I can’t bring myself to move just yet. I’m basking in an extreme close-up of those luscious pink lips and I want to sink my teeth into them and see how loud she screams. The look she’s giving me back is stoking a thousand fires. This woman hates me just as much as she wants me but I’ll tip those odds in my favor given half the chance. Eve’s paradise lies in my bed. Only then will she discover I’m as skilled at giving pleasure as I am at dishing out pain.
There’s the sound of gunfire now but I can’t drag my mind away from how soft and lush her body feels. We fit together perfectly, like I knew we would. Her dark hair is covered in dust and a thin trickle of blood is leaving an angry trail of red across her forehead. I want to run my finger across it, to lick it, taste it, obliterate the hurt. My decision is wavering again.
“What’s going on?” she whispers.
I know what she’s implying, that this mess has something to do with me.
“My life,” I growl, transferring my weight to my left elbow and yanking the cell out of my back pocket.
There’s no point denying it.
She’s part of it now whether she likes it or not.
Nicolas puts an extraction plan into place immediately. I listen to the approaching exchange of gunfire as I decide whether or not to finish the job in here first. I’m stalling again and it’s irritating the hell out of me.
I rise to my feet to snap a fresh clip into my weapon and haul her up by her arm. “We’re leaving.”
She gazes up at me with those sweet sapphires, so innocent and child-like. Still, I don’t bother to contradict or confirm what’s probably racing through her mind. My decision is made. Putting a bullet in her father’s brain is now the least of my worries.
“Just give me a minute to–”
“There’s no time for that.”
To my fury she jerks out of my hold regardless and leans across the bed to check on her father, cringing at the fresh wave of gunfire outside. It’s getting closer. Nicolas’ men are holding Garcia’s mob at bay but we need to move quickly.
“Time to go,” I say harshly.
“Two seconds.”
I grit my teeth as she brushes the worst of the dust from her father’s hair and presses her lips to his forehead. From now on those lips belong to yours truly. I pretend not to notice the tears glistening in her eyes when she turns back to me.
“Ok… I think I’m ready.”
You think?
They’ll be no such indecision when my head’s between her thighs and she’s begging me to let her come. This woman is a walking contradiction. She’s all sass and defiance one minute then trembling with fear the next. A wardrobe full of shit clothes can’t conceal the curves of a goddess. She wants to hate me but…
“This way,” I snarl, leading her towards the doorway and raising my weapon.
All of a sudden there’s a deafening crash in the adjacent corridor and the partition wall starts to disintegrate. I pitch sideways, my arms closing in around her again as the hospital floor comes rushing up fast.
I hear her scream and then silence.
5
Eve
There’s a soft breeze blowing against my cheek but my insentience keeps me locked in a dreamscape. It’s a mosaic of pictures and sensations, of billowing white linen drapes, heavy dark eyes, the soothing sound of waves breaking on a distant beach and warm sunshine.
My eyes flicker and then open. Straightaway these images shift to form my new reality. It’s nighttime. I’m lying in a large, ornate four-poster bed that’s been carved from some dark, exotic wood, the air is thick with an evening humidity that’s unfamiliar to me and the white linen drapes are mosquito nets drawn tightly around my opulent cage.
And those eyes.
My gaze shifts upwards. He’s leaning forward in a leather wingback next to the bed with his large hands clasped together in front of him. He’s watching me, and not even the lightness of the mosquito net can dull the burning heat of his gaze.
Instinctively, I pull the sheets closer to protect myself. The rich cotton feels cool against my skin but something’s wrong. I shouldn’t be feeling this sensation on every intimate part my body…
Oh my god.
He’s removed all my clothes. I’m not even wearing underwear. I pull the sheet tighter as my heart start to pound. At the same time I’m aware of a faint ache in my forehead and the left side of my face feels tender and bruised.
Where am I?
I jump at the sound of wood scraping against the tiled floor. He rises slowly from the chair and approaches the bed. His huge body seems otherworldly behind the gentle, white gauze. He’s not wearing black anymore, that much I can tell. The devil has chosen blue jeans and a white t-shirt to torment me with today.
“What happened… the hospital?” I sound husky and scared.
“You’re safe now.”
With him? I don’t think so.
“Where are my clothes?”
There’s a pause. “You won’t be needing them tonight.”
The breath catches in my throat. His words need no explanation. He means to take me whether I consent to it or not.
He draws the net to one side and sta
nds there, looking down at me. The evening humidity has gifted a soft sheen to his olive skin, accentuating the thick muscles of his forearms. His dark hair is slightly damp and slicked back, and a generous shadow of stubble grazes the powerful jaw and the sharp contours of his face. There’s a silhouette of hard muscle definition beneath his t-shirt.
His close proximity is chasing away the last remnants of my sleep. I recall a bargaining – some sort hasty exchange – back in the hospital room. My father’s life for my body. Is this why I’m here, to whore myself out to him in the hope that he’ll honour our agreement? Is there any proof that my parents survived?
He starts to undress then, starting with his t-shirt. The material is dropped to the floor and I’m left to appreciate an upper body that holds me enthralled. Broad shoulders, a tapered waist, a trail of coarse black hair all the way from his chest down to his rock hard abdomen, and finally disappearing out of view beneath his belt buckle… I swallow quickly. I never knew such physical perfection existed. Perhaps a black heart and a bleak existence is the price you pay for such flawless masculinity?
“What is this place?” I whisper. I’m frightened and disorientated. I’m a long way from home – from my mother, my father. Safety. Please god, may they still be alive. I need to get out of here. I need to see them again. I promised mom no more drama.
A low hiss escapes from his lips.
“We talk later.”
His words are terrifying. ‘Later’ means that a now and present has to happen, as rough and painful as it might be. There is no tenderness in this man’s eyes, only hunger.
He sits down on the bed next to me and snaps the mosquito net shut around him. His frame makes a heavy indentation in the mattress and the movement sends ripples throughout my body. He’s still wearing his jeans but I can see the strain of his erection against the thick material. Lightening-quick, he jerks my white sheet away from me
Hearts Of Darkness (The Santiago Trilogy Book 1) Page 3