Hearts Of Darkness (The Santiago Trilogy Book 1)

by Catherine Wiltcher

  Manuel kept his head down and his mouth shut whilst I cried for hours and hours on that plane journey home. Afterwards he’d quietly moved to the seat next to me and placed his hand over mine. That simple gesture cemented something between us. Now he’s as close a friend to me as Anna. He’s so easygoing and everybody adores him, including my parents. Still, I die a little more inside every time I catch them chatting together.

  Knowing what I do about him.

  Knowing whom he works for.

  In the last few weeks my betrayal of my family has sprouted dark roots and infiltrated every part of my life. No one would ever suspect that Manuel is a trained killer, hired and coordinated by Dante Santiago himself. He kept his story modest, like he’d been instructed to, and I corroborated every detail. Just another abductee, same as me, set free by a faceless stranger and dumped in an airport. Dante provided him with a fake passport, ID and visa and they all checked out fine. There was nothing to suggest he was anything other that who he said he was, but we know, because he’s a constant reminder of the danger lurking in the shadows.

  Somehow it’s easier to ignore the security detail observing my every move, those five, scary-looking men who blend seamlessly into my everyday life. On the odd occasion I catch a glimpse of a familiar car or a surly expression and then they’re gone. These men are as discreet as they are intimidating.

  “Take him round one more time, Evie,” Anna shouts. She’s standing in the middle of the arena smiling encouragingly at me.

  I squeeze Rufus’ belly with my heels again and grit my teeth when I feel my underworked muscles ache all the way from my hip right down to my ankle. I’d forgotten what a demanding workout horseback riding could be. The only exercise I’ve done in the last few months has been sexual, and even though Dante was relentless in his appetite, taking me for hours each night and again several times during the day, I still feel unfit. I decide to start back at the gym first thing tomorrow as I spur Rufus on for a second loop of the arena.

  Is he still alive?

  I finally screwed up the courage to ask Manuel that question last night but he just shrugged his shoulders. We’re locked into this hideous waiting game now with no fixed time frame and no respite. All contact has been forcibly severed until the target has been destroyed.

  Just then a car backfires in the car park next to the arena. Rufus throws up his head with a grunt and goads his old legs into a canter. My body adapts quickly to this new rhythm as I deepen my seat and loosen the reins to give him his head. The cold air slices against my skin and whips my fringe back and I feel my grin stretching from ear to ear.

  Back at the barn I remove Rufus’ tack and Manuel helps me rub him down. As he bends over to reach the pony’s underbelly I catch a glimpse of the gun concealed underneath beneath his grey shirt. I run my fingers along Rufus’ mane and pat his broad shoulder absent-mindedly.

  “Manuel, did you know Dante was in the US army?”

  He hesitates before answering. “I heard rumors señorita but it was never my place to pry.”

  “How did you first meet him?”

  “Many years ago. My mother was a maid in his father’s house.” I watch his face shutting down all emotion. Dante does the same thing whenever he finds the topic of conversation disagreeable. He runs the cloth down Rufus’ flank and then ducks under his neck to join me, throwing the cloth over the stall door. “I was just a small boy at the time. Mamá would bring me to work some days and let me play in the yard. Dante was much older, more a man by then, but he always used to stop and ask after my family. He always remembered who I was.” He smiles slightly at the memory.

  “What was his father like?”

  “A hard man señorita,” he says grimly. “Cruel… like his eldest son. Their mother died when Señor Dante was sixteen. I was six at the time. He left Colombia soon after.”

  “What did she die of?”

  Manuel sighs and runs his hand through his hair, leaving it a dark, disheveled mess. “Señor Dante warned me you’d be inquisitive.”

  “I want to know everything, Manuel. I want to try and understand his motives for doing what he does.”

  “Is this for one of your articles?” he enquires slyly.

  I shake my head. “I would never expose Dante like that. Anyway I can’t, I resigned from my job last month. I hate what he does but I can’t justify writing about the narcotics industry anymore…” I trail off, feeling depressed suddenly. “Do you think my silence is the same as me endorsing it?”

  “We are not all bad men,” says Manuel gently. “For some of us it’s a way of existing, a way of providing for our families.”

  “But the affects on other families are devastating.” I’m not buying that argument for a second. “You had a good job, a decent, honest job. Why turn away from it?”

  “Because when Señor Santiago asks for something you don’t refuse…”

  “Hey, what are you two whispering about?”

  Anna exits the feed room at the far end of barn and makes her way over to us. I watch her glance at Manuel and then slide her gaze away. I swear she has a crush on him. In turn, I watch him rake his eyes over her killer body as she unties the knot in Rufus’ lead rein and leads him into his stall. With her long blonde hair spilling over her shoulders and her golden tan bringing out the sexy, green hue in her eyes my best friend is undeniably gorgeous. A shard of jealousy pierces my heart. I miss him so much. Beautiful, dangerous, sophisticated, controlled… There isn’t a man alive that comes close to Dante Santiago.

  Please god, I know he belongs in hell but just keep him alive for me.

  “I think we should celebrate.” Anna’s silky voice floats out from the stall.

  “Celebrate what?”

  “Your successful return to the saddle, of course,” she grins, reappearing in the doorway. “First horses, now mojitos.” She takes one look at my face and rolls her eyes. “Don’t give me that look, Evie Miller, I haven’t seen you touch a drop of alcohol for years. I want to see you loosen up a little. We used to tear up that dance floor together back in college. What d’ya say?”

  “Oh why the hell not,” I sigh.

  “Atta girl! Do you dance, Manuel?” Her voice takes on a suggestive undertone as she turns to address him.

  Could you be anymore obvious Anna?

  “A little,” he shrugs, trying hard to suppress a smile.

  “That settles it then.” Her green eyes are glittering with triumph. “The place I work nights has a great cocktail deal on. I can get us free entry too.” She steps out of the stable and checks her watch. “We better get going, we only have three hours.”

  “Three hours for what?” I say sounding mystified.

  “To make ourselves queens of the dance floor, silly. And I have just the dress for you…”

  26

  Eve

  It’s been five and a half years since I last stepped inside a club. Everything feels strange and unfamiliar. From the faceless crowd and the relentless, indecipherable buzz of conversation, to the flashing lights and the hard beat of the music moving up from the floor and through my body, jarring my bones and accelerating my pulse rate. I feel like I’m being jolted back to life again with every pounding note.

  I’m sat at the bar between Anna and Manuel, two cocktails down and feeling the after affects already. It’s packed in here tonight. My head is spinning. I have to keep shutting my eyes to ground myself, to try and block out the heat and intensity all around me.

  Glancing at the mirror beneath a row of vodka bottles I barely recognise myself. My long hair is falling like a dark, shimmering waterfall over my pale shoulders and my eyes are ringed with smoky eye shadow. The dress Anna lent me is so tight I had to pour myself into it earlier. It’s metallic silver, strapless, stupidly short and it makes my cleavage look ridiculous. Dante would never approve... For starters, it’s not white and the cut is way past the point of sexy, it’s obscene. “Not such an angel now,” I mutter, yanking it up again.
r />   “Leave it, you look gorgeous,” Anna chides, sliding another neon pink cocktail over to me.

  “It’s too tight. Corset tight! I feel like I’m in a Bronte novel.”

  “Manuel, you’re a guy – tell Evie she looks great,” orders my friend, drawing the young Colombian into our discussion. He smiles but doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t dare. It’s more than his life’s worth to pay me a compliment. He keeps his eyes fixed on my face so that they don’t stray downwards like every other man’s in the vicinity.

  “Oh my god, I love this song, let’s dance!” cries Anna, jumping to her feet and shimmying seductively to Calvin Harris as his latest tune starts pumping from the speakers. Her red dress is even tighter than mine and all of a sudden Manuel’s eyes are nowhere near me anymore.

  “Fine, I’m in,” I say, knocking back my cocktail in one hit as Anna gapes at me. The liquor burns the back of my throat and my eyes start watering as I slide off the stool and drag her to the edge of the dance floor.

  “You look like a queen, señorita… his queen,” Manuel whispers to me as I pass.

  I shoot him a quick smile in gratitude. He’s the only one in this club who knows my darkest of secrets.

  “He never leaves your side, does he?” Anna muses, throwing him a backwards glance as we start to move. Manuel is standing over by the barrier now, his gaze constantly flickering over the crowd. Assessing the dangers, keeping me safe.

  “I guess it’s a survivorship thing,” I shrug.

  She mulls this over for a couple of beats. “Did you screw him in Africa?”

  I stop dancing immediately. “Are you crazy? No way!”

  “Why not?” Anna frowns. “He’s got that brooding sexy thing going on and I bet you were lonely in that place… anyway, he’s hot!”

  “Then maybe you’re dancing with the wrong person!”

  “Maybe I am,” she says, smirking at me.

  Laughing, I turn back to Manuel and motion with my hand for him to come join us, and then I freeze. Manuel whips round to see what’s attracted my attention before his gaze snaps back to me. He’s by my side in an instant.

  “What is it señorita?”

  “I swear I just…” I trail off in bewilderment. I must be seeing things. I knew drinking alcohol again would be a bad idea.

  It couldn’t be, could it?

  But the tingle on my arms is unmistakable and there’s a slow, steady pulse unfurling between my legs. There’s only one man in the world whose nearness can influence my body like this. There’s only one with the same fluid, controlled movement, the same breadth of shoulder, the same tousled silky black hair that I’m constantly aching to run my fingers through. I only caught a glimpse as he made his way upstairs to the VIP lounge but it’s more than enough to convince me.

  “Dante.” I whisper.

  Manuel’s expression changes instantly. “Here?” He whips around again and scans the overheating crowds.

  “Heading up the stairs.” The club is really starting to spin now. I clutch his arm to steady myself.

  “Are you certain it was him?” Manuel’s eyes rake across my face searching for traces of ambiguity or hesitation.

  “I have to find him.”

  “Ok, señorita.”

  Splintered thoughts flitter through my mind as Manuel guides me over to the spiral staircase next to the bar.

  What’s Dante doing back in Miami?

  Why didn’t he come and find me?

  “You can’t go up there.” A beefy-looking guy in a cheap black suit and tie slaps his arm across Manuel’s chest.

  “Get your damn hands off of me!” The Colombian pushes the club bouncer away and reaches underneath the back of his shirt for his gun.

  “Hey guys, what’s going on?” Anna comes rushing up to us and Manuel drops his arm.

  “You know these people, Anna?” The bouncer loses his tough-guy act immediately. My friend looks so sexy he even attempts a smile at her.

  “We need to get up to the VIP area, Anna,” I say quickly. “Can you help us?”

  She nods. “Hey Sammy, let my friends through, ok?”

  “Sure thing, honey,” he grins, standing to one side as if it’s the easiest decision in the world.

  “What’s going on?” she asks as we hurry up the stairs together.

  “I thought I saw some guy I used to work with. I wanted to speak to him about a job.”

  Anna buys it immediately. I’m an ace at spinning lies these days.

  We reach the VIP area and scan the crowds of sports stars and celebrities together.

  “What does this guy look like?”

  “Tall, dark…”

  Lethal.

  In other circumstances all the paparazzi magnets here tonight would have impressed me. Anna works at one of the hottest clubs in Miami and the clientele reflects this but the man I’m searching for is more savagely beautiful than any of them. I can’t see him anywhere, though. He’s close by I can feel it. He just hasn’t revealed himself to me yet…

  We’re starting to attract attention now. One famous A-Lister seems particularly hot for my friend. “Hey sexy! Come sit with us a while,” he drawls at Anna, patting the empty space on the sofa next to him. Manuel stiffens as she smiles vaguely in his direction.

  “No thanks.”

  The guy shrugs and turns back to his companions as another movie star tries his luck.

  “Ugh, guys, I’m done being a sleaze magnet up here,” Anna hisses after coolly dispensing with him as well. “I need another drink. Give me a holler when you find him, Evie… Fancy keeping me company whilst our girl chats business?” she adds casually to Manuel.

  “Perhaps later,” he smiles, softening the blow as much as he can. “I think I just need to hang out with Señorita Eve a little more first.”

  “You know you don’t have to keep calling her that,” she huffs before turning on her high heels and stomping back down the stairs.

  I shoot Manuel a sympathetic look. He just shrugs. He knows his priorities. One of the most dangerous men in the world has entrusted him to keep his woman, his angel, safe. There’s no way in hell he’s going to screw it up by having a flirt-a-thon with her friend.

  I scan the crowds again. One dark-haired guy in particular keeps catching my attention. He’s older than most, early-forties, and attractive in a lean, mean, angular kind of a way. He’s also dressed-to-kill in one of the sharpest midnight blue suits I’ve ever seen and there’s a powerful, dangerous vibe about him that reminds me more than a little of Dante.

  He’s stretched out across the best sofa in the VIP area, with a tumbler of hard liquor in one hand and an equally hard-looking blonde in the other. As I watch, she kicks off her shoes and drapes a long tan leg over his crotch as she wriggles closer. Now, she’s straddling him and throwing her long, dyed hair back and giggling for effect. How much does she charge, I wonder.

  The whole sordid scene changes abruptly when he catches me staring. The smile dies on his lips and he tips the blonde off his lap immediately. She lands on her ass with an indignant squawk but he doesn’t seem to hear. Either that, or he doesn’t care.

  He’s moving towards us now, his icy blues never once leaving my face. I hear Manuel curse and reach for his gun again.

  “We need to go, señorita now.”

  “Why, who is he?”

  Too late. Four man-mountains have swooped in out of nowhere, positioning themselves like a wall of steel behind us and blocking our exit. I can smell their cheap aftershave and deodorant. At the same time I feel a tight grip on my shoulder and the unforgiving sensation of a weapon pressed up against the hollow of my back.

  This can’t be happening. It’s like my life has hit some shitty reverse button.

  The man stops in front of us and nods at his men to let me go. He makes no move to touch me or shake my hand. Instead, he slides his hands deeper into his pockets as if he doesn’t quite trust himself and can’t face the penalty of a slip-up. My heart rate quickens. Dan
te’s been marking his territory again.

  “Helen of Troy, I presume?”

  “Why did you call me that?”

  He smiles slightly. “The face that launched a thousand ships? I suggest you read up on your Greek mythology, Miss Miller. I figured you’d be beautiful but I never imagined… this.” He sweeps his eyes over me appreciatively. “Rick Sanders. I believe we have a mutual friend in common. I’m a former business partner of his.”

  “I didn’t realize Dante had any friends,” I say, arching my eyebrows at him.

  Rick laughs. “Not many and their numbers have certainly dwindled in recent months.”

  “Former business partner?”

  Is this man working for Emilio now?

  “Not much escapes you, I see. He told me you were smart… I used to run the operational side of his business in Florida.”

  “Traitor,” Manuel hisses.

  Rick turns to acknowledge my bodyguard. “I assure you that I am no traitor. Not to Dante Santiago. I’m perfectly content with all four of my limbs, thank you very much…” His lips curve again as removes his right hand from his trouser pocket, extending it in his direction. “Dante speaks highly of you, Manuel.”

  The Colombian seems to relax and swell with pride all at the same time. He takes Rick’s hand briefly.

  “Tell me where he is, Mr. Sanders,” I say, trying to sound casual and failing. My craving for him is too strong.

  Rick eyes flicker back to me and I see a flash of sympathy there. “Please… will you join me for a moment first.” He indicates to his sofa where the sulky blonde is easing her hurt pride by knocking back his champagne as fast as she can. “Beat it, baby,” he snarls at her and she scoops up her red heels and disappears immediately. Rick Sanders clearly isn’t a man to mess with.

  He sits down opposite us and clicks his fingers at the waiting staff.

  “How is he?” I ask him, desperate for crumbs of information. I can’t cope with knowing that Dante has been so near to me tonight… watching, devouring…