Hearts Of Darkness (The Santiago Trilogy Book 1)

by Catherine Wiltcher

  Because it’s tainted.

  The unspoken words lay heavy and toxic between us.

  “For fuck’s sake, Eve!” I explode, making passers-by stare. “I’ve never known it so hard to give a woman a damn present.” I let go of her and take a step back, balling my palms into fists of frustration and thrusting them into the front pockets of my jeans. She has the ability to light my fuse quicker than anyone but it’s a different sort of anger with her. The only retribution I have in mind comes anchored with pleasure.

  We glare at each other and then out of nowhere she goes and fucking smiles at me, just like that. Flooring me completely.

  “Ask nicely.”

  “What?”

  “Stop demanding I do everything your way. I’m only going to buck against the interference.”

  “So you want me to drop to my knees and beg to buy you a dress? Why don’t I just carve my heart out for you whilst I’m down there.”

  She has the nerve to roll her fucking eyes at me then. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic.”

  “Jesus Christ, did you just say that to me? I’m really going to punish you for that!”

  Judging from the sly smile creeping across those luscious pink lips that’s exactly what she’s planning on

  She’s played me... Again.

  “Evie!”

  Evie?

  We turn together, Eve out of recognition and me thankful for a respite from this stupid argument. A tall, vaguely familiar-looking man in his mid-fifties is crossing the road in front of my SUV and smiling in obvious delight at my angel.

  I cast a practiced eye over him, taking in everything, leaving out nothing. Joseph has exited the car discreetly as well and is doing the same thing. He’s a handsome guy with thick salt and pepper hair but there are faint lines on his face that cannot be attributed to age alone. My guess is they’re a fairly recent acquisition. His body is lean and firm, the guy works out, but he’s favoring his left arm. As I watch he shifts his shopping bag to his other hand and winces from the slight movement.

  He never takes his eyes off Eve’s face for a second so I go to put a possessive hand on her arm. To my intense fury she swerves out of the way. Oh boy, she is definitely getting punished hard for that. I see him clock the gesture. A slight frown appears on his face as his eyes travel upwards to fix on mine. Bam. I recognize him immediately but not a muscle in my face betrays my shock. I could pick out those eyes from fifty yards away.

  This should be interesting.

  He’s about ten meters out now and closing in fast. My gaze shifts to Joseph who is reaching underneath his shirt already. I shake my head. No bloodshed in this neighborhood. Not in front of Eve. I’m just going to have to front this out.

  “Please, Dante,” I hear her whisper. There’s no playfulness in her voice anymore. She sounds scared, panicked. Conflicted. Her two worlds are colliding in the worst possible way. “Don’t hurt him. I’ll buy whatever damn dress you want. Promise me. You have to promise me.”

  I say nothing. I can’t give her any assurances right now. If this all goes south then there’s only one outcome.

  “Evie, what an unexpected pleasure!” her father declares, his face splitting in two as he throws his good arm around her shoulders, forcing me to take a step back from this intrusion into my personal space and from my property. “That’s an interesting outfit you’re wearing, honey. I’m not even gonna try and understand fashion these days. Are you and Manuel still on for dinner tomorrow night? I’m planning my world-famous rib surprise. Your mom’s already griping about the washing-up so I thought I’d buy her a little something to sweeten the deal.” He chuckles at his own bad humour and rattles the small black Gucci bag in his hand.

  Manuel and Eve on a happy family dinner date? This day just keeps on getting better and better. Perhaps I need to break the other side of my young recruit’s jaw to remind him about his boundaries.

  “Thanks Dad, sounds great,” Eve gasps, disentangling herself awkwardly.

  Myers gaze shifts to me next and I watch him take in my olive skin, dark hair, expensive car, clothes and bodyguards. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he says, the smile freezing on his lips, his voice notably cooler, but he extends his hand to me anyway. The man has manners and I respect that. “Robert Myers.”

  “Sebastian Días,” I say, taking his hand, giving nothing away. Not betraying for a single moment that a couple of months ago I had my gun pointing at his head and I chose to abduct his daughter instead; that five years ago I drove his only son to suicide; that I’m currently enemy #1 for his beloved DEA. This guy would tear me apart with his bare hands if he knew the half of it.

  Eve’s fear is palpable. I can almost taste it. Her eyes keep darting back and forth between us. Joseph hasn’t moved, he’s still standing by the open car door, ready to attack if required. I know Tomas is too. He’s shifted to the driver’s seat, his hand on the ignition. If we need to get out of here fast then he’s the man to make it happen.

  “So how do you two know each other?” he asks, smiling at his daughter again, blissfully unaware of the cataclysmic fall-out awaiting him if he so much as breathes on me the wrong way.

  “We have a mutual work colleague in common,” I answer smoothly. “Or should that be former work colleague.”

  The flash of annoyance on his face tells me exactly how he feels about his only daughter quitting her job.

  “Don’t start dad,” she says quietly, catching sight of it too.

  “I will start, Evie,” he says, his expression darkening again. “You’re a damn fine writer. Your articles were doing the work of ten of my agents.”

  Eve shakes her head and stares at the pavement.

  “Something’s going down, baby, the Santiago’s are on the ropes,” he continues gently, oblivious of the sharp temperature drop. “It’s only a matter of time before we track them down. You had ‘em running scared in the first place.”

  There’s an awkward silence and then he seems to pull himself together. “Forgive me, Mr. Días,” he says turning back to me. “I’m a little too proud of my daughter sometimes. Have you kids of your own?”

  There’s a pause before I shake my head. “No I don’t.”

  Myers shrugs. “Well, perhaps one day you’ll understand. Anyway baby I’ll see you and Manuel tomorrow.” He leans over to peck Eve on the cheek. “It was good meeting you, Mr. Días,” he adds but I know he’s lying through his teeth. He’s getting a bad vibe off me like he should.

  I watch him re-cross the street and climb into his car. A minute later he’s pulling away from the curb and waving briefly at us as he passes. Meanwhile Eve and I are standing there in the middle of the most awkward fucking silence imaginable. In truth I have no idea what to say.

  “Dante.” My head snaps in Joseph’s direction. “Time to go.”

  He’s right. We need to keep moving. Towards the next kill, the next country, the next drama… I feel shattered suddenly. For a moment I imagine what it must have felt like to have a father like Myers growing up, someone to laud my achievements instead of beating the shit out of me for not killing quick enough. For being too slow on the trigger. But these kinds of thoughts will always be pointless. There’s no room for them in my life. I was born bad. The end result was always going to justify the means.

  “Shopping time’s over,” I announce grimly, wrenching the door open for Eve. She glides into the car without looking at me and I follow after, trying to keep my temper in check as she positions herself as far away from me as possible.

  “Update from my team,” Tomas says, passing me my iPad. “They think your brother’s heading south to Salamina. Either that or he’s still seeking refuge in Cartagena.”

  I take the iPad and skim the details but I find myself glancing at Eve’s profile more, taking in those soft pouty lips and her sweet upturned nose. Her hair was still wet from the shower when we left my house so she twisted it up into some kind of messy bun. I want to rip out the grips and run my fingers th
rough her long dark strands, re-forging our connection and binding her back to me. She won’t stop gazing out of the damn window.

  Passing the iPad back to Tomas, I try to take her hand but she wrenches it away from my grasp. I clench my jaw and chalk it up as another fucking disobedience. This was meant to be a fun outing but it’s turned into a juxtaposition of hell. I know how her mind works. She’s sitting there totting up all the reasons why we shouldn’t be together. There are too many ‘against’, and only one ‘for’, and I intend to remind her of this over and over for the rest of the afternoon.

  29

  Eve

  This was always going to happen but I figured it would be on my terms when it did. So much of the last few months has been dictated and governed by him. I just hoped it would be something I’d have a little more control over. A meeting set at my own pace. I hadn’t counted on the element of surprise and now it’s a mess – a big, horrible, twisted mess.

  Seeing Dante and my father together has stirred up so many unwelcome memories. Suddenly I was right back in that hospital room again, begging for his mercy. Begging for us both. Seeing Dante as the cold-hearted killer and not as the beautiful conflicted man that I’ve come to crave. I’m so hurt and angry too. He ignored my pleas for a guarantee not to harm my father. As a result it’s broken something between us. Then there’s the lie he told, the one about his daughter. He knows I’ve seen the photographs. Did he think I’d simply forget his reaction in the bunker when I questioned him about her? I wrongly assumed that with so much deception flying about that somehow there would be more transparency between us.

  God, I’m so naïve.

  This man will never open up to me. I will always be an outsider, even when I’m in his bed.

  “I’d like to go back to my place,” I announce quietly.

  There’s a pause. “Fine. I need to debrief Manual anyway.”

  “You mean beat the shit out of him again for daring to make friends with my father instead of pointing a gun at his head.”

  My words are as vicious as my temper.

  Dante exhales loudly before reeling off my address to Joseph. I hate him all the more for it. Must he memorize every little detail of my life?

  We pull up to the curb just as Anna is slipping out of my apartment block still wearing her slinky red dress from the night before. “Walk of shame!” she giggles when she spots me exiting the vehicle then stops abruptly when Dante appears next to me. “Seems like I’m not the only one.” She raises her eyebrows at me and I know I’ve got more than a little explaining to do.

  “Is Manual awake?” asks Dante, looking at her with disinterest as Joseph exits the vehicle too. Anna glances at the tall American next to Dante and her eyebrows disappear into her blond fringe. “Wow, Evie, that’s some company you’re keeping. You and I really need to have a catch-up later.”

  “I’d like that,” I smile, stepping forward to give her a quick hug. “Did you have fun?” I whisper.

  “Oh yes,” Anna says, her green eyes glittering with mischief. “He was definitely worth the wait.”

  “Manuel,” snaps Dante, his voice slicing through our chat. “Is he up yet?”

  He’s growing impatient with her so I place a hand on his arm to calm him as I silently beseech my friend to answer.

  Hurry, Anna, he doesn’t like to ask twice.

  “Err yeah, he’s up,” she says, staring down at my hand.

  I feel a great sadness suddenly. In other circumstance she would have shot back a feisty reply, something like, “don’t be silly, he’s been up all night ha ha.” Not today, though. These dangerous criminals and their sinister presence have stolen all of her sass, just like Dante’s stolen all of my innocence. He’s given me back my lust for life but he’s also given me uncertainty, doubt. Fear. The world will always be a darker place for me now.

  “Couldn’t you at least try to be nice to my friends?” I say to him as we take the elevator up to the fifth floor together. He just shoves his hands in his jeans pockets and glares at me, his black t-shirt stretching flush against his abs and making that fine definition clear for all to see.

  I look away quickly. I’m too mad at him to even contemplate being turned-on but there it is again, that persistent beat, thrumming away between my thighs. “Oh for god’s sake,” I mutter, folding my arms and moving away from him but the elevator carriage is too small and I end up crashing into Joseph instead. Wow, he’s another man built of solid muscle.

  The door to my small two-bed apartment opens up into a light and breezy living space with a small kitchenette off to one side. Manuel doesn’t hear us come in. He’s leaning against the side of the breakfast bar, bare-foot, bare-chested, devouring a bowl of my cereal like he hasn’t eaten in months. Lucky Anna I think right before Dante and his posse start menacing up the place. All of a sudden there’s not enough room for all the testosterone.

  “Get your shirt on,” Dante snarls and Manuel practically drops his bowl in fright. He curses, apologizes to his boss and then dives for my spare bedroom.

  “Stop throwing your weight around!” I say furiously but he just ignores me, and turns to speak to Joseph instead. He’s got that unnerving stillness about him again, like the ominous tick, tick of a bomb before it explodes.

  “Get that son of a bitch out of here,” I hear him say. Joseph nods and moves towards the bedroom.

  I can’t be in the same room as Dante anymore. He’s driving me mad. Grabbing a bowl from the cupboard, I tip way too much cereal into it before storming past him and into my bedroom, slamming the door behind me.

  I sit down on the edge of my bed to take a mouthful but it tastes like cardboard without milk. There’s no way I’m going back out there again so I bang the bowl down on the nightstand and curl up under my silver quilt instead. As I do I catch sight of a collection of old photos stuck to the cork pin board opposite. Me and Anna laughing, drinking. Having fun. Our first years of college before life got way too complicated. I shudder at how much I lived under a cloud of blissful ignorance before Dante Santiago came along.

  A few minutes pass and then I hear the front door slam. Moments later there’s movement outside my room. The handle is turning. Dante doesn’t bother knocking, he just walks on in like he owns the place and stands there at the foot of my bed, glaring down at me.

  “Are you sick?”

  “Sick of you,” I mutter, refusing to look at him.

  After a beat he strolls into my periphery to take a closer look at the pin board I’m gazing at. My eyeline can’t help but dip a little to the sight of his gorgeous taut ass. Why does this devil have to look like such a god?

  “What college were you at?” he murmurs.

  “You know that already. You know everything about me, so why don’t we turn the question into a rhetorical one?”

  There’s a pause. “Northwestern.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I was a bright kid,” he shrugs.

  “Too bad it didn’t translate to adulthood.”

  He doesn’t answer. It’s like he hasn’t even heard me. I can’t be bothered with his mind games today. I just want to sleep.

  “Dante, listen–”

  “I fucked up,” he says suddenly. “I should have given you that assurance about your father.”

  I’m shocked. “I thought you didn’t do–”

  “I don’t but it seems that, once again, Miss Miller, you’ve pricked at my conscience.” There’s an edge to his voice now. He’s said his apology and he wants to move on.

  “I thought men like you don’t have guilty–?”

  “We don’t.” He turns his head to look at me and I see a brief flash of the storm inside him before he shuts it down twice as quick. “I’m the one exception to the rule.”

  He leans against the edge of my desk and crosses his arms in front of him. It’s like he’s bracing himself for the next intrusive blow.

  “You hurt me more with your lie than your silence, Dante,” I say quie
tly.

  He frowns. “I never lie to you, Eve.”

  I re-emerge from the safety of my quilt and rest my back and shoulders against my bedstead, tucking my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. I’m still wearing his white t-shirt and it’s swamping my slender body again. “What about when my dad asked if you had kids?”

  “I didn’t lie,” he repeats gazing steadily back at my, his dark eyes burning a hole in my face. “I did have a daughter but she’s been missing, presumed dead, for nearly fifteen years now.”

  Oh my god.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I whisper. I can’t even conceive the horror of having to live with that much uncertainty for so long.

  He shrugs again. “There’s not much to tell. She paid the price for having me as her father.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he says brusquely. “I didn’t tell you to curry favor. She’s not some convenient card I pull out whenever I need to ingratiate myself with you. I leave the country in a few hours for another continent and I don’t know when I’ll return. I’m trying to be as straight as I can so you don’t go to sleep every night despising yourself for missing such a monster.”

  It takes me a beat to digest his words and another to clock the wicked gleam in his eye. “Why, you arrogant…” but I never get to finish. Before I know it he’s pinning me to the bedstead by his mouth, his insistent tongue rimming the edges of my lips and demanding entry. I concede with a moan and we begin kissing with all of our usual faint-making passion.

  His hand is at the back of my head to hold me steady. Mine is plunging into that silky dark hair and tugging roughly. He continues to weave his seductive magic and somehow I find myself flat on my back with him settling between my legs, his erection pressed up against my sex as he slowly grinds against me, arousing every nerve and impulse until I’m hovering right on the edge of ecstasy.