Hearts Of Darkness (The Santiago Trilogy Book 1)

by Catherine Wiltcher

  “Jesus Christ, you always were a paranoid fuck, Emilio,” I say, shaking my head at him in disgust. “I was quite happy keeping a thousand miles between us.”

  “And I believed you… Until you learned the truth, which I guess was an inevitability.”

  I pause. “What truth?”

  “That I have a nasty habit too, Dante. Some might call it a family trait.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Something tells me I’m about to be blindsided by a whole heap of dark and twisted shit. Even so, he seems surprised by my reaction.

  “But surely you’ve guessed? That confrontation in Colombia had me convinced.” He considers me carefully for a moment. “Or perhaps not… It makes no difference, you’re as good as dead anyway.” He cocks his gaunt face to one side and moves in as close to me as he dares whilst I stare up into the flat, black eyes of a madman. “I like to kill people too, Dante,” he whispers conspiratorially, “but shhhhh…” he wags his finger in front of his lips and retreats to a safe distance again.

  There’s silence.

  “Who did you kill, Emilio?”

  Say it asshole. Don’t leave me in suspense.

  He smirks again. “You didn’t think you’d have all the fun, did you?”

  My eyes shift to Tomas who’s standing nearby. “And you switched allegiance to this crazy motherfucker?” I yell at him, frustration amping up the volume of my voice. “What the hell did he offer you that I couldn’t?”

  “Revenge,” says Tomas, making the word sound like a hammer blow. “Valentina was my girl, Dante. You strung her up and watched her bleed out for two days.”

  “She’s still alive you fool. She’s in a hospital in Mozambique recovering.”

  You can thank my angel for that sliver of leniency. If it were up to me I would have slaughtered the two-faced bitch.

  “What if she was Eve, Dante? What if things were reversed? Would you let me live?”

  No chance... I’d slit your throat from ear to ear.

  Tomas nods at my silence. “Exactly.”

  So this is it, my final reckoning, where all of my past sins and transgressions are converging to make one hell of a finale for me. I don’t regret any of it, save one. Dragging the sweetest damn angel to ever walk the face of this earth into my unholy mess of a life. She shouldn’t have to pay for what I’ve done.

  My anger filters all the way through to my fingertips, and I resume my sawing, two-fold. My fingers are slick with blood now and I nearly drop the knife twice. Another strand works loose.

  “Isabella was the most satisfying,” announces my brother suddenly.

  I go very still.

  “Dante,” Joseph gasps. “Don’t listen to him, he’s messing with your head.”

  “Diego,” Emilio orders.

  A second later a bullet is ripping through Joseph’s shoulder, pinning him to the concrete floor. He’s silent in his agony, he’ll never give Emilio the satisfaction, but I know it’s costing him greatly. His hands are still bound behind his back and that tight angle is dragging at the gaping wound. Blood is drenching his blue shirt already. From my vantage point I try and assess the injury the best I can. If I can staunch the bleeding he’ll live but it’s gonna hurt like a bitch in the interim.

  “I’m going to gut you for this, Emilio,” I roar, rising to my feet to the sound of thirty grown men aiming their loaded weapons at me.

  “She took three hours to die,” he smiles, basking in my rapt attention at last.

  “But there’s no body,” I say hoarsely. “I’ve been searching–”

  “Try the bottom of Lake Tota. You might have more luck.”

  The certainty is his voice leaves me with little doubt. For a moment I consider ending it all now with my hands wrapped around his neck. Thirty bullets in my body will make it quick but I can’t leave Eve behind. I know what Tomas will do to her. I’ve seen how his eyes linger on her body.

  “Who else?” I mutter.

  “Isabella’s mother, our mother… No, it wasn’t suicide after all.”

  The injustice is breathtaking. Every bait, every provocation that has driven my bloodlust to such extremes has been perpetrated by this man – my own brother.

  “I killed our father because of this!” I explode, unable to contain my anger. “You led me to believe he’d abducted her!”

  Emilio shrugs. “It was time to take over the business.”

  My skull is pounding. Sweet oblivion is beckoning me ever closer. I’m losing focus. If we ever get out of this I’ll grieve for my daughter then. In the meantime I need to save my angel. If I do one decent thing in my life, it has to be that.

  “Three,” I say wearily, dropping to my knees to give him the impression of a defeated man. “You said you’d be taking three things from me today. I assume Isabella is the first.” I stumble over her name. She didn’t deserve to die and neither does Eve. “Our mother, the second–”

  “Fuck no, that bitch doesn’t even count but you do, don’t you sweetheart?” Emilio jerks his head in Eve’s direction.

  I force myself to look at her again, and when I do my heart stops dead for a beat or two. Sometime in the last few minutes she’s come around. She’s staring straight at me, her blue sapphires punching a line into my soul, stripping away all of my bravado, all of my bullshit. I did this to her. I forced her to accept this life and for the first time in my life my guilt is a swinging guillotine above my head.

  How much has she heard?

  “And the last?” I say, never once taking my eyes off of Eve’s battered, bruised face. I see both defiance and strength there. She has never looked more beautiful.

  “Your anonymity.”

  I whip round in shock. “What?”

  Emilio looks delighted with my reaction. He knows he’s hitting me right where it hurts. “Approximately one hour ago your name, picture and new island coordinates were sent to the DEA,” he announces. “I emailed them directly to Eve Miller’s father myself, a personal touch if you like. Of course he’ll be dead soon as well. No more hiding in the shadows for you, baby brother. It’s time to embrace the limelight and answer for your crimes.”

  “Our crimes,” I murmur, the world falling away beneath my feet. I’d always looked upon my anonymity as our one saving grace. I figured as long as I kept my identity concealed then Eve and I had a chance. Now we’ll be hounded for the rest of our lives. “What makes you think I won’t implicate you?”

  “Be my guest,” he grins. “I never enjoyed hiding away. I earned my name, my respect… From now on I intend to revel in it.”

  He’s psychotic. He’ll be dead within a month.

  “You really thought this through, didn’t you?”

  “Smokescreens and mirrors, baby brother. Gomez couldn’t be turned to my way of thinking but his son was an easier proposition. With their processing plants guaranteed, and Tomas and his men stepping into your role, the New York deal was finally agreed last night. But it’s not all bad news … you’re officially a DEA Wanted Fugitive.”

  “Dante.”

  Her soft voice is calling out to me from the darkness. Pleading, comforting, encouraging… Our eyes meet, a thousand words unspoken, yet somehow articulated and understood. Seconds later the last threads of the rope disintegrate and my hands are finally free. I take one last moment to gaze upon her beautiful, broken face.

  “My devil,” she says quietly.

  “Forgive me,” I murmur.

  She nods as if she understands. “Always.”

  32

  Eve

  My vision is partly obscured by all the matted clumps of hair stuck to my face but I can still pinpoint the exact moment I see his monster take over.

  As he stares at me I watch his eyes darken and narrow until two black pools of malevolence and hate are dominating his face. In contrast, his features are so still, there’s barely of flicker of movement. No muscle twitch, no clenched jaw. He’s a hard-muscled killer waiting to strike.

  F
rom my sideways vantage I catch a flash of silver in his hands. In that split-second I understand his last words to me. He wasn’t apologizing for his past wrongdoings. Instead, he was asking for my forgiveness for the bloodbath about to unfold; for unleashing his true depravity in front of me – the one that he tries so hard to conceal from me everyday.

  I glance back at the thirty or so men lining up behind Emilio Santiago. They’re like armed quarterbacks, all itching to take down the man I love. My breath falters… The odds are impossible. In the next few minutes I’m going to watch Dante disappear under a hail of bullets. I’m going to see all that fire and passion destroyed forever.

  And then me and my father are next.

  Meanwhile Joseph has stopped rolling around and has somehow wrenched himself up onto his knees again. His face is deathly pale, his once pale blue shirt is now completely drenched in red, but his eyes are glittering with renewed zeal. He’s sensed something is afoot and he’s gathering what little strength he has left to join Dante in their last stand together.

  What happens next transpires so fast that Dante’s body is nothing but a blur. Before I know it the two men nearest to us are down and clutching their gaping throats and he has a loaded machinegun in his hand. Five more men go down in a hail of bullets as the rest fall back as they try to form some semblance of a retaliation strike.

  There’s a continuous roar of gunfire and shouting now. I see Dante chuck something Joseph’s way and then dive for cover behind the burnt-out shell of an old car near the entrance of the warehouse. He’s guiding the line of fire away from us.

  “Eve,” Joseph gasps, reaching my side, wrenching his hands free from his constraints at the same time. His face contorts in fresh agony.

  How the hell did he do that?

  I look down and see Dante’s flick knife between his bloody fingers. Somehow he raises his good arm and slices through my restraints in one jagged arc and we both collapse to the floor in a crumpled heap. Joseph’s skin is glistening from sweat and blood. The metallic smell is saturating my senses and smearing the concrete beneath us with trails of crimson. Meanwhile the gunfire has spilled out onto the docks. We’re all alone in the warehouse now.

  “Stay here, keep safe,” he says hoarsely. “I need to help Dante.”

  “You’re hurt… let me help you first.” I look around frantically for something to use as a tourniquet. I need to stop the bleeding. At the same time I notice the ghost of a smile catching at the corners of the tough American’s mouth.

  “I’ve had worse, Eve.”

  “Well, it looks pretty bad to me. Here, give me the knife.”

  He hands it to me without protest. Leaning over the nearest corpse, I plunge my blade into his black shirt and rip two long, jagged strips out of it, trying not to scream out loud when my jerky movements make his head rolls sideways and his lifeless eyes fix on me.

  “It’s ok, Eve,” Joseph soothes. “He’s gone.”

  “Just don’t die on me too, ok?” I say, my voice trembling as I scoot back to him and wrap the material as tight as I can around the gaping wound in his shoulder.

  “I’m not planning on it… thanks.” He grabs my hand suddenly and I try not to flinch from the warmth and wetness enveloping my skin. “I had a love like yours once. He’s a good man. I know you see it too. Don’t let him self-destruct. Don’t let his damn darkness–”

  “I’ve no intention of it,” I say, cutting him off quickly as tears pricks the corners of my eyes. “You met in the army, didn’t you?”

  Joseph nods wearily.

  “What happened to you both out there, to him?”

  “If we get out of this then maybe I’ll tell you one day.”

  We share a look as I tie off the second piece of material. “Done. Now, go save the man I love.”

  That hint of a smile returns. “Yes, ma’am.”

  He picks up a couple of discarded guns from another corpse and limps towards the warehouse’s exit. After checking out the immediate conduit he throws me one last grimace before disappearing into the night.

  I force myself to pick up a weapon too and when I do I see it’s a Glock Semi-Automatic – my dad’s weapon of choice. I check the clip. Fully loaded.

  Keeping flush to the wall of the warehouse, I follow in Joseph’s footsteps, crouching down at every fresh wave of gunfire, making sure that I stay well out of sight from the broken windows. I can see more bodies littering the ground outside. Dante and Joseph are evening up the numbers I think with a quiet satisfaction. I can’t deal with what I’ve learnt about his past right now. If we escape with our lives we have years ahead of us to dissect the hurt and significance.

  Mimicking Joseph’s action, I peer around the open doorway, my Glock raised in anticipation, my wrists still tender from the bite of my rope restraints. The ache from my shoulder muscles has settled into a dull throb. It makes me think about Joseph and how much pain he must be in must be in.

  The gunfight has moved to the next warehouse leaving a red trail of dead and dying in its wake. I keep moving in that same direction, keeping low to the line of discarded black SUVs strewn across this part of the roadway next to the waterline, their amber headlights illuminating more and more felled bodies up ahead. I rake my eyes over each one but they’re not Dante. Bullets are still flying up ahead which means he’s still alive.

  I don’t have the capacity for much rational thought anymore. I don’t give myself the chance to be frightened. I can only think of reaching him before it’s too late… but then what?

  We need backup.

  We need an extraction plan.

  Steeling myself, I kneel down next to another corpse. Keeping my eyes fixed on anything other than the bloody mess of his face I start rifling through his front pockets, trying his jacket first and then moving down to his trousers. I soon find what I’m looking for. Yanking out the cell, I punch in the number for directory assistance, cutting straight across the polite welcome that greets me.

  “I need a number for Ace’s Nightclub. South Beach area.”

  “Certainly ma’am, shall I put you through?”

  “Yes!” I screech.

  The phone rings and rings. I almost lose hope until some guy answers sounding really stressed out.

  “Is Mr. Sanders there tonight?” I gasp at him.

  There’s a pause. “Sorry, I don’t know anyone of that name.”

  Oh course he doesn’t.

  “Can I take a message and get someone else to call you back?”

  “Yes!” I cry, reading between the lines. “It’s Eve Miller. Tell them its super, super urgent.” I have to take a leap of faith here. I have to believe that Rick Sanders is still on Dante’s side… On our side.

  “Ok. Hang on. I think there might be someone here who can help.”

  The next few minutes last an eternity. I’m crouching down for cover behind the back bumper of one of the SUVs. In the background the gunfire is starting to trail off.

  Please can Dante be alive, please can Dante be alive…

  “Eve?”

  Rick Sanders voice cuts through my silent pleas.

  “R–?” I stop myself just in time. “Oh god, you have to help us!”

  “Eve, stop,” he says harshly. “This is an unsecured line.”

  “The package re-emerged,” I babble at him. “Here in Miami.”

  “Where?” His word is curt and sharp, like a miniature bullet in itself.

  “Docks. Southside. Manuel… my apartment.” I burst into tears then, I can’t hold back any longer, not when I think of my friend and bodyguard lying dead on my living room floor.

  “Breathe. Keep to single words and short phrases, Eve.”

  “Outnumbered.”

  “Fuck! I’m sending a present right away. I need your exact location.”

  All of a sudden a chorus of sirens erupt in the distance. Dockside crew must have raised the alarm that the mother of all shoot-outs in going down out here, and for the first time since this whole ni
ghtmare began my fear is beginning to overwhelm me. If what Emilio said was true then Dante has been exposed. If he gets captured he’ll never get out of prison alive.

  “Sirens,” I sob. “Getting closer.”

  “Ok,” says Sanders, sounding relieved. “We can track the location that way. I need to go.”

  “But how will you–?”

  Remember what I told you about Helen of Troy, Eve?”

  My mind goes blank. She was beautiful, she caused a war and she launched a thousand ships… ships. Oh my god, Rick Sanders is sending boats! “Yes, yes I do!” I scream in relief.

  “Good. Relay the message.”

  He hangs up and I glance at the warehouses again. The gunfire is done now and as I watch two men spill out into the roadway. In the glare of the cars’ headlights I can see them locked together in a deadly duel of fists. My heart lurches when I recognise one of them… There’s no man on earth with that fluidity of movement, that same grace and power. That savagery.

  Dante.

  The fight moves ever closer. They’re barely twenty feet away. His black hair is a disheveled mess and there’s barely an inch of his olive-skin that hasn’t been tainted with blood. Somehow he manages to gain the upper hand and straddle the other guy, raining fists down onto his face and chest. So controlled, so deadly. He raises his fist in one final arc and that’s when I see the knife glinting in the darkness.

  I let out a cry and drop the cell. I’ve just watched him stab a man over and over again.

  No doubt.

  No hesitation.

  The ruthless killer.

  “Game’s up, Dante. Drop the knife.”

  Emilio is emerging from the warehouse behind him clutching at a bloodied chest wound. I look down at his other hand and my stomach drops. He’s pointing a gun directly at Dante.

  With a growl, Dante tosses away his knife and complies, rising to his feet and turning slowly to face his brother. “I was hoping Joseph had finished you off.”

  His voice is rough with exhaustion. His chest is working hard to draw breath into his lungs but there’s still fight in him, I can see it. His eyes are dark and deadly, his expression as controlled as ever. Emilio hasn’t spotted me crouched down by the car yet but I know Dante senses me. I watch his gaze flicker in my direction and then back to his brother.