16. Dante
16
DANTE
E milio’s mansion lies on the banks of the Amazon, concealed by the thick canopy of Colombian rainforest. There are no speedboats moored nearby, no racetrack for his Ferraris; no fucking hint that underneath that vegetation there’s a fifty-million-dollar estate just begging for attention.
He and I made a pact when we took over the business. Change was needed, so change was implemented. We embraced audacity and self-control. Gone went the flashy mansions and diamonds—the material trappings that had painted such a large target on our father’s back for the past thirty years. Instead, we sharpened and refocused as we slid deeper and deeper into the shadows. We paid out large sums of money for our anonymity, disbursing monthly retainers to a network of business associates to front our cartel on our behalf. We turned our truth into a myth in order to keep the Colombian and US governments guessing, and within fifteen years we’d taken our father’s modest turnover and turned it into a twenty-billion-dollar commodity.
But our privacy came at a price. Our business associates got greedy. So, we adapted again, building up armies to help strengthen our grip on the narcotics trade. We were ruthless. We shunned second chances. Men who tried to take advantage of us paid with their lives, and rivers of blood flowed all the way from Colombia to Florida. I turned the Santiago name into something to be feared. We were reigning deities until the Garcia Cartel set off a chain of events last week that has peppered shrapnel into the sides of our organization.
The Garcias are dead. I had the pleasure of slitting their throats myself, but they’ve made us look weak in the interim. We’re no longer lauded as ‘untouchable’ by our competitors, and it’s a slip up in status that’s sitting uneasy with Emilio, far more than it is with me.
I do this work for my own reasons, not for ego and standing like him. Even so, I agreed to fly out to Colombia today to discuss strengthening strategies with our partners, and to confront my brother about his recent lapse in judgment. I’ve come well prepared. Grayson joined me at the airport an hour ago and ten of my best men are by my side, plus there’s a loaded gun underneath my shirt and two knives strapped to each calf.
We may be brothers, but I don’t trust him a fucking inch .
Emilio emerges from his front door to greet us as soon as our vehicles pull up. He slaps me on the back after the briefest, coldest of embraces.
“Welcome home, brother. It’s been too long.”
Home? For me, Colombia is a tale of broken dreams and sorrow, of a childhood distorted by ugliness and the memories of a little girl I try hard to forget. I hate this place. It’s turned me into the type of man I swore I’d never become.
“Emilio.” I disentangle myself quickly. “I trust you’re well?”
We like to portray the Santiagos as a united front, but our true bond is forged in mutual antagonism. I’ll never forgive him for the part I suspect he played in obliterating my former life. He’ll never forgive me for blowing the back of our father’s head off. We’ve been dancing on the edge of this darkness for as long as I can remember, but now, after my former housemaid’s revelations, any lingering light left between us is gone.
We’re both tall and olive-skinned, but that’s where the similarities end. He’s shit-hot with the business acumen, with a neat haircut, sharp features, a massive coke habit, and a psychopathic disposition. In truth, he looks like a fucking accountant, whereas I train for hours and hours a day to fortify our empire with a deadly and violent precision.
“Have the partners arrived yet?” I say, following him inside.
He nods. “They’re already waiting. Come… Let’s find you some bourbon first.” Emilio is a faultless host, even when his knife is sticking halfway out of your back. I watch him glance over at Joseph. “Compliments for last week, Grayson. I’m told there wasn’t much left of Se?or Garcia to identify.” He laughs in grim pleasure at the undignified ending we gave our enemy. He always did get off on the macabre .
“Mr. Santiago.” Joseph bows his head in deference. I know it’s all bullshit. His dislike of my brother cuts just as deep as mine.
With drinks now in hand, Emilio leads us out onto a golden terrace. Beyond the seating area, there’s a large swimming pool lined with Sicilian marble, around which most of this house is set. To my right, two men are sitting at a table beneath the shade of a dozen palm trees and twice as many bodyguards.
“Dante, you old devil! Lured back to Colombia at last!”
The elder, patriarchal figure of the two rises to his feet with difficulty, but his embrace is much stronger and warmer than my brother’s.
“Se?or Gomez,” I drawl, accepting his affability. “I see the chefs of Cartagena are treating you well.”
The old man chuckles and pats his expanding waistline with affection. “I’ve no complaints so far.”
“The women might not share your enthusiasm,” quips a voice as the younger man—a sharp-suited, fair-skinned, dark-haired American—stands to shake my hand. “Dante. It’s been too long.”
“Rick. It’s not often we see you this far out of Miami.”
Rick Sanders is the face of our US operation, and one hell of a smooth operator. He’s the man with the connections. The broker who can turn a dying deal into a multi-million-dollar return. I like him. I trust him. The only other man I can say that about is the tall American hovering behind me.
“A little bird tells me you’ve been fraternizing with our women,” he murmurs, as we take our seats together.
“A temporary distraction,” I say, inwardly cursing as Emilio clicks his fingers at his waiting staff. I was right. My former housemaid’s intel is the hot topic on the street. Without my protection, Eve will never be safe again.
“Don’t be too charmed, my friend,” he says with an easy grin. “Look around you… Colombian women have the curves to bring a man to his knees, and they’re less inclined to make waves for them. I’d find your pleasure elsewhere if I may be so bold as to say so.”
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”
Rick’s grin disappears. “I’m serious, Dante. Emilio’s getting antsy. Don’t start a war over some broad. If I remember rightly, it didn’t turn out so great for the Greeks…” He trails off when he sees the look on my face.
“We’ve been friends for a long time, Rick,” I murmur. “It would be a shame for that to end tonight.”
“Jesus, Dante. Calm the fuck down! If I spoke out of turn, I apologize.”
Damn right you did. You should know better.
In the end, I accept his apology. Rick’s no enemy of mine, and I ask after his young family to show him that there’s no bad blood between us. All the while, Joseph is standing a few feet behind me, eyes on the play—watching my back as usual.
There’s only one topic up for discussion tonight—the plans to expand our distribution along the whole of the east coast. New York is our last US bastion to conquer, and we’ve been making inroads with the Italians, with an eye for a potential partnership and a complete takedown of the city.
I keep my mouth shut for the most part, preferring to let others steer the conversation. I’m indifferent to these sorts of business matters, and Rick’s words have distracted me. I left a hundred men to watch over Eve, but in reality, there are only two good enough for the job. My soldier’s instinct is on high alert. There’s trouble afoot, but from which direction? I glance across the table at Emilio who is picking over the terms of the deal with Rick. He wouldn’t dare…
Would he?
I drain my glass and request another. My obsession with Eve is turning me into a paranoid asshole like my brother.
When the conversation breaks for dinner, I rise to my feet. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, gentlemen. Joseph, a word.”
He follows me over to the water’s edge. “What’s up?”
“Take my plane. I need you back at the compound.”
“Are you fucking serious?” His face is expressionless, but I know he’s not happy about it.
“Go now before I change my mind.”
“I thought you said she was an irritation. Nothing more.”
“I don’t know what the fuck she is, Joseph, but I have a bad feeling that no amount of bourbon is going to make good. The word is out. I’m vulnerable. Rick’s just given me a warning shot… If Emilio thinks my head is out of the game, he’ll do whatever it takes to keep me there.”
Joseph’s eyes narrow to warning slits. “And is it?”
“Is it what?” I’m distracted again. I’m thinking about Eve. I’m remembering the delicate flush in her cheeks, and the naked lust in her eyes when I tore her dress from her body that day by the beach.
“Out of the game. I wouldn’t mind some notice if you’re planning on recusing yourself.”
I glance back at the table. Am I planning on recusing myself? “It’s not that simple. No woman dictates my decisions, no matter how good she fucks. ”
“You sure about that?” His piercing gaze starts slamming into mine.
“Christ, Joseph. I can’t quit this life any more than you can. There’s no going back for us.”
He nods, finally accepting this. Over a decade ago he lost his wife and young child in a car accident. I called him soon after with a proposition. Since then, our work has fulfilled a vengeful need in both of us. It brings purpose and meaning to our lives, and without it we’d both be screaming into the abyss and drinking ourselves to death.
“This won’t end well, Dante,” he warns. “It’s full transparency or nothing with Emilio. You can’t reason with him.”
“I’ll deal with him in due course. Until then, watch your back.”
“And hers too apparently,” he counters dryly.
I shoot him a look.
“Fine. I’ll call Tomas.” He pulls out his cell.
“Good. Do it.” I turn on my heel and head back to the table so that he can’t see the look of relief on my face.
My return is heralded from all sides.
“Just in time,” Emilio declares, smiling evilly as ten half-naked women erupt onto his terrace. “This evening’s entertainment has arrived.”
The clacking of their high heels and their excited chatter immediately set my teeth on edge. One glance tells me all I need to know about them. They’re the trappings of our trade: high-class whores with spectacular bodies. The best Colombia has to offer. But they’re young and inexperienced… They’re giddy on the splendor of Emilio’s house and drunk on the prospect of su ch exclusive clients opening their wallets for them.
Two weeks ago, I would have gladly taken advantage by enticing three upstairs and fucking them until dawn, flouting all limits of debauchery, causing pain, and not caring enough to give pleasure. What I wouldn’t give to feel Eve’s soft body underneath me right now. To feel her arching into my stomach, to have her falling apart in my arms. None of these women hold a candle to my angel, but my colleagues don’t seem to share my lack of enthusiasm. With a roar of approval, Gomez pulls one giggling blonde onto his knee and slides his fat palm under the hem of her skirt. Rick looks like a kid in a sweet shop.
“Only the best for you, gentlemen.” Emilio laughs, ever the gracious host again as he slaps the ass of a passing brunette. “Where’s Grayson?” he calls out to me.
“Busy.”
“Pity,” he says lightly, picking up his whiskey glass and swirling the ice. “I hand-picked a couple of these whores for him. I know how much he likes them doe-eyed and docile. When’s he coming back?”
It’s an innocent enough question, yet something in his voice spikes my interest. I’m suddenly hyper-conscious of the knives attached to my calves, and the loaded weapon beneath my shirt.
“Not tonight.” I catch the eye of the waiter and indicate to my empty glass again. “I’ll be sure to let him know that his work is appreciated.”
“Yes, do that.” Emilio eyes me across the table. “Because, once again, I find myself concerned over the lack of women in your African fortress, baby brother.”
“Then you have too much fucking time on your hands. ”
It’s just us at the table now. Gomez and Rick have moved their whoring inside. The waiter hands me another bourbon, and I down it in one. The burn at the back of my throat matches the intensity of my ire. Fucking Emilio… Always pushing me. Always provocative. Usually I ignore it, but I find myself rising to the bait tonight.
“Are you not partaking in this luscious feast yourself, brother?” He waves his glass in the direction of a brunette who is stripping my face off with her scorching-hot glances. “It’s not like you to pass up a pretty face. Too busy pining for your little American?”
My back stiffens.
His grin disappears.
“You lied to me.”
“Fuck you. I don’t answer to anyone.”
Emilio leans across the table and sizes me up before his face splits into a shit-eating grin. “What the hell is up with you at the moment?”
“I’m tiring of the constant intrusion.”
“You forget yourself, Dante. I’m still the head of this organization.”
“For now…”
My words hang heavy over the table.
“Is that some sort of threat?” he hisses. “You’ve got some fucking nerve coming into my house with this shit. What are you going to do about it?”
“Raise your voice to me again, and you’ll soon find out.” I lean forward in my chair to meet him halfway, slamming my forearms down on the table. “Tread carefully, Emilio. It’s the only advice I’m offering. ”
He laughs and puts a finger to his lips like I’m some naughty little kid who is disobeying his rules.
I want to take that finger and ram it down his throat until he chokes on it. At the same time, I’m aware that four of his men, including that ugly motherfucker, Rodrigo, have taken up position behind me. I watch Emilio’s gaze flick upward, followed by the briefest shake of his head. Good. He’d be a fool to try anything. He knows how lethal I am. Those men would be dead in the water before his smirk left his face.
Seconds bleed on and on. Tension thickens the air. The gentle hum of the swimming pool filter helps to keep my body sharp and my mind focused.
“You said you were bored with her, Dante,” he murmurs. “Still, I’m not surprised she’s holding your interest. You’ve always had a thing for Americans. There’s the ever-faithful Grayson, and now there’s Eve …”
Hearing him speak her name dredges the well of darkness inside of me.
“We don’t get attached, baby brother. We don’t have weak links in our organization. We made the rules, remember? Together. Cut her loose, like I cut my bitch ex-wives loose. She’s becoming a problem.”
I shift position and drop my right arm, my fingers grazing against the outline of the knife strapped to my calf. “Are you asking nicely or dictating?”
Emilio stares at me in surprise. “My, she really has got to you. Pale skin, dark hair, those big blue eyes… Remind you of someone, does she?”
The temperature plummets even further.
“Do you really want to go there, Emilio? ”
“Does she know who you are?”
My ensuing silence speaks volumes.
“How interesting.” I watch him steeple his fingers. “And what would happen if someone was to let slip that unfortunate detail to her?”
“I’d cut out their tongue.”
“Naturally.” He nods at his men who start to back away from me. “So, it looks like we have ourselves an impasse.”
“Then I suggest we go back to our respective parts of the world and keep the hell out of each other’s way.”
“Except that you’ve started flouting the rules. I thought you’d put a bullet in her head and be done with it. Instead, you keep her locked up like a pet, and I’m sat here asking myself why. Why would you keep a fucking DEA agent’s daughter in your bed? A DEA agent who I ordered you to take out. A DEA agent who is currently sitting pretty with five of your men protecting him.”
I force a grim smile to my lips. “You’ve been doing your homework.”
“I was… concerned .”
“Concerned enough to send someone to spy on me?” That wipes the smirk off his face. “Fear not brother, that particular problem has been taken care of.”
“Dante—”
“I told you to leave me alone!” I bring my fist down hard on the table. The noise rebounds around the terrace, and his men reach for their weapons.
“Stand down,” he yells out over his shoulder.
No one says a word as he reaches into his inside pocket, pulls out a small vial and tips the milky-white powder onto his knuckles. Two sharp snorts and he’s done. So am I. If I leave now, I can be back in Eve’s bed before dawn.
“Dante, stop.” Emilio rubs the back of his hand across his face as I make to stand up. “I did you wrong, baby brother. I broke the rules, too. Stay. Let’s fix this.”
I stare down at him, and for the first time I see the real tempest raging behind his eyes. He wants to pull rank on me, to belittle and humiliate me in front of his men, but he’s too damn afraid to do it. I’m unpredictable, dangerous, but I’m the only one who can bring his house of cards tumbling to the ground.
His insecurity has deep-seated roots in this subtle balance of power between us. This isn’t about Eve, or who or what her father is. It’s because I never put a toe out of line until she turned up. I was content to let him run the show, as long as my bloodlust was satisfied. He’s been sitting pretty at the head of the family for the last fifteen years because I allowed him to, but I’m not following his orders anymore. From now on, he doesn’t get to question my motives, and if he doesn’t agree?
It’s time for a fucking regime change.