22. Eve
22
EVE
D ante’s bunker is a sleek, modern space with expensive black furniture and a cream and metallic décor throughout. It’s more than befitting of the boss of one of the biggest drug cartels in the world.
It’s a den of iniquity; a lair of illicit power. A place where deals are made, and lives are destroyed.
The deceit.
The lies.
So many lies.
My breath catches sharply. Hurt and devastation are ripping through me again. There’s no hiding from the truth. I let the man who killed my brother into my bed, and into my heart. The criminal that I’ve been searching for all these years was right there in front of me, whispering sweet things in my ear, violating my senses, awakening my body in the crudest, most base of ways. But his worst betrayal, by far, was making me crave him, knowing what he’d done to my family. Making me crave him, even now.
Looking back, I can’t help marveling at my naivety. I just didn’t connect, couldn’t comprehend, never envisaged…
I can’t think about it now, though. I can’t even begin to grasp the damage. Anger is already edging into this bleakest of scenarios.
The stillness of the bunker seems to emphasize his deception more. I can hear the jagged beating of my broken heart as we enter the first of three rooms. It’s a control center. His office. I count at least two-dozen security cameras mounted on the far wall. Half are out—either destroyed or malfunctioning. The rest are trained on different areas of his compound, all of which are burning. His kingdom is being razed to the ground before my eyes. By his own brother.
One thing’s for sure: the Santiago reign of terror is officially over. This private war will have far-reaching consequences across the communities of South America and Florida.
A glass desk occupies a prime position in front of the cameras, and to the left are a couple of black leather couches. Manuel’s sitting on one with a laptop on his knee, his machine gun resting on the coffee table in front of him. He’s attempting to hack into the compound computer system to reboot the network. Only then will he be able to alert whomever to our whereabouts. We’ve already tried the phones. The lines are dead, and Manuel’s cell has no reception. We must be at least fifty yards underground.
“Does this make any sense to you?” I ask him, gazing at a laptop screen where lines of indecipherable code are flittering left to right at a breakneck speed.
He nods. “I was a computer analyst before.”
“And you left that job to shoot guns for him ?”
He pauses his frantic tapping and glances up at me. There’s confusion and pity in his brown eyes. “Working for Se?or Santiago is a huge honor in my country, se?orita. I did not hesitate when he contacted me. He takes care of his own, and their families.”
“Like he took care of your face?”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Dante beat the guy to a pulp, yet he still has him stuck on a pedestal. The loyalty he inspires is unfathomable to me, especially now.
Manuel blushes beneath his bruises. “I was out of line, se?orita. Any man would have done the same thing. Can you not see? You are his queen.”
“I’m not his queen, I’m his prisoner! I’m nothing but a possession for him to paw at and manipulate for his own gains. He’s evil, dishonest…” I trail off as the breath catches in my throat again. “You’re worth a thousand of him, Manuel.”
He shoots me a grin of disbelief. “You are hurting, but it will pass. You will soon see Se?or Santiago for the great man that he is.”
Not likely. Not now. Not ever.
“ What am I missing here? How does he command such devotion from his men?”
Manuel shrugs. “Like I said—”
“He’s a ‘great man’,” I scoff, finishing his sentence for him. “He asked you to lie to me, didn’t he? He asked you not to call him by his surname anymore.”
“Yes, se?orita. ”
“What did he say to you on the beach that day we first met?”
“That I was to guard you with my life. That your value to him is incomparable.”
Damn my heart for leaping at this.
They’re just words. Dante’s good with those. It won’t change anything. My mind is already made up. As soon as I get out of here, I’ll be unmasking him as the immoral bastard that he is. My composite for the authorities will be meticulous because every contour of his face has been committed to my memory; his eyes haunt my soul. I won’t rest until he’s dominating their Most Wanted lists.
“There is no place on earth you can hide from me. Our souls are bound forever.”
More lies.
His declaration in the car was just him tightening his grip on me. I see that now. He knew he couldn’t hide the truth forever, so he chose to step up his manipulation to another level.
My mind is filled with the blood-soaked images from years of research into the Santiagos. Photographs depicting mutilated corpses strewn across empty warehouses. Then there are the more personal, like watching my brother die an agonizing death in a cold, hospital bed. Dante has left a shattering trail of destruction in his wake, and he needs to be held accountable. It’s retribution day, and I hope he burns in hell along with his fortress.
“You are special to him, se?orita,” I hear Manuel say. He’s studying my face again, but for what? Compassion? Forgiveness? There is none, and there never will be, but damn my heart for stuttering at his words once more.
“Dante Santiago isn’t capable of such sentiments, Manuel. He may say them out loud, but he’ll never truly mean them.”
“No man can live without love.”
“He’s not a man, he’s a monster! One day you’ll realize it, too.”
“Here, se?orita, you’re shivering. Take this.” Sofía reappears next to me clutching a man’s shirt. She drapes it across my shoulders, but I drag it from my body as soon as a darkly familiar scent hits my senses.
“Where did you find this?” I demand.
“Next door. In his closet.”
“I’m sorry, Sofía, but I’d rather freeze to death than wear anything of his .” I sit down next to Manuel and rub my arms for warmth. “If you can’t get us back online, will the fire raise the alarm?”
He shakes his head. “The authorities know to leave this place alone.” His gaze flits back to the laptop screen. At the same time, the underground bunker is rocked by a violent shudder.
Sofía whimpers in fright. “Why would Se?or Emilio do this?”
Because he’s a master criminal with no damn morals like your own boss.
“Because he has a death wish,” Manuel mutters. “There is no one more deadly than Se?or Dante. He will return and avenge what has happened here. This man, this traitor, will be nothing but blood and bone by the morning.”
“What if he doesn’t,” I interject quietly. “What if he captures one of our men and tortures our whereabouts out of him?”
“They would rather die than give up this place, and you. It is a matter of honor… Of pride!”
I pause for a moment. “What other transport does Dante keep here?”
“There’s a boathouse to the north. The Mozambique coastline lies thirty miles east of us.”
Mozambique?
I scour my mind for where in the world we might be. Mozambique lies next to Zimbabwe and South Africa. Somehow, I need to get to a US embassy or consul and raise the alarm.
“We have to get to that boathouse,” I say, rising to my feet. “It’s our best chance of survival.”
It’s the best chance of my escape.
Manuel shakes his head. “My orders are to keep you here until help arrives.”
“But that could be days! We have no food, no water…”
“I believe we have a small amount of provision next door,” says Sofía, rising to her feet as well. “Let me go and check.”
“No, let me,” I say firmly, placing a restraining hand on her arm. If there’s another way out of this place, I’m determined to find it myself.
The first room I check is the one adjacent to his office. It’s a windowless bedroom with two doors leading off to the side. I try the nearest, and it swings open to reveal a functional en suite. The other is a walk-in closet .
I gaze in shock at the rows of designer suits and shirts. After tonight, Dante ‘The Enigma’ will cease to exist, but I know that Dante ‘The Liar and Murderer’ will haunt me for the rest of my days.
Before I can stop myself, I’m stepping inside the closet and inhaling deeply. This will forever be the scent of betrayal, but I’m devising a strength and a comfort from it too.
None of it makes sense. How can a man who murders my brother make me feel safe?
I run my hand along the different fabrics and toy with the drawer handle nearest to me. Why would he hide himself away like this? In his own compound.
I can’t help thinking that his last remaining truths are concealed down here. Perhaps in this closet? Or in the cabinets in his office? The reporter in me wants to tear this place apart until I find the answers to all my questions. What turns a man into one of the deadliest drug dealers in the world? What buttons were pressed? What hardships has he suffered? Can he ever redeem himself? There’s still light in him. I’ve sensed it. I can’t save him, but perhaps, in time, I could learn to understand him.
What the hell am I thinking? Never in a million years will I ever surrender to his touch again. I’ll never comprehend his motives, nor will I ever forgive them.
I slide the drawer toward me and then freeze. There are photographs in here. Hundreds—black and white, color… The top one catches my eye, and I hold it up for a closer inspection. It’s a picture of a little girl with black hair, no older than three or four. She’s holding out a half-eaten ice cream for the lens and smiling at whoever is holding the camera. He r eyes are reeling me in and holding me captive. Two tiny pools of emotion with pupils so brown they’re almost black. A coloration so achingly familiar to me.
Dante.
I let out a cry and drop the photo. He has a daughter! At the same time another shockwave ripples through the bunker. We need to hold fast and pray that this bunker remains hidden, at least until Manuel can work his computer magic. When we’re back online, I’m going to demand he contact the police. I’m a kidnapped American. Surely someone, somewhere, has to care about that. My parents will be tearing the world apart looking for me.
All the photos are of this same girl, but none portray her any older than this. There are no surprise tenth birthday party shots, no gawky teenager with her girlfriends, no graduation portraits… Did something happen to her? Is she still alive? What about her mother? Was she Dante’s first love?
I’m devastated by how much her existence hurts. Is this jealously? How is this deceiver, this killer , managing to twist my affections when he’s not even in the same country as me?
Incensed, I rip open the next drawer down and take a step back in shock.
Military Medals.
A Purple Heart, a Silver Star… Holy shit is that a Congressional Medal of Honor?
Who is this man?
I back away from the closet, unable to equate the cold-hearted criminal with this…this… hero . Did he steal the medals from his victims? Is this some sort of sick trophy stash?
God, I’m so tired of the deception. The half-truths. The disguises…
The clock on the nightstand is flashing nine a.m. at me. I’ve been awake since Sofía flung herself onto my chest and informed me of this new nightmare, yanking me onto this battlefield between two warring master criminals.
I use the bathroom and splash cold water onto my face, but the weariness I’m feeling is bone deep. It’s entrenched in every fissure of my fractured heart. The bed is calling to me—so tempting and seductive. I won’t have to feel a thing when I’m unconscious. No conflict or bitterness, just peace and oblivion.
Kicking off my shoes, I curl up on top of the white bedsheets, and bury my face in the pillowcase. There are no traces of his scent here—no sharp, poignant reminders. But as I shift position, I feel the lethal solidity of his flick knife pressing against the side of my ribcage.
I slide my hand into my bra to remove it, turning the knife over in my fingers before closing my fist around it. I miss him so much it hurts, but if I ever saw him again, I’d run far, far, away. I hate him with every broken part of me. I crave him with all the fever he’s unleashed in me.
Another shudder rumbles through the bunker.
“Where are you, Dante?” I whisper, and I swear I hear him answering me from the shadows.
“I’m here with you, my angel… Always.”