28. Dante
28
DANTE
J ust before dawn, I slip from her arms. I don’t sleep much these days. Since Colombia, I see shadows and movement in every dark corner. These last four hours wrapped around Eve’s body have been the longest and deepest I’ve slept in weeks.
Once I’m showered and dressed, I make my way downstairs. I muse on how much I hated this house until approximately ten hours ago when she brought back her spark and made everything light again. Material possessions have never held much interest to me. Like most things in life, they’re to be used and discarded. It’s this mindset that made it so easy for me to slip into obscurity fifteen years ago. Emilio found it harder. He never shared the same discipline.
I find Joseph in the kitchen. He’s standing by the island, hunched over his laptop.
“It’s four a.m. Don’t you sleep anymore?” he grumbles, not bothering to look up .
“Don’t you?” I say mildly, heading for the coffee machine.
“I never sleep.”
We don’t deserve to. Not after the bloody cull we’ve orchestrated recently.
The last six weeks have been tainted with a breathtaking violence, the likes of which we’ve never known before. When I look down, I don’t see my hands, I see weapons of death. My head is filled with the screams of our victims.
Without Eve, my bloodlust ran unchecked. We’ve hunted down and executed all of Emilio’s co-conspirators. Before I visited Sanders’ club last night, I held a gun to my treacherous cousin’s head and pulled the trigger. That was only after I’d extracted Emilio’s last known whereabouts during a protracted five hours.
We took a grim pleasure in our work. Nicolas was the one who gave the order to execute every single man I sent to America. What I did yesterday was in their name, and in their honor.
“I want the details of that horse dealer you know in Montana,” I tell him, picking up my iPad and skimming through the emails. There’s another one from the P.I. team in Colombia… Still no news. This girl is proving as elusive as my fucking brother. Fifteen years I’ve been searching for her, and still nothing. Not even a glimpse.
“What’s wrong with a bunch of flowers?” drawls Joseph, guessing at my intentions right away.
“Just get me the damn number. How are those new coordinates checking out?” I’m referring to the intel we extracted from my pleading, dying cousin yesterday.
“Tomas has instructed a team. They’re on the ground already. Looks like we missed him. We need to get back to Colombia and flush him out ourselves. He’s running out of places to hide.”
You screwed up, big brother. The gamble never came to fruition. Not even close. Did you really think you’d win this war against me? We’ve executed your allies. Your business is destroyed. Those four walls are closing in on you.
“Who’s the blonde?” asks Joseph, interrupting my triumphant reverie.
“What blonde?”
“The one in the club with Eve. I saw you talking by the front entrance.”
I don’t see other women; I only have eyes for her. I do read her daily security reports, though.
“Some friend of hers… Anna Williams, I believe.”
“Pretty name.”
I glance up from the coffee machine in surprise. I’ve never heard him take an interest in a woman before. He normally fucks to forget, like I used to. Now I fuck to feel.
“I thought brunettes were more your thing.”
“I’ll take a blonde with a body like that.”
“Why is everything so fucking monochrome in this house,” I grumble, switching my attention to the black tiles above the stove. Eve’s right. The décor in here is shit.
“Hire a decorator then.”
Jesus. Could he sound any more apathetic?
“Quit provoking me. I want it on the market by the end of next week. I have no further use for this property.”
The renovations for my new island are nearly complete. I’ve had a team of hundreds working around the clock. It’s costing millions, but it’s billions that I have. The place will be fully operational in the next ten days or so, and then Eve can decorate away to her heart’s content. She doesn’t know my plans for her yet, but she soon will. Once Emilio’s six feet in the ground, nothing will ever part us again.
Change is afoot for all of us. Cartel warfare holds no interest for me anymore. We kill for the thrill, so my team and I are branching out. Eve’s initial assumptions about me were something of a premonition. Why? Because we’re mercenaries now. Skilled guns for hire. These past six weeks have been as much about planning for the future as it has about revenge. I’m here for whoever wants to hire my bullets. I’ll take no sides in wars or conflicts.
I scan my emails again. There’s one from Sanders.
“Rick’s happy with the terms. The deal is as good as done.”
“No surprises there,” says Joseph dryly. “You just gifted him a business worth twenty billion dollars. Any regrets?”
“Easiest decision I ever made.”
That, and abducting an angel from a downtown liquor store.
Sanders came through for me. His stellar connections have resurrected my decimated army and restocked my arsenal. In return for his loyalty, I’ve gifted him all the US Santiago territories. It’s his business now. He can fend off the vultures for himself.
I pour out a coffee and glance at the dishes piling up in the sink. “We need a maid for the island. Contact Sofía. She’s back in Colombia with her family. And stay the fuck away from that girl, Anna. ”
“Is that a direct order?”
“I mean it, Joseph. She’s not available.”
“And when the hell has that ever stopped you?” There’s a chilling coolness to his gaze now.
“Manuel,” I state grimly. “He’s a good bodyguard. Eve trusts him. Anna likes him. Don’t fuck it up!”
Coffee-in-hand, I head back upstairs. I love to watch Eve sleep. She’s so peaceful—the kind of peace I can never hope to obtain.
I settle on the edge of the bed and take a sip. She stirs, reaching out for me with one hand and then furrowing her brow when she senses I’m not lying next to her anymore. She wants me, even in her dreams.
A lock of dark hair spills over her cheek, and I fight the urge to brush it away. Since our reunion yesterday, I can’t stop touching her. Last night we fucked and fucked until she begged me to stop. This woman is a drug. Her sweetness is the only life source I need. I know it’s wrong, I don’t deserve her, but when the hell has that ever stopped me?
Could she love this cold-hearted killer? My mind won’t allow me to consider the unthinkable. I’ll force her to if needs be. I took this woman hostage; I can steal her heart as well.
“Dante?” Her soft voice calls to me, and I swear to God I’m smiling inside just from the sound of it.
“I’m right here.”
“Come back to bed.”
I put my coffee down on the nightstand and remove my T-shirt in one fluid movement. My jeans are next. I’m hard already.
“As you wish, mi alma .”
I slide between the sheets to wrap my warmth around her slender body. I press my erection against the curve of her ass and try to get a handle on my lust. Eve is exhausted. I’ll let her sleep for another hour or two, and then I’ll satisfy us all over again.
One more hurdle, I think to myself, as I snake my arm around her waist.
One more bloody scalp…
One more retribution killing, and then I’m losing myself in Eve Miller forever.
“No way, Dante. No way! These are Bal Harbour stores!”
Eve’s delicate skin is flushed with color and her blue eyes are glinting sapphire oceans again. She looks so damn fuckable I can barely contain myself. Too bad we’re sitting in the confined space of an SUV with two of my men.
“Did you know about this?” she yells, turning to Joseph in the driver’s seat. Next to him, Tomas is trying not to crack up. I kick the back of his seat with my foot, and he straightens his face immediately.
“No, Miss Miller,” Joseph deadpans. Very few can outlast an interrogation longer than him. Then again, he’s never had to face a raging angel before.
“Oh don’t ‘Miss Miller’ me. If you’re going to lie to my face, I’d appreciate it if you called me Eve!”
Joseph catches my eye in the mirror. Goddammit. This woman is making a fool of me.
“Get out of the car,” I tell her, leaning across to open her door with a violent shove. My cock jerks as my arm brushes against her breasts. They better have decent-sized changing rooms in these dress stores.
“Uh-uh. No way. No man, not even you, tells me what to wear. Not anymore.”
“Who says you have a choice?”
“Me!” she cries, slapping her chest with her hand. She should be in the movies with this shit. “You may have charmed my body, Santiago, but my freewill is not so easily seduced.”
Charmed her body? That’s an interesting turn of phrase. More like fucked it into the next century. I’m feeling a little exhausted myself, right now.
Exiting the car, I glance at the exclusive row of stores next to us. The whole place reeks of money. It’s perfect for my angel. Leaning back inside the vehicle, I grab her wrist and coax her out onto the sidewalk.
“I don’t want to go shopping, Dante!” she says angrily.
A woman who doesn’t want to go shopping? I’ve never heard of anything so fucking ridiculous. I contemplate tipping her over my shoulder and carrying her into the damn place, but she’s still wearing that short, silver crap from last night, and the only man permitted to see that ass is me.
“Are you even listening?”
She’s standing there, glaring at me, my fingers still wrapped like a cuff around her slim wrist. I bet she’d chuck me under a passing Maserati if she could.
“A compromise then,” I murmur, yanking her closer, locking her against me, and breathing in traces of citrus from her shampoo that does absolutely nothing to ease my erection. “Why don’t we choose your new wardrobe together.”
“You’re still not hearing me.” Her body is as rigid as my dick. “You keep telling me I’m not your whore, and then you go all Pretty Woman on me.” She struggles to free herself from the prison cell of my embrace. “I don’t want your money. I will never want your money.”
Because it’s tainted.
The unspoken words lay toxic between us.
“For fuck’s sake!” 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 wrist and take a step back, balling my palms into fists of frustration. 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 shoot daggers at one another, and then, out of nowhere, she goes and smiles at me. Just like that. Flooring me completely.
“Ask nicely,” she says softly.
“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 fucking heart out for you while I’m down there?”
She has the nerve to roll her eyes at me. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
“Jesus Christ, did you really just say that?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
“You deserved it! ”
“You won’t be sitting down for a week once I’m through with you!”
Judging from the sly smile on those luscious pink lips, that’s exactly what she’s bargaining on.
She played me...again.
“Evie!”
Evie?
We turn together, Eve from recognition and me, thankful for a respite from this irritating-as-fuck argument. A tall, vaguely familiar-looking man in his mid-fifties is crossing the road in front of my SUV and smiling in delight at my angel.
I cast a practiced eye over him, taking in everything. Joseph has exited the car discreetly and is doing the same. He’s a handsome guy, but there are lines on his face that can’t be attributed to age alone. My guess is they’re a fairly recent acquisition. His body is lean and firm, the man 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 movement.
He never takes his eyes off Eve’s face, so I go to put a possessive hand on her arm. To my intense fury, she swerves away, and I swipe thin air instead. She’s definitely getting punished hard for that.
I watch him clock the gesture. A slight frown forms as his eyes travel north to fix on mine. Bam. I recognize him instantly, but not a muscle in my face betrays my shock. I could pick out those eyes from fifty yards away.
This should be interesting…
My gaze shifts to Joseph, who is already reaching underneath his shirt. 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 plead quietly. 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. If this all turns to shit, there’s only one outcome.
“Evie, sweetheart, what brings you to this side of town?” Her father’s face splits in delight 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 fucking property. “That’s an interesting outfit you’re wearing. I’m not even gonna try and understand fashion these days. Are you and Manuel still on for dinner tomorrow night? I’m planning on cooking my world-famous rib surprise. Your Mom’s already griping about the cleaning-up, so I thought I’d buy her a little something to sweeten the deal.” He chuckles at his own bad humor and rattles the black Gucci bag in his hand.
Manuel and Eve on a happy family dinner date?
Perhaps I need to break the other side of my young recruit’s face to remind him about his fucking boundaries…
“Thanks, Dad, sounds great,” mumbles Eve, disentangling herself.
Myers’ gaze shifts to me again. I watch him take in my olive skin, dark hair, expensive car, clothes, and bodyguards. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he says, his smile freezing, 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 it, giving nothing away. Not betraying for a single moment that a couple of months ago I had my gun pointed at his head, but I chose to abduct his daughter instead; that five years ago I drove his only son to suicide; that I’m currently Enemy Number One 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. 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 position to the driver’s seat. His hand is on the ignition. If we need to get out of here fast, he’s the man to make it happen.
“So, how do you two know each other?” says Myers, 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,” I say smoothly. “Or should that be former work colleague…”
The flash of annoyance on his face tells me exactly how he feels about his daughter quitting her job.
“Don’t start, Dad,” she murmurs, catching sight of it, too.
“I will start, Evie,” he says crossly. “You’re a fine writer. Your articles were doing the work of ten of my agents.”
She shakes her head and stares at the sidewalk.
“Something’s going down baby. There’s some kind of power struggle at the top.” Myers lowers his voice a fraction to deliver this insightful splinter of information. “My hunch is you had ‘em running scared. Don’t walk away now. You’ve worked too hard.”
There’s an awkward silence, the kind that makes me want to carve my initials into my skin for some light relief before he’s pulling himself together.
“Forgive me, Mr. Días. I can be a little too proud of my daughter sometimes. Have you kids of your own?”
There’s another pause, and then I’m shaking my head.
Myers shrugs. “Perhaps one day you’ll understand. Anyway, I’ll see you and Manuel tomorrow.” He leans over to peck Eve on the cheek. “It was good meeting you, Mr. Días.” He’s lying through his teeth. He’s getting a bad vibe off me, like he should.
We watch him double-back across the street and climb into his wholesome family-friendly Chrysler. A minute later, he’s pulling away from the curb, and waving briefly at us as he passes.
“Dante.”
My head snaps in Joseph’s direction.
“Time to go.”
He’s right. We need to keep moving—toward the next kill, the next country, the next drama. A wave of tiredness hits me square in the chest. For a moment, I imagine what it feels like to have a father like Myers. Someone to laud my achievements instead of beating the shit out of me for not killing quick enough. But those kinds of thoughts will always be pointless. I was born bad. The end result was always going to justify the means.
“Shopping time’s over,” I declare, swinging the door open for Eve. She disappears into the SUV without looking up at me. I follow, keeping my temper in check as she positions herself as far away from me as possible.
“Update from my team in Colombia,” says Tomas, passing me his iPad. “He’s heading south to Salamina.”
I take the device and skim the details, but I find myself glancing at Eve’s profile more, those soft pouty lips, her sweet, upturned nose. Her hair was still wet from the shower when we left the house and she’s twisted it up into some kind of messy bun. I want to tear the bands out and run my fingers through it, re-forging our connection and binding her back to me. She won’t stop gazing out of the damn window, and it’s starting to piss me off.
Passing the iPad back to Tomas, I try to take her hand, but she pulls it out of reach. I clench my jaw and chalk it up as another fucking disobedience. This was meant to be an amusing outing, but it’s turned into a juxtaposition of hell.
I know how her mind works. She’s sitting there listing all the reasons why we shouldn’t be together. There are too many in the ‘against’ column and only one in the ‘for’, and I intend to remind her of it for the rest of the afternoon.