31. Dante
31
DANTE
“ D ante, come take a look at this.”
Joseph’s words drag me away from my Eve-related thoughts. I’m back in my shitty monochrome kitchen again, lounging against the island, and idling away the minutes until Tomas does whatever the hell he needs to do so we can get the fuck out of here. He insisted on swinging by to collect some personal items on our way to Miami-Opa Locka. He’s taking his sweet time about it, though. We should be halfway to Colombia by now.
“What it is?” I say, glancing over.
Joseph’s mouth is stretched into a grim line. Instantly, I’m on high alert. I take the laptop and scan the email.
“What the hell is this?” I demand, an icy breeze washing over me. “Tomas contacted them, right? He’s been across this from the very start, as soon as we learned Emilio was back in South America. ”
“The latest coordinates didn’t add up. We were chasing our tails, so I asked the guys looking into your daughter’s disappearance to do some investigation. That email confirms my suspicions. Tomas never instructed a team in Cartagena after we terminated Nicolas. Whatever status reports he’s been showing us detailing Emilio’s whereabouts have been fabricated.”
I spring away from the island like it’s burning. “Are you saying my brother isn’t in Colombia?”
“I’m saying no one knows where the hell he is because Tomas never looked into it.”
“But why the fuck would he…” I tail off and stare at Joseph. Seconds later, I’m tossing the laptop away and retrieving my gun. Joseph does the same.
“He’s still in the house,” he hisses.
I motion him back from the open doorway. “If Tomas is working with Emilio, he knows everything. The location of the island, the deal with Sanders, Eve’s whereabouts.” I can’t even comprehend that, right now. “Go bring the car around. We need to get the fuck out of here. We need to warn Manuel—”
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”
We turn together, guns raised, poised for action… Tomas is standing behind us, swinging a cell phone between his forefinger and his thumb, cool as fuck. Like he doesn’t have the two newest, deadliest mercenaries on the block pointing their trigger fingers in his direction.
“You double-crossing asshole,” I say calmly. “You orchestrated the ambush in Colombia as well, didn’t you?”
Tomas’ smug expression makes me want to smash the butt of my gun into his face repeatedly. Bullets are too good to waste on this son of a bitch.
“They were good men, men you helped train yourself,” I hear Joseph say, and I know this just turned personal for him. He vetted Tomas before he joined our organization. He came to us highly recommended. At what point did my brother turn him?
“All expendable.” Tomas is unmoved by his words. “Lower your weapons please, gentlemen.”
No one makes a move.
Stalemate.
I’m filled with rage—for Tomas, my brother, myself. I’ve been too fucking distracted lately.
“I said lower them, Dante, or you don’t get to see that pretty girl alive again.”
Tomas isn’t messing around, and the beast inside me roars into life. “What have you done with her? If that sick bastard has touched a single hair on her head…”
“Dante.” I feel Joseph’s hand on my shoulder. He knows I’m a bomb mere seconds from detonating. If I kill Tomas, I may never see Eve again.
There are noises in the hallway. Men’s voices. Accented. Unfamiliar. I don’t need to ask whose command they’re following. Tomas used one of his South African contacts as security for this house. All of my new US recruits are out tracking Eve. My guess is they’re already dead.
“How long have you been playing us?” I hear Joseph say.
“Long enough.”
“Take me to her.” I slam my weapon down on the table and slide it in his direction. Hesitating, Joseph follows my lead. Tomas catches them easily and has the nerve to smile at us .
My anger is a veil of red. I find myself halfway across the kitchen before Joseph manages to pull me back.
“Rein it in, Santiago,” snaps Tomas, his smile fading fast, and we find ourselves staring down the barrels of our own weapons. “Believe me when I say you’re not in control of this situation anymore. Not even close.”
Guns don’t faze me. They’re just pretty pieces of metal that satisfy a dark hunger. The ones with their fingers on the trigger have more of an effect, and right now they’ve definitely caught my attention.
Joseph and I are sitting in the back of an SUV with our hands tied. There are four muzzles trained on us by a couple of the hardest-eyed motherfuckers I’ve ever encountered. Men who wouldn’t think twice about blowing our heads off. Violence is their only fucking anthem. I can’t even glance at Joseph without a fist connecting with my face. My nose is already broken, but I don’t feel the pain because the beast inside is consuming me. He’s prowling up and down the bars of his cage just waiting for his opportunity to unleash hell.
The car brakes sharply, and we’re forced out at gunpoint. The salty sea air hits my senses. We’re right on the edge of the container docks, next to a grim gray line of empty warehouses with broken windows. The rasping cries of the gulls above our heads are loud enough to drown out whatever unpleasantness is about to transpire.
“Move it,” says Tomas, shoving me toward the open doorway of the nearest warehouse as more men exit the cars behind us. They converge on me and Joseph, all pointing their weapons in our faces.
My military training misses nothing—not the deep depth of the water running parallel to me, nor the lack of security cameras; not even the two snipers stationed on the roof of the warehouse next door, or the three additional vehicles parked a little way up. Calculations form the basis of escape plans. Six vehicles in total means that there are at least thirty men waiting to fuck us up.
When we step inside, the sight that greets me is my worst nightmare realized. Eve. Half dressed in a sweatshirt and strung up by her wrists, suspended from a rusted metal joist above her head, her black panties and slender, pale stomach on display—a stomach that I’ve kissed and tasted a thousand times. The left side of her face is a bloody mess, her dark hair is matted crimson. She’s not moving, and her head is pitched forward at an angle like a broken flower.
I quickly scan the inside of her thighs for more blood. To my relief, there’s none. So far, these animals have only used their fists to ravage her body. I know that will change if I don’t cooperate.
“Dante. Glad you could join us.”
Emilio .
The beast inside lets out a mighty roar . I don’t bother turning in his direction. My focus is firmly fixed on my future.
“What the fuck have you done to her?” I say, striding up to Eve, but a couple of yards out I feel a stinging blow to the back of my head that forces me to my knees.
“Only what was necessary.”
I focus on the dirty floor to stop myself from blacking out. The whole of my skull is on fire. Expensive loafers slide into my line of vision. Emilio always did have shit taste in shoes.
I need to stay sharp.
I need to get us out of this.
“Why the charade, brother?” I force my gaze upward to meet his, head-on, feeling a surge of satisfaction when I see the flash of fear in his eyes. My head is smashed up, my hands are bound behind my back, I’m on my knees in front of him, and he still doesn’t think he’s incapacitated me enough to stop me from ripping his throat out. “If you want me dead, put a bullet in my head and be done with it. Let Joseph and Eve go.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” he says, laughing. At the same time, my fingers connect with a hard lump in the back pocket of my jeans.
Eve’s knife.
I wonder…
Keeping my eyes trained on Emilio, aware of Tomas’ militia gathering en masse behind him, I inch the knife out of my pocket and flick the blade up, slicing my fingers to hell in the process. I pause when Joseph is shoved in my direction and has his feet kicked out from under him.
“Fucking hell,” he groans, landing hard on his knees. I watch him glance across at me, and then down. Like a total pro, he takes in the situation without any reaction. He knows the score. This is a battle we might not win, but he’ll go down fighting with me. We kill together. We die together. We’ll ride that bitch to the end.
“I’ve decided that death is too simple a solution for you, Dante,” says Emilio, grinning at me. “I’ve decided to make you suffer, instead. ”
“By making my ears bleed with your incessant whining?” I say, sawing at the ropes binding my wrists, barely moving a muscle in my forearms—letting my fingers and hands take the brunt of the work. They’re cramping in protest, but I carry on regardless. Eve’s life is at stake.
“On the contrary, there are other ways to destroy a man. You’re going to watch and listen while I eliminate the three things that mean the most to you.”
“How inventive,” I say, sounding bored. “Did you come up with this plan all by yourself, or is it Tomas’ idea? He’s a disloyal motherfucker, but I’ll credit him with a couple more brain cells than you.”
I get the reaction I’m hoping for when I see the mask of rage on my brother’s face. “You’ve dishonored the Santiago name for the last time, Dante!”
“You can’t descend from the gutter, asshole.” The first strand of rope works loose. “Our father drove us straight to hell, and then kicked us out of the moving vehicle.”
“You’re far worse than he ever was.”
This shuts me up. It’s a truth that even I refuse to accept.
Emilio starts pacing up and down in front of me. “Military life messed with your head, or shall we attribute your killer instinct to your daughter’s disappearance? Whatever it was, it turned you into a loose cannon with a talent for torture, and for a time I was happy to exploit it—”
“Cut the bullshit, Emilio. What’s this really about? The business? Have it. Take your shit up with Sanders. I want no part of it anymore.”
“Sanders will be dead by the morning, but that’s more about tying up loose ends. You know how much I hate those.” He stops pacing and slides his hands into his pockets. “This isn’t about money. It’s about peace of mind.”
It’s my turn to smile now, but it’s more of a hate-filled grimace. “Are you drawing a line under me, Emilio? Is this my penance for putting a bullet in our father’s head?” A second strand of rope works itself free.
“Fuck no.” He scoffs. “That old dog long outlived his usefulness. The truth is, I’m tired of always looking over my shoulder—waiting for your sharp knife, the well-aimed bullet, the car bomb…”
“Jesus Christ. You always were a paranoid fuck.” I shake my head at him in disgust. “I was 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. Some might call it a family trait.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Intuition tells me I’m about to be blindsided by a whole heap of dark and twisted shit.
He seems surprised by my reaction. “But surely you guessed? That confrontation in Colombia had me convinced.” He considers me again, noting my confusion. “Or perhaps not… It makes no difference. You’re as good as dead anyway.” He cocks his head to one side and moves in as close as he dares while I stare up into the flat, black eyes of a madman. “I like to kill people as well, Dante,” he whispers conspiratorially. “But shhhhh…” He wags his finger in front of his lips and retreats back to a safe distance .
“Who did you kill, Emilio?”
Say it, asshole. Don’t leave me in suspense.
“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, frustration amping up my voice. “What the hell did he offer you that I couldn’t?”
“Revenge,” says Tomas, making it sound like a hammer blow. “Valentina was my girl, Dante. You strung her up and watched her bleed out for two days.”
“She’s 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 were Eve? What if things were reversed? Would you have let me live?”
No chance. I’d have slit your throat from ear to ear.
Tomas nods at my silence. “Exactly.”
So, this is it. My final reckoning. Where all 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. My hands are slick with blood, and I nearly drop the knife twice. Another strand works loose.
“Isabella was the most satisfying,” crows Emilio suddenly.
“Dante,” hisses Joseph. “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 floor. He’s silent in his agony, he’ll never give Emilio the satisfaction of his pain, but I know it’s costing him everything. 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’ll gut you for this, Emilio,” I say, rising to my feet to the sound of thirty grown men cocking their loaded weapons at my head.
“She took three hours to die.” He’s basking in my rapt attention now.
“Bullshit, there’s no body. I’ve been searching—”
“Try the bottom of Lake Tota. You might have more luck.”
The certainty in his voice leaves no room for doubt. For the briefest of moments, I consider ending it all with my hands wrapped around his neck. Thirty bullets in my body would make it pretty damn 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.
The injustice is fucking breathtaking. Every bait, every provocation that has driven my bloodlust to such extremes has been perpetuated by this man— my own brother .
“I killed our father because of what you did!” I roar, unable to contain my anger. “You led me to believe it was he who’d taken her.”
Emilio shrugs. “I gave the order. It was time.”
My skull is pounding. Sweet oblivion is beckoning. 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 needs to be that.
“Three,” I say wearily, dropping to my knees and giving him the impression of a defeated man. “You said you’d be taking three things from me today. I assume Isabella is the first…” She didn’t deserve to die, and neither does Eve. “Our mother, the second—”
“Fuck no, that bitch doesn’t count, but you do , don’t you, sweetheart?” Emilio jerks his head in Eve’s direction.
I force myself to look at her. 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 straight through to 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 my guilt is a swinging guillotine above my head.
How much did she hear?
“And the last?” I say, never taking my eyes off her. I see both defiance and strength there. She has never looked more beautiful.
“Your anonymity.”
My head jerks up. “What?”
Emilio looks even more delighted. He knows he’s hitting me where it hurts.
“Approximately one hour ago your name, picture and new compound coordinates were sent to the DEA. I emailed them directly to Eve Miller’s father myself—a personal touch, if you like. Of course, he’ll be dead soon too. 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 mutter, the world falling away beneath my feet. I’ve always looked upon my anonymity as my one saving grace. As long as I kept my identity concealed, 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 says expansively, throwing his arms out wide. “I never enjoyed hiding away. I earned my name, my respect… From now on, I intend to bask in it.”
He’s psychotic. He’ll be dead within a week.
“You really thought this through, huh?”
“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 agreed last night. But it’s not all bad news. You’re officially a wanted fugitive.”
“Dante.”
Her soft voice is calling to me. Pleading, comforting, encouraging. Our eyes meet, a thousand words unspoken, yet somehow articulated and accepted. The rest of the rope disintegrates, and my hands are finally free. I take one last moment to gaze upon her broken face.
“My devil,” she says quietly.
“Forgive me,” I murmur.
She nods, as if she understands. “Always.”