36. Dante
THIRTY-SIX
I jolted awake, the remnants of a nightmare still clinging to the edges of my consciousness. My body was coated in a sheen of sweat, the sheets twisted and tangled around my legs as if I had been thrashing in my sleep.
Beside me, the bed was empty, the sheets rumpled and cold, a silent testament to Natalia’s absence. I reached out, my fingers brushing against the pillow, and a sense of unease settled over me like a shroud.
She should have been here on the yacht with me, her warm body pressed against mine, her soft breath tickling my neck as she slumbered peacefully in the aftermath of our lovemaking. But the space beside me was painfully empty, a void that echoed with a thousand unspoken questions.
I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, my thumb hovering over Natalia’s number as I debated whether to call her or not. It wasn’t like her to disappear without a word, especially after the passion we had shared yesterday morning.
With a frustrated sigh, I tapped the screen, my pulse elevated as the line began to ring. One ring, two rings, three... and then her voicemail picked up, her familiar voice sending a pang of longing through me.
“Natalia, it’s me,” I said, my voice saturated with worry. “Where are you, mi reina? Call me back as soon as you get this.”
I ended the call and tossed the phone aside, scrubbing a hand over my face as I tried to make sense of the unease that had taken root in the pit of my stomach. Something wasn’t right, I could feel it in my bones, a primal instinct that had been honed over years of navigating the treacherous waters of the cartel world.
With a grunt, I hauled myself out of bed and padded across the carpet to look out the cabin window. The first rays of dawn were painting the horizon in hues of orange and pink but I couldn’t appreciate the splendor of it.
As I stood there, my mind began to wander, sifting through the events of the past few days, searching for any clue that might explain Natalia’s sudden disappearance. Had I done something to upset her? Said something that had pushed her away? No, that didn’t make sense. Our connection had been stronger than ever, our bond forged in the fires of passion and trust.
I forced myself to get ready, to go through the motions of my morning routine while my thoughts remained fixed on Natalia. I showered, dressed, and tried to call her again, each unanswered ring fueling the fire of my growing concern.
It wasn’t until I got a call from Valentina, Natalia’s closest confidant at the DEA, that I got the first real lead on her disappearance. Valentina’s voice was tight with worry.
“Dante, it’s not good,” she said. “Natalia’s been arrested.”
Arrested.
“What the fuck do you mean, she’s been arrested?” I growled, my grip tightening around the phone. “For what?”
Valentina hesitated, her breath hitching as she prepared to deliver the blow. “They’re saying she killed Ted Morrow.”
My blood ran cold at the mention of Morrow’s name. Ted Morrow was Natalia’s mentor. The idea that she could be responsible for his death was ludicrous, a twisted joke that wasn’t even remotely funny.
“That’s bullshit,” I hissed. “Natalia would never hurt Morrow.”
Valentina sighed, a sound heavy with regret. “I know, Dante. But you know how these things go. They need a scapegoat, and Natalia’s the perfect fit.”
I ended the call with Valentina, my mind already whirling with a plan of action. The mission was simple. Get Natalia out of that hellhole, clear her name and expose the real culprit behind Morrow’s murder. And there was only one man I trusted to handle a job of that magnitude.
Johnny “The Fixer” Flynn was a shark in a suit, a defense attorney with a reputation for getting his clients out of even the stickiest situations. He was also one of the few people in this world who owed me a favor – a big one.
I dialed his number, my voice steady and composed. “Johnny, I need you to spring someone from lockup. It’s urgent.”
Johnny didn’t even hesitate, his voice a low growl as he took in the details of Natalia’s predicament. “Consider it done, Dante,” he assured me, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “I’ll have your girl out before lunchtime.”
I disconnected the call, a small spark of hope igniting within me. If anyone could navigate the treacherous waters of the criminal justice system, it was Johnny “The Fixer.” But as I grabbed my keys and headed for the cabin door, I couldn’t shake the feeling that time was running out.
I slammed my fist against the steering wheel as a snarl of rage tore from my throat. Fucking hell, this was a mess – a goddamn clusterfuck of epic proportions.
Natalia, my fierce, indomitable queen, had been arrested. Hauled off like a common criminal, accused of the most heinous of crimes, murdering her own mentor, Ted Morrow.
The very notion was absurd. Natalia, a cold-blooded killer? The woman who had shown me the path to redemption, who had ignited a spark of hope within my jaded soul that there was more to life than the endless cycle of violence and retribution?
Impossible.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, jolting me from my vengeful reverie. A quick glance at the screen revealed the name I had been waiting for.
“Talk to me, Johnny,” I growled.
“Easy there, tiger,” came Johnny’s smooth, unflappable drawl. “I’ve got a handle on things. Bail hearing’s been set for an hour from now.”
I blinked, taken aback by the swiftness of his actions. “An hour? Shit, Johnny, you really do live up to your nickname.”
A rich, self-assured chuckle crackled over the line. “You know me, Dante. When it comes to greasing the wheels of justice, I’m the best damn mechanic in town.”
I felt a grudging smile tug at the corners of my mouth. Johnny Flynn was many things – arrogant, smarmy, and more than a little morally flexible – but he was also a master of his craft, a legal virtuoso who could navigate the treacherous waters of the justice system with an ease that bordered on the supernatural.
“Alright, Johnny, I’m on my way to the station now,” I said, my grip tightening on the wheel as I wove through the midday traffic. “Don’t start the party without me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, amigo,” he drawled, the faint clink of ice cubes against glass punctuating his words. “Just try not to cause too much of a ruckus when you get here, huh? These cops get awfully touchy when you start throwing your weight around.”
I snorted, my lips curving into a wolfish grin. “No promises, counselor. These bastards have my queen locked up on some bullshit charges. They’re lucky if I don’t burn the whole damn station to the ground.”
Johnny’s laughter echoed through the speaker, rich and untroubled. “That’s my boy,” he purred. “Fiery as ever. Just don’t do anything too rash. You got it? I’d hate to have to bail your ass out next.”
With a roll of my eyes and a muttered curse, I ended the call, tossing my phone onto the passenger seat as I gunned the engine. The Maserati surged forward, devouring the asphalt as I weaved through the snarled traffic with a reckless abandon that would’ve made lesser men quake in their boots.
As the police station loomed ahead, I felt a surge of resolve coursing through my veins. They could throw every charge, every accusation in the book at Natalia, but it wouldn’t matter.
I would move heaven and earth to see her free, to unleash the full fury of my resources and influence upon the system that dared to cage my queen. The wheels of justice might grind slowly, but I would be the wrench that jammed them, the unyielding force that ground their machinations to a halt.
With a grin and a gleam of determination in my eyes, I pulled into the station’s parking lot, the tires of my Maserati leaving streaks of rubber on the pavement as I brought the car to a screeching halt.
It was time to get my queen.