Hearts Of Darkness (The Santiago Trilogy Book 1)

by Catherine Wiltcher

  This room is no different. It’s dark and foul smelling and still this mysterious dripping continues, as constant as it is pervasive. It’s enough to drive a weak mind crazy and a strong one weak.

  I’ve frequented my fair share of these places over the last two decades. I’ve played the roles of both the tormentor and the tortured. Today it seems my fortunes have fallen on the latter. I’m held in solitude, bound and gagged, my arms suspended from a rope from the ceiling. My broken shoulder, limp and useless, gluts my senses with agony. Every movement makes me want to retch. The worst of the pain lies elsewhere, though. It’s there in my thoughts, in the deepest, darkest corners of my imagination.

  I can’t let them put their hands on Eve. I’ve seen what men like us do to the women of our enemies. It’s a predilection I’ve never acquired the taste for. Emilio’s the worst. Torture is too kind a word for what he makes them endure. I used to lie awake in my bed as a young boy listening to the screams of women through my bedroom wall. He learned from the best… By the time my mother killed herself she was a broken woman. My father’s knife at her wrist was the kindest touch she’d known in twenty years.

  How long has he been plotting this coup d’état? Is this the fancy finale of an elaborate long game or is Eve the catalyst that threw fuel at his disillusions of grandeur? He’s a bigger fool than I thought if he reckons he can run this business without me. He’s too weak. His own men are lacking in skill, Rodrigo couldn’t command a battalion of fucking monkeys.

  How blind I’ve been to think he’d never betray me. How duped I’ve been by his obsession with loyalty.

  My wrath is a frenzied paroxysm in burning shades of red. He’ll pay for this. They all will. But first I have to get the hell out of this room.

  I have no idea where Tomas and Joseph are being held but something tells me I’m about to find out. There are footsteps outside my cell. There’s the clunk of a heavy bolt being pulled back and then the door opens. I’m blinded by a shot of dazzling sunshine before a large silhouette steps into view. A moment later a bucket of water is being chucked at my face. My lungs burn as I fight for air. I cough and splutter and strain at the rope that binds me as I hear my jailer chuckling.

  “Look what we have here… the great Dante Santiago. Strung up in my basement like a pussy.”

  Rodrigo

  He collapses into a chair and chucks a large hunting knife and a bottle of tequila onto the table next to him. He sighs contentedly and sizes up my torso as if deciding which part of me to carve up first.

  Just a foot closer, dickhead… Then I can wrap my legs around your treacherous neck and snap you like a twig.

  “I can smell your anger, Dante,” he grins, his damn singsong voice a torture all by itself. “It’s so toxic it’s got its own odor.” He pitches forward, yanks off my gag and steps back before I have a chance to react.

  “I’m going to rip your fucking face off,” I snarl at him.

  That wipes the smirk off of his face. “Last time I looked I’m the one with the knife.” He jerks his head at the ugly, serrated bastard lying in wait for me on the table.

  I silently revise my plan. I’m going to choke him with his own vocal chords before gauging out his eye.

  “Emilio knew you’d figure it out,” he says, leaning back in his chair and stretching his legs out in front of him. “It was just a case of getting you on that plane. We never expected you to take the bait and fly all the way to Colombia…”

  He’s mocking me now, and so he should. My arrogance stopped me listening to Joseph, stopped me decoding the warning signs that have been flashing in my face for the last few weeks. Like a fool I believed in my own infallibility.

  “How?” I practically hurl the word in his face.

  “Precision and audacity,” he taunts, turning my own words back on me, the ones I pride myself so much upon. “We were watching you from the moment you landed, we have camera rigged up all along this track. We were just picking our moment to blast your men to hell.”

  “Where’s Emilio now?”

  “At your compound, probably sticking it to your American. I hope she has a high pain threshold.”

  I block out the cruel bite of his words, reverting back to cold disinterest. It’s my survival mechanism. I need to believe that she’s safe in my bunker. I’ll deal with the consequences of what she’ll discover there on my return.

  “You killed my men.” I spit it out through gritted teeth. The hurt from my shoulder is spreading across the rest of my torso like some flesh-eating disease.

  “It was my pleasure,” he leers.

  “Where’s Grayson?”

  “Waiting patiently, he’s next on my list.” Rodrigo picks up the knife. With his other hand he takes a swig from the bottle. “Emilio’s consented to letting me have a little fun before I kill you. I’m calling it payback for that stunt you pulled on the plane last week.”

  A low growl rumbles up and out of my throat. “I should have broken your neck when I had the chance.”

  Rodrigo smirks again. “You’re a conceited bastard, Dante Santiago, but not for much longer.” He swaggers a foot or so towards me. “You and your men have lorded it over us for too long. What makes you so special? Any fool can shoot a gun.”

  “What an accurate description of yourself.”

  “Enough talking.” He reaches out and presses the blade of his knife against my throat. He’s so close I can smell his sweat and excitement. His eyes are glittering with the thrill of the kill and he can’t contain a moan of pleasure when the first crimson beads appear. “I’m going to enjoy every moment of this.”

  Any minute now, you fucker... I’ve got a little something for you too.

  I’m not scared of pain. I’ve never broken under torture. I’ve been beaten, water-boarded, electrocuted. The most they’ve ever gotten from me has been my spit in their faces but the way Rodrigo’s leering at me is making my blood freeze in a way it never has before. I’ve developed a weakness since those days and if I don’t break free soon these men are going to devastate her.

  “Do you know what I’m planning to do to her first?” he drawls, as if reading my mind. Like it’s no big deal to him. Like it’s not the biggest mistake of his life saying this shit to me. “I’m going to make her strip and then I’m going to make her hurt bad. And after that long, long night is through, if she’s still alive, I’m going to take this knife and–”

  With a roar of pure rage I yank at my restraints, ignoring the pain that’s obliterating my left arm, slicing more of my skin on the jagged blade of his knife.

  “I bet she tastes good, Dante.”

  “You’re a dead man, Rodrigo. You better turn that knife on yourself before I get my hands on it.”

  I’m so consumed with rage that I don’t notice movement behind him, and nor does he until it’s too late. I watch him spin around in surprise but we both know the game is up. A second later my face is drenched in sticky red warmth as he drops to his knees clutching at the gaping wound in his throat, his death rattle poisoning the air.

  “Never did like him,” Joseph mutters, materializing behind him, landing a kick to his backside and sending him sprawling face-first into a grim pool of his own gore.

  “Nicely done,” I murmur cool as anything, though I’ve never been so glad to see him in my life. “Where’s Tomas?”

  “Dispensing with a couple of assholes of his own.”

  “How did you free yourself?”

  “These amateurs never checked the knife strapped to my calf.”

  I have a sudden flash of Eve again. Does she still have mine? Meanwhile Rodrigo is still clawing at his neck on the floor, trying to knit together the gaping wound with his fingers.

  “Untie me,” I say grimly. “I’m not done with him yet.”

  Joseph slices through my ropes and then hands me his knife. I roll my shoulders back and smile down at my foe. The thrill of the kill is now mine and mine alone to satisfy. It’s time to slake the deep well of d
arkness inside of me. Whatever happens next, Rodrigo’s last few seconds of life are going to extremely unpleasant for him.

  22

  Eve

  Dante’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 rip through me. 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 desire him even after knowing what he’d done to my family.

  Making me want him, even now.

  Looking back I can’t help marvelling at my naivety. I just didn’t connect, couldn’t comprehend, never envisaged… But I can’t think about it anymore, I can’t even begin to grasp the damage. It’s too painful and shocking, and anger is already edging into this bleakest of scenarios.

  The stillness of the bunker only seems to emphasize his deception more. I can almost hear the jagged, uneven beating of my broken heart as we enter the first of three large rooms. It’s a control centre. His office. I count at least two-dozen security cameras mounted onto the far wall. Half are out – either destroyed or malfunctioning. The rest are still trained on different areas of his compound, all of which are now rubble or burning. His kingdom is being razed to the ground before my very eyes. By his own brother.

  One thing’s for sure, the Santiago’s reign of terror is done. Whatever private war this is will have far-reaching consequences across the communities of South America and Florida.

  A glass desk occupies a prime position right in front of the cameras, and to the left are a couple of black leather couches. Manuel’s sat on the edge of one with a laptop on his knee, his loaded machinegun 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 down here. We must be a hundred meters underground.

  “Does this make any sense to you?” I say, gazing at the laptop screen over his shoulder where lines of indecipherable code are flittering left to right at a breakneck speed.

  He nods. “I was a computer analyst once.”

  “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 Señor Santiago is a huge honor in my country, señorita. 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 and he still has him stuck on some sick, twisted pedestal. The loyalty he inspires is unfathomable to me, especially now.

  Manuel blushes beneath his bruises. “I was out of line, señorita. Any man would have done the same thing. Can’t you see? You are his queen.”

  “I’m not his queen, I’m his prisoner,” I retort angrily. “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. My emotions are threatening to overwhelm me. “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 Señor 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 sigh, finishing off his sentence for him. “He asked you to lie about his name, didn’t he? He asked you not to call him by his surname anymore.”

  “Yes, señorita.”

  “What did he say to you on that beach that day you first met me?”

  “That I was to guard you with my life. That your value to him with incomparable.”

  My flash of elation shatters me further. I have to remind myself that they’re just words. Dante’s good with those. He doesn’t deserve a single, trace of my affection anymore. Besides, it won’t change anything. My mind is made up. As soon as I get out of here I’m going to unmask him as the immoral bastard that he is. His facial 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 his beautiful, terrible face is topping their Most Wanted lists

  “There is no place on earth you can hide from me. Our souls are bound forever…”

  Lies.

  His passionate declaration in the car was just him tightening his grip on me. I see that now. He knew I was falling for him so he stepped up his manipulation to another level.

  My mind is filled with all the blood-soaked images I’ve been privy to during my years of research into the Santiago’s. Photographs depicting mangled and mutilated corpses strewn across empty warehouses. Then there are the more personal, like watching my own brother die an agonizingly slow death in a cold, hospital bed. Dante has left a shattering trail of destruction in his wake and he needs to be held accountable. What’s happening here today is his retribution. I hope he burns in hell along with his fortress.

  “You are special to him, señorita,” I hear Manual say gently. He’s studying my face again but for what? Traces of compassion? Of forgiveness? There are none and there never will, be but damn my heart for stuttering at his words again.

  “Dante Santiago isn’t capable of such sentiments,” I say harshly. “He may say them out loud but he’ll never truly mean them.”

  “No man can live without love forever.”

  “He’s not a man, he’s a monster! One day you’ll realize it too.”

  “Here señorita, you’re shivering. Take this.” Sofía reappears next to me clutching a man’s blue shirt and arranges it across my shoulders. A darkly rich and familiar scent hits my senses and I tear it from my body immediately. “Where did you find this?” I demand angrily.

  “Next door in his closet.” She looks crushed.

  “I’m sorry, Sofía, I didn’t mean to react like that. Thanks for thinking of me but I’d rather freeze to death than wear anything of his.” I sit back down next to Manuel. “If you can’t get us back online will the smoke raise the alarm?”

  He shakes his head. “The authorities know to leave this place well alone.”

  My slim, sliver of hope is extinguished. “You mean they’re paid off?”

  The guard’s silence is diplomatic. He shrugs awkwardly and his gaze flitters back to the laptop screen. At the same time the underground bunker is rocked by a violent shudder and Sofía whimpers in fright.

  “Why would Señor Emilio do this?”

  Because he’s a master criminal with no morals or scruples like your own boss?

  “Because he has a death wish,” Manuel growls. “There is no one more deadly than Señor 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’s not?” I interject quietly. “What if he captures one of Dante’s 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 he keep here?”

  “There is 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 are. I think Mozambique lies next to Zimbabwe and S
outh Africa. Somehow I need to get to a US embassy or consul in either of those two countries.

  “We need to get to that boathouse,” I say urgently, 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,” Sofía says, 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 then 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. The first reveals a functional white en suite and the second, a walk-in closet. I gaze in shock at the rows of designer suits and shirts laid out before me. So this is where he keeps all his stuff. 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 life.

  Before I can stop myself I’m inside the closet and inhaling deeply. His rich, masculine smell will forever be the scent of betrayal but now I find myself devising a sort of comfort from it as well. My eyes prick with tears. None of this makes sense to me. 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? This place doesn’t belong on maps. The authorities shun its very existence. It’s a place of secrets and lies, yet I can’t help thinking that his last few remaining truths are concealed around here somewhere.

  Perhaps in this closet?