Hearts On Fire (The Santiago Trilogy Book 3) Read online

  There’s a long pause. “You better not be bullshitting me about your past, Santiago,” he warns, pulling out a small knife from beneath his ripped fatigues. “’Cos the only way we’re getting out of this hellhole is by inflicting some serious murder on these motherfuckers. I have it on good authority you’re the best man for the job.”

  Wordlessly, I take the weapon from him, turning it over and assessing its worth, hope surging through my veins like a fine wine. It’s a little rusty but the blade is sharp enough, and a plan starts to form in my mind. “Watch and learn, Joseph Grayson,” I tell him with a grin. “Just you watch and learn.”

  31

  Eve

  Dante has the whole of the top floor of The Regency booked out for us, under an alias of course. It’s a swanky, upscale hotel in downtown Miami where once upon a time I won an award for a job I can’t remember much about anymore. Loving Dante is like falling into a black hole. Everything around you is eviscerated, but if he chose to walk away from me I’d be eviscerated anyway, and I know it swings both ways. He’s as beguiled with me as I am with him now.

  He’s hiding from the authorities in plain sight as usual. Rick has accompanied us here, as have ten of Dante’s men and five of Rick’s. Rick has a mansion in South Beach, the same place where I used to have an apartment. He lives at the rich end, the other end, divided from mine by a couple of extra million in the bank and fewer morals. It’s too hot for him to go back there right now. The FBI has taken up permanent residence in the streets outside. He and Petrov are on decent terms, but it’s clearly not enough to secure protection from his son, Roman – or FBI Agent Peters as he likes to be called when he’s not pretending to play two sides of the same coin.

  After ordering a burger and fries from room service, I barricade myself inside one of the marble bathrooms and pull out Rick’s cell. I have seconds before he checks his pockets and cancels the service. I’m on borrowed time already.

  Sitting down hard on the side of the bathtub, I transfer the number over from my phone into his. My heart is pumping so hard I can feel the veins in my forehead throbbing. My hands are so clammy I nearly drop the device, twice. I’m suspended between a wrong and an even greater wrong. I’m betraying my husband by wanting to speak with my father who may have helped traffick his daughter and abduct my best friend. I’m seeking a truth that will only cause me more pain.

  “You’ve been fed lies baby girl. So many lies”

  This whole situation is breaking me in two. I want to run and hide in Dante’s arms, and then my mom’s face flashes before my eyes. Before I know it, my finger is hitting the green button and I’m holding my breath.

  It rings and rings. I almost give up before a voice answers that has tears streaming down my face.

  “Baby girl. I knew you’d call.”

  “Dad?” I croak. The same images from the forest are back haunting me again. I’m shaking so hard, my teeth are like colliding atoms inside my skull. I didn't want to leave you in that hospital. I went with him to save you. “What have you done?”

  There’s a pause, and then a sigh. “Can we talk about it?”

  “Were you going to kill me in that forest?” Is this for real? No daughter should ever have to ask her father that question.

  “Never, baby girl.” His fierce denial brings on another wave of tears. “Meet me at our place. You remember our place, don't you?”

  Tam’s Diner on 10th. The memories are so lucid I can almost taste the bad filter coffee. Red tiles. Saturday treat. Britney on the jukebox. It was ours, and it was real. “I remember,” I whisper.

  “Are you in Miami?”

  I nod before remembering he can't see gestures down the line. “Yes.”

  “Six pm tonight. I’ll be waiting baby girl with your favorite shake.” Strawberry Crush. “See you then.”

  He hangs up and I stare at the phone in disbelief. Did that really just happen? It’s nearly four thirty already, and it’ll take me at least forty-five to get across town.

  On the other side of the door I can hear a faint knocking as my room service arrives. As quick as I can, I switch off Rick’s cell and hide it at the back of the shelf in the vanity table, behind a couple of white towels. Throwing my hands under a running faucet, I wipe them dry and emerge from the bathroom. To my left, I can see Rick prowling around my room service trolley in the lobby like a hungry animal, lifting the metal plate cover and stealing my fries.

  “Shall I remove his fingers?” growls a voice in my ear.

  I jump in fright, my brain scrambling to disassociate my father from Dante’s intent. He’s talking about Rick…

  “No one steals from my pregnant angel.”

  “No need for bloodshed over a couple of fries.” I lean back against Dante’s wall of muscle and pull his arms into a tight loop around me, attempting to hug away my imminent deceit. “I’m not that hungry after my eight course lunch.”

  “Can I do it for sport? I’ll let you watch.”

  “You’re unbelievable. How can you joke about this stuff?”

  “Find humor in any situation, mi alma. It keeps you sharp.”

  Tugging me back into the bathroom, he pins me against the nearest tiled wall, one hand above my head, the other gently splayed out across my belly. “I’ve been neglecting you,” he says, nuzzling into my hair, “but not with my thoughts. I can't stop reliving last night. I’ve never come so hard in my life.”

  “Me neither.” I close my eyes as his tongue licks the long slit of my mouth before driving between my teeth. Decisive and deadly.

  He kisses me like I’m his salvation, sweeping great hungry arcs around my mouth that lay me bare to his hand as it slides under my sundress. I feel his fingers brush against the front of my panties, sending shockwaves to the deepest places.

  “Wait, Dante.” I curl my hand around his to stop his advances and he growls threateningly. “If you deny me one more fucking time, mi alma…”

  What if this is it? What if this is the last time we make love as a perfect whole? What if my father has information on Dante that’s going to chip away at our veneer?

  “I’m not denying you,” I start to pull down my panties for myself. “I’m just giving you easier access.”

  His sensuous mouth curves. “That’s music to my ears… Sanders might get to keep his fingers after all.”

  He leads me over to the white vanity table, spins me around and bends me over the porcelain sink. “Lean forward,” he orders, dropping to his knees behind me and flipping my dress up. “I’ll let you into a secret, Eve. I could get used to this position, but only when my wife’s ass is served up to me on a platter.”

  I gasp in surprise and embarrassment as he spreads my cheeks wide and traces my crease with his tongue, stopping at my back entrance to rim slow, lazy circles. This man is filth personified.

  “Oh my God!”

  “Don't give him the fucking credit,” he murmurs.

  All thoughts about Rick’s cell lying three feet away disappear when he eases his tongue inside me. “Holy shit!” I moan, gripping the antique faucets as he starts to fuck my ass. At the same time, he slides two fingers inside my pussy and my body detonates, my orgasm spilling out over his hand as I shudder and convulse on top of the vanity table

  “Keep your voice down,” he hisses, rising up like a menacing dark shadow behind me. “Let’s not put Rick off his fries.”

  I watch him yank his jeans down.

  “Eyes on me, Eve,” They find his in the mirror, blues conceding to chocolate brown for one night only. “I want to see a mess on that pretty face as I make all your fucking fantasies come true.”

  “You are my fantasy,” I croak.

  “Damn right I am.” Wrapping his fist around my hair, he arches my body into a tight knot as he eases me back onto his waiting cock. My eyes flutter shut in ecstasy as he fills me up to the hilt, and then his palm is stinging my ass. “Eyes on me, mi alma,” he growls. “You know how much I hate to repeat myself.”


  Spellbound by the lust on his face, powerless to move my head, I’m a voyeur and willing participant as he pounds his cock into my body, keeping it slow and steady, and at a pace I know I wouldn’t be receiving if I wasn’t carrying his child. I’m burning, gasping. I’m so ready to come. His gaze is stripping my face raw and a thin glaze of sweat is coating his forehead.

  “Now, my angel,” he says roughly, and I fly apart beneath him. The rules go to shit as he comes too, roaring my name and tipping his head back as his cock jerks fiercely inside me.

  Letting go of my hair, he eases me back down to the vanity table and kisses the dip between my shoulder blades. “Where the hell did you learn to fuck like that?”

  “You,” I say simply, too weak to move.

  He pulls out of me, and turns to switch the shower on as reality slinks back into my consciousness like an unwanted visitor.

  “I want to go shopping,” I mumble, pulling down the hem of my dress.

  “What do you need? I’ll send someone out.” He drops his jeans and pulls off his black T-shirt as he steps into the cubicle.

  I shake my head and keep my gaze steady as I join him by the frosted panel. “Wilt gave me these prenatal pills to take every day and I think I left them behind in Nairobi.”

  “I’ll call him in five and get a new script.” His hands are muffling his voice as he rubs shower gel into his face. “Why are your clothes still on? I’ve dirtied you up and now I want to wash you clean.”

  “Are you listening to me?”

  “Not really.”

  “I want to walk to the nearest drugstore myself,” I tell him firmly. “It’s a beautiful evening and I love this neighbourhood. Please, Dante. We’ve covered God knows how many continents these past few days. I feel like I’m going crazy. My ankle’s healed and I need some headspace.”

  He leans his head around the frosted glass and tilts my chin to look at him. The water is making black starfish out of his eyelashes. I want to build a home from the calm in his eyes. Please say no... Please say no…

  “Fine. But you’re taking Reece with you.”

  I nod and smile, putting on a show of thanks when all I want is to beg him to take it back. This feels wrong. Lady Instinct is shaking her head violently at me.

  I have a sinking premonition that I’m never going to see him again.

  32

  Eve

  I’m so nervous I could die. What’s worse, the old drugstore clerk is refusing to play along.

  “Please,” I say timidly, stealing furtive glances in Reece’s direction. The huge African American is over by the door, crowding out the place with his glares and massive shoulders. Perfect. “This guy’s been stalking me for days. I’m so scared. I just need a distraction so I can slip away.”

  “Can’t you call the authorities?” He peers down at me over his gold frame half-moon reading glasses.

  “He is a cop,” I whisper. Just a two hundred pound one who has never seen a donut in his life.

  “I’ll help you, lady,” mutters the teenage boy in the retro Star Wars T-shirt next to me who is busy checking out the cheap sunglasses rack by the counter. I smile my thanks and he blushes slightly. “Are you ready to run?”

  I nod, and with a grin he sweeps the whole display onto the floor. The resulting clatter is deafening and the drugstore clerk looks like he’s about to have a heart attack. Everyone in the shop, including Reece, comes rushing over to see what’s going on.

  “You okay?” he yells at me, yanking me backward away from the mess.

  “Hey man, can you help?” The boy starts piling plastic sunglasses into his arms.

  “Get this shit off of me!”

  With Reece temporarily side-tracked, I slip into the next aisle of shampoos and conditioners and pelt full-speed toward the door. I’m already flinging it open and diving out onto the street when I hear my name being shouted.

  The sidewalks are crammed with commuting office workers and I lose myself in a herd of navy-blue lounge suits as they charge toward the nearest Metrorail station. Peering through the gaps in their broad shoulders, I see Reece look left and right before he’s bombing it in the opposite direction back to the hotel.

  Sticking my hand up at a passing cab, I throw myself into the backseat, thanking all the transport gods for gifting me a taxi at the height of rush hour. “Tenth Street,” I cry out to the driver, ducking down as we pass Reece. He’s standing on the edge of the sidewalk now with his phone clamped to his ear and a grim expression on his face. Dante’s going to beat the shit out of him for losing me like this, but I haven’t sorted through the consequences pile of my plan yet.

  It’s ten past six by the time the cab pulls up outside Tam’s. The diner is a popular old-school hangout that’s been built inside the metal shell of an old railroad car. I’m sinking into a wishing well of memories as I make my way up to the entrance. I lost my first tooth in this place. I can sense the ghost of my twelve-year-old brother, Ryan, chucking his bike down on the sidewalk and pounding up the steps behind me. It’s a sly move on my father’s part to suggest meeting here. I’m out of kilter, even before I’ve stepped through the door.

  It’s quiet tonight. Really quiet. That should have been my first warning. There are a couple of guys over by the jukebox and a young girl perched on a chrome and red leather barstool eating alone at the counter. Right at the back, sat in the corner booth, there’s a man hunched over the table with a black baseball cap pulled down low over his eyes. It’s only when I take a step closer that he lifts his head and smiles a bullet, shooting me down with twenty-five years’ worth of memories.

  “Baby girl,” he says in his deep lullaby rumble, rising slowly to his feet, his handsome face creasing into a warm smile. “I’m glad you called.”

  He looks older than I remembered. His face is thinner. His frown lines have outdone his laughter lines, and the glimpses of hair under his baseball cap are all salt and no pepper. His clothes are tired and instantly recognizable. Like the boots he wore in Amsterdam, they are proof of a family history that can never be erased.

  I slide into the booth opposite him, ignoring his outstretched arms. “I can't stay long,” I tell him bluntly. “I’m here for the truth, not for some schmaltzy family reunion.”

  “Of course not.” He shuffles back down to the bench and pushes a huge milkshake across the table at me. “Strawberry Crush. Your favorite.”

  “Not for a few years.” I halt its progression and it hovers equidistant between us, suspended between hope and rejection, before he’s dropping his hand first.

  I watch his eyes drift down to the rings on my finger, only to snap back up to my face again. I wait for him to mention Dante but he catches the waitress’s eye instead.

  “Couple of beers here, please?”

  “I’m not drinking,” I say quickly.

  His smile freezes, but again he doesn’t ask the obvious. “How have you been?”

  “Not great actually.” I’m sick of his rules of engagement already. “Two days ago I got chased by a couple of human traffickers through a forest. Ring any bells?”

  He sighs and rests his hands on the table. “It’s not what you think.”

  “Then enlighten me. I’m all ears.” I sit back on my bench and fold my arms, bristling with hostility.

  “I’ve been working undercover, Evie.”

  “Bullshit!” I’m furious he’s trying to make up some crap excuse. “There’s nothing undercover about you. You're just a dirty agent and a terrible father.”

  “Is that what you really think, or are these words from his mouth?”

  It’s his first reference to Dante, the first of many tonight I suspect.

  “I saw the photos, Dad. I saw you smiling as you forced underage girls into a fucking truck to be used and abused all over the world.” The bile catches in my throat. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea to come. “Where’s Mom?”

  “She’s safe. We’re under a witness protection program.”

>   “Why the WPP if you’re undercover?”

  “My cover was blown recently. There are bad people after me.”

  There’s a lull as his beer is bought to the table. I watch him take a slow sip and notice that his hands are trembling.

  “Tell me why?” I say, turning down the resentment a notch.

  There’s a pause as vintage Blondie comes on the jukebox. Atomic. When he glances back at me, his sad smile has vanished. It’s like he can't be bothered to keep up the pretence anymore, and now it’s time for business.

  “Is it true you married the man who murdered your brother?”

  It comes at me like a whip crack, slicing through blood and bone.

  “Yes, I married him,” I confirm quietly. “I forgave him and I’ve made my peace with it.”

  “Just like that?” His expression is devastating. So much disgust.

  “He turned up at the hospital to kill you,” I say, losing my temper. “The night you tried to walk away from Sevastien? I was there and I made a bargain – my life for yours. I don’t know why I’m bothering to tell you this. It’s not going to change a damn thing but that’s my truth. At least I can be honest about my choice.”

  The temperature between us is growing colder by the second.

  “Am I supposed to thank you for it?”

  I focus on the milkshake that’s still sitting equidistant between us. I count out the swollen lumps of strawberry stuck together at the top like floating islands. I wish I was back home on Dante’s.

  “You dishonor your brother,” he snarls suddenly.

  “You dishonor your son’s memory far more by siding with Sevastien Petrov.” I’m sick of his accusation when his moral compass is far worse than mine. “Do you know what your friends tried to do to me last week?”

  “He’ll be dead or in jail within the next forty-eight hours.” It’s as if he didn't hear me. “Your prince will fall and you’ll be a poor little princess without a kingdom, a family or a job.”