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

  “And I, you.” I can sense him smiling in the darkness. “Always.”

  40

  Dante – One Month Later

  My routine in a US penitentiary is no different to my routine in a Taliban jail, just without the torture and with much better food. I asserted my authority the night I arrived after some joker from my past pulled a knife on me. I dealt with him pretty quickly, and now my fellow inmates keep a respectful distance. I’m Dante fucking Santiago after all.

  Due to the overwhelming evidence against me, my trial has been brought forward. The prosecution is gunning for the death penalty, but I wasn’t expecting anything less. The die was cast from the moment I made the call to FBI Special Agent Roman Peters, and it was a sacrifice I was willing to make to free my wife and child.

  My defence team keep harking on about my distinguished military career and all the lives I’ve saved. Every piece of my past has been stripped bare for the world to see. Generals have been lining up to give their testimonies. I even have a former president who wants a piece of the action. I have a front-row seat in what is fast becoming the trial of the century.

  My willingness to strike a deal also works in my favor, as does my capture of Sevastien Petrov. By side-tracking my own vengeance and giving him up to the authorities, the CIA managed to foil a major multi-state terrorist attack that was planned for the following month. I don't know the details or the motivations, but I don't give a shit anymore. The fact that innocents have been saved is enough for me. I’m starting to see Isabella in faces again, which I like to think is her way of finally forgiving me.

  My trial starts today. It’s the first time I'll see Eve since my arrest. As one of the most dangerous criminals in the state, I haven't been allowed visitors, and I’ve pined more for a glimpse of her than I have for my freedom. Has her belly grown? Does she still have fire in her curves and hunger in those sapphires? Does she still love me as fiercely as she did?

  Our journey to the courthouse is scheduled to take twenty minutes. The glare of the media is waiting. Security is ridiculous… I’m in chains, for fuck’s sake. As I wait to step out into the bright Floridian sunshine and take the short walk to my armoured prison transport vehicle, I spot a familiar face ducking inside the doors.

  “Dante.”

  “Agent Peters, what a pleasant surprise,” I say smoothly. “Are you here to wish me luck?”

  “For you, or for your legions of misguided fans?” His eyebrows shoot up in disapproval. “You've attracted quite a following. There are people demonstrating for your release all over the country.”

  “How touching. Perhaps I should send them a thank you note?”

  He flashes a look at the two guards standing behind me before drawing me to one side. “Sevastien’s dead,” he announces, his cool jades glinting. “Someone got to him inside his cell.”

  “How unfortunate…”

  “I thought you should know.”

  “How do you think I should celebrate? With an extra helping of cheesecake at mealtime?” Fuck, I miss Bourbon.

  He leans in and gets his cheap aftershave right up in my face. “How about with your wife?” he murmurs, so quietly that only I can hear.

  “That might be a little difficult,” I say icily.

  “Perhaps.” He takes a step back again and holds out his hand. “I once shook Eve’s hand not far from this very building. At the same time I imparted something that tumbled her down a rabbit hole straight to my father. Perhaps I should do the same for you? I’m thinking of continuing his legacy.”

  I pause and stare down at his hand. “I’m all for rabbit holes, Agent Peters, but I’d prefer not to meet your father again for a while.”

  I do miss the old bastard, though.

  “I thought you might be up for one last mission.” We shake hard and firm, and to my surprise I feel something metal pressing into my palm.

  “She also asked me to pass on a message.” His expression settles into a shade past neutral, and his eyes are flashing with a knowledge that he’s dying to impart. “She said she’d like her first swimming lesson. She said you’d understand.”

  I nod, closing my fist around the object in my palm, as my heart finds a rhythm that, by rights, should be pounding a hole though my white dress shirt.

  “I once told her that she and I were unique creatures, Dante.” He glances at the door. “That we shared an ornate hunger to rid this world of crime, yet at the same time we found our morality continually tested by love.” His gaze is drilling a fucking hole through my skull now. “Perhaps, in time, we can add a new member to our group, one who fights for the right causes instead of the wrong? You were already drifting into our path. It would be a shame for that to end.”

  “Time to go.”

  A strong arm wrenches me away from him. I’m still seeking answers but his face has reverted back to cold apathy again.

  Did that really just happen? The only thing that made any sense to me over the last five minutes is the key to my handcuffs, currently buried in my palm.

  They hit the convoy just before Brickell Avenue Bridge with a precision and audacity that made me smile with pride. My vehicle was rammed so hard from the side that it flipped over, my head smashing against the metal framework of the interior. I was still in a daze as Joseph fired teargas into the vehicle, before chucking me a mask and telling me to get my fucking ass in gear.

  Rubber bullets were the rules of engagement that day. Not one single person was killed, and most walked away from the incident a few hours later. Choppers were waiting. My private aircraft was winking at me on the asphalt of Opa-Locka, and I’d never been so fucking happy to see her. I didn’t ask where Eve was at any point. I knew she was waiting, and I knew where she’d be.

  The drive from the runway to my estate is the longest five minutes of my life.

  “Stop the damn car,” I hiss at Joseph as we pull into the driveway.

  When I reach the top of the path leading down to my private beach, I loosen my tie and roll up my sleeves. There’s a lone figure down there waiting for me, and I’m tripping over my feet to reach her light and her grace.

  As I spill out onto the sand, she’s already running – her hair streaming behind her like a sheet of black silk, and with a look on her face that tells me what a total dick I was to ever doubt her.

  We crash into each other on the shaded line of the beach, where wet becomes dry. She’s travelling so fast that when I catch her, the force of her love tips me backward and we land in a fucking mess on the sand.

  “Jesus, Eve! The baby…”

  “Is fine! I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re all fine!” She’s crying tears of happiness and I want to catch every single one of them and keep them close.

  Rolling us sideways, still locked together, I slide myself between her legs and feel her body lift and press against mine.

  “We have a whole month of orgasms to catch up on, mi alma,” I murmur into her hair and she laughs, that sweet, sweet melody that makes my heart come alive.

  “We better get started then.”

  I rear back taking her bikini bottoms with me and start fighting with the buttons on my shirt. “Open up for me, my angel,” I tell her roughly. “You know how much I’ve missed your world.”

  “Our world,” she says, sitting up to clasp a warm hand around my neck, and then she’s bringing our lips together in perfect harmony, all over again.

  Epilogue

  Dante

  We buried you on a Tuesday on the west point of my island, in a spot that I chose, shaded with palm trees and pines and overlooking the beach. Something tells me you would have liked the ocean. Eve wrote a speech, and it brought me to my knees all over again. I forgot how talented she is with words. Maybe, one day, when the Santiago name isn't so perpetually hunted, she’ll be able to return to writing in some capacity.

  Your sister, Ella, came screaming into the world five weeks later, fighting for every last breath and punishing the world for merely existing
. I suspect she’d been perfectly happy inside Eve and wasn’t ready to let go, and who am I to judge? I know how she feels. She hasn’t let us forget about it since, and sleep deprivation is now my preferred method of torture.

  She’s as beautiful as you were, and my love for her is blinding. She’s another blazing trail of light in my life. Black hair, like me. Sapphires, like her mother. I think she looks like Eve. Eve disagrees, but there’s nothing new there. She still defies me at every turn. She still pushes at every button until we’re spinning around in circles, with sparks flying all over the place, but I wouldn’t have it any other way, and neither would she.

  Joseph and Anna live here on the island with us. He doesn't say much but there’s an ease about him as well these days. Blue-grays have softened and the poker face has slipped. His own darkness is lifting, which is a relief because I was starting to feel guilty about dragging him down to my level in the first place. I feel guilt a lot these days, which is fucking irritating. That’s one part of my former life that I do miss.

  Eve’s father’s body was found lying in a ditch somewhere outside Houston two months after we returned to the island. Her mother’s was found in a hotel room nearby. They suspect suicide but we know otherwise. Like Sevastien, Roman Peters was never going to let him walk away that easily. The rest of the trafficking empire crumbled in the days that followed. There’s nothing left of it now except dust and bone and broken hearts, but another evil has risen up in its place. I received an anonymous email from the FBI early this morning, and I’m still reflecting on my response. I saw the glint in Joseph’s eye when I told him about it. We’re too talented to let it slide. There are too many innocents who can benefit from our particular skillset.

  Eve grieves for her parents privately, the same way I grieve for Manuel – the half-brother that I never acknowledged in life, but appreciate so much more in death. I think I always knew the truth about him but I boxed it up with all the other sins that my father committed in that house. When we meet in the afterlife he’ll have my apology, and then maybe we’ll share a drink or three. I have a bottle of Bourbon on standby.

  It’s always summer on my island. It’s a light that never fades. Eve managed to lure Sofía back here, and I'm listening to them on the terrace outside as they attempt to feed Ella who's not having any of it. I hear a third voice too. Anna’s joined the party. Her animosity toward me lifted the moment I made that sacrifice for Eve. She seems less bruised these days. I think all our scars are healing.

  My wife is calling for me as she spills into my office, and it’s the sound of my heart and my home. She thinks she’s pregnant again, and I wouldn’t be surprised. I can't keep my hands off her and she’s not exactly resisting. I catch her as she dances across the room, all grace and elegance, and I live for the moment her slender arms curl around my neck and she presses her perfection into me.

  So, this is what it feels like to be content. To feel happiness. To breathe in every dawn and exhale every dusk… To live each day as if it’s your last, with the battlefield behind you and the sunlight glinting on your face.

  It’s something I never expect to feel in my lifetime.

  I think it’s something I could get used to.

  THE END

  Acknowledgments

  Some men are born to be dads. Not the, “I’ll take you to the park in a hour,” ones, but those who whisper, “follow your dreams, do whatever it takes because I believe in you, no matter what,” ones. I got lucky. I was blessed with the latter. He knew I should be writing even before I did. Even before life got in the way. I used to call him from movie sets, in all the weird and wonderful places I used to work, and his first words were invariably, “have you finished that bloody book yet?” I don't like being told what to do so of course I shelved it. Then the unthinkable happened and we lost him. Three days later, cancer took a swing at me too, so now I write for the both of us. The night I signed my first publishing contract, I drank a bucket of champagne and raised my glass to him. So in a roundabout way, with lots of digression, this one’s for you, dad.

  To M – The man who literally holds me all together. I use the word ‘literally’ on purpose because I know how much he hates it. Cancer shatters you. Somehow you have to piece back all the broken fragments of yourself, and then recurrence happens and you’re back to square one. For the second time in my life I got lucky. I married a man who makes me cry with laughter five minutes before a major operation and comes with an endless supply of superglue. Thank you for looking after our kids when I’m stuck in hospital or locked away in my writing cave, tearing my hair out and cursing all the wonderful authors who can write forty thousand words in a morning when I can barely write forty.

  To E & J – Despite the tipped hourglass hanging over all our heads, I hope I’m giving you the same belief in yourself that my parents did. You're tough cookies, both of you, and I love you past the moon, all the way to Jupiter, only to slingshot around the sun a couple of times, and then back again. There is far too much screen time when mummy’s working but I don't think you’re complaining…

  To all the book bloggers who took a chance on a rookie – Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

  To Kathi G and your Dark Angels – What an amazingly filthy fabulous group you are. Every romance writer should have a couple of your angels dancing on their shoulders and cheering them on.

  To my fledging street team – We may be few but we roar like lions! Paula, Tania, Eve, Sammy, Sue, Heather, Amanda, Natasha, Kae, Ashley & Julia. Thank you for loving Dante and Eve as much as I do.

  To Maria at Steamy Designs – Thank you for bringing Dante to life. I love the new covers. They’re everything I wanted and more.

  I’m sure it’s not customary to ask you mother to proofread your erotic romance novel but she’s great (and free), and I trust her judgment more than anyone. No one should watch their child go through cancer. You’re the kindest, strongest, bravest person I know.

  And finally to the readers… Without you, I wouldn’t exist. I’d be a poorly used comma in the paragraph of life. Thank you for making all my dreams come true.

  Joseph book anyone?

  CW

  About the Author

  Catherine is a romance author, mum-of-two, former TV producer and self-confessed alpha addict. Her writing is best described as sinfully sexy and romantic, and she recently signed her first publishing deal.

  She lives in a village near Bath in the UK with her husband and young daughters. For book and blog updates please visit www.catherinewiltcher.com

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