Page 57 of Hearts Of Darkness

19

DANTE

Istare at Joseph as I try and process this clusterfuck of information.

“Gomez is dead.”Surely, he’s not implying it’s suspicious. The guy was a hundred pounds overweight—a walking heart attack waiting to happen. Besides, his son isn’t one to make waves. He’ll carry on the supply chain with his processing plants and honor our contract for as long as we tell him to. If not, I’ll send a couple of men down to Colombia to show him exactly what our back-out clause looks like.

As for Sanders, he's partying too hard again. Last month he woke up on a fucking cargo ship bound for Australia. I've joined him myself on a couple of occasions… Since then, I’ve learned some self-control. The guy's a wildcard, but he always delivers. That's why I tend not to give him too much shit about it.

Joseph seems agitated though, and it’s not like him. We’ve done three tours in Afghanistan, and I’ve never seen him as edgy as this. I snap my belt together and readjust myself discreetly.

Think, Dante. Think.

I'm still hard. I’m still reeling from the conversation in the car. I've never laid my heart on the line like that for anyone, but it felt like a compulsion I couldn't quit. I had to have that guarantee from her. We’re skirting ever closer to the truth about me. I needed to seal the deal before my duplicity is exposed. Somehow, I’ll make her forgive me for driving her brother to suicide and for being the man she’s despised for all these years. The odds are stacked against me, but I'll do whatever it takes.

Get your head back in the game, Dante.

Serious shit has gone down.

Damage limitation is required.

The timing is suspicious, I’ll give him that. The final negotiations for the New York deal are taking place next week. If the Italians get wind of a potential destabilization in our organization, they'll yank the play from the table. We’re coming to this partnership strong, but it’s based on our ability to deliver quality merchandise, as well as the skill of our men in annihilating the competition.We need this deal to cement our credibility after the Garcia fiasco…

“I want a team of fifty in New York by the end of play today,” I tell him, reeling off my orders like I’m in total fucking control as usual. “If this is a ploy to derail the deal, I want our men there armed and ready. I want you to oversee it personally. Get Nicolas and his men on stand-by in Miami. Send fifty more to help Sanders’ people. We need to track him down. If this is a declaration of war, we need all heads in the game. I’ll take tento Colombia with me.”

“That’ll leave twenty or so here. You okay with that?”

I appreciate the question. There’s no point in concealing my interest in Eve Miller any longer. I never left her bedroom yesterday, which is quite a turnaround for a workaholic like me.

“Fine,” I say, yanking the door open again.My angel will be safest here until I return.

Eve is still sitting where I left her, her long legs tucked under her.

“Come,” I say, motioning impatiently at her.

She does as I ask, sliding over to my seat and stepping out of the vehicle. She gazes up at me shyly, and, once again, there are unspoken questions in her eyes.

“Leave the car,” I tell Joseph, taking her by the arm, and pulling her into step with me. “I’m heading back to the house. I’ll be ready to leave in an hour. Make sure my gear is charged and loaded. We’ll finalize the plans as soon as I’ve made this call.”

Joseph nods, and turns back toward the barracks, his eyes flickering over Eve as he passes. My hand tightens and she whimpers in protest.Keep your eyes to yourself, Joseph. Remember what I did to Manuel…

God knows how many times he’s caught me in compromising positions with women over the years. I haven’t exactly been subtle, and I’ve never minded until now. Then again, I’ve never been burdened with these lava flows of jealousy until Eve came into my life. I’ll kill any man who tries to get close to her, including my closest ally and friend.

“Dante, what’s wrong?” Her soft voice is tentative, yet insistent. She’s my inquisitive angel, like always.

“Business,” I say tersely, marching her up the driveway. “I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone our sightseeing tour for another day.”

“Are you going back to Colombia?”

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“It depends.”

On how much of a fucking mess there is to unpick, and how long it’s going to take to talk my brother down from a swift and bloody vengeance.

If we’re under attack, we need to be smarter than that. We need to consolidate and strategize. Joseph and I have spent the last decade building and training an army more lethal than a Navy SEAL’s team. They’re under my command to deploy with devastating effect whenever I fucking feel like it.

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