Page 63 of Hearts Of Darkness

Manuel nods and I see the rage flaring in his eyes on behalf of his betrayed boss. By the time Dante lands in Colombia and realizes what’s happening, his compound will be decimated.

“What does Emilio want? His weapons?”

He gazes at me steadily. “No, señorita. Señor Emilio is here for the one thing that Señor Dante prizes most of all. He is here foryou.”

An icy shiver ripples through me. “Me?But how could he possibly know about… Valentina,” I say with a wail. “She was working for him.”

“Señor Dante and Señor Emilio are…were…business partners.” The elevator jerks to a stop.

Business Partners?For some reason these words scare me more than anything else this evening.

Another silence fills the small space, choking and suffocating me as I fight to quell the fresh bubble of panic rising up inside.

“Manuel,” I say, rounding on him again as the doors slide open. “I need to know what business they partnered in. Was it anything to do with mercenary contracts?”

He shakes his head, and my icy shivers increase, tenfold. “They are big bosses, Señorita Eve. Cartel bosses from South America.”

“What did you say?” My voice sounds little more than a rasp, a fading cry from a bird with a broken wing.

“Narcotics, señorita. Cocaine.”

I reel sideways, slapping my hand against the side of the elevator to stop myself from falling. The blood is rushing in my ears. “No that’s impossible, he’s a mercenary,” I counter weakly. “He told me he was a mercenary.”

Did he?

I can’t bring myself to ask it. I can’t bring myself to put forth the one question I’ll do anything to escape the answer to, but my lips start moving of their own accord.

“Tell me Dante’s surname.”

I know what they’re going to say. The truth has been there all along, but I chose to tuck it away in the darkest recesses of my mind and allow myself to be swept up in all his Machiavellian beauty. It’s been staring at me from the beginning—the money, the hired guards, the compound, the Colombian connections.

“Santiago, señorita,” Sofía mutters, dropping her eyes to the floor again. She can’t bear to witness the utter devastation in mine for a second longer. “His name is Dante Santiago.”

21

DANTE

By the time we land in Leticia, dusk has already fallen over the sedate jungle gateway town. We load our equipment into the waiting vehicles and set a course for Emilio’s compound. The humidity is more intense here. For those of us born in South America, it serves as nothing more than an irritation and an extra notch on the air conditioning unit. For others, like Joseph and Tomas, it’s cloying and insufferable, and they’re dripping with sweat before we’ve even left the airport.

We’re traveling off-road on simple dirt tracks that jar every damn bone in our bodies. The headlights keep throwing up strange reflections in the curb-side undergrowth, circular eyes of indistinguishable creatures. Some might call them supernatural, but all that stuff is bullshit to me. True horror alreadyexists in men like us.

A strange atmosphere has settled over the vehicle. It’s an awareness, fueled by a soldier’s intuition. My finger holds fast to the trigger of my gun. No let-up. I’m gripped with a readiness to fight, to kill, and for the first time today I’m putting some weight behind Joseph’s words. He’s right. Something’s off.

Rattled, I reach for my cell to call Emilio.

No answer.

I try again.

Nothing.

We’re five minutes out from his compound when Eve’s face flashes before my eyes. I feel an overwhelming compulsion to turn around and head back to the airport.

“Tomas, stop the car.”

He hits the brakes and the two vehicles behind us follow our lead. I share a look with Joseph, his gray-blues stabbing me in the darkness. We need to trust our instincts here. Mine has saved my life too many times in the past to discredit it now.

“You feel it too,” he states bluntly.

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