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 South 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?

Or in the cabinets in his office?

The reporter in me wants to tear this place apart until I find the answers to all my questions. What turns a man into one of the deadliest drug dealers in the world? What buttons were pressed? What hardships has he endured? Can he ever redeem himself? There’s still light in him, I’ve sensed it. I can’t save him but perhaps, in time, I could learn to understand him.

What the hell am I thinking?

Never in a million years will I ever surrender to his touch again. I’ll never understand his motives, nor will I ever forgive them.

I slide the drawer towards me and then freeze. There are photos in here. Hundreds and hundreds of photos – black and white, color… The top one catches my attention straightaway and I hold it up for a closer inspection. It’s a picture of a little girl with black hair, no older than three or four. She’s holding out a half-eaten ice cream for the lens and smiling at whoever is holding the camera. Her eyes are reeling me in straightaway, holding me captive… two tiny pools of emotion with pupils so brown they’re almost black, a coloration so achingly familiar to me.

Dante.

I let out a cry and drop the photo in shock. He has a daughter! At the same time another shockwave ripples through the bunker. The explosions are becoming weaker. Most of Dante’s men are almost certainly dead by now. We need to hold fast and pray this bunker remains hidden, at least until Manuel can work his computer magic. When we’re back online I’m going to demand he contact the police. I’m a kidnapped American, surely someone, somewhere, has to care about that. My parents must be tearing the world apart looking for me.

All the remaining photos seem to be of this girl but there are none that portray her any older than this. There are no surprise tenth birthday party shots, no gawky teenager with her girlfriends, no graduation portraits. Did something happen to her? Is she still alive? What about her mother, was she Dante’s first love? I’m devastated by how much her very existence rips at my insides. Is this jealously? It’s an unfamiliar emotion to me. I’ve never felt it before with other men. How is this deceiver, this killer, managing to twist my affections when he’s not even in the same country? Incensed, I rip open the next drawer and take a step back in shock.

Military Medals.

A Purple Heart, a Silver Star… Holy shit is that a Congressional Medal of Honor?

Who is this man?

I reel away from the drawer, unable to equate the cold-hearted criminal with this… this… hero. Did he steal the medals from his victims? Is this some sort of sick trophy drawer?

I’m exhausted suddenly. The clock on the nightstand is flashing 9am. I’ve been awake since Sofía flung herself onto my chest and informed me of this new nightmare, effectively yanking me onto this battlefield between two warring master criminals.

I use the bathroom and take the time to splash cold water onto my face but the weariness I’m feeling is bone-deep. It’s entrenched in every fissure of my fractured heart. I can hear the king size bed calling to me – so tempting, so seductive. I won’t have to feel a thing when I’m unconscious. No conflict, no bitterness, just peace and oblivion.

Kicking off my shoes, I curl up on top of the white cover, dragging the nearest pillow towards me and burying my face in it. There are no traces of his scent here, no sharp, poignant reminders, but as I shift position I feel the lethal solidity of his flick knife pressing against the side of my ribcage. I slide my hand into my bra and remove it, turning it over in my fingers before closing my fist around it. Dante and I will always be this terrible illogicality. I miss him so much it hurts but if I ever saw him again I’d run far, far, away. I hate him with every broken part of me. I crave him with all this feverish passion he’s unleashed in me.

Another shudder rumbles through the bunker.

“Where are you, Dante?” I murmur. And I swear I hear him answer me from the shadows.

“I’m here, my angel… always.”