I watch her sleeping until the burnt, umber hues of dawn begin to temper the darkness. Light steals into my room but she barely stirs. I want to wake her and lose myself in her again but there’s something about the way she sleeps that stops me. She curls up like a child, tucking her knees to her chest, with her arms and her dark hair fanning out across the white pillowcase. It portrays an innocence, a trust. Two qualities that I don’t deserve from her right now, not after what I’ve already taken tonight.

I indulged and feasted until I was sore and sated, until every part of me was satisfied, and still I couldn’t get enough of her. I took and took and pushed her to her limits. I let the darkness inside me devour us both, craving the oblivion that it brought. I gave her pleasure in return, many hours of it, but at what cost?

Fuck.

There goes my conscience again, flickering and false-starting like a motor in winter. She does this to me and I don’t have a damn clue as to why.

Sometime around 5am I slip from the bed and make my way downstairs. Walking past the rows of shelves in the library, I run my fingers along the edge of one, feeling for a small button. Once located, a low mechanical hum sounds and I step back to allow the concealed door to swing open.

Inside my private sanctum I pay no regard to the lines of discolored military medals on the wall, nor do I glance at the faded black and white photograph of a little girl. She was the perfect seed that planted the roots of so much hate in my life. I’m still biding my time as far as she’s concerned. I’ll not forgive. I’ll never forget. Consumed by a fit of rage suddenly, I rip the medals down and head for the closet next door to deposit my unwanted memories in a drawer.

Stripping quickly, I step into the shower cubicle and raise my head to embrace the boiling water. Only then do I allow myself a brief moment to indulge. That girl is the reason there are no pictures on my walls, no personal possessions of any kind on display in my house. No trace of the man I really am. My enemies found a weakness in me once and I’ll never give them the satisfaction again. These days my true identity is as subtly concealed as this bunker, and that’s the way it was going to stay until an angel walked right past me on a dirty, desolate street.

I’m playing with fire as far as she’s concerned. I know I can’t keep her. Her presence in my life will only cause problems. I made a pact with my brother fifteen years ago. No one gets close to us. Ever. Besides, I’ve fucked her now so this whole situation should be done. The way I see it I have two choices – kill her or send her back to America. One problem. Neither of them are having any sway over me right now.

Get a grip, Dante.

I reach for a towel to dry myself, roughly slaking the water from my skin. There must be another way but I’m running out of time. Joseph’s dossier on her must be nearly done. He’s going to make the connections with the DEA agent and then he’ll give me merry hell about it. If Emilio finds out it’ll be worse.

My cell beeps. It’s Joseph.

Emilio on line 1

I curse under my breath. This should be interesting. I may have obliterated the Garcia cartel but I still haven’t given him an explanation for Miami… The reason why my DEA target is still alive and breathing.

I tap out a quick reply.

Be there in two.

I step back into the bedroom of my bunker and dress quickly before making my way upstairs. Eve is still asleep, her arms wrapped tightly around a pillow. The white sheet has slipped to her waist, exposing her breasts. I’m tempted to drop to my knees and wrap my mouth around one of those pink buds and suck gently until it puckers and lengthens between my lips. Instead, I find myself rearranging the sheet across her chest and exiting the room, resolving not to lay another finger on her again until I have a plan in place. I tell myself it’s for her own good but I know I’m lying. If I get any closer I’ll lose perspective. If I press my mouth to that body again I run the risk of bringing us both down in a hail of bullets.

Joseph lifts his head and scowls at me as I enter my office. What’s crawled up his ass and died? His moods are nowhere near as capricious as mine but when he blows up he’s a formidable adversary. He’s standing by the phone system on my desk that’s flashing a single, solitary red light at me.

“My brother, I presume?” I say mildly.

When he doesn’t reply I take my place in the leather chair next to the desk and reach out to switch the holding call to speakerphone. He slaps his hand down on top of mine at the last second to stop me.

“We need to talk.”

“Not now,” I say, shaking him off with a frown. “Let me take this call. Emilio’s waiting.”

“Since when have you ever given a damn about that? Emilio can wait a little while longer.”

“Fine, then talk.” Leaning forward in my chair, I start drumming my fingers against the desk.

“Eve Miller,” states Joseph grimly, moving to stand in front of me, his grey eyes boring into mine. Two words I’m learning come with a shit load of complication. My drumming slows and then stops but there’s never a flicker of a reaction on my face.

“You’ve completed your dossier then?”

“You’re playing with fire, Dante,” he says, echoing my own thoughts.

I laugh but it’s a hollow, empty sound. “I’m betting you couldn’t find the first fucking thing about her, Grayson. There’s not a single item in that document that’ll shock me. She’s as wholesome as they come, a real American homegrown sweetheart… I assume this is about her father, or rather her father’s occupation?” I glare up at him, daring him to take this further.

“That surprised me, I’ll admit,” he says, gazing back at me steadily but there’s a trace of anger in his eyes now. We don’t keep secrets from each other, not when the business is involved. “I’m not so concerned about him, though.”

“Oh?” Now he’s piqued my interest. “Tell me quickly. I need to deal with this call.”

“Do you remember a man named Ryan Myers?”

Myers, Myers… I roll the name around his head a few times but nothing of note springs to mind. “Who the fuck is he?”

“Was. Small time dealer in Miami. Thought he could make it with the big boys until he got in our way. Irritated you, if I remember rightly, which never leads to a happy ending. You ordered a hit on him five years ago. Sent me to do it. Before I landed he panicked and went to ground with a suitcase of blow and three prostitutes and died in a hospital bed two weeks later.”

What a way to go.

“And I give a damn about this lowlife because…?”

“Miller isn’t Eve’s birth name, Dante. It’s Myers.”

Joseph stops talking then out of respect. I’m more than capable of connecting the dots, or rather decoding the imminent warning signs myself.

“You sure about this?” My voice is like stone.

“Eve and Ryan were siblings, no doubt about it. And that’s not all–”

I hold up my hand for silence. “Let me get rid of my brother first.”

The truth is I need a few moments to dissect this revelation. Our lives have intersected before and I’ve been the cause of untold pain for her. That’s not sitting well with me. That’s not sitting well at all.

“Emilio,” I snarl, hitting the speakerphone button.

“Dante.”

One word. That’s all it takes to make the nausea rise up from the pit of my stomach. Just one fucking word in that deep, unpleasant rasp of his. My brother’s accent is far more pronounced than mine. He’s never felt the inclination to leave Colombia, whilst I couldn’t wait to get the hell outta there as soon as I could. Our father made damn sure I put in a return appearance until my bullet exited the back of his skull. I set up residence in Africa not long after to conduct my side of the business. The distance suits me. Certain dealings force me to visit Colombia from time to time but I limit these as much as I can. There are too many blood-soaked memories lying in wait for me there and I prefer to spend as little time in the company of my brother as I can.

“You better be covered in bullet holes, asshole,” Emilio hisses, dispensing with the lingering pleasantries. “Why else would you leave that DEA scum alive?”

The heat rushes to my fists. That red mist is descending fast. Unreasonable doesn’t even cover my brother, I’ll happily chuck in sadistic, over controlling and paranoid too.

“Well?” he taunts. “Is there a priest, bedside, reading you your last rights or have you made a miraculous recovery?”

I exhale loudly. “I just bought you Garcia’s head on a plate.”

“I don’t like loose ends. It looks careless.”

I bite back my retort. Emilio feeds off conflict and I can’t be fucked to give him the satisfaction today. “The DEA got the message. I targeted three other agents before I left Miami.”

There’s a pause. “Are you going soft on me baby brother?”

What the…?

“I was ambushed!” I roar, unable to contain my anger any longer. “Shit hit the fan – it was him or me. I chose the latter.”

I know which one Emilio would have preferred. Our father was a sick bastard but he’s never forgiven me for putting that fat fuck six feet under.

“Nicolas told me about the girl. He said you refused to leave Miami without her.”

Nicolas needs to learn to keep his mouth shut. Perhaps he needs my bullet as an incentive.

My eyes flicker to Joseph. There’s a slight shake of his head. Good. We’re on the same page as far as Eve Miller is concerned. Full non-disclosure until I figure out what to do with her.

“You’re developing a nasty habit of picking up women on the job, Dante. You need to get off that compound. Move somewhere with more pussy. That way your dick won’t be infringing on business anymore.”

“I’m saying goodbye now, Emilio.” Hell will be a fucking ice rink before I take advice on women from him. “I’ll be back in Colombia next week. The new merchandise is scheduled in Florida tomorrow.”

“Fine, Sanders is standing by to receive it.” There’s a pause. “Are you screwing her?”

He sounds genuinely curious and that’s not a good thing. I don’t want Eve Miller to stand out to him anymore than she has already.

“When I can find a gag that’s big enough,” I drawl, sliding my eyeline away from Joseph. “She talks too much.”

Emilio’s laugh goes straight through me. “Gag or no gag, I bet she screams pretty. You’re a real piece of work, Dante… I pity any woman who catches your attention.”

Likewise, I think grimly. Emilio has three ex-wives. Three ex-beauty queens who have all gone missing, presumed dead. You stay on the right side of my brother or you pay with your life.

“Asshole,” I mutter, hanging up on him.

Joseph just smirks. I know he agrees with me but he’ll never say the words out loud.

“Go on then, enlighten me,” I say, leaning back in my chair and putting my hands behind my head. Bracing myself for the next revelation about my angel. “What else do you have on Miss Miller?”