The question almost brought Dante Bianchi to his knees.
Who. Was. This. Woman?So direct, so perfect, so how this night was supposed to end. He did not ask any questions of his own. He only told her where. Dante did what he often did when faced with surprises: he maintained his cool. He tipped the waiter who had attended to them, graciously, and ushered her outside where Imani waited at the wheel of the jeep; he made small talk and intermixed his fingers with hers as they made the walk towards the car.Never mind the cool demeanor he maintained outside, inside of his head, his instincts were knife sharp, focused at one goal: take this beautiful woman back to the expanse of his house and if he was fortunate enough this night, all things considered, get her in his bed.He let Jackie climb into the back seat and followed after her, instead of sitting up front with Imani as he often did when he did not like the feeling of being boss, of being trapped in a vacuum. All
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Dante's Fire Jackie: Chapter Eighty Two
JACKIE‘Fuck,' Dante cursed when he touched her and found that she had come without panties. The word had never been more vulgar. It rolled off his tongue, sweet and wet, and nestled in the heated air between them. He buried his face in the country of her lips, in the bridge of her neck and the land between her throat and breast, taking his time and he charted his way down, making a map of her body. Jackie closed her eyes to the pleasure, arched her back away from him so she was facing the ceiling. She could feel his hunger even in her toes.'Is that what you would have chosen as my wardrobe consultant?' She managed between gasps for air.To answer her question, he drew her hard against his body, slipped his hand underneath her skirt again and stroked her mound. He found her soaked and wanting. Involuntarily, Jackie shuddered and spasmed against him at the slight touch.They stumbled and staggered back towards the bed, never disentangling their limbs from each others. Before they arr
Dante's Fire Jackie: Chapter Eighty Three
JACKIEWhen she came to, it was morning and the windows were wide open. There was a moment of disorientation. The first thing Jackie saw was the faraway ceiling and the height of it confused her. Having lived in dorms and now, her apartment, she had grown accustomed to low ceilings and small spaces packed with necessaries. Here she was, waking up to this gaping, white vacuum. Pristine blinds billowed at the windows letting in cold air. The weak sunlight of late dawn filtered through the opening in spears of light. Jackie could have sworn that they had been shut the night before. If they were not, though, she was near sure she would not have noticed. Not with her tongue anchor-deep in Dante's throat and his hands swimming in her waist.He was still asleep next to her, lying facedown in the sheets. Jackie took in the lazy sprawl of his body, again. Asleep, he looked less capable of grim things and Jackie resisted the need that she felt to kiss his sleeping face, to brush t
Dante's Fire Andre: Chapter Eighty Four
ANDREIn all his time on this earth, Andre Diaz had never been made a fool of by a woman as much as Gloria had made of him. Gloria Noah. The name even had a mocking ring to it now that he thought of it. He had been with Nick Noah's daughter this entire time, had even slept with her, and he still did not figure out who she was until he saw it tatted on her, until he had the hard evidence of her body. It was a bad joke, the entire affair, and it was one Andre did not find even remotely amusing. He used to think of himself as someone who knew the game, who was good at it, until he crossed parts with Nick Noah. The man had fucked him up; his daughter had come along to finish the job. How ironical.Since he managed to fix the mess that Nick Noah had made of their plans, Andre was once again granted a more active role in the RWD. He no longer had to share guard duty with Imani and it was a relief to him to not have to be in close proximity to Dante every other day. He was not built to be a
Dante's Fire Spears: Chapter Eighty Five
SPEARSDante Bianchi was nothing like the Commissioner of Police had expected. This, in essence, meant that he was not old, pale and potbellied. Prior to the meeting that had been arranged between him and Natasha, he had not seen any photos of the man. Subsequently, all that changed. Ignorance had never done any man good, especially the ones in law enforcement, so he set out to know everything he needed to. This led to him being saddled with a pile of files and unfinished paperwork. There were gangs all over the city, lurking in the dark, claiming boroughs and sets. Their notoriety gained them more respect than fear, and if there was one thing that Coleman Spears had learned in all his years as an officer of the law it was that there was nothing scarier to a cop than a criminal that the people respected. Sometimes, the respect went as far as love. As a child, the story of Robin Hood was a fascinating story to Spears. As a person who had been a cop for longer than even he could rememb
Dante's Fire Big Jack: Chapter Eighty Six
BIG JACKThe Marksman found him the first time on one of the sunnier days. By then, the heydays of winter had slowly began to give way to warmer days, drifting steadily from snowy days thick with cotton-like clouds to more torrid days, and the first signs of spring had began to appear across state lines. Everywhere you turned, there were melting snowdrifts; and new blades of green grass sprouted from places in the snow. The air had also gotten considerably warmer.Joaquin went down from the hotel room they were staying at to get something from one of the shops close by. The hotel was the big fancy type, with two large beds metres away from each other. Big Jack had opted for larger, more opulent accommodation after the call from Neil. It was the best he could do. He had a faint idea of how the Marksman thought. Fugitives liked to leave very little tracks to make it impossible for anyone to track them. That was basic knowledge. So more often than not, if not always, they w
Dante's Fire Dante: Chapter Eighty Seven
DANTE The man's mother had a house uptown, in the wealthier parts of the city, squeezed between two much larger buildings. Hers was considerably smaller than the rest and elegant in its smallness, perched on an equally small parcel of land. There was no lawn.Merely looking at it, Dante approved. It did not stink of illegally obtained wealth, but smelled of gratification; did not scream of affluence, but spoke of small comforts. Dante knew well-hidden drug money when he saw it, though. And this was it.He alighted from the back of the jeep, but his uncle stayed. The man arrived in the city a few days after he had Jackie over at the house, and although the mansion was big enough that their paths would most likely not have crossed, he was thankful that Orlando had not arrived earlier. Yet was Orlando who had convinced Dante to make this trip. In his words, 'The people who work for you need to see that you care for them, Dante. Fear is one way to inspired loyalty. B
Dante's Fire The Marksman: Chapter Eighty Eight
THE MARKSMANThe killer knew fear when he smelt it. Rust and sweat, that was what it smelt like. And Jack Maeto reeked of it. It had not been an easy task finding the man, but once he had found him, staying with him was relatively easy. The man was enormous and so, he stuck out like a sore thumb. His size did not give the killer cause to worry. Scared people were predictable. They were clumsy too, repetitive. They slipped up, made mistakes. Unfortunately for them; fortunately for him.The killer sat behind the wheel of his Toyota, a old rusty car he rented. It was perfect for keeping a low profile and had let him follow the man around town without being looked at twice. He fancied himself a hunter, and Jack Maeto and his companion were blood trailing prey. The Toyota was parked in a shoulder of gravel on the street that was directly opposite the restaurant the big man had just walked into. CRAIG'S DINER. The killer popped open the glove compartment where he had kept
Dante's Fire Big Jack: Chapter Eighty Nine
BIG JACKDeath was in the air tonight. Big Jack could just taste it. He did his best to shrug the thought away. It was only his nerves, he told himself. Running on caffeine and Coca-cola was not the best way to live.The receptionist was a lady in her mid twenties—or so he guessed—and like most people at that age, she had an attitude, and when she spoke, she sounded like disturbed water. Joaquin did a good job booking a room without threatening her within an inch of life, considering how exhausted they both were.'That would be 35 dollars a day.' She said, lips smacking gum. She never looked up from the computer. A row of gaudy bracelets jingled on her wrist whenever she moved her arm.Joaquin glanced at him. He returned the look. 35 dollars was mighty cheap compared to the places they had been to. 'We will take it.' Big Jack said.'Uh, you staying the week? It would be 250 dollars in total.'There was no chance they we're staying ther
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