Dark Justice by Kristi Belcamino (smallest ebook reader .txt) 📗

had to carry on and pretend that there wasn’t a possible murder charge in my future. If I didn’t, I’d go crazy.

All three of the dead men had access to the hotel books. They all dealt with various aspects of the hotel’s financials. And, based on the background information Danny had sent me, it appeared all three of them had good motives to steal.

Maxwell Carlton might have been stealing money from the hotel to buy the hotel. Odd but possible. It was enough for him to put a down payment on the property and get a loan for the rest.

Stuart McBride, the food and beverage director, had recently divorced his wife and had been ordered by the court to pay some hefty alimony. His four kids were all in private school.

Cynthia Turner, the hotel maintenance engineer, had just bought a house that, frankly, seemed a little out of her paygrade. The bank records showed she’d put down a hefty deposit on the loan. Sure, she could’ve saved that much, but it seemed like a lot. Plus, the new monthly mortgage amount wasn’t anything to sneeze at.

After pouring over this for two hours, I finally shut my laptop and hopped in the shower.

I didn’t want to be rushed getting ready for the gala. It started at 9:00 p.m. I wanted to shower and then take a long nap before I had to finish getting ready.

I crawled into bed naked with my hair wet from the shower. When I woke up, it was sunset. I was horny, but resisted the urge to call Ryder for more phone sex. Maybe tonight I’d take on the mayor. Nah. That was a very bad idea.

I was a grown-ass woman. I could control my sexual urges, right? Right?

I hopped up and caught a glance of myself in the mirror.

My hair had dried into beachy waves, and I decided to keep it that way for the night.

I’d have a drink, do my makeup, and get dressed right before Dante was supposed to arrive.

Wearing underwear and a tank top, I headed to my living room. There, I lounged on the couch and poured some tequila. That’s one thing I loved about the hotel suite—the full bar. The drink hit the spot. I hoped it would tide me over until the gala.

Despite myself, I was a little excited about the gala. I didn’t want to admit that I was looking forward to seeing James again. If I was smart, I’d try to avoid him at all costs. Damn it.

Thinking this, I downed my tequila and poured another. It burned my throat and warmed my belly, and I lay back, taking in the view of the Golden Gate as the sun set on it.

I was lonely.

I felt like I’d been lonely my entire life. It’s true there was a brief period with Nico when I didn’t feel this way, especially when Rose was young. For that time, I felt like part of a family.

But here I was alone again.

Sure, I had my created my own family over the years—Dante, Darling, Danny—but they all had their own full lives now.

I wonder what Freud would say about my tendency to attract friends with names that started with a “D?” It was fucking strange. Even our dogs: Django and now Rose with Dylan.

Ryder was an exciting and dangerous lover, but he lived in the South of France. Sure, he could visit, or I could go see him, but we weren’t going to have any real relationship.

Me and James? It’s complicated. We both knew we could never be together again. Even if Madame Butterfly wasn’t in the picture. Then why did I feel such a pull toward him? It sucked.

I needed a distraction so I’d quit obsessing over getting James into bed. It was starting to be annoying. I thought about the mayor again. Hot. But also, way too dangerous.

As the alcohol warmed me from the inside out, I realized that if I didn’t stop thinking about getting laid right then, I was going to do something crazy.

I reached for my phone and found a playlist I’d made on the airplane. It connected to the Bluetooth speakers in the hotel suite, and I cranked it up and danced around to some old-school rap.

After a while, I realized it was dark outside and time to start getting ready.

I did my makeup first.

Despite my childish urges to ignore Dante, I took his advice and kept my makeup simple—black mascara on my eyelashes, just a little black eyeliner, and then full-on blood red lipstick. I pouted at myself in the mirror. It would work.

I pulled the dress on. It glided across my body like silk. The neckline was straight across but draped slightly revealing a large swath of my chest and collarbone without showing any cleavage. It followed the contours of my waist and hips and then fell straight to the floor in a pool of black softness. The back was the showstopper. It was bare all the way down to where the fabric hugged my ass. It almost, but not quite, dipped too low, stopping just in time. The dress was the softest, silkiest velvet I’d ever touched. It felt delicious against my bare skin.

Dante had been right. No jewelry except Nico’s ring.

I slipped it on and closed my eyes for a second, allowing myself to think of Nico the first time we made love.

We were enemies at the time. I’d been stalking him at a deserted beach on the Mexican coast, intent on assassinating him. He was trying to take away Rose, who, although she was his biological daughter, was more my child than his at the time.

Alone in his beach house with his bodyguards dismissed, we had wild sex in his kitchen. It was the first time I’d experienced the prowess of an older man, and it had rocked my world. I’d known in that moment that for the first time in my life, I’d met my match in the drug cartel leader. With