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

go house hunting in the Tenderloin. I wasn’t sure what I wanted yet—an apartment or an actual house. It depended on what was available, I guess.

Even though it was still dark, I was wide awake in bed, my mind racing with all these thoughts of what I needed to do that day.

That’s when I looked up.

Holy shit. The stars were amazing. I couldn’t believe I was in the middle of a big city and this was my night sky. I sat there in awe for a few minutes, feeling inconsequential faced with the sheer awesomeness of the universe above me.

I’d lost so much in my life. So many people I loved had been taken violently from me.

I’d come back to San Francisco because I felt lost and adrift.

The most compelling reason for my return was an utter, all-encompassing loneliness.

My family was too busy for me. Eva had her own busy life in Italy running her female assassin boot camp. Rose didn’t want me in her life right then. I knew on some level that this was her attempt to forge her own life. It hurt, but I knew enough about my own journey as a young woman that I had to let her go. I knew she would return to me.

In desperation, I’d called Dante. And he did what he always does—told me what I needed to hear. He told me to come home.

As usual, he was right. It was annoying how often this was the case.

Here I was in San Francisco. And even though I missed the hell out of the people I’d lost—my parents, my first love, Bobby, my greatest love, Nico—I knew I was going to be OK.

Now, lying in bed looking at the star-filled sky above me, I also knew that I was never truly alone. Those I had loved were out there somewhere. I knew it deep in my soul.

Five

Nicoletta Marchese sat primly on the small stool in front of the vanity and examined her face. Her silky strawberry-blonde hair was pulled into a messy bun on top of her head. She’d removed her stage makeup and was spreading moisturizer onto her porcelain smooth cheeks. Her black eyes were stripped of makeup, but her lashes were still lush and dark.

She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Did they bother you tonight?” Charles Hollingsworth asked, his eyes squinting.

“Not really,” she said. “We all left the back way. The guy you hired to drive us was there, and it went smoothly. Nobody was any the wiser.”

Ever since the opera had announced it would be premiering The Death of Engleberg, a bevy of violent protesters had begun to appear every night in front of the theater. So far, the protesters had been fairly peaceful, mostly holding signs, but lately they had startled to heckle people.

And then last week, it had gotten violent. A protester had attacked one of the singers leaving late at night. The man had been beaten to a pulp and a note had been sent to the newspapers saying that unless the performance was canceled, someone would die.

“It’s fine,” she said again. “It gives us the perfect motive.”

They’d been plotting the murder for six months, waiting for the perfect time and circumstance. The protester’s threats had suddenly given them the cover they needed to commit the murder.

He hated leaving her vulnerable. But that was also part of their plan. He had to pretend like he was in love with someone else. That meant being at someone else’s beck and call and pretending he wasn’t madly in love with Nicoletta.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said and paced the apartment. “We belong together. The thought of you fucking that gimp…I can’t handle it.”

“Fuck you,” she said lightly and took another drag off the joint in her fingers. “Just because he has a bigger dick than you.”

He was in front of her in a second, chest heaving, eyes wild.

“I’m just kidding,” she said. “Don’t be a pussy. You know you’re the only man for me. Besides do I complain about you getting fucked by someone else?”

He didn’t answer.

“Listen,” he said. “I know our original plan was just to do the one murder, but it will be too obvious.”

“What are you saying?” she said. She was clearly irritated.

“Do you want to get away with this or not?”

“Uh, yeah,” she said sarcastically. “That’s why I’m fucking someone else. It was your idea, remember? I’m just doing what I’m told.”

“Okay, okay,” Charles said. “I apologize. It’s just hard for me to swallow sometimes. We need that cop in our pocket if we’re going to get away with this. It’s just one more thing to tip the scales in our favor.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, examining her eyebrows in the mirror over the vanity. “He’s my bitch. He believes everything I say. He’ll do anything for me.”

“Well, as I was saying… We need to kill at least two other random people, too, so nobody can figure out the motive. If three people die and the detectives think it’s because they all have something in common, they won’t look at us.”

“What? Speak English,” she said, closing her eyes.

“We kill three people on the gala fundraising committee,” he said. “That way they think it’s connected to the protests.”

She raced over, jumping up and wrapping her legs around his waist. You are a genius, Charles.”

He laughed and clutched her tight.

He spun her around. There was a drug deal going down on the street below. He drew back a little. He couldn’t wait until he could get Nicoletta out of this shithole neighborhood. She reached for the joint he had set down in the ashtray, but he plucked it out of her hand before she could bring it to her mouth.

“Hey,” she squealed. “Bring that back. I’m not done with it yet.”

He set her down gently and pushed her a little bit away from him.

“You are now. Now get naked.”

She groaned. “You’re so bossy.”

But she gave him a sexy smile. Keeping her eyes trained