In Cold Blood: Three Vigilante Justice Crime Thrillers Read online

  In Cold Blood

  Three Crime Thrillers

  Kristi Belcamino

  Copyright © 2021 by Kristi Belcamino

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Introduction

  Get your free book

  Queen of Spades

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  I. Vendetta

  1. Candy

  2. Anarchy

  3. Bacardi 151

  4. Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?

  5. Santa Cruz Vampires

  6. Dago

  7. Baby Manta Ray

  8. Death Metal

  9. The Box

  10. 1970s Train

  11. Gia-Ko

  12. Sayonara

  13. The Tenderloin

  14. Tequila

  15. Django

  16. Elvis Costello

  17. Death Day

  18. Ethel Swanson

  19. Light a Candle

  20. Laugh or Cry

  21. Bloody Knuckles

  22. Col De L’iseran

  23. Mafioso

  24. Blood Spatter

  25. Sicily

  26. Pistol-Whipped

  27. Black Bikini

  28. Veuve Clicquot

  29. Greedy Bastard

  30. Drop of Blood

  31. Women’s Club

  32. Rag Doll

  33. A Painful Death

  34. Chasing ghosts

  35. Nasty Breath

  36. Princess Diana

  37. Alcohol-Sodden

  38. A Goddamn Saint

  39. City of the Dead

  40. End of the Line

  41. Italian Postage

  42. Out of Time

  43. Blood is Thicker Than Water

  44. The Truth

  45. The Old Ways

  46. Bloodline

  47. Somebody who Mattered

  Epilogue

  Blood & Roses

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Also by Kristi Belcamino

  Introduction

  Warning! Be prepared to lose sleep, skip out on chores and go to bed early to read when you pick up this crime thriller collection featuring 3 full-length thrillers.

  Dig into more than 600 pages of fast-paced, edge-of-your-seat, gritty thrillers with flawed but big-hearted vigilante heroines who love nothing better than kicking butt and taking names for those who can't do so themselves.

  If you like take-charge heroines, keep-you-up-all-night page turners, and vigilante justice then you’ll love Kristi Belcamino’s tales of revenge.

  "As an avid fan of Jack Reacher, Mitch Rapp, Scot Harvath, Orphan X, etc., Can't tell you how pleased I was to discover the female version of my favorite heroes!” - HB LEVESQUE, Amazon

  * * *

  Queen of Spades

  Meet Eva Santella.

  One of the first female mafia bosses in Italy. When she stood up to the other families and banned sex trafficking, the other mafioso turned on her and put a price on her head. She fled to America. But then they found her. And took away everything she loved. Now, she only has one thing left to live for—making them pay.

  * * *

  Vendetta

  Meet Gia Santella. Eva's niece.

  Fearless.

  Loyal as the day is long.

  Thirsty for justice at all costs.

  Vowing vendetta, the grieving daughter must stay one step ahead of a ruthless killer

  Giada Valentina Santella's life has fallen apart.

  Her efforts to drown the grief of losing her parents with self-destructive behavior come to a screeching halt when an unexpected letter reveals that her loved ones were murdered.

  Now Gia changes her focus to revenge.

  To avoid yet another family death, Gia has a bloody choice to make: kill or be killed.

  Vendetta is the first book in the USA TODAY Bestselling Gia Santella Crime Thriller series.

  * * *

  Blood & Roses

  Meet Rose.

  An evil presence has come back from her past to wreak vengeance of the worst sort …

  Rose, whose tragic childhood made her once vow to become an angel of death, left that world behind to be a normal teenager, sunbathing on the beach, playing chess in cafes, and falling in love …

  But her life is ripped apart when an enemy from her dark past appears and goes after everything she cares about.

  Rose is then faced with a horrific decision: Leave her new life behind to seek a vengeance that might cost her very soul, or risk losing others she loves.

  * * *

  Get your free book

  Sign up for my newsletter to find out about new books … https://www.subscribepage.com/KristiBelcamino

  When you do, you’ll get a free copy of FIRST VENGEANCE, the prequel novella to VENDETTA. It started out with a birthday party gone bad and ended up with Gia as an orphan vigilante. Sign up by tapping here.

  Queen of Spades

  Prologue

  “Do you like to play cards?”

  He froze at the sound of the silky voice behind him. Only he could detect the slight accent. But then again, he’d known her since they were children.

  “Vincenzo, I asked you a question.”

  His name on her lips turned his face i
cy cold.

  Her spicy, exotic perfume filled his airways as she drew near. She moved closer stealthily, silently. The only indication that she was directly behind him now was a slight disturbance in the air and that heady scent filling his nostrils. He fought against the desire to inhale deeply. Just as he’d fought against his attraction to her the past year. How many times had she innocently brushed by him and he’d been caught up in the smell of her perfume. How many times had he tried to recapture Eva’s unique and elusive scent in his memory. It was a fragrance he’d never smelled on another woman—and he’d smelled his fair share of perfumes over the years—from cheap drugstore sprays to customized parfums designed in Paris. This scent was difficult to identify. If he’d ever smelled it on someone else, Eva’s inimitable chemistry had transformed it into something intoxicating.

  He felt the cool steel on his neck at the same moment she pressed her warm body fully against him from behind. Even as he felt the icy fingers of death race down his spine, he was aroused. That lush body pressed up against him and the cloud of her scent sent an ache of desire rippling through him. A lust he’d kept at bay, even refusing to acknowledge it to himself. Now, he let himself feel it and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes against the candlelight.

  Then he smelled something else—something emanating from her pores. He paused. It wasn’t fear. No. Nervousness? No. It wasn’t that, either.

  It was excitement.

  But not the same thrill he felt in his groin. It was not sexual. This was blood lust. This was eagerness. This was her anticipation of the delicate glide of metal across his neck, carving into his flesh. He knew it. He recognized it. After all, he’d felt it himself. It was much, much stronger than pure sexual desire.

  As he thought this, his own ripple of fleeting desire was quickly extinguished. He had to think. He had to say something to stop her murderous vengeance.

  A silken lock of her hair brushed his cheek, and he squirmed in a mix of pleasure and terror.

  “I don’t know about you,” she whispered, her breath hot in his ear. Her voice was low, husky, mesmerizing. “But I love playing cards. I bet you can guess which card is my favorite?”

  The queen of spades. As soon as he thought the words, a white-hot bolt of pain raced across his neck, from his left ear to his right. He cried out in anguish, but there came only a thick gurgle and a small exhalation.

  His last thought as he watched his own blood spurt wildly onto the table in front of him was that the crazy old woman on the sidewalk had been right—he’d never see the likes of heaven.

  One

  1990s

  Los Angeles

  Eva White tried to sneak a look at her cell phone beneath the table but her downward glance didn’t escape the Queen Bee at the front of the class running the parent volunteer meeting.

  “Mrs. White?”

  “Yes?” Eva jerked her eyes up.

  “I think you would be a great candidate to head up the committee organizing the food drive.”

  Eva pushed down her revulsion at the woman’s sickly sweet tone and plastered a smile on her face. “I think you’re right. Food drives are near and dear to my heart.”

  It wasn’t a lie. Back in Sicily, she’d made sure nobody who lived in her village ever went hungry.

  “Wonderful,” Krystal said. “I’ll mark you down as chair. Remember, for every dollar donated to the Santa Monica food shelf, Tilly Conway’s mother will match it with an equal donation to our school fundraiser.”

  It was a totally fucked up way to raise money, but if it meant that a Los Angeles food shelf was able to benefit from some of the wealthy families in the school—even in a convoluted way—Eva was all for it. She’d hacked into Krystal’s bank account last year just to make sure the woman wasn’t depositing most of the fundraising money into her own account but, surprisingly, all the money raised went straight back to the school.

  “So, I can count on you?” Krystal asked.

  Eva nodded.

  “You are now the food drive chair.”

  “Fantastic,” Eva said, matching the blonde woman’s fake excited tone. “And Matthew and I will match the food donations, as well.”

  Krystal beamed. “That’s so generous of you.”

  But Eva wasn’t done speaking. “But I think in our case, we’ll match the donation with an equal one that will also go to the food shelf.”

  “That’s a brilliant idea!” Nikos said. He was one of the dad’s Eva had become friendly with over the past year. His son, Ricardo, was a sweet kid.

  Krystal’s face fell, but she quickly rallied. “Wonderful. I’ll let the principal know.”

  “Fantastic,” Eva repeated and smiled widely.

  Kill them with kindness. It had been her motto the past ten years. It was a viable alternative to killing women like Krystal Diamond. But Eva had left that part of her behind when she fled Sicily. That way of life felt like a vague memory—something another person had experienced, somebody she’d read about in a book. So, Krystal Diamond was safe. For now.

  The woman had apparently kept her maiden name, which was about the only thing Eva approved of about the pretentious PTA head. But what kind of name was Krystal Diamond, anyway? Jesus. It had to be a stripper name. Or maybe a porn star name.

  Eva shifted in her uncomfortable plastic chair. Eva wasn’t overweight, and was, in fact, very fit from a daily home workout modeled after the Navy SEAL team’s training. But she was Italian and did have curves—especially on her backside. Her ass simply wouldn’t fit into this tiny, orange plastic chair made for a fifth grader.

  A few seats down Nikos shifted uncomfortably, as well. He caught her eye and smiled. She smiled back.

  Luckily, Krystal Diamond had missed it all. Smiling was forbidden unless the smile was directed her way. But Krystal was at the front of the room, distracted with her head down, going through a thick file folder. Yeah, definitely a fake name. Like her boobs. No way they were the real deal. No. Fucking. Way. No one with boobs that big could have a butt small enough to fit neatly into the little orange plastic chair, could they? No self-respecting Malibu trophy wife would go that big, even when your husband was the top plastic surgeon to the stars. Eva frowned. Maybe that was it—Dr. Andrew Wyatt used his wife as a model for his porn star clientele. Eva could just imagine him waving his skinny little arms and saying, “Allow me to show you my work first hand. Krystal, darling? Please show these women your tits.”

  Eva snuffled back a laugh.

  Nikos shot her a glance of alarm but then winked. He was her age and attractive. She knew it was his Greek heritage that appealed to her. Even though she’d married a hot American man with blonde hair and blue eyes, she couldn’t deny that men from her part of the world had an undeniable, earthy sexiness about them.

  That diversity was one reason she’d enrolled Lorenzo and Alessandra in this elite school. Though she had to put up with fuckwads like Krystal, the student population ran the gamut from Somali-Americans to Japanese-Americans. She didn’t want her children to feel like misfits in Beverly Hills schools. But she had to admit, the Rembrandt Academy still didn’t exactly provide a realistic slice of American life—every family with a kid in the school was filthy fucking rich.

  Speaking of that, why did they even need to do fundraisers, anyway?

  Krystal droned on at the front of the classroom, organizing committees and assigning tasks to the thirty parent volunteers crowding the room.

  In a way, Eva admired Krystal’s leadership skills. And whatever her faults, Eva could not deny that Krystal’s son, Yates, was possibly the sweetest child on the planet.

  Poor thing couldn’t help who his mother was. And he couldn’t help his unfortunate name. Who the fuck named a baby Yates? Yates Wyatt sounded like a poet wearing a dinner jacket while riding a donkey in the old west. But the kid was a sweetie. His mother wanted him to be a doctor like his father, but he claimed he wanted to be an opera singer. Jesus Christ. The kid wasn’t even out of elementary sc
hool, and his parents were already planning out every second of every year until he was thirty!

  Alessandra had befriended Yates in the first grade until Krystal had put the kibosh on their playdates. Every time Eva had reached out to her about it, Krystal made some excuse. She usually claimed Yates was busy with Little Mozart or Chinese lessons or some other bullshit. But every time Alessandra asked him about it the next day, the poor kid said he’d gone straight home and stared at the iPad all evening while his mother locked herself in her office.