Dark Shadows (Gia Santella Crime Thrillers Book 11) Read online

  “Do I know you?” he asked.

  I smiled. “Yes.”

  “I mean before this?”

  “What do you think?”

  He stared at me hard. “I get really confused sometimes.”

  “It’s okay,” I said in the most comforting voice I could. Sometimes when I was with him and he was confused, he would grow angry and violent. It scared me. But I also didn’t blame him. I was pissed off too.

  Then he shook his head. He turned and stared straight ahead and said, “Maybe in another life.”

  “I think you’re right. In another life.”

  “Do you believe in that?” he asked.

  “Of course. Don’t you?”

  I’d never seen anything in my life as beautiful as his smile just then. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

  I looked away so he wouldn’t see the tears falling down my cheeks.

  Suddenly, he stood.

  “I’m tired, nurse,” he said. “I’m sorry I don’t remember your name. I forget most things.”

  “I never told you my name. It’s Gia.”

  He nodded. “That’s a nice name.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Can you show me back to my room? I think I should take a nap.”

  “I’d be happy to do that, Mr. Morales.”

  I used his real name to see if he reacted. He didn’t.

  After I tucked him into bed and pulled the curtains in his room, I gave him a kiss on the cheek as I said goodbye. He acted surprised by the kiss, his forehead wrinkling up and his eyes squinting.

  Of course he did.

  But then he immediately seemed to forget it.

  “Sleep well, Mr. Morales.”

  He didn’t answer.

  As I walked outside to the waiting car, I wondered if it was the last time I was going to see the man I’d considered my husband for so many years.

  3

  When I stepped off the plane onto the tarmac, I paused and inhaled deeply. Even though Cannes was only a bit south of Barcelona, there was still something different about the air there. I don’t know if it was knowing there were miles between me and my other life, but it felt like a weight had suddenly been lifted from my shoulders.

  When we landed, it was as if the dark shadows fluttering and hovering around my peripheral vision had been banished.

  “Ms. Santella?” A man with a goatee and longish bangs greeted me. Despite the Mediterranean heat shimmering on the tarmac, he wore tight black jeans and a black long sleeve shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing dark, deeply tanned and muscled forearms. One arm had a tattoo that I recognized: it was a skull wearing a beret against a dagger. I also couldn’t help but notice he wore expensive Italian leather shoes.

  Dante had taught me to notice shit like that—the shoes, not the tattoo.

  Dating James the cop had taught me to identify the tattoo. Green beret or Special Forces for sure.

  “Ryder,” he said, sticking out his hand and flashing a grin that took me aback. That smile elevated him from average looking to dangerously attractive.

  “Let me guess,” I said, shaking my head with mock exasperation. “Dante sent you.”

  He laughed. “Only to get you safely to your villa.”

  “He acts like I’m still twelve sometimes.”

  I was pissed. And I wasn’t sure why.

  The man frowned. “Why, for hiring someone to drive you?”

  “Oh, please,” I said. “You’re charming as fuck, but the ‘driver’ shit doesn’t fool me for a second. I bet you have an ankle holster with a gun and another one in your glove box. I would bet my last dollar you are highly trained in some form of martial arts and could break someone’s neck in thirty seconds.”

  He began to laugh, but I continued. “If you want to pretend you’re simply a driver, I’d hide that tattoo,” I said, squinting as I looked at him.

  Now he laughed loudly. “Touché.”

  “Let’s go,” I said and walked past him.

  He held the door to the back seat open for me, but I ignored him and went around to the passenger door. Once I settled into the passenger seat of the big black car, I stared out the window while he got in. I didn’t want to talk to him. I’d planned on spending at least my first week here not talking to another soul, but curiosity got the best of me.

  “How do you know Dante?” I said. I know I sounded crabby.

  “Matt.”

  My mouth grew dry. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t speak, so I simply nodded.

  Matt had been Dante’s husband for all of a few hours when a gunman shot him and Bobby dead in Positano by the Tyrrhenian Sea.

  “I was Secret Service when Matt was a senator,” he continued. “Dante and I have stayed in touch.”

  “You have an accent,” I said, keeping my eyes trained on the road in front of us. I wasn’t sure how he could be Special Forces and Secret Service without being American.

  “I was born in America, but my family moved to France when I was three,” he said. “Before 9/11, it was considered desirable to have dual citizenship. Now? Not so much.”

  “Is that why you’re here?” Despite my resolve not to talk the entire drive, I kept asking questions.

  “I must say, I like it here a lot better than in DC,” he said, avoiding my question. “I do private security here. Not as many rules.”

  He leaned over the steering wheel and pointed. “See over there? That’s where your villa is. The area is called La Californie. Best part of town if you ask me. It’s like your Beverly Hills. Very nice.”

  He was pointing to a hillside slightly above the village.

  “I hope so for what they’re charging.”

  “You must’ve reserved it, what? Two years ago? I heard reservations sometimes are three to five years in advance of the festival.”

  I shook my head.

  The truth was I’d made the reservation last week. It had nothing to do with me and everything to do with my aunt, Eva Santella’s, connections. As a former Italian mob boss and now leader of an all-woman army of assassins, she had connections in all the right places. But I didn’t think Ryder needed to know any of that.

  When I’d seen the pictures her contact had sent me, I replied, “Yes. Making deposit now.”

  I’d basically asked for a villa outside of town with breathtaking views of the Mediterranean, a massive swimming pool, and a full bar. Not a hell of a lot to ask, right?

  Basically, what I wanted was a mini resort all to myself.

  And as luck would have it, she found one.

  “Believe it or not, I know your villa well. I have had many clients stay there. I know the owners personally. They live in Hong Kong most of the year. I didn’t think it would be vacant right now with the festival in town.”

  I shrugged. “Beats me.”

  “Besides the festival, what else is there to do around here?” I asked as the car wound its way up the hill. I figured I might as well use him for information.

  “Cannes is basically a bunch of celebrities showing off and fucking each other. Even during non-festival times.”

  I sat up. “Really? Tell me more?”

  He laughed.

  “I bet the really rich people bring their yachts here, right?” I said, looking out at bay.

  “Really rich people?”

  “What?” I said, confused.

  “Because only slightly rich people rent the villa you’re staying in. Please,” he scoffed.

  “I know. It’s absurd. Trust me. I know.”

  Then he side-eyed me.

  “What?” I said again.

  “You don’t act like the rest of them.”

  Then I remembered I didn’t really like him and didn’t want to talk, so I clamped my mouth closed.

  Then he laughed even harder.

  “But you’re trouble. I can tell,” he said.

  I thought about his easy laugh, that smile, those strong hands on the steering wheel, and his extremely fit body and shook m
y head.

  He was the one who was trouble.

  When he laughed again, showing these brilliant white teeth, I frowned.

  He must have seen it because he put both hands on the wheel. I could see out of the corner of my eye that he was staring straight ahead out the windshield.

  “Definitely trouble,” he said and snickered. I glared at him, and he had the audacity to laugh again. “I make a point to stay far away from women like you.”

  4

  The villa was tucked away up in the mountains. The long driveway made it feel even more secluded. Ryder pulled into the wide circle drive, put the car in park, and smiled at me.

  “Here we are.”

  I looked around and felt a little panicked.

  “It’s really far away from…” I trailed off.

  “Anywhere.”

  I bit my lip. I was a city girl. Always had been. Always would be. Maybe this wasn’t a great idea.

  He opened the driver’s side door, and before I could react, he was over at my door, opening it for me.

  I took a deep breath and climbed out, stretching.

  The white stone façade of the villa that faced the driveway was impressive dotted with windows that belied its massive size, but as soon as we stepped inside, I saw what I’d been dreaming about.

  I took out my cell phone and squinted at the directions for the alarm. It wasn’t something I’d seen before. It gave instructions for how to program it with my own code.

  “May I?” Ryder said. “I’m familiar with this system.”

  I handed him my phone.

  Ryder opened up a small panel and pressed some buttons, glancing down at my phone.

  “This alarm system is state-of-the-art,” he said. “You’re going to want to have it armed all the time, I think. We’ve had some daytime break-ins around here lately. One man was in his home office and came out to grab lunch, and a burglar was loading up a van in the driveway.”

  “That’s brazen.”

  “Yes. So keep the alarm on while you are home. Especially since you will be here alone.”

  As soon as the door opened, I walked inside.

  “Wait,” he said. “We have to set your code…”

  But I was already down the hall.

  “I will show you how to program it before I leave,” I heard him say behind me.

  Inside, the ceilings stretched high above, and rooms were separated by curved stone archways. The décor was luxurious and yet cozy, big white plush couches with white faux fur throws and crystal candles and chandeliers. The black marble floors and mirrors on every wall were offset by velvet furniture and satin wallpaper in soft creams and pale pinks.

  I followed Ryder through the house. He lugged my two suitcases for me as he headed up a steep set of wide, worn pink-and-white marble stairs. At the top of the stairs, he turned right, and at the far end of a hall, double doors opened up to the master suite. The entire wall to my left opened up to a wide balcony overlooking the backyard.

  I rushed through the room and threw open the doors to the balcony. To my left were other balconies. Each room had one. The back of the house looked down on the bay below. It was magical.

  Directly below me, surrounded by a gleaming white stone patio lay a magnificent turquoise pool with a small waterfall feeding into it. A hot tub, nearly as big, sat off to one side. On the other side I spotted an outdoor kitchen.

  The entire area was filled with lush, tropical trees, plants, and flowers. A large lawn led to a steep drop-off and more foliage. I could just spot the top of another villa far below.

  Closer to the building was a stone patio scattered with lounge chairs, café tables, and umbrellas.

  It looked like a small boutique hotel. Just what I had wanted.

  And it was all mine.

  I laughed out loud.

  “I take it you approve?”

  Ryder was by my side.

  “Oh, yes.”

  I turned around and headed toward my suitcase, which he had set on the bed. I kicked off my shoes and began to shrug out of my T-shirt.

  Ryder cleared his throat. I glanced over at him. He frowned and turned around.

  “What’s your problem?” I said.

  “You’re taking off your clothes.” I tried to read his voice, but couldn’t tell if he was amused or offended.

  “Yeah, I’m going swimming.”

  “I’ll can wait outside your room.”

  “Don’t bother. I mean, um, I thought I was in the south of France? Maybe I landed somewhere else.”

  One thing I loved about Europe, particularly Southern France and Italy and Spain, was the lack of modesty. Nudity was no big deal. Entire parks in Germany were devoted to nudists.

  As I rummaged in my suitcase for my white bikini, Ryder made a sound. I couldn’t tell if it was a snicker or a huff of exasperation.

  I glanced at where he stood facing the door, but he didn’t move. Shit. He wasn’t even tempted to turn around and look? I’d lost it for sure. I was just some old married woman now.

  Just in case, I threw my shirt across the room, and it landed on the floor beside him. Nothing. So I slipped out of my pants and tossed my lace panties on top of the shirt. He didn’t even glance down. For some reason, I found this unbelievably irritating.

  “I’m sure you’ve seen lots of women naked,” I said, still trying to provoke him. “What’s one more? I don’t think you’re a prude, so what’s the deal?”

  Then I noticed he was looking down at his phone. He wasn’t even paying attention to me.

  “Huh?” he said raising his head. “Will you need anything else before I leave?”

  I ignored his question. I wasn’t done talking about how prudish he was acting.

  “That’s one reason I came down here, so I don’t have to put up with all the uptight bullshit.”

  “They sunbathe topless in Barcelona, too. I happen to have it on good authority.” He said it matter-of-factly.

  I made a face. I hated that he was calling me on my shit.

  Then he walked out the door, saying over his shoulder, “I’ll leave my number on the table downstairs.”

  And then he was gone.

  “Don’t bother,” I shouted after him.

  5

  Swimming naked in the Olympic size pool was just what the doctor ordered.

  After Ryder left, I decided to scrap the bikini and walked around the villa naked. I didn’t even bother to grab a towel when I headed out to the pool.

  The water was as warm as a bathtub and felt delicious.

  I did several laps and was surprised when I popped up at one end to find a towel folded neatly on a chair and a large bottle of water with condensation dripping from it.

  I glanced around quickly. Ryder was nowhere to be seen.

  That was slightly creepy.

  But I felt smug knowing he hadn’t actually left when he’d said he was going.

  Then I felt sort of guilty when I got out of the pool and trudged into the house only to find a plate of fresh fruit, cheeses, and meats laid out on the counter next to a simple white card with his name and number.

  I picked up the card and examined it for a few seconds.

  Just what was his story? All I knew is that he was one of the most annoying men I’d ever met.

  Thinking this, I texted Dante.

  “Your guard dog got me here safely. Is he a eunuch or what?”

  I watched the bubbles on my phone screen that appeared as Dante wrote back. Then his text appeared. “What? He’s all man, baby.”

  “Oh! He’s on your team. Boy is my gaydar broken.”

  “Wrong. If he was, I would’ve brought him home years ago. What’s your problem? By the way, using the word ‘gaydar’ is offensive and so 2017. And it’s broken if you think he’s gay.”

  “Whatever,” I said. “He must be gay because he wasn’t interested in seeing my boobs. And we both know I have great boobs.”

  “All I know is he’s not gay. Maybe he ha
s a girlfriend?”

  “He still could’ve looked.”

  “Some men have integrity.”

  “Oh, yeah, I forgot.”

  I hadn’t, actually. Nico was the epitome of integrity. But he was one of a kind.

  Thinking of him made a heaviness fall over me. I glanced down at the plate that Ryder had prepared. It looked like a piece of art.

  Definitely gay.

  I stuck a piece of cheese and slice of nectarine in my mouth, and it tasted like heaven. I made a small plate of the food, reached for a bottle of red wine sitting near the platter, and headed back out to the pool.

  I spent the rest of the afternoon listening to Eminem, Juice WRLD, and Cardi B, reading the latest Gregg Hurwitz thriller, and sipping wine.

  The sun beating down on my body felt glorious. When I got too hot, I’d dive into the pool to cool off.

  I checked my phone a few times and then decided to delete every single app on it except for my music apps. I was going off the grid. No more news. No more social media. I used to keep track of all that when Rose was younger, but now that she was out in the world on her own, I never used them anymore.

  Thinking of Rose made a pit form in my stomach.

  She was a warrior. A killer. But she was still a little girl to me in some ways. Still barely an adult. Still the girl I had met as a frightened eight-year-old. It was incredibly difficult to let go and let her make her own way in the world. Especially when that way involved hunting down sadistic cult leaders who sacrificed children. But I had no say in the matter.

  Nobody could have stopped me at her age.

  I knew I couldn’t stand in her way. All I could do was love her and be there for her in any way I could at any time. All she had to do was say the word, and I would drop everything in my life to go to her and help her. She knew that. That was what I could offer. But it didn’t feel like nearly enough.

  Rose had my phone number. Dante had my phone number. Eva had my phone number. And the nurses at memory care had my phone number.