He needed more victims. He needed an easy kill.
She would be perfect.
Then he saw her walking over toward the gimp cop in the wheelchair, and his heart raced. Were they friends?
She leaned down and kissed the cop.
Hmmm. The last thing he wanted was for the cop to have more motivation to solve the murders. If they killed this woman and she was the cop’s friend, it might provoke a larger investigation than he wanted.
Even from across the room, he could feel Nicoletta bristling at the intrusion from the brunette. He didn’t like that. Nicoletta was with the cop for one reason and one reason only—to make sure the cop didn’t suspect him.
Nicoletta turned and met his eyes, and he knew all was well.
Nicoletta fucking loved him. She just tolerated the cop, who wasn’t even a real man, anyway, was he?
He’d never asked Nicoletta if they had fucked, because he couldn’t bear to hear the answer. Just like she never asked what he did with his dick when they were apart. I mean, obviously, she knew, but it was a forbidden subject.
As he watched, one man after another came up to meet the bitch in the white pantsuit.
He hated her on sight. She was the type of woman who would bust his balls if he said anything flirtatious to her. He could tell. He liked his women soft and feminine like his Nicoletta. She wasn’t afraid to be a woman. He could grab her ass and tits all he wanted and she liked it.
He tried to hide his disgust with the other woman, standing there like she fucking owned the place. Bitch. He exhaled as someone came up to him, smiling. He stuck out his hand and responded to the greeting, turning his back on the scene across the room.
He’d ask Nicoletta about the brunette later.
Nine
As I approached, I could feel the redhead’s eyes on me, but I ignored her.
I only had eyes for James. We’d locked eyes. It felt like the rest of the room and the chatter had disappeared, and there was only this bubble with me and James in it.
Walking across the room to him seemed to take an eternity.
And then I was there. In front of him. I leaned down to kiss him on the cheek, and he curled his fingers in the back of my hair and kissed me on the lips. Then he grabbed both of my hands in his.
I’m not gonna lie—sparks flew. It lasted about two seconds, but when I pulled back, my cheeks were on fire.
“Long time no see, sailor.”
“Gia Fucking Santella. You are a sight for sore eyes.”
His grin was contagious. We just sat there for a few seconds beaming at each other like idiots.
We were still holding hands. His wheelchair was tall enough that I only had to lean over a tiny bit.
The strawberry blonde behind him cleared her throat.
“Oh!” James said. “I’m so sorry. Gia Santella meet Nicoletta Van Cleef.
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
“The pleasure is mine,” she purred. Her voice was warm, but her eyes were cold as death. She didn’t like me. Fine. What else was new.
I’d given up on caring whether other women liked me when I turned eighteen.
“Nicoletta is playing the lead role in The Death of Engleberg.”
“Impressive,” I said with a smile, having no idea if that was the right answer.
She gave a delicate shrug. “It’s not my most challenging role, but it’s been entertaining so far.”
“Great,” I said and then turned toward James. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about this schmaltzy opera singer’s career.
“What in the hell have you been up to for the past decade,” I said.
A shadow passed across his face. That’s when I knew.
“Genevieve?” I asked in a small voice.
I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed and looked down.
“I lost her to breast cancer five years ago.”
“Oh god,” I said and leaned down to hug him. “I’m so sorry, James.”
I breathed the words into his ear and he held me tight.
“It devastated me and Janie.”
I pulled back and searched his eyes. “That’s not fair. I’m so sorry.”
I was also thinking, That’s why this strawberry blonde is eyeballing me. She’s territorial. She’s got her meat hooks into James.
She wants to make sure I’m not a threat. Which I wasn’t. That ship had sailed a long time ago, honey. Me and James were destined to be friends. Even if the chemistry between us was off the fucking charts. It was interesting that with Bobby, the chemistry was good but it was more of a soul connection. With James, it was mostly the undeniable electricity between us. With Nico, it was both.
James choked up telling me about Genevieve, so I gave him a few seconds before asking, “How is your daughter?”
Thank God, his face lit up again. “She’s amazing. She just started her freshman year at Davis. She’s so beautiful and smart and kind, Gia.”
“How could she not be? Look at her mama and papa,” I said in a low voice.
Just then, Dante made an announcement for everyone to take a seat.
I looked up and for the first time noticed the room we were in.
The space was beautiful. Stunning. It possibly held the best views of San Francisco in the city. There was a 360-degree view broken up by three doors. One door was the elevator. I wasn’t sure what the other two were. Even the bar was set up against a window, the brilliant colors of the liquor bottles reflecting the light behind them.
If you whirled in a circle, you’d see the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, the Bay Bridge, the South Bay, the Pacific Ocean and up closer, the city below.
“Unfucking believable,” I said.
Nicoletta shot me a wide-eyed look. I smirked. Miss Opera Singer was offended by the F-word? Just fucking wait.
We took our seats at a banquet table that lined the window facing the Golden Gate bridge. I sat by Dante. James and Madame Butterfly sat at the other
