Dark Shadows (Gia Santella Crime Thrillers Book 11) by Kristi Belcamino (interesting novels in english .TXT) 📕

been nice to have Ryder there. I appreciated him showing up and offering to stay. To my surprise, I didn’t find him annoying at all anymore. Who knew why?

Standing at the French doors to my balcony, I looked down on the patio.

Everyone sat around the pool nursing drinks. They were talking in low voices and there was music piping out of the speakers. It was somber. I wondered what they were talking about.

I thought about shooting Dante a text to ask how much he was paying the guy to be my bodyguard or spy on me or whatever he was doing. But I didn’t want to have to explain to my best friend that there had been a murder. If Ryder hadn’t said something to him, I sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up. And I was certain Ryder hadn’t because if he had told Dante, he’d have already called.

Then I froze. Unless. Unless he had told Dante and my friend was already on his way.

Part of me wanted to fall into Dante’s arms for emotional support, and part of me wanted to do this on my own.

I’d grown a bit too dependent after years spent with Nico as my rock.

It was only in the past four years that I’d started to find my way without him again.

It’s crazy how easy it was to lean on someone else once I gave him my whole heart and soul. But now, it was back to square one.

I could only rely on myself.

Nico was the only man I’ve ever had in my life who seemed stronger than I was. Besides my dad, of course. But my mother was always the stronger of the two when I think back.

But as far as lovers, there was nobody I felt I could turn everything over to like I did Nico.

Bobby was sweet and innocent. He was someone I felt like I had to protect. I never felt like I could turn to him for help with my deepest fears and concerns. But I loved that man more than anything. James, my badass cop boyfriend, was someone I could rely on. But he never really knew me. He didn’t want to accept that I’d killed people. I always had to keep a guard up around him. I always felt that if he knew what I was really like, he’d despise me. And even so, my history, my track record as a killer and vigilante, had ultimately driven us apart.

But when I met Nico, he loved me for who I truly was. He knew I’d killed. I knew he had, as well. We met as equals and accepted each other’s flaws and shortcomings.

And at the same time, I felt like he could protect me. He was stronger than I was. At first it made me uneasy. I was used to being the strong one, independent and on my own. But over the years, I got used to it.

He always treated me as an equal, but I didn’t have to always be on guard. I didn’t have to worry about everything quite so much. I knew that Nico was there to keep our family safe.

For the most part, we were safe, hiding in Barcelona, but there was that one time…

We’d managed to keep it from Rose.

She was still a pre-teen at the time.

We’d sent her to visit Eva so she didn’t suspect anything.

Django, the best dog in the world, was still alive.

He was the one who saved our lives.

Nico and I were out on the balcony having a drink. Rose was at a sleepover at her friend’s house. It was a rare night when we had the place to ourselves.

The living room of the Gothic Quarter apartment was lit with candles, and some narcocorrido music played softly on the stereo. Nico was singing along softly, and we were both laughing, feeling giggly and in love.

Despite the late hour, the streets of the quarter were still filled with people talking and laughing. Barcelona was such a vibrant city. At the time, I remember thinking that nobody could feel lonely living there. That was before I lost Nico.

We had our feet up on the balcony railing and were talking about some of our adventures in Mexico. How so many people had tried to kill us, and we’d thought we’d have to live in hiding forever, and yet, we’d been in Barcelona for years and lived a peaceful life.

Famous last words, right?

I went back into the apartment to grab some bottled waters for us when I heard and saw something that made my blood run cold.

Django, who had gone to bed early, bereft that Rose wasn’t there, was now standing in the doorway of her room. A low, deadly growl thrummed from his throat, and his fur was standing on end. He was facing our bedroom.

A dark form materialized just as I reached off to the side and plucked a poker out of the stand near the fireplace.

Everything happened at once and seemed to be in slow motion: The figure wore a creepy, skin tight outfit from head to toe. With the exception of the two eye holes, every inch of the person’s skin was covered in black. Whoever it was lunged for me. I screamed a bloody war cry as I braced myself for the attack. At the same time, Django erupted into a bone-shattering bark as he flew through the air, fangs bared.

The three of us made contact at the same time. Django clung to the figure’s rubber-clad leg. I managed to spear the left side, but only barely as the person had dodged my thrust and come down on my shoulder with some type of heavy rod that sent me to my knees, reeling in pain. The man howled and yanked the poker out, sending it flying. It landed a few feet away, clattering to the floor.

I scrambled to my feet and jabbed my right knee into his groin. The resulting grunt confirmed