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down to thirteen people? Or less.

As I drove, a man in a Lamborghini pulled up beside me. I only noticed because he was matching my speed, staying abreast of me, and it was annoying. When I looked over, he gave a slight nod and revved his engine. Then he lifted his polarized sunglasses and gave me a slow wink. I slammed on the brakes so he flew ahead of me. Oh brother.

Then, in response, he punched his brakes, and I went roaring past. I laughed when I saw his face. He saluted me and then I left him in the dust, watching his vehicle get smaller in my rearview mirror.

The rest of the drive was uneventful, and soon I was pulling into Darling’s circular drive.

My city friend lived in an old-fashioned classic Tudor with steep, gabled peaks and roof and banks of windows above a brick foundation. It was tucked into a deep forested area and fronted by a massive green lawn. It was lovely.

As soon as I came to a stop, the door was flung open and a pack of golden retrievers raced out toward my car.

I leaped out and laughed, smothered by wiggling, furry bodies so I didn’t get a chance to see Darling until she let out a sharp whistle.

She stood in the entry and looked as awesome as ever.

Darling was like a lioness, a queen—a powerful, strong, beautiful member of the royal family of humanity. She had massive, golden cat eyes, lined thickly with kohl like an Egyptian goddess and those ridiculously long, black eyelashes.

Her Rubenesque body was encased in a peach silk jumpsuit. She wore high-heeled sandals, and her black hair fell down her back in elaborate braids.

“Gia-Fucking-Santella,” she said with a naughty grin and held out her arms.

I raced over and hugged her.

“I swear, woman, you don’t age,” I said as I pulled back.

“Same, girl. Same.”

A woman dressed in beige slacks, high heels, and a coral silk blouse appeared behind Darling.

“This is Cora,” Darling said. “She keeps me sane.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” the woman said. She had brown hair pulled back tightly in a bun and a no-nonsense attitude. “Your first meeting begins in one hour.”

“I know, I know,” Darling said and fluttered one hand with long, gold-painted nails. “Gia, I couldn’t get out of some meetings this morning. I’m going to set you up by the pool with some margaritas and my favorite gals from the nail salon. They’re going to give you a mani-pedi while I’m doing business.”

I laughed. “Not necessary. I can amuse myself for a few hours.”

“Mmmhhhmm,” she said and winked. “Keep your hands off my pool boy.”

“No promises.”

We both burst into laughter.

“Your juice is ready.” Cora said and then consulted her clipboard. “You have fifty-five minutes now.”

“Come on in,” Darling said. “I’ve got to drink my green juice before I forget. Want one?”

“Nope.”

In the kitchen, Darling told me she’d become an angel investor.

Hard-luck cases—all run by women—sought her funding.

While she had a soft heart for anyone who was struggling, Darling was also a sharp businesswoman and wouldn’t invest in anything she didn’t think had a shot.

For those who didn’t have a clue and approached her for help, she almost always pointed them to other resources to help them get to where they needed to be.

She told me about a young woman she’d talked to the previous week who had run away to escape her alcoholic parents and was working as a waitress. She had several good business ideas but didn’t have the wherewithal to follow through. Seeing her potential, Darling wrote her a check to pay for a college education.

“You start there,” she’d told the woman. “When you have your degree, come back and let’s talk again.”

Six hours later, armed with new blood-red fingernails and toenails and a bronze body from lying by the pool all day, I got back into my car.

Despite Dante’s orders, I didn’t feel like staying over. I was restless. I wanted to get back to the city and try to find who was setting me up. I wasn’t going to be able to do that from Marin County. If James and Dante and my attorney wanted me out of town, I was coming back. I wasn’t doing a damn bit of good here at Darling’s house.

“You sure you don’t want to stay, baby.”

Darling had changed into a flowy African-style dress that she wore with four-inch high slides.

“I’m good. Let’s talk soon,” I said. “It’s been amazing to see you.”

“Mmmhhhmm. Like we never were apart.”

I hugged her and was enveloped by her soft warmth.

She wasn’t that much older than me, and was more like a sister than a mother, but something about her made me feel safe like when my mama hugged me as a little girl.

I watched her in my rearview mirror as she waved goodbye.

About halfway back to San Francisco my phone dinged.

The car played back the message for me over the speakers. It was from Dante.

“They’re going to issue an arrest warrant.”

Twenty-Seven

I pulled over to the gravel shoulder. The road was steep and windy behind me, and anyone coming around the sharp curve a little too loosely might rear-end me because the shoulder wasn’t very wide. I decided I wouldn’t park there for long.

“They can’t do that.”

“Oh, they can,” Dante said. “It sounds like you’re driving. Where are you? You were supposed to stay with Darling.” His annoyance was plain in his voice.

“I never do what I’m supposed to, Dante. You should know that about me by now,” I said. “Run this by me again, and make it quick, I’m perched on the edge of a cliff on Witch Mountain.”

I squinted into the rearview mirror. A huge black Ram truck came around the corner. My heart raced, but the driver must’ve seen me and quickly moved into the opposite lane.

Right behind him, a little sports car came zipping around the corner, but this driver was hugging the curve at the white line, giving me plenty of room.

“Huh? Witch Mountain?”

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