Santa Monica (High Bluffs Trilogy: Book Two) Read online

  Santa Monica - Text copyright © Sally Royer-Derr 2022

  Cover Art by Emmy Ellis @ studioenp.com © 2022

  All Rights Reserved

  Santa Monica is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and events are from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  The author respectfully recognizes the use of any and all trademarks.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s written permission.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  High Bluffs Trilogy

  Book 2

  Santa Monica

  Sally Royer-Derr

  Prologue

  He unwrapped the soft gauze bandage from his face, slowly unwinding it until there was no more to unravel. He let it drop onto the white marble bathroom vanity and lifted his eyes to the ornate mirror above. He blinked once under the bright lighting as he stared at the stranger’s reflection.

  He trailed his fingers over the skin, still tender from the surgery, and his mouth formed a painful smile. All his hard work was finally paying off. He had doubts about this whole process, serious doubts. But, in the end, he had no other choice. His bruised face was the sacrifice he made for her. A minor inconvenience for a short time was the only way to fulfill his plan.

  This is the only way I’ll finally find my happiness.

  Chapter One

  Joanna Craig pulled out the massive suitcase from under her king-sized bed. She hoisted it up, and it gave a resounding thud, landing on the sage-green duvet. She stood with her hands on her slim hips, staring at the walk-in closet, steps away from the bed, a closet she’d spent most of the day rifling through to compile a suitable traveling wardrobe for her husband, Rick, and herself.

  Suitable traveling wardrobe, the words repeated in her mind. I sound like some sort of stuffy English woman who wears floppy hats and eats crumpets. A small laugh escaped her lips. Well, we are going to England. And Italy, France, and Germany. Her mind spun at the thought of visiting all those faraway countries. She’d always wanted to travel through Europe, and finally, the time was right.

  Rick’s latest novel had shot to the top of every major best seller list, faster than his previous book. Annie, his literary agent, insisted this was the time for an international book tour, something she’d been harping on since his first novel had hit the list. They’d been reluctant to pull Jilly out of school for two months, but she’d graduated from high school last week and would be a college freshman in the fall.

  Joanna lay down on the bed and stared at the elegant tray ceiling. She knew the real reason they embraced this European tour at this point in their lives. Even though Jilly was now eighteen, they’d never leave her alone if he was still alive.

  Simon Clay died January 7th, just over a year and a half ago. The date was etched in Joanna’s memory. The date of my freedom. The man she’d thought of as a brother was a man obsessed with her, and the same man who’d murdered her first husband and terrorized her.

  Despite the ghoulish sense of being delighted at another human being’s death, Joanna smiled. She couldn’t help it. She’d feared for all of their lives the day Simon was released from prison, two years ago. Apparently, former cops made model prisoners. Despite her desperate pleas at his hearing, he snagged an early release ticket. Four months later, the phone call had arrived: Simon was dead.

  I’ll never have to worry about him again. She turned to stare at the silver-plated picture frame on the antique nightstand. Rick, Jilly, and herself on the expansive Southern California beach they’d called home for the last ten years. A glorious sunset cast golden hues on their tanned, smiling faces.

  We can all relax and live our lives. I’ll never think of Simon Clay again.

  * * * *

  Jilly Dresden grinned while watching her stepfather load the last of her mother’s luggage in the black sedan that was taking them to the airport. Three dark-pink paisley-designed suitcases were followed by a substantial matching carry-on bag―the same routine for every trip.

  Mom always overpacks.

  “Seriously, Joanna,” Rick said, his lips curving into a teasing smile. “Do you think we’re moving there permanently?”

  Joanna whisked past him and snuck in another small suitcase. She held up her hands. “I swear that’s it! I’ve never been to Europe. I want to make sure I have everything I need.”

  “I’ve never been to Europe either,” Rick countered. “But I kept it to one suitcase.”

  “Good for you.” Joanna winked. “Maybe I’ll give you an award for most conscientious packer.”

  Rick grinned, the same slow, heartfelt grin Jilly had come to love over the years he’d been in her life―more years than her own father. Even though Rick could never replace her father, she was thankful to have him.

  She’d always wanted them to have more children. A little brother or sister would have been nice. It was something she’d heard them talk about, too. But fate had other plans, and she remained an only child.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to go along?” Joanna asked her daughter. “It’s not too late to change your mind. We’d love it if you joined us.”

  Jilly shook her head. “No, Mom. I want to stay home. I have plans to go to San Francisco with Megan in a few weeks. And I just want to relax before starting college this fall.”

  “Positive?”

  She nodded. Traipsing through Europe with her parents all summer did not appeal to her in the least. She needed room to breathe. She needed freedom. They had a tendency to suffocate her, her mother in particular. She knew this was with good reason, given the tale of their life in Maine, but she had her own life and she intended to live it without fear. Jilly loved the relaxation she now saw in her mother. Gone was the tenseness and intensity that had been present since Simon’s release from prison. News of his death had brought relief for all of them. He wouldn’t be watching her anymore or plotting to destroy her. Finally, she could relax.

  She deserves to live a life without fear. We all do.

  She had vague memories of her life in Maine. A clear image of her dad pushing her on a tire swing in the backyard was the most vivid memory she could recall. The sweet haziness of a lazy summer day coupled with her father’s deep, melodic laugh and twinkling brown eyes etched deep into her mind. She remembered going higher and higher into the air.

  “Swing me to the moon, Daddy!” she’d say, sailing into the sky.

  And she remembered his funeral: dark, gray, and raining. Her mother’s hands shook as the casket, with her father resting in eternal sleep inside, was lowered into the rain-soaked ground. Jilly remembered feeling small, invisible almost, as she’d tried to hide behind the skirt of her mother’s b
lack mourning dress. She’d stopped talking for months afterward. I didn’t want to talk to anybody. Instead, she’d kept her thoughts and feelings close to her heart for her review only. Her social anxiety had risen quickly with all the chaos going on in her life at the time. She missed her dad and wanted him back, the way they used to be, even though she knew he was gone, at least in this life.

  A faint recollection of Simon lingered in her mind, not any one incident, but rather a mix of feelings. She’d never felt comfortable around him. He seemed to always be around, creeping and seeking. She’d always been a perceptive child, sensing danger before it made itself known. She’d never spoken in his presence, always opting for nods or hiding behind her parents. Even her young mind could see something wasn’t quite right about him. But, she never thought he’d murder her father.

  Then Rick had walked into their lives. Kind, strong, and loving, he was their sanctuary in the swirling storms around them. With the help of his strength, they began to heal. Her childhood perception recognized his goodness, and her heart welcomed him into her life as a stepfather, but most of all, as a friend as well.

  Jilly wrapped her arms around her mother, inhaling her sweet, familiar scent. I’ll miss her. It was the first time they’d been separated. At eighteen, she didn’t like to admit it, but she loved having her mother around. This will be my first time on my own. Despite her excitement at the prospect, an unnerving feeling shot through her body. She always had jitters when something new entered her life. But, she was ready to turn the page on a new chapter of living.

  I think I’m going to like being an adult.

  Chapter Two

  The mid-June heat rose, snaking its grip around the Southern California residents. Simon hit the switch on the car door, a black Mercedes-Benz, and the tinted window slid down smoothly. A warm breeze wafted inside the car, and the stately palm tree he’d parked beside slowly waved its leaves.

  He leaned a well-muscled arm on the black leather console, studying the building in front of him. Gleaming panes of glass lined the front of the elegantly appointed shop. Small, globe-shaped trees stood guard on either side of the front door, which boasted a mosaic of red, black, and white. Above the door in a simple black-and-white lettering read: The Art Nook.

  Foot traffic was light this early in the morning on trendy Montana Avenue. Everyone was still nursing their coffee and contemplating the plan of the day. Simon didn’t care. He had time to wait. He’d waited twelve long years in prison for this day.

  A few more hours are no big deal.

  * * * *

  Jilly slammed the door of her white convertible and hurried to open the back door of the gallery. Hastily, she clicked her remote to lock the car. The familiar bleep increased her speed entering the gallery.

  I can’t believe I overslept this morning. I hope he’s not here yet.

  Her mother’s business partner, Maize Lee, usually opened the shop when Joanna was away. However, Maize was in New York this week scouting a new, talented artist they hoped to feature in the gallery.

  A bead of sweat formed on Jilly’s forehead as she fumbled with the lock. She brushed it away and wiped her hand on the skirt of her short black dress. She wished she was wearing her bikini and lying on the beach.

  It sucks I have to work today.

  Normally, she wouldn’t be so concerned about being late, but one of the artists was stopping by this morning to check out the placement of his work. She didn’t want the front door to be locked when he arrived. Her mom had told her he could be oversensitive at times.

  I don’t need some artsy guy freaking out on me this morning.

  She’d planned on going to bed early last night and waking up early but had ended up staying up late watching movies.

  Finally, the door opened. She slid inside, through the back room, into the showroom. Her black sandals clicked loudly on the gleaming hardwood floor.

  Just in time.

  She breathed a sigh of relief, noticing a handsome older man closing the car door on his black Mercedes-Benz and approaching the gallery. She turned the lock and graciously opened the front door to greet him.

  * * * *

  His mind spun when he saw her standing at the door. A friendly smile adorned her perfect features. The same face that continued to haunt his dreams. She looked exactly as she had in high school. His sweet, sweet Joanna.

  He shook his head. This couldn’t be Joanna. She’d be forty-four years old now―his age. This lovely creature must be Jilly. Her striking resemblance to her mother threw him off guard. He was back in high school again, and the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen was smiling at him, welcoming him into her life.

  He hadn’t prepared for this. He’d never expected to be reminded of the lust of his youth, to see the woman who had been his very reason for breathing so many years ago. He’d expected to see Joanna and didn’t know how the rage and love he felt for her would surface, but this was too much.

  “Good morning,” the young woman said. She extended her hand. “I’m Jilly Dresden. My mother, Joanna, was so sorry to miss your visit. But I’m very happy to meet you.”

  Simon grasped the soft, firm flesh of her hand. His mind continued to spin as he drank in her youthful exuberance. A perfect reincarnation of my Joanna. Mixed emotions raced through him. He felt confused and tried to gain his bearings.

  “Oh.” He smiled warmly. “You must have me mistaken for someone else.”

  Confusion clouded her blue eyes for a moment. “You’re not Edward? The artist?”

  He shook his head, “No, my name is John. John Stapleton. But I am very happy to meet you, Jilly.”

  She laughed. A beautiful, tinkling sound hung in the air for a few seconds after the laugh. “My mistake. Nice to meet you, John. How can I help you today?”

  He paused for a moment, still feeling caught off guard by this beautiful vision of the past. Then, he spoke in the slow, Southern drawl he’d practiced for so many months.

  “I’ve heard great things about this gallery,” he said. “Your mother’s gallery, I assume.”

  “Yes.” Jilly nodded. “Well, she is co-owner of it. Unfortunately, she’s out of the country. Actually, she’s on a book tour with her husband. He’s a novelist. Have you ever heard of Rick Craig?”

  Simon clenched his teeth, trying to contain the rage that flowed so easily through him at the sound of that name: Rick Craig.

  The man who destroyed all my plans.

  Even after all these years, the anger still simmered just below the boiling point.

  Everything would have worked out for me if he hadn’t waltzed into Joanna’s life. I should have shot him when I had the chance.

  But he’d thought he and Joanna would die together. He’d shot her, then himself, like a classic tragic love story. He wanted Rick to feel the pain of losing her to him. An unsuccessful plan, obviously. He calmed himself. He was on a mission now, and Rick Craig would not get in his way again.

  “I don’t have much time to read,” he said quickly. “You said she was a co-owner. Is her partner available to speak to?”

  “I’m sorry, no. Maize is in New York this week.” Jilly smiled.

  It was a beautiful, innocent smile that warmed the blood coursing through his veins.

  “I guess you’re stuck with me,” she said.

  A slow grin spread across Simon’s face. “Then I’m a lucky man.”

  Chapter Three

  Jilly studied the handsome, dark-haired stranger flirting with her. She estimated him to be in his early to mid-thirties. He was tall, and had penetrating dark eyes. He’s too old for me. But the man possessed a certain charm and familiarity about him that appealed to her, and that Southern accent piqued her interest.

  “Your lucky day, I guess.” She brushed back a wisp of hair that had escaped from her hair clip. She wished she’d kept the honey-blonde hair of her youth, but as she’d got older, her hair had darkened. Now, it was as dark as her mother’s. “What part of the south are
you from?”

  “Texas, ma’am,” the man replied. “I’m in real estate. What you might call ‘flipping’. Ever hear of that?”

  “Like the TV shows? You buy a house, fix it up, and sell it? I love those shows. The remodels are amazing.”

  “That’s what I do, only on a much bigger scale. See, I only flip top-of-the-line homes in expensive neighborhoods. And my homes are not only remodeled but furnished. Top-notch furnishings and décor. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Okay, you’re searching for artwork for a home.” Jilly nodded and gestured her hand around the gallery. “Let’s look around. I’m sure you’ll find something you like.”

  She led him to the main wall that housed several paintings, mostly her mother’s. The cream-colored wall was lined with various works, ranging from simple floral piece to detailed scenes of nature and people. Overhead recessed lighting showcased the pieces, particularly the brilliant hues her mother preferred to use in her paintings. She was always amazed at her mother’s talent, no matter how many times she viewed her art. John’s gaze traveled over them, resting on a landscape of the Maine coast.

  “This one is perfect,” John said, studying the painting.

  “One of Mom’s older works.” Jilly nodded. “We used to live in Maine. In fact, the house overlooking the ocean in the painting is the inn we called home.”

  “Maine.” John stared at her. “You’re a long way from home. What brought you here?”

  “Oh, that was years ago,” Jilly brushed off the question. “I was just a kid. Sometimes you just need a change, you know?”

  His gaze met hers. Those penetrating but friendly eyes suddenly made her nervous for a moment. “I know exactly what you mean.”

  She blushed, suddenly awkward around him. She turned away from him and pretended to study the painting hanging above her and was grateful for the shrill ring of the gallery phone.