Deadly Embrace (18 page)

Since then, Max had been filled with guilt about cheating on Tina.
He'd made Michael faithfully promise that he'd never tell her.

"I don't get why you're makin' such a big deal of it," Michael had
said. "It's not like you was already
married
or anything. It
was your last fling, for crissake."

"It was my last fling, all right," Max had responded miserably. "
'Cause if Tina ever finds out, she'll never marry me."

But marry him she did, blissfully unaware of his infidelity.

They were married at the local church, with Michael as best
man.

At the reception, after several glasses of champagne, Tina
whispered seductively in Michael's ear, "It could've been you, you
know."

Yes. He knew.

Women. They were not to be trusted.

Except Dani. He had a strong feeling that she was the one, and he
couldn't wait to get back to Vegas so that he could see her
again.

A week later he got his wish. Mr. G. entrusted him with another
large package, and off he went.

Upon arrival in Vegas he realized that he didn't have Dani's
number, but at least he knew where she lived, so he wasted no time
getting a cab from the airport straight to her apartment. She'd be
surprised to see him, although he hoped she'd be pleased, too.

Angela answered the door. "You!" she exclaimed, tossing back her
long brown hair. "I
knew
you'd be next in line." So there was
a line. Nice.

"Uh ... I'm lookin' for Dani," he said.

"You are?"

"Max sends you his best."

"Max who?" she said blankly.

Max had confided that Angela had requested money. "Told her I
didn't have any, an' she screwed me anyway."

"Remember Max? My pal."

"Oh,
that
cheapskate," she said, scowling. "He owes me
money."

"For what?"

"A present."

"Guess it must've been your birthday, huh?"

"Funny."

It was obvious she was not about to invite him in, and standing on
the doorstep was hardly what he had in mind. "So... uh, tell me, does
Dani know you charge?" he asked, making an attempt to throw her off
balance.

"What?" she said, biting her lower lip.

"Does she know?" he repeated.

"Getting an occasional present is
not
charging," she said,
her voice rising.

"Is Dani around?"

"No," she said spitefully.

"Where can I find her?"

"Dani's not for you."

"That's for her to decide."

"
I'm
deciding for her."

"You are?"

"Yes. You'll mess with her mind. You good-looking ones are all the
same, too full of yourselves for your own good."

Impasse. They stared each other down.

Who does this cow think she is
? Michael thought.

Who does this stud think he is
? Angela thought.

And then Dani emerged from her bedroom, where she'd been taking a
nap. As soon as she saw Michael, her face lit up.

"Hey," he said, delighted to see her.

"Hey," she responded with a shy smile.

"I would've called, only I forgot to get your number."

"That's okay," she said, lowering her blue eyes in a way he found
quite irresistible.

"You're sure?"

"Oh, yes," she murmured, finally meeting his gaze.

"Holy cow!" Angela exclaimed. "Why don't you two get a room!"

"Shut
up
," Dani said, embarrassed.

"Uh ... maybe we should take a walk," Michael suggested.

"Yeah," Angela drawled sarcastically. "Walk her all the way to
your
bed
."

"Sorry about Angela," Dani said as soon as they got outside. "She
doesn't mean any harm. That's just her way."

"How well d'you know her?"

"Well enough to share her apartment."

He wondered if he should mention that Angela was probably a part
time hooker, then decided against it. He didn't care to talk about
Angela; it was Dani he was interested in.

They took a cab to the Sands hotel, where they strolled around the
grounds checking out the sights. Dani admired the statues and the
fountains—even though she probably saw them every day. She was
excited, like a little kid, which he found most appealing.

Eventually they made their way back over to the Estra-dido coffee
shop.

Sitting opposite her, Michael found himself doing all the talking,
telling her about New York and his life there, even confiding about
Vinny and Grandma Lani—things he never spoke about.

She listened intently, big blue eyes fixed on his.

"What about you?" he asked after a while. "How did
you
get
to Vegas?"

"On a motorcycle," she said, thinking he'd never believe her
story, and anyway, she wasn't quite ready to tell it to him.

He laughed. "Sounds like a trip."

"Oh, it was."

"I bet."

She could have sat with him forever, listening to his stories,
staring at his handsome face. However, she knew she had to be at work
soon, and the company manager didn't like it when any of the girls
turned up late. Sometimes he even went so far as to dock their
pay.

"What time is it?" she asked anxiously.

"Why? You gotta be somewhere?"

"The first show is in an hour. I'm supposed to be backstage."

"Yeah," he said lazily. " 'Cause the show is crap without
you."

"Don't say that," she answered modestly.

"I'm sayin' it. You're the only one worth watchin'."

Then he leaned across the table and began kissing her. She found
herself responding with a passion she'd never felt before. "Come on,"
he said, helping her up. And without any more conversation they left
the coffee shop.

"I gotta get somethin' from my room," he said, holding her hand
and leading her toward the elevator.

Obediently she went with him, although she knew it was time to go
backstage and get ready for her show.

The moment they entered his room he began kissing her again. She
kissed him back, reveling in the moment, breathless with the
anticipation of what might happen next.

He didn't stop kissing her until she was filled with heat and
desire. For the first time she realized what all the fuss was about.
She felt quite giddy.

Within moments he began undressing her—first removing her
blouse, and then her bra. She gasped as he touched her breasts,
thrusting them toward him, shivering with ecstasy at his touch. Then
he pulled off her skirt and panties, and without inhibitions she
opened herself up to him.

He marveled at her beauty as he maneuvered himself on top of
her.

It was then he discovered she was a virgin. "Jeez! You should've
told me," he said, rapidly moving off her.

"No, no," she said, pulling him back. "I want you to make love to
me, Michael."

For a moment he hesitated. Then he thought,
What the
hell—
she wanted him to—so
why not
?

Handling her gently, he began moving at a very slow pace, doing
nothing to alarm her.

When she bled, he comforted her, cradling her in his arms until
she felt secure, fondling her breasts, making her cry aloud with
pleasure. Then he started going down on her while she covered her
face with a pillow, desperately trying to stifle her screams of pure
pleasure.

They made love for a long while until eventually they were both
exhausted and fell into a warm and satisfying sleep.

A little later on they woke up.

"Hungry?" he asked, stroking her hair.

"Starving!" she replied, feeling as if she were floating on
clouds. He ordered from room service, and when the food arrived he
fed her shrimp and french fries, ice cream and strawberries.

Finally they fell asleep again in each other's arms.

In the morning, Michael awoke first. It occurred to him that he
had not contacted Manny to exchange packages, he had missed his
morning flight back to New York, and Dani had missed both shows the
previous night. Talk about fucking up. But who cared? It was worth
it.

Dani was still asleep, golden hair spread across the pillow,
smooth cheeks flushed with satisfaction, breasts exposed.

He couldn't resist reaching over and touching her nipples, causing
her to stir slightly.

He was immediately erect, only he didn't want to force himself
upon her. After all, last night was her first time and maybe she was
sore down there.

"Dani," he whispered, "we gotta get up."

She rolled over into his arms, slowly opening her eyes.

No hiding his erection now; it was digging into her stomach.

"Hello, sleepyhead," he greeted. "We've blown
everything—including my flight this morning."

She reached up, gently touching his cheek. "You can't go," she
murmured. "I won't let you."

"You won't, huh?"

"Never."

And then, in a perfectly natural way, she was guiding his erection
to the right place, and taking him on another heavenly trip.

Ten minutes later the phone rang.

It was Tommaso calling from New York. "What kind of shit are you
pulling?" Tommaso demanded in a cold, flat voice. "You didn't make
the delivery last night, an' believe me, that ain't good. You're also
not on the flight you're supposed to be on. Mr. Giovanni is
pissed."

"Jeez!" Michael said, thinking fast. "I musta passed out. I gotta
fever—don't remember a thing."

"A fever, huh?" Tommaso said disbelievingly.

"Temperature. Stomachache. Dunno what it is."

"Listen carefully, punk. Meet Manny, do the exchange, then get on
a fuckin' plane an' get your dumb ass back here pronto. You got
it?"

"I got it."

He put down the receiver, aware for the first time that he was no
longer his own man. He worked for Vito Giovanni, and because he did,
he'd better be prepared to jump. It was quite a revelation.

The phone call had broken the spell; now reality was staring him
in the face. "I gotta get goin'," he told her.

"When will you be back?" she asked.

A good question. He hoped he hadn't blown his Vegas run. "Soon,"
he promised.

"I'll miss you, Michael," she whispered.

"Not as much as I'll miss you," he responded, hurriedly getting
dressed.

"Michael?" she murmured, watching him closely.

"Yeah," he said, buttoning his shirt.

"Last night was so special."

"I know."

"I hope I didn't disappoint you."

"Disappoint me? Are you kiddin'?" He grabbed his jacket and bent
to kiss her.

She clung to him for a moment. "Michael," she whispered
softly.

"What, sweetheart?"

"I love you."

* * *

New York was cold and gloomy, and Mr. G. was angry. "You pull a stunt
like that again an' you're out," he raged.

"It wasn't a stunt, I was sick," Michael explained.

"Sick my ass," Vito exploded, red in the face. "You was probably
gettin' your cock sucked by one of them Vegas whores."

"That's not-"

"Shut the fuck up. Pussy is pussy, an' work
always
comes
first. Don'tcha forget it. An' don'tcha
ever
lie to me
again."

Why was Mr. G. making such a big deal out of it? What was in the
packages he carried back and forth anyway? And what did it matter if
he was a day late delivering?

He decided to ask Marnie. She knew everything, and sometimes she
didn't mind sharing, especially when she was mad at
Vito—something that seemed to be happening more and more
frequently.

He caught her when she was on her way back from the beauty
parlor.

"What do
you
want?" she asked, waving freshly lacquered
scarlet nails in his face.

"Haven't seen you lately," he said. "Thought I'd drop by an' say
hello."

"You did, did you?" she said, staring at him suspiciously.

"Yeah," he said, putting on the charm. "An' I bought you a box of
chocolates, your favorite kind."

"How transparent can you get?" Marnie said, grabbing the box
anyway. "The big man's mad at you, so you come whining to me. What's
the matter, Mikey?" she taunted. "Frightened he's gonna throw you
back on the street, where you belong?"

"It's not like that," he objected.

"Sure it is," she sneered. "So what
were
you doin' in Vegas
that was more important than your job?"

"How many times I gotta say it—I was sick."

"Yeah, honey, an'
I'm
Doris Day!"

Wrong time to start asking questions. He decided the next package
he carried, he'd take a peek and find out for himself.

Unfortunately his next trip was a long time coming. Vito put
Marnie back on the Vegas run and relegated Michael to driving duties,
which didn't thrill him.

"Ya wanna be my right hand one day, then ya gotta do everythin',"
Vito informed him. "Somma this, somma that. What's the harm?"

"I liked takin' care of the Vegas run."

"Sure you did," Vito replied, blowing cigar smoke in his face.
"Who wouldn't?"

"When can I do it again?"

"When I say so."

Vito Giovanni was not a man to be argued with.

Michael decided to hold off phoning Dani until he was sure about
when he'd be returning to Vegas. She was such a sweet kid, and it was
obvious she cared, so he didn't want to give her false hope that he'd
be back soon, especially as he had no idea what day or week or even
month it would be.

Even though he didn't call her, he thought about her a lot. In
fact, he found himself thinking about her all the time. She was
special. The most special girl he'd ever met. And although he wanted
to take it further, the truth was that he was scared of getting too
involved. He'd taken her virginity. She'd said she loved him. Jeez!
If he wasn't careful he'd be doing the Max thing and asking her to
marry him. And that was crazy time. He was only nineteen, too young
to stay with one woman when there was a lifetime of pussy out
there.