Deadly Embrace (25 page)

He'd also finally contacted the number Karl Edgington had given
him. A woman had answered the phone.

"Michael Castellino," he'd said. "Karl told me to call."

"About time," she'd said. "Discuss nothing on the phone. Meet me
tomorrow, four o'clock, outside the Plaza."

"How'll I know you?"

"
I'll
find
you
."

And she had. Her name was Warner Carlysle and she was a definite
uptown beauty, tall, with auburn hair and a confident attitude. It
turned out—much to Michael's surprise—that she was Karl
Edgington's mistress. She was also the keeper of his cash, a million
dollars in unmarked bills that the detectives who'd arrested him knew
nothing about. "Karl wants to legitimize this money," she'd said.
"And obviously
he
can't. So, for a return of ten percent, he
wants you to slowly invest it in the market over a period of
time."

"What if I blow it?"

"You won't. I'll give you Karl's instructions and a certain amount
of cash at a time. This is a no-lose proposition."

"How come he trusts
me
?"

"Karl is not as mild as you think. Screw him, and you screw
yourself. Follow instructions, and everyone turns out a winner."

Which is exactly what he'd done, and he was making plenty.

Christ! His one night with Beth was a big mistake. However, it was
his
mistake, and now he had to pay the price.

She was seventeen and pregnant.

He was twenty-six and pissed.

"Take the goddamn test," he said, reluctantly doing the right
thing. "If it's positive, I'll marry you."

"Big deal," she said, thrusting out her lower lip. "I'm too young
to sacrifice myself to marriage, and I'm
certainly
too young
to have a baby. I'm getting rid of it, Michael, and
you're
paying."

This girl had balls bigger than his. "No," he said sharply. "I
don't believe in abortion."

"Who cares
what
you believe in?"

She was too much. "Are you
listening
to me?" he said
angrily. "
No
abortion."

"My plans do not include getting stuck with a baby at my age," she
said, brown eyes flashing. "If you really want to know— I'm
going to be a dress designer. The biggest and the best."

She'd already dropped out of school, and was attending a fashion
institute. At least she had a mission, which was more than he could
say about most of the women he dated. They
all
wanted to get
married. They were
all
after the gold ring on the finger. So
far, none of them had come close.

As far as
he
was concerned, marriage was a gold ring
through the nose, and not something he'd ever considered befcfe. Now
he was offering it to her, and she was turning him down.
Unbelievable!

He confided in Max over a beer at their local bar.

"Jeez!" Max groaned. "Why'd you havta screw her? She's
seventeen
, for crissakes. You didn't have enough pussy, you had
to have her too? That's some dumb move!"

"Yeah, it was stupid," he admitted. "But she was always giving me
the come-on."

"An' you couldn't resist."

"Guess not."

"How was she in the sack?" Max asked, narrowing his eyes in a sly
fashion.

"Get the fuck outta here," Michael said, frowning. "You
know
I never talk about the women I've been with."

"Gee, thanks," Max said indignantly. "Here I am, married six
years, an'
you
don't wanna tell me shit. Would it
kill
you to give a married guy a cheap thrill?"

"I'll tell you this," Michael said, ignoring his comment. "I'm
sure as hell not allowing her to get rid of my baby."

"What're you gonna do," Max said sarcastically, "tie her to the
bedpost?"

"You've got to get Tina to talk to her. Maybe after the baby's
born she'll snap into some kind of maternal instinct thing. Isn't
that what women do?"

"How would I know?" Max said, swigging his beer. "If I ou were
smart, you'd
let
her get rid of it."

"That's not right, Max. How'd you feel if it was Susie or
Harry?"

"Okay, okay—I get what you're sayin'."

"Then you'll speak to Tina?"

"Sure. Only I'm warnin' you—my lovely wife'll have your
balls for breakfast."

"I hope she enjoys 'em."

* * *

"You horny disgusting
pig
!" Tina raged. "Why couldn't you keep
your slimy hands off her?"

He shrugged. "You're right, I never should've gone near her.
Believe me—it's my mistake."

"And a big one," Tina said, glaring at him. "Don't you understand?
Max and I are supposed to watch out for those girls. We're supposed
to protect them from old leches like you."

"I'm not exactly an old lech."

"Well, I think you're
disgusting
. It's terrible what you've
done to that poor little girl."

"Oh c'mon, Tina," he said, defending himself. "Beth is about the
most street smart kid I've ever come across."

"You just said it, Mike—she's a
kid
, and you should
have left her alone."

"I didn't, an' now what happens?"

"You've got to marry her."

"I've offered. She doesn't want that."

"You offered to
marry
her?" Tina said, shocked.

"I certainly did."

"And she said no?"

"You got it," he answered wearily. "Look—if she has the
baby, I'll support them both. But I'm telling you straight -no
abortion."

"It's not your choice."

"It's my baby."

"How do you know?" Tina said, arching an eyebrow. "Are you telling
me she only slept with
you
?"

"She's willin' to do the blood test thing, an' so am I. Besides,
she swears it's mine."

"And you believe her?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," Tina sighed. "I'll talk to her. But not for you— for
her. And Michael..."

"Yeah?"

"In future keep your horny little dick to yourself."

"
Little
, Tina?"

She couldn't help giggling. "I never did find out, did I?"

Two days later Tina summoned him back to the house. "How many
times did you sleep with her?" she asked.

"Once."

"Then
you
must be a one-shot wonder."

"What d'you mean?"

"I took her to the gyno. She's five months pregnant, so you must
have slept with her right after you moved out of here."

"Who remembers?" he said, remembering only too well.

It was one of those hot summer nights and he'd been over at Tina
and Max's for dinner. As he left their house, he spotted Beth sitting
on the steps outside the house next door. She was wearing a skimpy
red halter top and barely there shorts. "Hi, Michael," she said,
waving at him.

He walked over. She was smoking a cigarette, drinking from a can
of Coke, and listening to Cuban music on her transistor radio.

"Miss me?" she said, flirting as usual.

He plucked the cigarette out of her hands. "You're too young to
smoke," he said sternly.

She leapt to her feet. "Give that back!" she yelled, hands on
hips.

He took a drag, purposely teasing her. She sucker-punched him in
the stomach and grabbed her cigarette from him.

"How are you?" he asked, grinning.

"Bored," she answered restlessly, sitting down again and
stretching out her long legs.

"Where's Catherine?"

"Away for the weekend."

"Why didn't you come over to Max an' Tina's for dinner?"

"Then I'd be even
more
bored."

"Why? I was there."

"That's what I mean."

"You are a piece of work."

"Takes one to know one."

"So," he said, sitting down next to her, "where are all your
boyfriends tonight?"

"Ha!" she said disgustedly. "I told you before—I don't like
boys, I like
men
."

"And
how
old are you now?"

"Old enough to do whatever I want," she said, staring at him
boldly.

"I don't think so. In my opinion you're gonna havta make do with
boys for the next few years."

"
Really
, Michael?" she said, giving him another provocative
look.

"Yup."

"Wow! It's hot," she said, fanning herself with her hand.

He couldn't help noticing that her nipples were erect. The skimpy
halter top did not hide much, and it was obvious she was not wearing
a bra.

"The freezer thing at the top of our fridge broke and there's a
big chunk of ice stuck there," she said, totally aware he was
checking out her breasts. "Can you please take a look for me?"

"Call the repairman," he said briskly.

"Please, Michael,
please
," she said, standing.

"Okay, okay," he said, getting up and following her into the
house, which had the same layout of rooms as Max and Tina's, although
it was furnished differently, with colorful couches, bright abstract
paintings, and ethnic rugs. Aunt Gloria had exhibited very flamboyant
taste.

The kitchen was a mess. Dirty dishes and chaos everywhere.

"Ottherine does the housekeeping," Beth explained, bending down to
pick up the cat's dish.

"Where's this ice problem?" he asked, trying to avoid staring at
her butt, so snug and inviting in her short shorts.

She gestured toward the refrigerator. He walked over. She was
right behind him, transistor radio blaring salsa.

He could smell her—a heady mixture of sweet vanilla perfume
and fresh sweat.

"Michael," she said.

"Yeah?" he answered, opening the fridge.

"I think you're
very
sexy."

"And
I
think you're
very
young," he said, peering at
a large chunk of ice jamming the door of the freezer section.

"I'm not a virgin," she announced.

"Let's hang out the flags," he said, attempting to dislodge the
ice with his hand—a fruitless exercise. "You got an ice
pick?"

"Will a hammer do?"

"Guess it'll have to."

She fetched a hammer from the kitchen drawer and handed it to
him.

As he turned to take it, she suddenly flung her arms around his
neck and kissed him. A big, warm, wet one right on the lips, with
plenty of tongue involved.

"Beth—" he began. Too late. Like clockwork, his dick sprung
to attention.

She was no slouch. She felt his erection, and before he could even
consider what was about to happen next, she unzipped his pants and
inserted her hand.

Christ! What could he do? He was only human, after all.

Within seconds she was untying her halter top, revealing the most
perfect small breasts with delectable erect nipples. "I want you,"
she murmured in a husky whisper. "I want you, Michael. I want you
now."

He fingered her nipples. She moaned and began moving her hand on
him.

The hell with how old she was, he was at the point of no return,
and he wasn't going anywhere.

They sank down onto the cold linoleum-covered floor. He ripped off
her shorts, only to discover she was wearing no underwear. Nor was
he.

Her skin was hot, clammy, and inviting. After sucking on her
nipples for a few moments, he thrust his hand between her legs, and
then mounted her.

She moaned with pleasure, moving under him, undulating her hips
toward his, somehow writhing in time to the throbbing music.

It was a thrill ride for both of them. So good that after a few
minutes' respite he was ready to go again. And he did.

Then, suffused with guilt, he never went near her again.

That was five months ago. Now this.

"Anyway," Tina said, in full take-charge mode. "It's too late for
an abortion."

"That nails it," he said decisively. "She'll have the baby, an'
I'll marry her."

"Sorry to shatter your wonderful fantasy of every woman begging to
be your wife," Tina said, "but as you know, she doesn't want to do
that."

He wasn't in the mood for Tina's jibes. "What then?" he said
shortly.

"She says she'll move in with you."

"I don't get it," he said, puzzled. "One minute she won't marry
me, an' now she wants to move in with me?"

"She thinks living with you is a good idea."

"I don't want to live with anybody."

"Why? You were willing to marry her."

"That's different."

"Well," Tina continued, "I imagine
this'll
teach you to
keepfyour pecker in your pants."

Why did he have a feeling that Tina was enjoying every moment of
his uncomfortable situation?

Businesswise, things were on the rise. Working with Gus and his
crew suited him fine, and he was making plenty of money investing
Karl Edgington's cash and skimming off ten percent of the profits
before transferring the balance to a numbered Swiss bank account. It
was complicated, but Karl had the whole deal worked out. He never
made a wrong call about what stocks to invest in. The man was a
genius, and Michael was getting rich.

Meanwhile Gus's crew was involved in everything from loan sharking
to the protection racket. Once in a while they pulled off a major
hijacking. It kept Michael just busy enough.

"If anyone ever needs me to take anythin' to Vegas, it's what I
used to do," he said, passing the word along.

Gus laughed in his face. "Mr. Lucchese don't shift drugs that
way," he said. "He's smarter than that."

"Drugs? I thought I was carryin' cash."

"Vito Giovanni had you runnin' narcotics," Gus said. "You're
freakin' lucky you didn't get busted. You wouldn't be walkin' around
today if the Feds had nailed your sorry ass."

Shit! He'd been ferrying drugs back and forth across state lines
without knowing it. What kind of an idiot was he? And why hadn't
Marnie warned him? She was a bitch for not doing so.

He'd noticed that one of Dante Lucchese's men seemed to go out of
his way to avoid him. The man's name was Bone, and that's exactly how
he looked. Pale skin and bones stretched over a skeletal face, with
ice pick eyes, droopy gray eyelids, and a stooped frame. He had to be
getting up there—almost fifty. Everyone knew he was Mr.
Lucchese's enforcer. If someone needed to be terminated, Bone was the
man who took care of it. Michael wasn't into that side of the
business. Killing was not for him. The only killing he cared to make
was in the stock market.