Deadly Embrace (29 page)

"
Marnie
set up the robbery that got your mom killed and
your old man shot," Bone announced triumphantly. "Her and Roy was
responsible. Roy fired the gun, while Marnie stood guard outside." A
long beat. "
Now
d'you get it?"

"That's impossible," Michael said.

"Aren't you listenin'?" Bone said with an evil leer. "I told
you—
I was there
."

"You were there," Michael repeated dully.

"I used t' fuck that cow, Marnie," Bone continued. "Turned out
she's a bad one. Screwed me on a big deal." He wiped his nose on the
back of his hand. "Oh yeah, I know plenty about Marnie an' her
fuckin' scumbag cousin."

"Roy killed my mother? Is that what you're tellin' me?"

"He sure did," Bone said, picking his teeth. "I was with 'em, only
I
wasn't carryin'. We scoped the place out in the afternoon,
an' came back later. Shit—had no fuckin' clue Roy was gonna
shoot anyone."

"Christ!" Michael said, turning pale.

"Now you know, whatcha gonna do about it?" Bone challenged. "
'Cause that bitch sure as shit made a monkey outta you all these
years. You danced for her good."

Michael didn't answer. He was desperately trying to remain calm
and think rationally.
Never act on impulse—that
was one
lesson he'd learned. Inside he was burning up with a barely
controlled black rage. Could this be true? Had Roy shot his mom while
Marnie waited outside?

In a horrible way it all made sense, and it certainly explained
why Mamie had always been so interested in Vinny. It also explained
why she'd befriended
him
. It must have amused her in a cruel
and heartless way to know that
she
was responsible for his
mother's death.

He turned and walked away from Bone without saying another word.
If he stayed around, he'd probably kill the bastard.

When he got home that night, Beth was sitting on top of their bed,
painting her toenails silver while listening to the Rolling Stones on
the new stereo he'd bought her. "What's up?" she asked cheerfully,
bouncing around to the raunchy sounds of Mick Jagger yelling
"Satisfaction."

"Nothing you should worry about," he said, going into the bathroom
and staring at his reflection in the mirror.

"Never said I was worried," she replied, shouting above the music.
"Isn't this track
amazing
? I
love
Mick. Don't you?"

He was desperate to talk to someone, and Beth was too young to
burden with such grim information. He went downstairs to the kitchen,
took a beer from the fridge, then sat at the table and considered
telling Max.

Not a great idea, because Max was always on his case. "You're
working for another gangster," Max had complained. "Five years in the
joint ain't enough? You want more, is that the deal?"

"Anybody with an Italian name and you automatically think they're
connected," he'd replied. "How many times I gotta tell
you—Dante Lucchese is a businessman "

"An' what business would that be?"

"Waste disposal."

Max had rolled his eyes.

So he couldn't confide in Max, and he certainly couldn't confide
in Charlie, who since getting his new leg was working in a bank and
doing quite well. Besides, it was probably a good thing there was no
one to try and talk him out of what he knew he had to do, for not
only had the shooter—Roy—made Vinny into a vegetable, but
by killing Anna Maria, he'd robbed Michael of the childhood he might
have had.

Pure fury was building inside him like a volcano. He realized he'd
been waiting to get revenge for his mother's murder all these years.
And now that he knew the truth, there was no more waiting—it
was time to take action.

They would pay. All of them.

And they would pay soon.

* * *

Marnie had obviously gotten a good settlement out of Vito, because
she'd relocated to a Park Avenue apartment and moved Roy in with
her.

Marnie was a true survivor. She'd hired herself the best divorce
lawyer in town and was threatening to reveal certain aspects of Mr.
G.'s business interests if he didn't come up with the right amount of
alimony. Meanwhile, she was spending her soon-to-be ex-husband's
money at an alarming pace, and doing whatever and
whoever
took
her fancy.

Michael began surveying her apartment building and checking out
her movements, making sure she didn't spot him. He soon found out she
had two dogs—a pair of spoiled white miniature poodles. The
dogs were walked three times, a day by different people. The first
walk—early in the morning— was taken care of by the front
desk porter. Lunchtime, Marnie took them out herself. And late at
night it was Roy's turn.

A couple of weeks after listening to Bone's revelations, Michael
finally took action. It was time.

That night he waited in the park, stationing himself behind a
tree, halfway along the path where Roy usually walked the dogs. It
was a cold, dark night, and the park was deserted, exactly the way he
wanted it.

As he stood there, he was thinking about the Chronicle and
everything the man had taught him. At last it was about to come in
useful.

He stamped his feet as he waited, trying to stay warm. He thought
about Beth with her seductive smile. And his precious daughter,
Madison. He loved them both. They were everything to him.

After about twenty minutes, he spotted Roy approaching. As soon as
Roy was close enough, he stepped out from behind the tree and stood
in front of him, blocking his way. "Hey, Roy," he said in a friendly
tone. "Remember me?"

Roy peered at him through the darkness. "Who's that?" he asked,
startled.

"Michael Castellino," he said, moving closer.

The dogs began to bark and pull on their leashes.

"What the hell
you
doin' here?" Roy mumbled ill-temperedly.
"It's the middle of the fuckin' night."

"I was takin' a walk, saw you comin', an' thought it might be a
good time to reminisce."

"Reminisce?" Roy said, as the dogs continued to yap. "What the
fuck you carryin' on about?"

"Oh, y'know," he said casually. "Marnie an' my dad."

"
What
?"

"Didn't Mamie used to go out with him? An' wasn't she kinda pissed
when he dumped her an' married my mom?"

Roy made an attempt to kick one of the barking dogs with the tip
of his shoe. "Shut up, ya fuckin' rats," he said sharply.

"I was wondering if you remembered my grandma's store," Michael
continued, feeling quite calm, although he knew what he had to do.
"Lani's convenience store. Bring back any memories, Roy?"

"What?" Roy repeated, distracted by the dogs, which were now
snarling at each other.

"There was a time my mom worked there, too," Michael said, keeping
his voice low and even. "Yeah—she was pregnant with me."

"You got a point?" Roy said, beyond irritated. " 'Cause I'm
standin' here freezin' my balls off."

"Yes," Michael said, "as a matter of fact I do." And very calmly,
he took out his gun, aiming it directly at Roy. "My
point
is
that you're a piece of shit who doesn't deserve to live."

Roy blanched. "For crissakes!" he said, panicking. "Put that
away."

"What's the matter?" Michael said mildly. "You don't like guns?
They scare you, do they?"

"Put the fuckin' thing away," Roy repeated, his eyes bugging.

"I bet my mom was scared, exactly like you are now. And as I
said—she was pregnant with me, so she couldn't run, couldn't do
anythin', could she? I guess she was a sittin' target. Do you
agree?"

"Jesus
Christ
!" Roy said, spittle dribbling from the side
of his mouth. "I warned Marnie not to bother with you. Knew you'd be
trouble one of these days. The dumb cunt wouldn't listen—she
got off on havin' you around."

"Until
you
got rid of me, right?" Michael said, his voice
hardening. "You set me up good, Roy. Eight years, an' I ended up
servin' five.
That
must've been a disappointment."

"It wasn't me," Roy whined. "
She
wanted you outta the way,
it wasn't
my
idea."

"No?"

"I swear it wasn't, Mike," he said, his hands beginning to shake.
"I like you—you've always been civil t' me."

"That's good to know."

"So ...," Roy whined. "Why don't you put the piece away before you
hurt someone?"

"You think I should do that, Roy?"

"Yeah, yeah, I think ya should do that."

"Just like you did for my mom, huh?"

"I never shot your mom."

"You didn't, huh?"

"It was-"

"Remember the Chronicle?" Michael interrupted. "An' Vito tellin'
me I should learn to shoot? He was some guy, that Chronicle—he
taught me good."

Raising the gun higher, he pointed it at Roy's face. "Retribution
is the name of the game. It's called paying the price. You killed my
mother. Destroyed my dad. Now it's your turn." A long silent beat.
"Remember my name, Roy. Michael Castellino. Remember it all the way
to hell."

And he shot him in the head.

Then, very calmly, he turned and walked away.

One down. Two to go.

"You gave him back the ring!" Gemini exclaimed in amazement.
"Why?"

"Because I didn't say yes—therefore, there was no reason for
me to accept it," Dani explained.

They were standing in the wings, getting ready to go on. Two tall,
spectacular young women, both blond, wearing matching skimpy costumes
of sequins, feathers, and lace, with plenty of flesh on show, and
extravagant headdresses. The two of them together with their long
legs and large bosoms were every man's fantasy.

"You're crazy," Gemini said, licking her highly glossed lips.
"Surely you know that a girl
never
returns jewelry."

"I couldn't lead him on."

"You poor baby—you have
so
much to learn."

"And I'm sure you're planning on teaching me."

"I can see I'll have to."

Several other girls jostled for position as the music started.
Gemini and Dani hung back. They made their entrance a few minutes
after the dancers. Statuesque, dazzling. Total glamour.

"How did you leave it?" Gemini asked.

"He had to fly to Houston," Dani said. "He'll be back in a couple
of weeks. I told him I'd try to give him an answer by then. In the
meantime, he gave me the name of a lawyer to call."

"Then what are you waiting for?" Gemini said, taking a quick peek
in the backstage full-length mirror. "Call the man."

"I will," Dani promised.

She'd been struggling with her feelings all day. How simple it
would be to say yes to Dean, pack up everything, take Vincent, and
move to Houston.

Yet something held her back. She refused to get involved in
another loveless marriage like the one to Sam. It wasn't fair to
Vincent to bring someone else into his life who might not be
permanent. She wasn't even sure she knew what love was. She'd
murmured the words once in her life, and that was to Michael.

Ah .., Michael. One magical night from her past, and she'd been no
more than a child. Yet hard as she tried, she couldn't forget him.
How was it possible with Vincent there to remind her?

The next morning she and Gemini worked out in the gym. Hardly the
gorgeous untouchable creatures of the previous evening, they now wore
no makeup, hair in simple ponytails, and had on workout clothes.
Staying in perfect shape was an essential part of their job, and they
both toiled hard at it.

"Do you believe in love?" Dani asked as she lifted light
weights.

Gemini nodded, finishing a series of punishing sit-ups. "Yes.
Only, you must never mistake love for passion," she said, grabbing a
towel. "Unfortunately, passion never lasts. When I married Nando's
father, Moralis, he was
the
most passionate man I had ever
met. I couldn't
breathe
when I was with him. I found myself
thinking about him day and night."

"That's how I felt with Michael," Dani sighed, putting down the
weights and moving over to the treadmill.

"I hardly think it's the same," Gemini replied. "After all, you
were only with Michael for—what?—one day, one night?"

"I know, but I've never had feelings like that before or since,"
Dani said dreamily. "And the way he made love ..."

"It was your first time," Gemini pointed out. "You were hardly in
a position to know whether he was a great lover or a bad one."

"He was great," Dani said, remembering every detail.

"Here's what you need to do," Gemini said. "Date a few different
men, get some perspective."

Dani shook her head. "I'd feel I was being unfaithful to
Dean."

"Unfaithful!" Gemini exclaimed. "You didn't even accept his
ring."

"That's true, only I can't see other men, it wouldn't seem
right."

"Then you'd better marry Dean," Gemini said, exasperated. "That's
my advice."

A few days later Dani met with the lawyer Dean had recommended.
Gemini accompanied her for moral support. The lawyer's name was
Morgan Spelling Jones, and he was a flamboyant character. In his
mid-fifties, he had a florid complexion, a hearty laugh, and big,
smooth, well-manicured hands. A Texan with an extremely loud voice,
he wore a ten-gallon cowboy hat with an off-white business suit and
tooled-leather boots. The look was eccentric, to say the least.

"This must be my lucky day," he said, beaming at the two women as
they came into his office. "The Lord surely smiled at me this morning
to have two such beauties enter my domain."

"Ms. Castle is here about her divorce," Gemini said, settling into
a chair opposite his desk and crossing her long legs.

"And Ms. Castle will
get
her divorce," Morgan said, his
eyes lingering on Gemini's legs. "That's if I have anything to do
with it."