Deadly Embrace (44 page)

"Don't you like Dani?"

"She's okay. Problem was she stifled the shit outta him."

"Is that why you think he's uptight?"

"
Now
you're getting it. He
is
uptight," Nando said,
leading her through the vast room. "He probably fucks with the lights
off."

"They must be making a fortune," Jolie remarked. "The place is
packed."

"Yeah, with a bad crowd who don't have two bucks to rub together.
We can make it into the classiest strip club in town. We'll put in
private rooms, a VIP area, hire gorgeous girls. I'm tellin' you,
babe, this is a major moneymaker."

"I don't feel comfortable here, Nando," Jolie said as a skinny
black waitress with enormous boobs swayed past them, balancing a tray
of drinks.

"We're not sittin' around socializing," Nando pointed out. "You
gotta agree—the space is unbelievable. Remember what I've
always told you—"

"I know," Jolie sighed. "Location, location, location."

"Here come the guys—Leroy and Darren. Now be nice."

"Aren't I always?"

* * *

"Am I
stoned
?" Jenna giggled, totally stoned.

"You're just in a good mood," Andy said, stroking her arm.

"No, I think I'm stoned," she said, starting to giggle again. "I
feel all kind of tickly and tingly."

"That's 'cause you got too many clothes on," Andy said, tugging at
her dress. "Here, let me help you."

"That's all right," she said, backing away.

"C'mon, cookie, don't be shy."

"I'm
not
"

"Then let me see those beautiful little titties you've been
thrusting at me all night."

"I haven't been thrusting anything at you."

"C'mon," he coaxed again. "Look at Anais—
she's
not
shy."

Jenna glanced over at the beautiful black girl, who was once again
lounging on the couch, legs spread, ebony skin glistening.

"Did you know that Anais likes girls?" Andy said, moving close and
nibbling off her ear.

"I like girls, too," Jenna said. "I've got lots of
girlfriends."

"I didn't mean in
that
way," he said, pushing back a lock
of his trademark dirty blond hair. "Have you ever made out with a
girl?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, widening her eyes.

"God!" Andy said. "You are young, aren't you?"

"I'm twenty-two," she said matter-of-factly. "How old are
you
?"

"Same," he mumbled.

"What's your star sign?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does," Jenna said earnestly. "A person's star sign is the
key to their personality."

"Take off your dress. I wanna look at your boobs."

"I don't think-"

"I've seen 'em once tonight in the Jacuzzi—remember? So
what's the harm in showing me again?"

"Okay," she said agreeably, beginning to disrobe.

"
That's
more like it," Andy said, rubbing his hands
together in anticipation.

* * *

Dani walked into the bedroom and lay down on the bed. She needed to
rest, her mind was buzzing. There was so much going on, what with
Michael turning up unexpectedly and the new accusation against
him—which couldn't help reminding her of the last time he'd
been accused.

First Beth.

Now Stella.

She was sure he was innocent, but how strange for it to happen
twice.

She could hear the murmur of conversation as he talked to Vincent
in the other room. Father and son bonding. She loved it when they
were together.

Reaching for the TV remote, she clicked on the news. Almost
immediately she heard Madison's name mentioned, and her photograph
was flashed on the screen.

"Michael!" she called out, abruptly sitting up. "Michael,
Vincent—quickly—get in here!"

"What?" Michael said, entering the bedroom, Vincent right behind
him.

The newscaster—a prettier-than-a-movie-star
blond—relayed the latest. "A high-speed chase is currently
taking place in Hollywood. Journalist Madison Castelli is one of the
captives in the van with four other hostages. There are three gunmen
involved, and apparently two hostages have already been shot."

Michael stared at the screen and paled. "Jesus!" he said. "They
must've got to her before we did. Those
bastards
!"

* * *

Sofia couldn't sleep. She felt embarrassed about what had happened,
and she also didn't care to face Gianni in the morning. This was the
first time a man had rejected her, and she couldn't believe it.

Stealthily, she got out of bed, found her clothes, and dressed.
Then she left his suite.

At the front desk she asked the concierge to call her a cab.

"May I ask where you will be going?" the concierge inquired, a
snooty man with attitude.

"Ask away," she said, "because it's really none of your
business."

The concierge gave her a superior look and informed her that the
cab would arrive in fifteen minutes.

"I'll wait outside," she said.

She walked from the "entrance of the luxurious hotel and sat down
on the curbside.

Good-bye, Gianni. Sorry it didn't work out
.

* * *

"Fuck!" the gunman said as the helicopter continued to track them,
spotlights shining down from the dark sky. "Slide open the side
door."

"Huh?" Ace said from the backseat.

"Slide open the fuckin' door, an' shove that whinin' bitch
out."

"I'll pull over," Cole said, swerving the van.

"Yeah, if you want a bullet in your head."

"No!" the girl in the back started to scream, as the two gunmen
began manhandling her. "No, no,
no
!"

It was too late.

Ace and the other guy slid open the side door and tossed her from
the moving van like a sack of garbage.

Her frantic screams hung in the air.

Michael was in his office when his assistant, Marcie, informed him
there was someone called Tina on the phone. He could tell that
Marcie—who was very protective—did not want to put her
through. "She
says
it's personal," Marcie said, with a
disbelieving curl of her lip.

"I'll take it," he said, picking up the receiver.

"Michael?" a female voice said.

"Tina?" he responded, genuinely pleased to hear from his old
friend. "How you doing?"

"Fine, thank you very much," Tina replied crisply, adding a
succinct "Not that
you
care, since we never see you
anymore."

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is, and Max is fine, too, in case you're interested."

Good old Tina, snippy as ever. "It's great to hear your voice," he
said.

"I'm surprised you would say that."

"C'mon, Tina," he groaned. "It's not
my
fault you don't get
along with Stella."

"And whose fault is it that you never see your best friend, Max,
anymore? Do you understand how hurt he is?

Here it came, the lecture. Tina was a master at breaking a man's
balls. "You didn't hear what he said about Stella."

"Whatever it was," she argued, "I'm sure it wasn't bad enough to
end a friendship."

"Stella's my
wife
, Tina. I have to show her respect." God!
Shades of Vito Giovanni. Had the man really had that much influence
over him?

Yes.

And sometimes he still did.

"Anyway," Tina continued. "That's not the reason I'm calling."

"What is?"

"Somebody's looking for you."

"And who would that be?"

"Remember Dani?"

Did he remember Dani? Yes, he certainly remembered Dani.

"What about her?" he asked, trying to sound disinterested.

"She's here in New York, and she called me."

"She did, huh?"

"Yes. She wants to see you."

He took a deep breath, reached for a cigarette, and lit up. "Dani
wants to see
me
?"

"Yep. I promised I'd pass the message on. In case you're
interested, she's staying at the Plaza."

"Nice of you to tell me, Tina. Only, aren't you forgetting that
I'm married now? So I don't think I'll be calling her."

"She said there's something she has to talk to you about."

He inhaled deeply. "Did she say what?"

"No, she asked me to tell you it's important."

"Will
you
be seeing her?"

"She might come over to the house with her son."

"At least
you
get to meet him."

"You mean you didn't?"

"No. That was one of our bones of contention. She didn't want me
meeting him," he said, placing his cigarette in a marble ashtray. "I
guess it's one of the reasons she took off. Who knows? She's my past,
and I'm not planning on revisiting."

"Are
we
part of your past, Michael?" Tina asked, suddenly
sounding needy.

"No," he said warmly. "You, Max, and the kids are always in my
heart."

"That's so sweet."

"I can be a nice guy when I want to," he joked.

"We hear about you from Charlie. You're Mr. Big Shot now."

"
C'mon
, Tina," he said, embarrassed.

"How's Madison doing?"

"She's unbelievable," he said, picking up his cigarette and taking
another deep drag. "Eleven years old and the smartest kid you've ever
come across."

"Is Stella a good mother to her?"

"Stella's a wonderful woman," he said, exhaling smoke.

"I'm sure," Tina said sarcastically. "When she finds the
time."

"What does
that
mean?"

"I read the society columns, Michael. Your wife is never home,
she's always out and about at some big opening or charity event."

"Stella gets off on doing good deeds."

"Sure."

"Anyway, Tina, we'll get together soon. That's a promise."

"Max would love to see you. Only, don't tell him I told you,
'cause he's bound to give you a hard time."

"I can take it."

"I know."

Thoughtfully he put down the phone. Dani Castle. Seven years of
silence, and now she wanted to speak to him. What could she possibly
want?

In a way he was intrigued; on the other hand, he knew he shouldn't
go anywhere near her, because what would happen if he did? All they
had to do was look into each other's eyes and that was it. Chemistry.
They had it in spades.

Not anymore. He was married, it was a whole different ball game.
Stella was Madison's mother, and he wouldn't mess with that.

A beat of two, and he picked up the phone. "Get me the number of
the Plaza," he said to Marcie.

Jesus Christ! Aren't you even going to think about it
?

Apparently not
.

Marcie gave him the number. He wrote it on a pad on his desk and
stared at it for a few minutes before picking up his private
line.

When the hotel operator answered, he requested Dani Castle. Even
saying her name brought back a flood of memories, most of them
good.

"There's nobody in the room at the present time," the operator
said. "Would you care to leave a message?"

"I'll try again later," he said, replacing the receiver.

Plain fact of life. He wanted to see her. He had to know why she'd
dumped him.

Not that he cared.

Or did he?

That night he and Stella were due to attend another boring opera.
He simply wasn't into her social scene anymore. At first it had been
a kick, now it was plain work—and not the kind he enjoyed
either. He wasn't into her friends at all.

The women were so thin they could slide through a crack in a wall.
They were mean-spirited too—all they did was gossip about one
another and try to outdo their best friend's jewelry. He was well
aware that the men looked down on him in spite of his success. He
simply did not come from the right background.

He called Stella at home, informing her that he wouldn't be able
to make the opera.

"You have to," she said, her voice frosty.

"No, I don't," he answered evenly. "What I have to do is attend an
urgent meeting."

"Oh God, Michael, this is so aggravating," she said, sounding
upset. "You know how I hate going to these things alone."

"Take your walker," he said, mentioning a gay art dealer who
sometimes stood in for him when he was unable to accompany her to
functions.

"Very well," Stella said in an uptight voice. "I'll do that."

He waited an hour before trying the Plaza again. Still no answer
in the room.

He had no intention of leaving his office until he-reached
her.

Dani Castle. He'd never expected to hear from her again.

* * *

"Well," Tina said, throwing open the door of her house. "It's only
taken you seven years to get here."

Dani stood there smiling. "I encountered a few problems along the
way," she said, observing that Tina had put on about fifty pounds,
but she was still as pretty as ever. "This is my son, Vincent," she
added, giving Vincent a little shove.

He stepped forward, reluctantly shaking Tina's hand. Lately he had
not been getting along with his mother, finding her fer too
controlling. It had taken Nando's visit to open his eyes.

As soon as Tina got a look at him she did an immediate double
take. "Oh ... my... God!" she gasped, shooting a quick glance at
Dani. "
Now
I know what you want to see Michael about."

Dani frowned, shutting her up. Tina got it.

"What a lovely house," Dani said, walking inside.

"Yeah," Tina said proudly. "Max did okay for us. He recently
bought me a new Corvette. I figure the kids are so old that if I
don't get a Corvette now, I swear I'll
never
get one." She
took another long look at Vincent. "How old are you, dear?"

"Seventeen," he answered, wondering who the hell this woman was
and why they had to go see her.

"You must meet my son, Harry. He's sixteen," Tina said. "Can't
believe I'm the mother of a teenager!"