Deadly Embrace (58 page)

He continued watching the monitor as the gates rolled open. The
Cadillac stayed put.

"Come on," Serge muttered under his breath. "Drive in, you
fool."

Then he saw his idiot nephew jump out of the car and take off.

What was happening?

Serge didn't know, but he'd soon find out. Making sure his gun was
secure in his underarm holster, he set off to investigate.

* * *

The limousine slid to a stop a short distance from the entry gates to
the Bel-Air mansion.

"What's the deal?" Gus asked, leaning forward to ask his
driver.

"We're checkin' it out," the driver said. "Seems there's a car
blocking the gate."

"Going in, or out?" Gus asked.

"Stationary."

Michael took himself back many years to the night in Central Park
when he'd shot Roy. The waiting was the worst. Not knowing what would
happen. Hoping everything would go down smoothly. Never sure.

Then the moment when it happened. The act of vengeance executed.
Bang bang—you're dead
. It was almost like playing a
game.

Was he capable of doing it again?

Yes. They'd been capable of murdering Stella and her boyfriend in
cold blood.

Marnie and Bone deserved the ultimate punishment.

* * *

Madison had always fancied herself an athlete. At school she'd
excelled at sports, and living in New York, she'd always made sure to
work out at the gym at least a couple of times a week.

Thank God! Because she was now in a life-or-death situation, and
only her speed and agility could save her.

She was faster than her captives and a lot smarter. If she could
outrun them she could possibly hide in the heavy underbrush at the
top of Bel-Air until it was safe to emerge.

The house they'd been taking her to stood alone. No neighboring
houses, only steep hills and brush and trees. Not that she could see
much of anything as she stumbled into the bushes. It was pitch black.
There were not even any streetlights because they weren't on a proper
street.

Her heart was pounding like a sledgehammer. It felt as if it might
burst out of her chest and explode. She could hear her captors
somewhere behind her, cursing and threatening as they chased her up
the hillside.

A branch hit her in the face, almost knocking her down. Dizzily
she moved on, clawing her way through the thick brush.

She stopped for a moment to catch her breath, bent over, stood up,
and kept going. Climbing, climbing, one foot in front of the other.
Don't look back. Keep going. Mustn't weaken
.

And then suddenly, as she put her right foot forward, she lost her
balance and began falling, tumbling downward over the side of a
precipice.

* * *

"You moron!" Serge exclaimed, slapping his nephew hard across the
face with the back of his hand. "Your shit could cost me my job."

"Didn't know she was gonna run," Zaroff said sullenly.

Not such a big man now that his uncle had gotten hold of him.
Serge was notorious in the Gorban family. A tough, scowling man with
a vicious attitude, he'd arrived from Moscow via Switzerland several
years ago. Rumor had it that he'd been involved with the Russian
mafia and had been forced to flee because of a misunderstanding about
some missing money.

He'd soon landed a job working as chief security adviser for Mr.
and Mrs. Porno—a title Zaroff had bestowed on them when he'd
done a few maintenance jobs around their house. Zaroff hated the way
his uncle kissed their big, fat American asses. They were a couple of
freaks—especially the hateful woman, who'd tried to come on to
him.

"You arrive here hours late," Serge scolded, "with no girl. And
you bring those other losers with you. What the fuck is the matter
with you?"

"I had some problems," Zaroff mumbled. "Needed help."

"You needed
help
to get one girl from the airport?" Serge
demanded.

"Couldn't work it there," Zaroff muttered. "Hadda follow her to a
restaurant. There were complications ..."

"You're
shit
!" Serge spat in disgust. "Dog shit. No," he
said, changing his mind. "Dog shit's too good for you. You're fuckin'
pig
shit, that's what you are. Now take my flashlight and your
useless friends, an' go find the girl."

* * *

"I don't do S and M," Tawny said, all teeth and perfect tits.

"Nor do I," Heather chimed in. She was fairly new at the game and
followed everything Tawny did and said.

"Putting on rubber masks is not S and M, you moronic cunts," Bone
snapped. "Put on the fuckin' masks an' stop your bitchin'."

"I'm out of here," Tawny said, getting off the bed.

"Me, too," Heather agreed.

Marnie was in the bathroom, otherwise the argument would not have
happened. She was as fond of the rubber masks as he was. But she also
knew that special girls had to be booked for such activities, and
tonight she'd requested pretty ones. Pretty did not come cheap. And
pretty hardly ever wanted to do anything unusual.

Bone's fury escalated. Were these two pieces of trash actually
telling him
no
?

He stood up, his red silk robe flapping open, revealing a poor
excuse for a cock.

Heather made the unforgivable error of tittering. Bone moved
fester than a man half his age, and whacked her so hard that she fell
like a log, hitting her head on a side table.

Tawny began to scream. Marnie ran out of the bathroom wearing a
man's suit and flourishing a riding crop. "What have you
done
?" she yelled at Bone.

"Cunts," he muttered.

"Jesus!" Marnie exclaimed, turning on a still-screaming Tawny.
"Shut your mouth!"

Tawny shut up and began feverishly dressing, while Heather
remained motionless on the floor.

Marnie assessed the situation. It was bound to cost money, and if
there was one thing Mamie hated, it was spending unnecessary
money.

"I'm calling Serge," she said, buzzing the guardhouse. "He'll take
care of it."

* * *

Serge got behind the wheel of the Cadillac and moved it to the fide
of the driveway, muttering to himself all the while. As he was doing
so, a black limo slid into view.

Serge marched over to it. "Yes?" he said to the driver, thinking
that the limo probably contained more hookers.

The two people he worked for were insatiable. Sex parties
sometimes went on all through the night.

"Guests for the house," the driver said.

Serge could feel the comforting bulge of his gun tucked snugly in
his shoulder holster. He wished he had the security of the gate
between him and this unknown limo, but unfortunately, he'd been
caught unaware.

"Who do you want to see?" he asked.

Before he could say any more, the Suburban rolled up behind the
limo and two men with automatic weapons jumped out.

Serge had no chance to pull his gun. He was wrestled to the ground
and overpowered, while the limo headed up the driveway, the Suburban
right behind it.

As the car approached the house, two huge Dobermans came racing
over, growling ferociously. The dog wrangler jumped out of the
Suburban waving large, juicy, raw steaks under the dogs' noses.

Once the dogs were taken care of, several other men sprang into
action, sealing off the servants' quarters and making sure no one
else was around.

As soon as everything was secure, the driver opened the door for
Gus and Michael, and they got out of the limo outside the house.

"Showtime," Gus said calmly. "I hope you remember the tune. It's
been a while, hasn't it?"

Michael nodded. "Some things you never forget."

And the two of them entered the house.

* * *

"Where the hell is Serge?" Marnie screamed. "When I buzz, he'd better
get on the fuckin' line—pronto—or he's fired!"

"He's probably taking a piss," Bone muttered.

"Jesus Christ!" Marnie said.

Tawny was now dressed and sitting on a chair. "I'd like to leave,"
she said.

"I'm sure you would, dear," Marnie replied. "Now that you've
ruined our evening."

"What did I do?" Tawny asked.

"You're hookers," Marnie reminded her. "Don't you understand that
hookers are supposed to do anything the client wants? And if my
husband wants something, you shouldn't argue. This is all your
fault."

"It is not," Tawny said, thinking that it was better if she didn't
argue any further. Obviously this couple was totally insane. She
couldn't wait to get back to her mad,am and complain about them.

The worrying thing was that Heather had not moved. She was still
lying on the floor.

"Don't you think we should call a doctor?" Tawny suggested.

"Oh yes, let's announce it to the world," Marnie said
sarcastically.

"We can't just leave her lying there."

"Why do you think I'm trying to get my guard?" Marnie said. "He'll
drive her to the hospital. You don't have to worry about her."

"But I
am
worried about her."

"Don't, dear," Marnie said, fixing her with a cruel smile. "It's
in your best interest not to remember anything about tonight. Do you
understand?"

* * *

"You're sure?" Dean said, holding the phone to his ear.

"Absolutely sure," Dani replied, determined to go through with
this.

"What made you change your mind?"

"I was thinking about how you always said that we'd be so happy
together. And Dean," she added softly, "I finally realized that
you're the only person who really cares about me."

"You're worth it," he said.

"Let's not wait," she said quickly.

"Fine with me. We can do it tonight if you like." He glanced at
his watch. "It's morning. Nothing unusual about a three a.m. wedding
in Vegas. I can pick you up in half an hour."

"Tonight's a little
too
soon," she said, laughing
nervously. "How about noon tomorrow?"

"Are we telling anyone?"

"Maybe Vincent."

"Dani, was Michael with you tonight?"

"Why are you asking me that?"

"Because when we had dinner earlier, none of these thoughts were
in your head, so
something
must have happened."

"Yes," she admitted. "He was here, and something
did
happen. We spent time together, and after he left I knew that you are
the man I want to spend the rest of my life with."

"You'll never regret it," Dean said.

"I know," she whispered.

Zaroff was seething. All night long he'd been the man in charge,
the one with the balls. Now his fat uncle was telling him what to do.
Didn't he realize that Zaroff was the man?

He'd taken over that fucking restaurant with the help of his
uncle's Uzi, and he'd kicked ass good. Serge should be proud of him
instead of calling him names.

Serge
was pig shit.
Serge
was a Russian fucking
peasant.
Serge
had no idea how exciting it was to have total
control and to kill people.

Tonight everybody had been scared of him. He could've made them do
anything. He could've taken any of those hostages and fucked the ass
off them. Now he was at this fancy house in the hills, and his uncle
was treating him like crap as usual.

Russian mafia my ass
, Zaroff thought.
I can take him any
day
.

His two cohorts were busy searching the hillside for the girl. His
friends always did what he told them. Ever since he'd stopped a car
one night and shot the driver just for kicks they'd been in awe of
him. He was the man. No question. They were all scared of him. And he
liked that.

Now his fat uncle was dissing him. The same uncle who'd go running
to his mother. And she was a hard-assed bitch, she'd come down on him
big time.

A thought entered his head. What would happen if wheifrthey found
the girl,
he
kept her, hid her somewhere, and demanded a
ransom?

The bitch had mentioned fifty thousand dollars. Fifty thousand
fucking dollars!

If he blew Serge away, nobody would know it was him that did
it.

Zaroff began to laugh. He was so clever. He'd just come up with
the perfect plan.

* * *

"Can you believe this freakin' place?" Gus said as he and Michael
climbed the ornate staircase.

Michael shook his head. His palms were swearing and he felt short
of breath. This wasn't the kind of thing he knew how to do anymore.
As bad as they were, was he honestly going to be able to take out his
gun and shoot Marnie and Bone?

Gus had told him that if he wanted, he could have people do it for
him.

Could he stand there and watch?

Was he the same Michael Castellino who'd shot Roy in the park so
long ago? Or was he a different person now?

He didn't know. He'd soon find out.

* * *

Vincent and Jolie headed into the bedroom. There was no chance of
Jenna walking in on them. She was trapped at the Mirage. There was no
chance of Nando finding them either, he was with his two new business
partners.

"I've
always
felt this way about you," Jolie said, putting
her arms around him and kissing him on the mouth with her soft,
provocative lips.

"We shouldn't be doing this."

"Stop it, Vincent," she scolded softly. "We're both beyond the
point of saying no anymore. This thing has been building between us
for years."

She was right. He was hard and she was ready.

So why was he suddenly developing a conscience?

* * *

Pig shit. Yeah, that's what his uncle had called him. He'd show him
who was pig shit.

How many men had Uncle Serge killed? One? Two? None? Fuck him! It
was time that Zaroff took control of the Gorban family.

He told his two cohorts to keep looking for the girl. "When you
find her, tie her up and shove her in the trunk of the car," he said.
"We're taking her."