Deadly Embrace

  “Sure, Mr. Castle.”

  “What table was he playing at?”

  “Blackjack table number three.”

  “Did my wife happen to join him?”

  “Yes sir. They left the table together.”

  “Find out what suite he’s in.”

  “Certainly, Mr. Castle.”

  A few minutes later, armed with a passkey, Vincent was in the private elevator to the penthouse suites.

  How stupid could Jenna be? He’d married her because she was young and innocent, not a tramp like so many of the girls, who soon became corrupted by the Vegas lifestyle.

  Was she really foolish enough to betray him?

  No. He didn’t think so.

  The elevator came to a stop at the penthouse floor. He could hear loud music, ice clinking in glasses, and the sound of laughter.

  The elevator doors opened directly into the living room of penthouse number two. He knew the setup well; he’d helped design it.

  The centerpiece of the living room featured a large, round, green marble Jacuzzi. Vincent had ordered the marble imported from Italy. He remembered the day it arrived and how pleased he and Nando had been.

  Sitting in the Jacuzzi was Andy Dale, with Anais lounging naked along the side, her glistening body on full display.

  Jenna was also in the Jacuzzi, next to Andy, her perky pink breasts quite visible in the bubbling water. Jenna. His wife.

  Vincent was filled with rage. A red mist began forming in front of his eyes.

  “Hey man,” Andy said, totally stoned. “Why don’t you drop your pants an’ join us?”

  Four minutes passed and still no van. Five minutes, six minutes, seven minutes.

  The gunman was not patient. He was hot, agitated, and so pissed off he could barely think straight. He lifted the Uzi, brandishing it around the room. The only satisfaction he got was the frantic screams of the terrified hostages.

  “I warned ’em!” he yelled, throwing the Uzi down near his feet. “Nobody can say I didn’t warn the mothafuckers.”

  Then before anyone could stop him, he lunged at the short redhead, grabbing her around the neck, pulling her back, and twisting hard until she was unable to move. All she could do was let out a strangled scream.

  Madison felt sick. Violence was about to take place, and she was powerless to stop it.

  She glanced over at Cole, who seemed ready to make a move. Then she began edging forward, desperately hoping she might be able to talk some sense into the young gunman.

  She was too late. Grabbing a pistol from his belt, he let out a crazed yell and shot the redhead in the head.

  Blood splattered everywhere.

  And then there was silence.

  Michael—1965

  Michael had taken to spending more and more time in the company of Vito Giovanni. Mr. G. had added him to the payroll, so now he was official. It wasn’t as if he was his bodyguard or anything, it was simply that Mr. G. liked having him around. And Michael got off on the reflected notoriety of being perceived as somebody Mr. G. had regard for.

  “Ya always gotta carry a piece,” Vito informed him. “For your own personal protection.”

  “I don’t need no personal protection,” Michael objected.

  “When ya work for me, ya need it,” Vito insisted.

  So he carried a piece. And the truth was, it made him feel important, gave him a feeling of power that was quite addictive.

  Mamie resented Michael’s newfound closeness with her husband. “You got no time for me anymore,” she complained. “Too busy with Mr. So-Called Big.”

  Max also resented it, claiming that Michael was selling his soul to the devil and that Vito Giovanni was an evil man who had no regard for anything other than getting rich and stepping all over the less fortunate.

  Michael had laughed in his face and told him that he could probably score him a job if he wanted it. Max declined the offer.

  Max’s big night in Vegas had turned out to be a memorable one. First, he’d lost all his money at the crap table. Then, with Michael’s fifty bucks, he’d won it all back, and to celebrate he’d gotten good and drunk on shots of tequila, which he’d insisted on buying for everyone in sight until he ran out of money. Then Angela had arrived at their table, and he’d gone after her big time, even though she was obviously hot for Michael, who’d ignored her.

  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 Estradido 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 b
ig 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 Mamie. 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?” Mamie 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 Mamie 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.