Deadly Embrace

  And yet . . . he still couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  When his Asian girlfriend turned up unexpectedly, he sent her home because he wasn’t in the mood. That was a first.

  “I met this girl—,” he confided to Max.

  “Ha!” Max whooped, getting it immediately. “You finally got hooked!”

  “Not me.”

  “Yeah, you.”

  “I’m not interested in seein’ other girls right now. I’m not even interested in gettin’ laid.”

  “ ’Cause you’re hooked.”

  “I think about her a lot.”

  “Sure you do.”

  “What I gotta do to forget her?”

  “Nothin’,” Max said with a fiendish grin. “Your goose is good ’n’ cooked. Join the freakin’ club.”

  A week later Tommaso asked him if he’d ever driven a truck.

  “I guess I can do it,” he said.

  “Good,” Tommaso said. “Tonight. Ten P.M. Mr. Giovanni wants you back of Alissio’s. Roy’ll pick you up an’ take you to the place.”

  “What place?”

  “You’ll find out.”

  He didn’t like the sound of it. Roy was a dour older man with ferret features and a slight limp who did the occasional job for Mr. G. He was also Mamie’s cousin.

  “You gotta tell me more,” Michael insisted.

  “I don’t gotta tell you nothin’,” Tommaso said. “You work for Mr. Giovanni, you do what Mr. Giovanni wants. Capisce?”

  Ever since his Vegas screwup, things weren’t the same. Even Mamie had cooled toward him. Now he was treated as if he was just another goon, and he didn’t like it. He’d do the truck thing, then he planned on having it out with Mr. Giovanni. He wasn’t an errand boy—he was better than that.

  Roy turned up late in a brown Ford.

  “Where’s the truck?” Michael asked.

  “Jump in, pretty boy,” Roy said. “I’m takin’ ya to it.”

  An hour later they were way out in the country and still driving.

  “Where the fuck are we?” Michael demanded.

  “Mr. Giovanni wants t’ see if ya got stones,” Roy said, pulling the Ford over to the side of the deserted road.

  “Huh?”

  “Get out,” Roy said, consulting his watch. “There’ll be a truck comin’ by here in approximately ten minutes. One driver. Big cargo of booze. You hijack the mothafucker, drive it to Arnie’s garage in Queens, an’ job well done.”

  “You gotta be shittin’ me.”

  “Nope,” Roy said, handing him a slip of paper. “Here’s the address of Arnie’s. They’re expecting you. Now get out.”

  Reluctantly Michael got out. “And what’m I supposed to do with the driver of the truck?”

  Roy leaned over and slammed the passenger door closed. “That’s your problem, pretty boy. See ya around.”

  And he drove off, leaving Michael standing in the middle of nowhere.

  Dani—1965

  I’m pregnant,” Dani said, her eyes filling with tears.

  “Why are you telling me?” Angela said brusquely, not exactly full of sympathy. “Why aren’t you telling the stupid dick who knocked you up?”

  “Because . . . because . . . after that one night I never heard from him again.” A lone tear slid down her cheek. Michael had taken her virginity and never so much as sent her a flower. Maybe she’d been reading too many romance novels, but surely he should at least have called her?

  “Men!” Angela snapped. “They’re all the same. Selfish users.”

  “There must be some nice ones.”

  “You gotta be joking,” Angela said with a brittle laugh. “They’re all rats, and now we’ve got to track your rat down.”

  “Why?” Dani asked, alarmed.

  “So the bastard can pay for the abortion.”

  “I . . . I don’t want an abortion.”

  “Get real, kiddo,” Angela said briskly. “It’s your only answer, unless you want to have the kid an’ sell it. Believe me,” she mused, her expression turning thoughtful, “that’s not such a bad idea—some rich couple would pay plenty for a kid that looks like you.”

  Dani stared at her in horror. “I can’t believe you said that.”

  “Why? It’s the truth. And you’d better face up to it. You can’t afford to have a baby.”

  “Who said I can’t?”

  “You know it’s true. You got no savings, nothing. And as soon as your belly starts to show, you’ll have to give up work. Then what?”

  “I’ll find a different job,” she said quickly. “One where it doesn’t matter what I look like.”

  “This is Vegas, hon. Wherever you go, it’ll matter.”

  Unfortunately Dani realized Angela was right. The workforce in Vegas consisted of girls who looked good. Being pregnant and landing a high-paying job was a no-go situation.

  “I suppose the daddy is Mr. Handsome,” Angela said scornfully. “I coulda told you that one was no good. I bet the bastard didn’t even wear a rubber, did he?”

  “It . . . it was my first time,” Dani confessed. “I didn’t think I could get pregnant.”

  “Ha!” Angela snorted. “Whoever told you that is a big fat liar!”

  “Michael didn’t say that,” she whispered.

  “What did Mr. Handsome tell you?” Angela demanded.

  “That he’d be back soon.”

  “And that was how long ago?”

  “Seven weeks.”

  “Typical!” Angela exclaimed, full of disgust. “One dip in the honey pot an’ they run for the hills. Y’see, I know what they’re like, so I make sure they pay.”

  “That’s what prostitutes do,” Dani muttered.

  “And what do you think opening your legs is all about? Get real, sweetie. It’s all one great big barter system, and the smart ones end up getting paid—not pregnant.”

  “He seemed so . . . so wonderful,” Dani said sadly.

  “When they’re tracking pussy, they all seem wonderful.”

  “You’re so cynical, Angela.”

  “Yeah. I’m cynical and you’re pregnant. So tell me—who’s got the right take on it?”

  Dani sighed. She wished she had Emily to talk to. Emily would know what she should do, because Emily was the only living person who’d ever cared about her—and, of course, Sam, whom she hadn’t heard from in weeks. She’d tried calling him on several occasions, but he was never home.

  She decided that after the show tonight she’d go to his apartment and wait outside until he appeared.

  Sure, her inner voice whispered, because you need his help.

  No, I don’t. I can manage without anyone’s help.

  If only she could get over a broken heart. Because that’s how Michael had left her—pregnant with a broken heart.

  Dani waited outside Sam’s house for over two hours before he appeared. She was sitting on the ground, her back against the door, when he finally showed up.

  He was drunk and not alone. He was accompanied by a short bleached blond with black roots and wide hips.

  “Who’s this—your wife?” the woman cackled.

  Dani stood up. “Sam,” she said, “I’ve tried calling you, you never answer your phone. Are you all right?”

  “Jeez, honey,” the woman said, throwing her arms around his shoulders. “It’s two in the morning. Why don’t you go home? This one is taken.”

  Staggering slightly, Sam began groping for his keys. “Whatcha doing here, Dani?” he asked, slurring his words.

  “I wanted to see you,” she said.

  “Get lost,” the woman interrupted. “Him an’ me—we got business to conduct.”

  “Yeah, yeah, go home,” Sam said, waving his hands in the air.

  “You mean me?” Dani asked.

  “No, I mean her,” he said to the woman.

  “And how’m I supposed to get home?” the woman shrieked, furious at the way things were turning out.

  “Give her money,??
? Dani said quickly.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Sam said, pulling out his wallet. “Money.”

  Dani took his wallet from him, extracted ten dollars, and handed it to the woman, who rewarded her with an angry glare.

  “Y’know,” Dani scolded, helping Sam inside, “you shouldn’t be drinking.”

  “I know,” he said miserably. “I got nothin’ else t’ do.”

  “Sam,” she said earnestly, “I’ve been thinking.”

  “ ’Bout what?”

  “Maybe you were right, maybe I should be here looking after you.”

  “You moved out on me, Dani,” he said accusingly. “Dumped me flat.”

  “I didn’t dump you. I simply didn’t think it was healthy for us to live together.” She hesitated a moment before continuing. “When I see you like this, I realize you do need someone to look after you, and . . . perhaps that someone should be me.”

  “Really?” he said hopefully.

  “We shouldn’t talk now,” she said. “I’ll come back in the morning when you’re sober. We’ll go out for breakfast.”

  “Sure,” he mumbled as she helped him into the bedroom and got him onto the bed, where she proceeded to take off his shoes and socks and loosen his pants.

  Within minutes he was snoring loudly.

  Was she being unfair? Was she running back to Sam because she was pregnant and she wanted him to look after her? Or was it the other way around? Would she have come back if things had worked out with Michael?

  Probably not.

  Angela was right about men. They were only after one thing. And when they got it, they took off.

  Sam was different. Maybe she could have a life with him.

  It was worth a try.

  Two weeks later Dani and Sam were married in one of the local wedding chapels. She’d wanted to tell him about the baby, but Angela had persuaded her not to.

  “It wouldn’t be fair to him,” Angela had reasoned. “Marry the guy, sleep with him, let him think the kid’s his. That’s what’s fair.”

  “No, that’s deceitful,” she’d answered.

  “It’s not,” Angela had argued. “It’s simply smart business. And good for the kid, too. You want the tyke growing up not knowing who its father is? And Sam won’t care as much about the baby if he doesn’t think it’s his.”

  She hadn’t thought about marrying Sam, but when she’d got him sober and he’d asked her, it had suddenly seemed like the answer to all her problems.

  It was quite apparent she’d never see Michael again. He’d used her as a one-night stand, another conquest—of which he probably had many. Her feelings toward him hardened every day.

  On their wedding night she and Sam lay together in bed half dressed. Nothing happened. Dani knew that she’d better persuade him to make love to her as soon as possible; the only problem was that she was just as wary of physical contact as he was.

  However, they were married; the wedding had to be consummated. And soon.

  The following night, after cleaning her teeth and brushing her hair, she threw all modesty aside, abandoned her nightdress, and walked into the bedroom naked.

  It didn’t take long for Sam to respond. He pushed her down on the bed and jumped aboard fast, climaxing almost immediately. Then he beamed and said, “That was fantastic, wasn’t it?”

  The experience was nothing like it had been with Michael. It was all over in five minutes and meant nothing.

  She nodded, swallowing a lump in her throat, fully aware that it wasn’t fantastic at all.

  She waited four weeks and then informed him she was pregnant.

  Sam was ecstatic.

  And she was filled with a horrible, nagging guilt that refused to go away.

  Michael—1970

  February 10, 1970, was Michael’s twenty-fifth birthday—a memorable day for him because for the last five years he’d been incarcerated, locked up in a stinking hellhole of a jail. And today he was finally getting out.

  He had no doubt that he’d been set up, and once out, he was determined to find out why.

  He suspected the culprit was Tommaso, in cahoots with Mamie’s loser cousin Roy. Neither of the men had ever liked him. The feeling was mutual. He’d never trusted Tommaso, and Roy was a sleazy whiner who only had a job because he happened to be related to Mamie.

  At the time of his arrest, Vito Giovanni had sent a lawyer to see him. The lawyer had informed him that Mr. Giovanni had no knowledge of the liquor truck hijacking.

  “He’s gotta know about it,” Michael had insisted. “He’s the one who ordered me to do it.”

  “Mr. Giovanni has no idea what you’re talking about. So for your own good, when we get into court I suggest you do not mention Mr. Giovanni’s name in connection with this crime.”

  “What freakin’ crime?” he’d protested. “I didn’t touch the driver. All I did was stop the truck, told the guy to get out an’ start walking. The jerk didn’t even put up a fight.”

  “You waved a gun in his face, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah,” he’d admitted.

  “The D.A. will call that armed robbery and attempted murder. Not to mention carrying an unregistered weapon.”

  “You gotta straighten this out,” he’d said, panicking. “I didn’t do nothin’.”

  “You hijacked a truck at gunpoint.”

  “For five minutes. I wasn’t a mile down the road before the cops pulled me over.” He’d taken a long beat. “Can I get bail?”

  He’d gotten bail all right, but it was too high for any of his friends to put up. Max immediately contacted Vinny—who, in true fatherly fashion, said he wasn’t at all surprised and flatly refused to help. Since Mr. Giovanni was not forthcoming either, he was forced to stay in jail until his hearing.

  After a short trial, the judge sentenced him to eight years.

  One bad move and he was fucked. It didn’t seem real, but unfortunately it was.

  Prison was worse than he’d imagined. He tried to keep to himself, which was not easy. Regarded as new blood, it wasn’t long before he was targeted by some of the more hardened inmates. Whenever they came after him, he fought back, soon gaining a reputation as a tough guy, with several scars to prove it.

  Survival meant staying strong, so every day he worked out in the yard. It wasn’t long before he palled up with Gus—a fellow prisoner doing time for extortion. Gus was a friendly guy who talked a lot. On the outside he worked for Dante Lucchese, and he was currently finishing up a five-year sentence.

  “When ya get out, ya gotta look me up,” Gus said, a couple of days before his release.

  “I will,” Michael promised.

  For the first two years he worked in the kitchen and the laundry, until eventually he scored a better gig in the prison library, where he found himself working alongside Karl Edgington, a man who’d gotten himself locked away for embezzling two million dollars from the Wall Street firm he’d worked for. Karl was a strange one—well educated and quiet, he talked constantly about his two cats and his priceless stamp collection. The other inmates had labeled him a wacko and left him alone. But Michael thought Karl was an interesting man, and extremely knowledgeable regarding money and the stock market. He began picking his brain, getting an education about the financial world. It was a fascinating subject, and one that Karl was only too willing to talk about.

  “I got a few thousand put away,” Michael confided one day. “What d’you think I should do with it?”

  “Do what I tell you, and I can make you a lot of money,” Karl said.

  “Yeah?” Michael said, quite apprehensive. “An’ why would I trust you?”

  Karl shrugged. “Sometimes taking a chance is the only way to go.”

  “Would you be able to double my money?”

  “I’ll do a lot better than that.”

  “Yeah, what?”

  “Can you keep your silence and follow instructions when you’re released?”

  “Sure.”

  “Good. Becaus
e I have a proposition that will benefit us both.”

  “What would that be?”

  “Something mutually advantageous.”

  “So spill.”

  “I’ll give you a number to call. When you’re out, you’ll contact this number and we’ll take it from there.”

  He wasn’t sure whether he trusted Karl or not, but he wrote down the number and stashed it in a safe place.

  Sometimes, late at night when he wasn’t able to sleep, his thoughts turned to Dani. He had an urge to write her, only what good would that do? He was a convicted felon, and as such he should do her a favor and stay away. Dani was an unforgettable memory of better times—and that’s the way it had to be.

  The only person who came to see him in prison was Max. Good old Max. Married man, best friend, and staunch supporter, Max never missed a visit.

  On the day of his release, Max was waiting for him outside the prison. He was driving a secondhand Ford Mustang and looking very pleased with himself in his paisley shirt, bell-bottom pants, a shaggy duffle coat, and Beatles-style haircut.

  “What the fuck happened to you?” Michael said, choking back laughter. “That’s some pansy outfit.”

  “Screw you,” Max retaliated. “It’s the fashion.”

  “Fashion, shit!” Michael said, taking a deep breath of cold, fresh air. He was free. What a feeling!

  “Forget about the outfit,” Max said, clapping his friend on the back. “How about the wheels?”

  “Not bad,” Michael said, circling the Mustang before climbing in the passenger seat. “Things must be goin’ your way.”

  “They are,” Max said enthusiastically. “Tina’s dad made me a partner in his car dealership, which means that one of these days I’ll be takin’ over.”

  “Cushy deal.”

  “Now listen t’ me,” Max said sternly. “You gotta stay away from those lowlifes you was mixin’ with before you got locked away. Look what happened to you. If you hang out with them, it’ll happen again.”