Deadly Embrace

  “Now?”

  “No, in a week or two would be fine.”

  “There’s no need for sarcasm, I’ll see what I can do.”

  She picked up the phone and called the manager of the hotel. “Is Vincent around, Mario?”

  “I do believe he was in the casino earlier, Mrs. Castle. He said something about visiting the penthouse. We have quite a few celebrity guests here. Maybe he was going to a party.”

  “Vincent doesn’t party,” Dani said. “We all know that.”

  “I . . . I actually think he was looking for the other Mrs. Castle, his wife.”

  “Ah . . . ,” Dani said. “When you see him, please ask him to phone me. It’s urgent.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Castle.”

  She put down the phone. “Satisfied?” she said to Michael.

  “I’m always satisfied when I’m around you.”

  “Oh please,” she said. “Don’t start with me.”

  “Come in the other room and I’ll fix us a drink,” he said.

  She followed him into the living room.

  “What were you doing with that jerk tonight anyway?” he said, going behind the bar. “You know I can’t stand him.”

  “I’ve told you many times, Dean is not a jerk. He’s a very nice man who’s always helped me.”

  “When did you ever need help, Miss Independent?” Michael said, pouring her a shot of vodka and adding ice.

  “Michael,” she said sternly, “I’m not in the mood.”

  “Okay. Calm down,” he said, grinning.

  She hated that he didn’t take anything seriously. And yet, when he smiled she’d never been able to stay mad at him.

  “Does Madison know you’re on the run?” she said, reminding him of his situation.

  “Is that what I am—on the run?” he said wryly. “Has it come to this?”

  “If there’s a warrant out for your arrest and they can’t find you, then you’re on the run.”

  “Should I call her?” he asked, handing her the glass of vodka.

  “She’s your daughter.”

  “I’ll call her,” he decided. “And while I’m doing that, you’d better try to reach Sofia. And when you do—tell her to get back here immediately. I’m having Vincent arrange protection for all of you.”

  When Madison was eight, she made up an imaginary family. There was Daddy, who was always around when she needed him. There was Mommy, a warm and loving person. And there was a big protective brother, whom she adored. She named him Cooper.

  It was Cooper she spent most of her imaginary time with. She and Cooper had incredible adventures. They would laugh and play and do things together. Most of all they always stood up for each other.

  The truth was that when she was eight, Madison was an extremely lonely child. Stella was a distant mother figure, blond and beautiful with her Marilyn Monroe–esque stance and her way of always having a headache when Madison needed anything.

  And Michael, so handsome, was often away on some kind of a business trip.

  Whatever nanny her parents hired was the key person in Madison’s life. And they came and went on a regular basis. So her imaginary brother became her very best friend, the only person she could really depend on.

  When she’d met Vincent it had been a total surprise to discover that she actually had a real-life half brother, one she’d never known about. A brother who strongly resembled her and looked exactly like Michael. It was quite a shock.

  Now, as she sat in the middle of Mario’s with the intense heat, the killer gunman, and a bunch of hysterical hostages, she wished that Cooper were there to save her. And if not Cooper, perhaps her real-life brother, Vincent. Or Jake—her wonderful Jake.

  But none of them was around, so she had to try and make things work out herself. Screw it! She was going to get through this. She had to.

  “You must let me talk to the negotiator again,” she repeated to the gunman, who was strutting up and down the room, Uzi swinging from one hand.

  “You do that,” he said, eyes burning with hate. “An’ if you don’t get action, you’ll be the next fuckin’ bitch t’ get a bullet in your head.”

  She shuddered. This was turning out to be the most frightening night of her life.

  Michael—1970

  After failing to get in to see Vito Giovanni, and then his tense exchange of words with Tommaso, Michael tried to decide on his next move. He needed to explain things to Mr. G. and get his job back. What else could he do where he made that kind of money? Besides, he kind of missed being around the Giovannis; the two of them had been like family to him. He’d certainly had more in common with Vito than he’d ever had with his real father. And Mamie wasn’t so bad when she was in one of her good moods.

  Unfortunately, getting back wasn’t going to be easy, and when he did get in to see Vito, who would the big man believe? Him, or Tommaso?

  He finally reached the conclusion that Mamie was his only chance of getting through to Mr. G., and she’d not exactly given him the warmest of welcomes.

  In the meantime, he was stuck on Max and Tina’s couch, listening to them both get on his case.

  Max had persuaded Tina’s dad to offer him a job at the car dealership. “He knows you’ve been in the joint,” Max explained, “but he’ll give you a chance anyway, so long as you give him your word you’re goin’ straight.”

  “Hey,” Michael said, thinking there was no way he planned on selling cars for a living. “You know me, I’m not cut out for a nine-to-five job.”

  Max was immediately affronted. “Are you sayin’ no?”

  “Hey—listen—I gotta figure things out for myself. Right?”

  “You know what your problem is?”

  “Spit it out.”

  “You’re an ungrateful prick.” But Max said it with love in his voice, because Michael was the brother he’d never had, and he did indeed love him.

  A few days before his release from prison, Karl Edgington had made sure he still had the number he’d given him to call.

  “Trust me,” Karl had said. “You can make yourself a lot of money.”

  Was he supposed to trust a man who’d embezzled two million dollars? It was a move he wasn’t sure about. He kept the number, just in case.

  Tina had plans to introduce him to some of her girlfriends.

  “Gimme a break, Tina,” he groaned. “I know your friends. We were all in school together, right?”

  “No, not right,” Tina said, determined to fix him up. “I have other friends now. Girls you should meet—decent girls,” she added pointedly.

  “I gotta get off your couch first,” he said. “Then I can start thinkin’ about girls.”

  “I like having you on our couch, Michael,” she replied, mildly flirting.

  He’d noticed she’d been doing that a lot lately. He hoped it didn’t piss Max off.

  Every day, when Max left for work, Tina and he were alone in the house with the kids. She usually sat the two children in front of the TV in the living room, where they nibbled on cookies while watching an endless stream of cartoons.

  “Is that okay for them to do?” he asked. “Shouldn’t they be goin’ out to the park or somethin’?”

  “If it keeps ’em quiet, then it’s okay,” she replied. “Come in the kitchen, I’ll make us coffee.”

  He was sure that deep down Tina had never quite forgiven him for breaking up with her. Every now and then she made bitchy comments, alluding to the fact that they could have been together.

  He decided he’d better address the subject before she said something she might regret. “Y’know, it’s a real kick seein’ you and Max so happy,” he said, sitting down at the kitchen table. “An’ jeez, Tina,” he added, tossing a compliment her way, “even after two kids, you still got that babe thing goin’ on.”

  His words pleased her. “You think so?” she asked, spooning instant coffee into two mugs and adding hot water.

  “I always thought so.”

  “Hmm
. . .” she said, handing him his coffee. “If I’m such a babe, how come you broke up with me?”

  “C’mon, Tina,” he said, reaching for the sugar. “We were kids. Didn’t know what we wanted.”

  “I did,” she said, fixing him with a meaningful look.

  “I know you did,” he said quickly. “An’ it was marriage an’ all that goes with it. I wasn’t into gettin’ serious.”

  “Why?”

  “ ’Cause I’m not Max,” he explained. “Max is a stand-up guy. Look at the two of you—with the house an’ the kids. It’s great the way everythin’ worked out.”

  “Maybe,” she said noncommittally, sitting down at the table opposite him.

  “Don’t give me that ‘maybe’ crap.”

  “It’s just that . . . well . . . you and I, Michael, we were something together, weren’t we?” she said, suddenly going all dreamy-eyed.

  This conversation was definitely heading in the wrong direction. “I repeat,” he said firmly, “we were kids. And thank God you were smart enough not to put out.”

  “Even though you were begging!” she said with a knowing smile.

  “Yeah, even though I was beggin’,” he admitted, grinning at the memory. Talk about blue balls! Tina had been an expert at not giving it up.

  She fingered the rim of her coffee mug in a suggestive way. “Perhaps it’s not too late . . .”

  “Whoa!” he said, holding up his hand. “Stop right there.”

  “I’m teasing!” she said, laughing.

  “Yeah, if I remember right—you were always good at that.”

  Later that day, Max came home early from work, and the two of them went over to visit their old friend Charlie, who was still living at home and looked like shit.

  It wasn’t the same Charlie that Michael remembered. The big, burly Charlie with the Elvis sideburns and happy-go-lucky attitude was long gone. In his place was a haunted twenty-five-year-old with horror in his eyes, a marine crew cut, and liquor on his breath—even though it was only four in the afternoon. He’d lost a leg in Vietnam, along with his will to live. Michael recognized the look—growing up, he’d seen it every day in his father’s eyes.

  “How ya doin’, man?” he asked, falsely jovial.

  “How’d you be doin’ with one freakin’ leg?” Charlie replied.

  “Sorry,” Michael said. “It’s a bum rap.”

  “They gave me this piece a plastic shit t’ wear,” Charlie complained. “Hurts like hell.”

  “Isn’t there somethin’ better than that?”

  “Too expensive.”

  The next day Michael found out the details, dug into his savings, and handed Max the money to arrange for Charlie to get a top-of-the-line prosthetic leg.

  “Don’t let him know it came from me,” he instructed.

  “Where’d you get this kind of money?” Max wanted to know.

  “I’ve been saving up for a rainy day.”

  The following evening Tina had set him up with a date, refusing to take no for an answer. She and Max were making up the foursome.

  Susie and Harry were settled in bed when the Delagado twins arrived to baby-sit. Two young girls, both exotic beauties, petite and slender, with burnished skin, wide-apart brown eyes, full lips, and lustrous black hair. Catherine was the quiet and studious one, while Beth was somewhat wild.

  “Where did you find them?” Michael asked, checking them out.

  “They live next door with their aunt Gloria,” Tina said, primping in the mirror. “They came over from Cuba a few months ago. Their aunt gives Latin dance classes. I hear she’s quite a mover; we should go sometime.”

  “Hot little babes, huh?” Max said, giving Michael a furtive nudge. “Dunno why my old lady allows them around me—lucky me!”

  “Listen to your wife,” Tina said, shooting Max a warning look. “And remember this: ‘jailbait’!”

  “Yes ma’am!” Max said with a mock salute.

  “How old are they?” Michael asked.

  “Too young for you,” Max said with a dirty laugh.

  “Fifteen,” Tina announced triumphantly. “Ten years too young for either of you.”

  Beth didn’t seem to think so. The moment she saw Michael she began coming on to him.

  He pretended not to notice. She was a child in a woman’s body, plus she had trouble written all over her.

  Michael’s blind date was too tall, too serious, and definitely not for him. Her name was April, and she worked in a bank.

  The four of them went to a movie. As soon as they’d settled the girls in their seats, Max and Michael headed for the lobby to buy popcorn.

  “Jeez!” Michael groaned, leaning against the concession stand. “What’ve you done to me?”

  “She’s a nice girl,” Max said, grabbing a couple of candy bars and four cartons of popcorn. “Very smart.”

  “The last thing I need is ‘nice,’ ” Michael grumbled.

  “Don’t forget,” Max reminded him. “The plain ones are always the most grateful.”

  Did Max honestly think that because he’d been locked up for a few years, he couldn’t find his own date? This was crazy.

  After the movie they went to the local diner. The girls sat there, arguing about who was cuter—Paul Newman or Steve McQueen.

  “I’ll take McQueen anyday,” Tina said, ordering a burger and french fries.

  “No,” April said, shaking her head. “Paul Newman looks like he has brains as well as brawn.”

  So it’s brains she’s after, Michael thought. Well, she certainly ain’t getting them from me. I’m the jerk who allowed myself to get set up. The dumb fuck who sat in jail for five years.

  He was angry and frustrated, and as each day passed he was getting more so.

  Had to come up with a plan. Had to do something soon. Couldn’t sit around and do nothing.

  The Delagado twins came back a few nights later. Max and Tina had already left for a wedding, and Michael was supposed to meet them later.

  As soon as they arrived, Catherine went upstairs to check that both children were asleep, then she took out her schoolbooks and settled at the kitchen table. Beth wandered into the living room.

  “Hi, Michael,” she said, giving him a sexy smile as she perched on the edge of his chair.

  “Hi, schoolgirl,” he answered.

  He had to admit she was quite an exotic beauty, with her long black hair that hung below her waist, devilish brown eyes, and full pouty lips. She was wearing tight blue jeans and a checkered shirt tied at the waist, exposing a couple of inches of taut, tanned flesh.

  “Missed me, did you?” she said, giving him a flirtatious look.

  “Oh, sure,” he said, playing the game. “Missed you desperately.”

  “I’m not surprised,” she said with a secret smile.

  “How was school today?” he asked.

  “Same as usual,” she replied, pulling a face. “I have to sit in a class full of baby boys. Don’t you hate baby boys?”

  “What’re baby boys?”

  “Boys who don’t know anything about girls,” she said vaguely. “I like men. Real men.”

  “You do, huh?” he said, wondering why there weren’t any girls around like her when he was fifteen.

  “Oh yes,” she said, licking her full lips.

  “And how many real men have you known?”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “I bet I would.”

  “Plenty,” she said confidently.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she said, imitating his voice, her brown eyes throwing out a challenge.

  He laughed. “You’re a nutcase.”

  “Takes one to know one,” she retorted, playing with a delicate amethyst crucifix that hung around her neck on a thin gold chain.

  “Fifteen, huh?” he said, yawning. “You’ll be somethin’ when you grow up.”

  “Believe me, Michael, I am all grown up.”

  “Says the schoolgirl,” he teased
.

  Her brown eyes flashed. “In Cuba we grow up fast.”

  “I can see that,” he said, getting up.

  Her pouty lips got even more so. “I break men’s hearts.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  “I really do.”

  “Don’t doubt it.”

  “My daddy told me I can get any man I want.”

  “He did, did he?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And where is your daddy?”

  “He’s a political prisoner in Cuba,” she said matter-of-factly. “He arranged to get us out of the country. We’ve been here six months.”

  “That was smart of him.”

  “I think I like America—except for the baby boys. They’re no fun. In Cuba the boys are more . . . adult.”

  “You speak perfect English.”

  “Our father taught us that education is important.”

  “Another smart move.”

  “Yes, we grew up learning several languages.”

  “And your mom—where’s she?”

  “Ran off with another man when we were three. She was wild—exactly like me!”

  “An’ you’re proud of that?”

  “You can talk,” she said sharply. “Weren’t you recently released from prison?”

  Jeez! Bad news travels fast.

  “Gotta go,” he said, heading for the door.

  “Too bad,” she said, following him.

  He was halfway through the door when she called out, “Had any pussy since you left prison?”

  He stopped, quite shocked. “What?”

  “Just asking,” she said innocently. “No harm in that, is there?”

  He shook his head in wonderment; this girl was something else. “Ask me again in five years when you’re all grown up,” he said.

  “Ha!” she replied. “You don’t know what you’re missing!”

  Yeah, and he had no intention of finding out.

  By the time he met up with Tina and Max, Tina had lined up two new prospects—a bucktoothed brunette and an anorexic redhead. They both leapt on him like ants on peanut butter—plying him with questions, and in between the questions telling him all about themselves. As if he cared.

  “I’m gettin’ an earache,” he complained to Max.

  “I got a hunch you should bang the redhead,” Max said with a ribald laugh. “She needs it most.”