“What did I ever do to you?” Lara managed to gasp.
“You wouldn’t be my friend,” Alison screamed. “You had me put in jail. And for that you’re going to die. Do you hear me, bitch? YOU’RE GOING TO DIE!”
• •
Grabbing a flashlight from the Mercedes, Joey entered the dark house. He was sure Lara wasn’t there, because what would she be doing alone in the pitch black? Cassie must have taken her somewhere and dropped her off. Maybe to Richard’s. The thought filled him with rage.
He almost tripped over Lara’s open suitcase in the front hall. At least that proved she’d been here.
With the flashlight guiding him, he made his way into what he assumed was the living room. Across the room a glass door banged back and forth in the wind. He moved over to close it. A jagged streak of lightning lit up the sky, and outside on the terrace, he saw Lara—his Lara—with someone on top of her, the two of them struggling on the ground.
He ran outside, frantically screaming her name. As he drew closer he could see she was being attacked by a large woman. Jesus! What the fuck was going on?
He reached them, and was about to drag her assailant off Lara, when the woman turned and struck out with a lethal hunting knife, slashing him across the cheek. Blood began pouring from his wound. The pain was intense, but he hardly felt it. All he knew was that Lara was in danger and he had to save her.
He went for the woman once more, grabbing her shoulders, trying to haul her off Lara.
She roared with anger and slashed out with the knife again, this time cutting him across the left hand.
He smashed into her face with his elbow, and she loosened her grip on Lara, who managed to roll out from under her.
“RUN!” Joey yelled. “GET OUTTA HERE!”
• •
Richard drove through the heavy storm. Once he reached the house, Lara would realize he was her savior. She’d finally know for sure how much he loved her.
It had taken him a long time to understand what true happiness was, and now that he did, he had no intention of losing it again.
Up ahead he heard an ominous rumbling. It wasn’t thunder, it was a different kind of noise, reminiscent of the big Northridge 1994 earthquake.
For a moment he almost pulled the car to the side of the road to see what it was, but the rain was so strong, and seawater was beginning to creep across the highway, so he figured the safest thing was to keep going.
He did so. And as the rocks came tumbling down, crushing his car, his last thought was of Lara.
• •
Now Joey was fighting with the woman who’d cut him. She was as big as any man, and strong, but at least he’d gotten her off Lara.
“You ignorant scum—get out of here!” Alison, screamed. “Or I’ll cut you like a stuffed pig. Out of my way, you fucker!”
He attempted to prise the knife out of her hand as they struggled. Grabbing the wrist of her knife hand, he bent it back until she yelped with pain. But still she held on.
They were on their feet now, rocking toward the edge of the terrace.
He made a concentrated lunge to get the knife. They fell against the fence, and with that, the flimsy fence, badly in need of repair, gave way, and they both began falling down the side of the cliff toward the roaring ocean below.
Joey’s life flashed before him. Somewhere, Lara was screaming. Desperately he tried to hold onto something, somehow or other managing to grab the branch of a tree.
Alison Sewell wasn’t so lucky. He could hear her bloodcurdling scream as she smashed into the sea below.
In excruciating pain, he tried to haul himself up the side of the cliff. Below him he could hear the raging surf, waves beating against the rocks, hungry for another victim.
“Joey, Joey!” Somewhere Lara was desperately calling his name.
“Down here,” he yelled. “Get a rope, a sheet, anything. Dunno if I can make it on my own.”
“Joey, you’ve got to make it. You have to. For me!” She was screaming over the noise of the wind. The sound of her voice gave him hope.
Then he felt the branch start to give. Was this how it ended?
Oh, sweet Jesus. Was this it?
ONE YEAR LATER
THE BEST OF HOLLYWOOD TURNED out for Richard Barry’s memorial service. The two women he’d been married to arranged it, making sure every detail was exactly as he would have wanted. Both of them were dressed in black—a sign of respect for the man they missed. For when he was good, he had been very very good. Though when he was bad, he’d been a total asshole.
In April, Richard had won a posthumous Oscar for French Summer. Lara Ivory, the star of the film, had made the presentation. Nikki Barry, his widow, had accepted on his behalf. The added bonus was that Nikki also won for best costume designer. A double celebration.
Now they were honoring the man who at one time had meant so much to them. An Oscar-winning director, killed in an unavoidable act of nature.
• •
Linden arrived with Cassie. Since her unfortunate car accident she’d lost forty pounds, and somehow or other an improbable romance had blossomed between her and Lara’s publicist. She’d left Lara’s employ and now worked as a partner in Linden’s firm. They were very happy together.
• •
Mick Stefan wandered in next. He’d handed over his new white Rolls-Royce to a parking valet and was now worried that the guy might scratch it. Revenge had opened to critical acclaim and excellent box office, and Mick was currently directing a sixty-million-dollar-budget action adventure movie starring Johnny Romano and Norman Barton as two mismatched cops.
Mick had a seventeen-year-old, French movie star girlfriend, and a new mansion in Bel Air.
Mick Stefan was definitely on a roll.
• •
Summer came with Reggie Coleman, a boy she’d met in high school. He was a year older than she, handsome and nice, with no secondary agenda. He made her feel good about herself. In fact, he made her feel sixteen, and it was a nice feeling.
She lived at home with Nikki and planned to attend USC Film School when the time came.
Summer was finally enjoying being a teenager.
• •
Aiden Sean made it to the ceremony late. He’d spent the last year in and out of drug rehab. He tried his best, but it wasn’t easy.
Nikki remained his good friend, always there for him.
Their romance was dead—a mutual decision.
• •
Tina didn’t make it at all. She’d been “discovered” by Cluny and whisked off to New York to be a model. So far she’d appeared on three magazine covers and was currently shooting a spread for the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition.
She and Cluny had become more than friends.
• •
Nikki watched her gorgeous daughter walk into the ceremony. It was amazing what a little love, attention and caring could do. She was so proud of Summer—what a transformation!
Sheldon had returned to Chicago a much chastened man. Summer had refused to take action against him, and in return for her silence, he’d promised never to see or contact her again. Nikki considered this far too lenient a punishment.
Since working with Mick on the post production of Revenge, Nikki had the producing bug in a big way. She’d read countless scripts and books but had not discovered anything that fired her imagination, until one day, while sorting through Richard’s personal papers, she’d come upon a fascinating manuscript written in the first person. She’d started to read, and become totally hooked. It was the story of a young man who is thrown out of his home at sixteen and then lives a wild and interesting life, becoming everything from a thief to a male hustler to a movie star in Asia. The opening lines of the manuscript had really grabbed her attention: Here’s the truth of it—I can have any woman I want any time I want. No problem.
The manuscript ended with a brutal murder, after which the protagonist takes off for Mexico.
Had Rich
ard written it? Since there was no author’s name attached, she assumed that he had—which was really something, because the material was so raunchy and un-Richard-like. Still . . . it was a powerful read, and she was sure it would make a fantastic movie. She’d hired a writer and was now busy developing the script. She even had an actor in mind for the lead—Joey Lorenzo. He would certainly do the role justice.
• •
And as for Lara and Joey, true love, soul mates—call it what you like—they’d recognized a certain sadness and need in each other, and although the sex was just as great as ever, it was the mutual need and understanding that had drawn them together. They were inseparable. Fate ruled.
Lara shuddered whenever she remembered the night of the storm. How she’d summoned the strength to drag Joey up from the side of the cliff she’d never know. God must have put his hand on her shoulder and helped her.
Nobody could help Alison Sewell. Her body washed up three miles down the coast, five days later. There was a brief investigation. Nobody cared. Only Lara, who paid for a proper burial.
Joey confessed everything about his past. He bared his soul with searing honesty, and Lara believed him. In return, she’d told him about her demons, the nightmare stories she’d never revealed to anyone.
They were married quietly a month later in Santa Barbara. Six weeks after that, Joey landed a key role in a movie starring Charlie Dollar, following that with the lead in a low-budget thriller. He was good. He was very good.
• •
The memorial service was a fitting tribute to Richard Barry. Many people he’d worked with got up and spoke. There were tears and there was laughter. Summer made a particularly moving speech, calling Richard the father she’d never had.
As Lara and Joey walked away from the service, she reached out for his hand. “Joey,” she murmured, thinking how handsome he was, and how much she loved him. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to remind you about.”
“What?” he asked, thinking she was just as beautiful inside as she was out, and that he was possibly the luckiest man in the world.
“You owe me a honeymoon,” she said softly.
He lifted her hand to his lips. “I know. We leave for Tahiti tomorrow.”
“Joey!”
“Don’t fight it. Look what happened last time we didn’t go to Tahiti!”
She smiled, basking in the glow of his love. “That’s true.”
“Have I ever let you down?”
“No. Never.”
And as they reached their limo, the paparazzi pressed forward, multiple flashes blinding them.
And Lara knew she would never be frightened of anything again, because she had Joey beside her, and he was her world.
Jackie Collins is one of the world’s top-selling authors, with more than four hundred million copies of her books sold in more than forty countries. From her first sensational release, The World Is Full of Married Men, to her recent Poor Little Bitch Girl, from Hollywood Wives to Hollywood Divorces, Jackie Collins skewers the lives of the rich and famous with “devastating accuracy” (Los Angeles Times) in twenty-seven internationally bestselling novels. She lives in Beverly Hills, California.
Visit her website at www.jackiecollins.com.
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BOOKS BY JACKIE COLLINS
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ALSO BY JACKIE COLLINS
Hollywood Wives—The New Generation
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L.A. Connections—Power. Obsession. Murder. Revenge.
Thrill!
Hollywood Kids
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Lovers & Gamblers
Hollywood Wives
The World Is Full of Divorced Women
The Love Killers
Sinners
The Bitch
The Stud
The World Is Full of Married Men
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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ISBN: 978-1-4391-4098-7
Jackie Collins, Thrill
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