‘Your way,’ Rio said, her voice filled with disgust. ‘You make me want to throw up.’
‘Results,’ he boasted. ‘That’s all that counts.’
‘You cold bastard!’ Lara said, fighting back tears.
He puffed on his cigar. ‘Why don’t you call me a black bastard—isn’t that the kind of name calling people like you do?’
‘You’ve got no conscience.’
‘Oh, and I suppose you have? Fucking a guy is okay if it works out. But my way is shit.’
‘Your way is murder,’ Rio pointed out.
‘They murdered Margaret,’ he countered.
‘All those innocent people…’ sighed Cass.
‘Fuck it, girl,’ Dukey said. ‘Margaret was worth every one of them ten times over. An’ let me tell you a little fact of life—there’s nobody innocent involved with the Bassalinos.’
Cass shook her head. ‘You don’t understand, do you? Margaret wouldn’t have approved of any of this. All she’d have wanted was for her work to be carried on.’
‘Get real, Cass. I wanted revenge. And I got it. Every one of those Bassalino bastards dead. Every mothafuckin’ one.’
‘How do you know?’ Lara asked flatly.
‘Because I took care of it, sugar. I took care of it good.’
* * *
Lara returned to her apartment. Nick was dead and she was through crying. There were no more tears left. Why hadn’t she warned him in time? It was all her fault.
She didn’t know what she would do now. Everything seemed so hopeless.
When her phone rang she was tempted not to answer. It was probably Prince Alfredo, and she couldn’t deal with him right now.
On the fourth ring she changed her mind. Listlessly she said, ‘Hello.’
‘Princess? Is that really you? Thank Christ you got out in time.’
Relief and joy swept over her. ‘Nick! You’re safe!’
‘I can’t talk. It’s a mess here. I’m with the cops now. Jesus, Lara—my mother, father, my whole family…’ He started to choke up.
‘Let me fly back. I want to be with you.’
‘No. I’ll call you again tomorrow. Just wait for me, sweetheart. You’re all I’ve got.’
‘Nick… There are a lot of things I have to tell you…’
‘Not now.’
‘When?’
‘Soon, baby, soon.’
* * *
She never did tell him. Somehow she couldn’t summon the courage. He came to fetch her in New York, and they flew back to California together. A few days later they took off for Hawaii, where they were married in a simple private ceremony. The only person she confided in was Beth, safely back at the commune and happy to be reunited with her little girl and her boyfriend, Max.
‘I don’t know how it happened, but it did,’ Lara told her sister over the phone. ‘And I’m not telling the others,’ she added defiantly. ‘Let them find out for themselves.’
Beth didn’t lecture or judge. ‘The Bassalinos have been punished more than enough,’ she said quietly. ‘I hope you and Nick can find happiness.’
‘We will,’ Lara said confidently. ‘We’re going to move to Italy and start over. Nick wants to, and so do I. When we’re settled will you visit us?’
‘You bet!’ Beth replied.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Bosco Sam and Dukey K. Williams met at the zoo.
‘I ain’t truckin’ with you past those goddamn monkeys again,’ Bosco Sam complained. ‘I’m still smelling monkey piss every time I wear my damn coat.’
Dukey laughed.
Bosco Sam glared.
‘So, what’s goin’ on?’ Dukey asked. ‘Lay it on me, bro’, ’cos I gotta be at rehearsal two hours ago. Little blond number held me up.’
‘Dukey, boy, we had a deal.’
‘Right on. Ain’t nobody arguing that fact.’
Bosco Sam produced a Hershey bar from his coat pocket and carefully peeled off the wrapper. ‘Deal was I forget the two hundred thou, and you arrange a hit on the Bassalinos. Right?’
Dukey nodded.
‘Okay, Frank Bassalino I give you. But the others? C’mon Dukey, who’re you shittin’?’
‘Hey, man—Enzio was the important one. Leroy did a great job.’
‘Leroy Jesus Bauls got his ass chewed off by a pack of fuckin’ wild hounds. What was left of him his own mother wouldn’t recognize. The cops showed me the photos. I got very fine connections with the police.’
‘So?’
‘So the word is that Enzio was got at before the house blew. Someone shot him through the heart an’ sliced him up with a butcher’s knife—just for kicks. You gettin’ the picture?’
Dukey licked his lips. ‘No, man, I’m not.’
‘Angelo Bassalino got his in a car wreck. Nick Bassalino’s back in L.A. I reckon that still leaves you one hundred and fifty thousand in my debt.’
‘Don’t fuckin’ lay this shit on me, man,’ Dukey said angrily. ‘You can’t possibly mean—’
‘I’ll tell you what,’ Bosco Sam interrupted. ‘With interest we’ll call it a straight two hundred thousand. Two days, my man. I’ll give you two days. An’ that’s generous of me.’
‘Come on,’ Dukey groaned. ‘You’re full of shit. This ain’t fair!’
‘Fair? I’ve been very fair with you. I don’t have to tell you what happens next. Two days is generous.’
‘You fat fuck!’ Dukey exclaimed. ‘You jealous asshole. You’ll get your money.’
Bosco Sam nodded. ‘Sure I will, Dukey boy. Cash. An’ I want it by six o’clock tonight.’ Abruptly he shoved the rest of the chocolate bar in his mouth and walked away.
Dukey began to sweat.
There was no way he could get two hundred thousand together by six o’clock. No way.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
‘The man who comes to you with his dick hanging out may want to make it with you, but does he want to work next to you? Does he want to see you get paid the same money for the same job he’s doing? Hey—what about the guy in the street who undresses you with his eyes, fucks you with his mouth to his friends. Is he your equal, baby? Well? Well?’
The crowd of women, joined by a few males at the rock festival, screamed their agreement.
‘Hey, sisters—you want to be put down by a race of male pigs forever? Old pigs with racist, chauvinistic, biased, old-fashioned views on every single thing that affects women in America today?
‘To them we are pieces of ass. Look pretty, have the kids, but baby—stay home or you’d better stay quiet.’
Rio Java was speaking between appearances of rock groups. With her frizzy purple hair and sequinned makeup she looked like a rock star herself.
In one year she had become as dedicated and intense as Margaret Lawrence Brown ever was. And her following was just as large. In fact, she attracted an even wider group of supporters than Margaret, as even the freaks liked her.
‘One day I’m going to be president,’ she’d tell anyone who would listen. ‘And I’m going to expose the whole stinking, corrupt mess that politics represents.
‘For a start,’ she told her friends, ‘I’m exposing that son of a bitch Larry Bolding. He ain’t gonna be chasin’ nothin’ when I get through with him.’
Larry Bolding, her ex-lover, the politician with the clean-cut image, elegant blond wife, and two perfect little kiddies, was running as a presidential candidate.
Rio held both arms straight up above her purple hair and made fists of her hands.
‘Strike out, sisters!’ she shouted. ‘Strike out!! We are going to get what we want. We are going to be EQUAL in every way!’
The crowd whistled and screamed approval.
Rio felt the bullet hit her. She stood very still. She smiled. And the crowd spread out before her whistled and stamped and screamed.
‘Strike out!’ Rio managed. But then the blood bubbled up her throat and out of her mouth in one life-taking gush.
CHAPTE
R FIFTY-TWO
The house in Connecticut could only be approached by passing through electric gates and then undergoing the scrutiny of two uniformed guards with pistols stuck casually in their belts.
Dickson Grade passed this scrutiny easily. He was a precise-looking man in a dark business suit. He wore rimless glasses on small brown eyes, and his hair was combed neatly back.
He approached the big house, holding a slim leather briefcase tightly by his side.
A uniformed maid answered his ring. ‘Good afternoon, Mr. Grade, sir,’ she said respectfully. ‘Mr. Bolding is out by the pool.’
Dickson Grade nodded, making his way through the house to the patio, which led out to an Olympic-size swimming pool.
Susan Bolding greeted him. She was a most attractive woman, with straight fair hair pulled firmly back in a French twist. Her shapely figure was concealed beneath a loose silk shirt and tailored white trousers.
‘Hello, Dick.’ She smiled, kissing him lightly on the cheek. ‘What can I get you? A drink? Tea? Coffee?’
Dickson smiled politely. He found Larry Bolding’s wife extremely appealing, but when you were Larry Bolding’s personal assistant you sat on thoughts like that and did nothing about them.
‘Coffee, please, Susan. Where is Larry?’
‘Exploring the garden in search of weeds, I think. Honestly, Sunday is the only day he gets time to relax. And you know how he loves his garden.’
‘I’ll go find him.’
Dickson walked down a side path until he discovered Larry Bolding playing catch on the grass with his children.
They greeted each other, and then Larry sent the children off to find Mommy. He was a tall, clean-cut man in his early forties. Craggy good looks combined nicely with a deep, masculine voice and a politician’s firm handshake.
‘Everything is under control,’ Dickson said. ‘A perfect operation.’
Larry Bolding glanced around to make perfectly sure they were alone. ‘Is she—dead?’ he asked in a low voice.
Dickson nodded. ‘And nothing to connect it to us. You’re in the clear. Oh, and rest assured, the right people will be dealing with her personal effects.’
Larry Bolding sighed and patted Dickson on the shoulder. ‘It was the only way, wasn’t it?’ he questioned.
Dickson Grade nodded agreement. ‘The only way.’
About the Author
There have been many imitators, but only Jackie Collins can tell you what really goes on in the fastest lane of all. From Beverly Hills bedrooms to a raunchy prowl along the streets of Hollywood; from glittering rock parties and concerts to stretch limos and the mansions of the power brokers — Jackie Collins chronicles the real truth from the inside looking out.
Jackie Collins has been called a “raunchy moralist” by the late director Louis Malle and “Hollywood’s own Marcel Proust” by Vanity Fair magazine. With over 400 million copies of her books sold in more than 40 countries, and with some twenty-eight New York Times bestsellers to her credit, Jackie Collins is one of the world’s top-selling novelists. She is known for giving her readers an unrivaled insiders knowledge of Hollywood and the glamorous lives and loves of the rich, famous, and infamous! “I write about real people in disguise,” she says. “If anything, my characters are toned down — the truth is much more bizarre.”
A New Novel from Jackie Collins…
Get an EXCLUSIVE SNEAK PREVIEW of the New Book!
Go to http://jackiecollins.com/powertrip and enter your email address for a free sneak preview of Jackie's brand new book, The Power Trip.
A Russian billionaire and his state-of-the-art yacht. His beautiful and sexy supermodel girlfriend. And five dynamic, powerful and famous couples invited on the yacht's maiden voyage…
A senator and his lovely but unhappy wife.
A very attractive movie star and his needy ex-waitress girlfriend.
A famous black footballer and his interior designer wife.
A male Latin singing sensation and his older English boyfriend.
And a maverick writer with his Asian journalist female friend.
Could this be the trip of a lifetime? Or a trip from hell? Whatever happens on the high seas doesn't necessarily stay there. The Power Trip – take it if you dare.
Coming Spring 2013 to bookstores everywhere.
Table of Contents
Halftitle Page
Reviews
Title Page
Copyright Page
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
About the Author
Coming Spring 2013…
Jackie Collins, The Love Killers
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