Deadly Embrace (30 page)

"Dean King recommended that I see you," Dani said, sitting down in
the chair next to Gemini.

"He did indeed, and he spoke very highly of you, little lady.
Now," he said, picking up an expensive gold pen from his massive
leather-topped desk and holding it over a yellow legal pad. "I
suggest you give me all the nasty details."

* * *

"What did you think of him?" Gemini asked the moment they left his
office.

"He seems quite interesting," Dani replied.

"Interesting, or capable?"

"Both."

"Hmm..." Gemini said. "Don't you think that the combination of the
cowboy hat and the boots lent him a certain ... sensuality?"

Dani giggled. "You're kidding?"

"No," Gemini said, with a half smile. "I like a man who has...
quirks."

Gemini liked him so much that they began dating, and within six
weeks they were married. It was quite a rapid courtship—and one
that Dani felt very much part of, since she was responsible for them
meeting.

Dean flew in for the wedding, which took place at Morgan's large
ranch a few miles outside of town.

It turned out that Morgan Spelling Jones was rich, very rich
indeed. A successful lawyer, he'd also inherited an old-money fortune
from his late parents. Gemini had not known this. She'd fallen in
love with his style and couldn't care less that he was almost thirty
years her senior. She
did
care about Nando, and fortunately he
and Morgan hit it off, which was great for Dani, because it meant
that Vincent got to spend time at the ranch too—riding horses,
swimming, and playing lots of outdoor games. He and Nando were
inseparable.

The only downside was that being out of town at Morgan's ranch
reminded Dani of her childhood and Dashell. How lucky she was to have
escaped. What would her future have held if she hadn't?

Sometimes she wondered. There were many nights she still
experienced frighteningly vivid nightmares. And often she thought
about going back and searching for her mother's grave.

She always decided that, no, it would not be a healthy thing to
do. The past was just that. Letting go was the true freedom.

"It's your turn next," Gemini whispered to Dani at the wedding.
"If I can take this step, so can you."

Dean was pushing. She was still hesitant.

"Sleep with him, at least," Gemini urged. "See if you are
compatible in bed."

Was
that
what she was supposed to do?

Yes. Because that's what everyone else did.

Sex was the big topic of conversation backstage—one girl had
even slept with Frank Sinatra, making her the heroine of the
week.

The truth was that sex didn't interest Dani; she'd shut off that
part of her life. Sex only led to trouble— she knew that onfy
too well.

Morgan had spoken to Sam's lawyer several times. "The man's a
shyster," he informed Dani. "Sam has made no requests to see the boy.
All he wants is money, moola, big bucks."

"How much?" she asked, disappointed that Sam had sunk so low.

"They're requesting alimony—and if not that, then a one-time
payment of fifty thousand dollars."

"Fifty thousand!" she said in amazement. "Where am I supposed to
get that kind of money?"

"It's not necessary to pay anything, Dani," Morgan explained.
"However, my dear, it is the only guaranteed way of permanently
removing him from our list of annoyances." A beat. "That, or we hire
a hit man."

"
What
?" she gasped, horrified.

"I jest, my dear, I jest."

Dean came to the rescue. Without consulting her, he conferred with
Morgan and paid the fifty thousand. A week later she slept with
him.

Sleeping with Dean wasn't the worst thing in the world. He was
kind and attentive, and took things slowly. But Dani could not get
over the feeling that she was only doing this because he'd paid the
money to make Sam go away.

She felt like a whore. A very highly paid whore, but a whore all
the same.

Dean was ecstatic. "This definitely means we're getting married,"
he crowed, producing the ring again.

"It means we're ... we're engaged," she said, as he slipped the
magnificent diamond on her finger.

"You will never regret this, my darling, never," he assured her,
beaming. "Whenever you can take a few days off, I'll fly you and
Vincent to Houston to see my house. It'll be all yours to do whatever
you like."

"That'll be great," she said, already feeling pressured.

"Maybe you should quit your job," he said. "After all, there's no
reason for you to work now that we're together."

"Yes, there is," she said quickly. "I need my independence, Dean.
One of these days I intend to pay back the money you gave Sam."

"Think of it this way, Dani. When we're married,
my
money
is
your
money. So what difference does it make?"

"It makes a difference to me," she said quietly. "This is a debt I
should be responsible for."

"We'll see," he said, completely unconcerned about the money. "I'm
planning our engagement party. Start making a list."

She nodded, and decided that since this was obviously her future,
she'd better start being happy about it.

Scanning the newspapers, Michael had to work hard to find any
mention of Roy's demise. Finally, twenty-four hours later, he
discovered a small item tucked away at the bottom of page three.

MAN SHOT IN CENTRAL PARK

ASSAILANT UNKNOWN

Just as he was about to read on, Beth walked into the kitchen on her
way to the fashion institute. He quickly put down the newspaper and
picked up his coffee.

"What's our plan today?" she asked, dressed for action in nght
black jeans, an off-the-shoulder peasant blouse, and backless
high-heel mules.

"I gotta meeting this afternoon, after that I'm all yours."

"Michael," she said, tilting her head, a questioning look in her
eyes, "what is it you
do
, exactly?"

"A little bit of this, a little bit of that," he answered
evasively, sipping his coffee.

It wasn't the first time she'd tried to find out what he did. When
they'd first gotten together she'd questioned him nonstop until he'd
warned her to drop it. Early on he'd decided the less Beth knew about
his business, the better. He especially didn't want her knowing about
Warner Carlysle and the investments—which were going so well
that he soon might retire from Gus's crew and concentrate on his own
thing.

"That's what you always say."

"Believe me, you don't wanna know—it's boring."

"As long as you bring home the money, I suppose I shouldn't care,"
she said, tossing back her long dark hair. "Although I'd hate it
it you
ever got arrested again. That must've been horrible."

She'd obviously been getting an earful from Tina and Max, which he
didn't appreciate. "Where's Madison?" he asked, changing the
subject.

"Catherine took her to the park. We're going to the zoo later. Why
don't you come?"

"I told you, I got a meeting," he said, standing up and giving her
a big hug, wrapping his arms around her slim body until she could
barely breathe.

"What's that for?" she gasped.

"Something for you to remember me by today."

"Oh," she said, laughing softly. "Mr. Romantic."

"I can be romantic when I want to," he said, grinning.

"I know," she said warmly. "And I like it."

"You do?"

"Yes, Michael. I do."

She was smart, sassy, and sexy, and although she was still very
young, she had an old soul. He was definitely falling for her big
time. A surprise, but one he was definitely into. "I've been
thinking, Beth," he ventured.

"Yes?" she said, her brown eyes bright and alert.

"Remember before you had Madison, we were talkin' about gettin'
married?"

"We weren't,
you
were," she said pointedly.

"It's time."

"For what?"

"Plannin' a wedding."

"Oh no, no, no," she said hurriedly. "That's not for me."

"C'mon, sweetheart," he said persuasively. "We got Madison to
think about."

"Madison is a very happy baby."

"I know. But you gotta consider it."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because
what
?"

Jesus! She could be stubborn. "Hey," he said. "Here's the good
news—if you don't
like
bein' married, we can always get
a divorce."

She sighed and tilted her head on one side. "You're funny,
Michael."

"
You're
even funnier," he countered. "You're the only woman
I know who doesn't wanna get married."

"In that case you should be jumping up and down with joy."

"I'm not," he said, completely exasperated. " 'Cause I've decided
you're gonna marry me whether you like it or not."

"I am?"

"Yup."

"Is that an order?"

"It sure is."

"Okay," she said meekly.

"Okay what? You'll do it?"

She grinned. "I'll let you know."

"You will, huh?"

"Maybe."

"What a woman!"

"Oh, Michael," she said with a great big smile. "You
fi
nally
called me a woman. I think I
will
marry you
after all."

"That's my girl!"

"No," she corrected, still smiling. "That's your woman."

* * *

Most afternoons Michael hung out at the social club with some of the
guys. They played poker or pool, sat around watching sports or the
horse racing on TV, made a few bets, and had a beer or two.

This particular day, Michael was feeling wary. He knew that Bone
had to be suspicious that it was he who'd eliminated Roy. After all,
Bone had revealed the details of the crime that had taken his
mother's life, and two weeks later Michael had sprung into action. It
didn't take a genius to work that one out.

But Bone wasn't there, and nobody else said a word about Roy's
demise.

When he left, around five, he noticed two men standing by a black
Cadillac parked across the street. Sensing they were watching him, he
casually crossed the road and walked past them. He was not surprised
when they stopped him.

"Michael Castellino?" one of them asked.

"Yeah?" he said, recognizing the man from the day he'd tried to
get in to see Mr. G.

"Mr. Giovanni wants t' see you."

"Now?"

"Yeah, now. Let's go."

He got in the backseat of the Cadillac. He was
apprehensive—only, what could Mr. G. do to him? There was
nothirig tying him to Roy's murder. He'd gotten rid of the gun,
weighted it down in a black plastic garbage bag with some bricks and
thrown it into the East River. "Never off anyone and keep the piece,"
the Chronicle had drummed into him. "It's cheaper to buy a new one
than to hang on to somethin' could incriminate you."

Good advice. He'd taken it.

Neither of the men in the car said anything as they drove to Vito
Giovanni's house.

As soon as they arrived, he got out of the car and walked up the
steps by himself. Another man opened the door and ushered him
inside.

Michael had not seen Vito in six years. The man had aged. Once so
dapper in his fine cashmere coats and flowing silk scarves, he was
now older and grayer, with heavy glasses and a bad set of extra-white
false teeth.

"Mike," Vito said, clapping him on the back. "Look at you, all
grown up."

"Yeah," he said warily. "All grown up."

"It's nice t' see ya ugly face. Wanna drink?"

"I'll have a Jack."

"I'll have a Jack," Vito repeated. "You got the lingo down. Mr.
Cool. Mr. Good-Lookin'. You didn't lose the looks, you got
better."

"Thanks," he said awkwardly, wondering what the hell he was doing
there.

"Hey, Luigi," Vito called out. "Fix Mike a Jack Daniel's on the
rocks, an' one for me, too." He turned back to Michael. "It's
Sinatra's favorite drink. Had the pleasure of meetin' the man a few
months ago. What a swinger! My kinda guy."

Personally, Michael was not into Sinatra; he preferred Elvis or
Beth's wild salsa sounds.

"You're probably wonderin' why I asked ya here," Vito said,
lighting a big fat cigar with a solid gold lighter.

"Yeah."

"I got someone wants to talk t' you."

"Who would that be?"

"Another old friend of yours," Vito said, snapping his fingers for
Luigi to open the door.

Luigi did so, and enter Marnie. What a sight! Yellow teased hair
with inch-long jet black roots; swollen red eyes; slightly heavier,
and she still dressed like a teenager, with her short leather skirt,
tight orange sweater, and hooker heels.

Michael stared at her with contempt. Now that he knew the truth,
he hated her.

"Ya probably heard that Marnie an' me—we're no longer
together," Vito explained, puffing on his cigar. "However, since
Marnie was my wife for many years, I keep the respect, an' if
she
comes t' me with a problem, that means I got a problem.
Capisce
?"

Michael nodded, wondering where this conversation was leading.

"So, y'see," Vito continued, sitting down in his favorite
armchair, "Marnie's got a
big
problem."

"She has?"

"You
know
," she said furiously, glaring at Michael with
red-rimmed eyes. "My cousin Roy. My best friend. Him an' me was like
brother an' sister."

"Somebody offed Roy," Vito said, as casual as if he was talking
about a lost wallet. "An' word on the street is that somebody might
be you."

"Why would I do somethin' like that?" Michael said, making sure
his expression stayed completely blank.

Luigi walked over and handed him his drink. He took a swig. He
needed it.

Vito let out a weary sigh. "Lemme tell you the story that's goin'
round," he said. "It seems many years ago your mama got herself shot
in a robbery, an' people are sayin' you might've thought Roy had
somethin' t' do with it, so you offed the little prick."