Deadly Embrace (8 page)

Michael stared at her, trying to decide what to make of this
flashy blond woman with her huge breasts and disrespectful
attitude.

"Okay, kiddo," she said, smoothing down her short skirt. "Why
don't you come see Mr. Giovanni tomorrow, two o'clock? I'll make sure
he gives you the time of day. Oh yeah," she added, turning on her way
out, "an' you can tell Vinny that Marnie says hello."

"Marnie?"

"That's my name, honeybunch."

"I'll tell him."

"Sorry he's stuck in a wheelchair," she said, hesitating for a
moment. "Only, that's what you get when you choose the wrong path,
ain't it?"

"Huh?"

"No big deal," she said. "Vinny's the loser.
I'm
the
winner.

"My dad's not a loser," Michael said, quickly defending Vinny,
because family was family and he didn't want to come across as
disloyal.

"Have it your way," she said, pausing to lick her jammy lips.
"I'll see you tomorrow. An' you'd better not be late. I got no
patience, sonny."

Then she was gone.

Michael was excited; he couldn't wait to question his dad. How
come Vinny had never mentioned he knew the wife of the most important
and powerful man in the neighborhood? Even cooler than that, he now
had an appointment to meet with Vito Giovanni, and who knew what
that
would lead to?

Vinny was watching
Ben Casey
on TV when Michael finally got
home. Grandma Lani was sitting in an armchair, fast asleep, her head
lolling to one side.

He circled his dad. "Who's Marnie?" he demanded, tapping him on
the shoulder.

"What?" Vinny said, looking up and frowning.

"Mamie. Mrs. Giovanni," he said impatiently. "She claims she knows
you. Says she even knew Mom."

"What're you doin' mixing with people like that?" Vinny demanded,
his face reddening.

"People like
what
, Dad?"

"The dregs of the earth. Gangsters. Cowards," Vinny said
fiercely.

"Where d'you know her from anyway?"

"Never you mind," Vinny said, increasing the volume on the TV.

Grandma Lani awoke with a start. "What's happenin'?" she croaked.
"Did I cook dinner yet?"

"Who's Marnie, Grams?" Michael asked.

"Oh,
her
," Grandma Lani said crossly. "Don't tell me
she's
comin' round again, trying t' get her hands on my
Vincenzio. Somebody should tell her it's too late, he's a married man
now—and," she added, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial
whisper, "his wife is pregnant."

Soon they would have to consider putting Grandma Lani in a
home.

He could seethe was getting nowhere with either of them, and since
he had a date with Polly, and tonight they were borrowing Sandi's
apartment, he didn't plan on being late.

He ran upstairs, took a quick shower, and changed his clothes.

By the time he left the house he still had no clue what connection
Mrs. Giovanni had to his dad, although if there was any truth to what
Lani said, it seemed as if Marnie Giovanni could have been an old
girlfriend.

The thought blew his mind. Sex and Vinny did not go together.
Especially
sex with a woman like Marnie. As far as he was
concerned his dad was some crusty old guy confined to a wheelchair;
it was hard to imagine him any other way.

Polly was waiting at her girlfriend's apartment. "You're late,"
she said crisply.

"I'm here," he said, looking forward to losing himself in the
sheer voluptuousness of her warm flesh.

"We've got two hours," she said, unzipping her skirt and stepping
out of it.

"Keep your stockings on," he said as she dropped her pink lace
panties.

"Kinky!" she exclaimed, leaving her flesh-colored garter belt and
tan nylons in place.

He was immediately hard. She had that effect on him—
although at his age a stone statue would have had that effect on
him.

"How about dancin' for me tonight?" he suggested, sitting on the
edge of Sandi's pull-out bed, which Polly had thoughtfully covered
with a large terry cloth towel.

"Don't be daft," she giggled, reaching up to pull her sweater over
her head.

"C'mon," he coaxed. "It'll be a kick."

"There's no music," she protested.

"I'll hum."

"Okay," she said, quite liking the idea.

He started humming "Tossin' and Turnin'." Polly began gyrating in
front of him, swiveling her hips like a professional.

He was mesmerized by her thick triangle of black pubic hair,
outlined by the garter belt, and found himself getting even more
turned on.

Polly was attempting a few stripper moves, thrusting her crotch at
him, then drawing back.

Grabbing a tuft of overgrown pubic hair, he pulled her down on the
bed beside him.

"Ouch! That hurt!" she complained. But as soon as he jammed his
hand between her legs, he could feel that she was as turned on as he
was.

Frantically he pulled off his pants and underwear. Then he
spread-eagled her, ready for action.

"Give it to me, Mike, give it to me good," she moaned as he
plunged inside her.

She was so hot and ready that he thought he might come
immediately.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and began making loud
noises.

He manipulated her legs until her ankles were firmly clasped at
the back of his neck.

Holy shit! Six solid thrusts and he was coming. The best one yet.
Jeez! It seemed to last forever.

As soon as he was finished, he rolled off and let out a victory
yell.

"Pretty good, huh?" she said, licking her lips.

"Freakin' fantastic.'"

"I'm glad, 'cause it's the last time we can do this."

"Why's that?" he asked, hoping it had nothing to do with his
performance.

She sat up in bed, casually reaching for her bra. "Cyril and I are
gettin' hitched," she announced matter-of-factly. "So... I hate to
tell you this, Mike—but I'm afraid
it's
good-bye."

"You're a very pretty girl," Mr. Lomas said.

"Thanks," Dani replied, lowering her blue eyes so she wouldn't
have to look at his smarmy face.

Mr. Lomas was the floor manager at the Estradido Hotel, where Dani
worked as a maid. Nobody had any idea how young she was, which suited
her because she was well aware that if her employers discovered the
truth she'd be out of a job.

"Yes," Mr. Lomas said, repeating himself. "Very pretty."

Dani managed to stay silent. It was not like she hadn't heard it a
hundred times before. Men were always coming on to her, invariably
handing out the same old lines.

So far she'd been able to repel what she considered their crass
advances, although recently Emily had given her a lecture. "You're
gonna be sixteen anyday soon," Emily had said in full big-sister
mode. "Isn't it about time you got yourself a boyfriend? You can't
spend
all
your time stuck in the library."

"I
like
the library," Dani had answered stubbornly. "I
enjoy finding out about stuff I never had a chance to learg."

Emily had rolled her eyes. Dani was such a sweetheart, it would be
nice to see her out having fun instead of spending all her spare time
locked away reading books.

Emily and Sam were now married. They lived together in his
apartment, while Dani stayed put in the small place she and Emily had
shared. She could just about afford it, although Sam kept on telling
her it would be smarter to get herself a roommate and split
costs.

The good news was that as far as they knew, Dashell had never come
searching for either of the girls. Sam always kept a sharp lookout
and had not spotted him. "It's like he knows you could nail him for
all the bad things he's done," Sam reasoned. "He probably feels safer
at the ranch an' don't dare come to town."

"I'm sorry for the other kids we left behind," Dani said
wistfully. "At least
we
got to escape, thanks to you."

"And
I
got me a wife," Sam boasted with a broad grin. "The
best girl in the whole world."

Emily giggled. They truly were a happy couple. Emily now worked as
a waitress at the Stardust Hotel, and Sam was a parking valet at the
Desert Inn. They were both into their jobs and loved living in Vegas.
In their spare time they managed to see most of the shows, getting in
on their employees' discount. Sometimes Dani went with them but not
often, because she was more interested in educating herself.

"I was thinking," said Mr. Lomas, a skinny man with sparse brown
hair combed carefully over his forehead, and thick, bushy
eyebrows—hardly a prime candidate to date the delectable
Dani.

"Yes sir?"

"I was thinking that you and I should go out and uh ...
celebrate," he said, stroking his chin.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Lomas," she answered carefully, "but what exactly
would we be celebrating?"

"You've worked here awhile now," Mr. Lomas continued, clearing his
throat. "I never see you with a boyfriend, an' since today
is
your birthday—I saw it on your job application—
somebody
should take you out to celebrate." He smiled, revealing
tobacco-stained teeth. "I know a nice motel near here where they
serve a fine dinner."

Yes
, she thought
to
herself,
and I'm sure there's
a fine room with a fine bed right next door to the fine dining
room
.

Dani was no longer the naive young girl who'd arrived in the city
three years previously. She'd learned plenty along the way, and it
seemed to her that staying away from men was the wisest path to
take.

"That's very generous of you, Mr. Lomas," she said politely, "only
it's not such a good idea."

"Why?" he asked, a nerve twitching on the left-hand side of his
narrow face.

"Because you have a wife."

"I'm not asking you to marry me, dear," he sneered, refusing to
accept defeat gracefully. "I'm merely inviting you for a spot of
dinner."

"I understand, Mr. Lomas," she replied, wishing he'd leave her
alone. "And perhaps if your wife were to join us ..."

"Forget I asked," he said, marching off in a huff.

Fiona, one of the floor maids who'd been standing nearby, quietly
applauded. "You told him," she said. "Mind you, he might've given you
a raise."

"Who wants a raise if
that's
the way I have to get it?"
Dani said scornfully.

"Dead right," Fiona said. "That man is a big old
married
lech. The worst kind."

"He sure is," Dani agreed.

"Y' know," Fiona continued, "my boyfriend has some
real
nice friends. So ... if you
do
want to go out and celebrate
..."

Dani shook her head, thinking that was the last thing she wanted.
"No thanks," she said quickly.

"Why?"

"I'm not interested."

"In
what
?"

"
Getting involved with
anyone."

"One date's hardly gettin' involved," Fiona sniffed.

"Besides," Dani added, taking the edge off, "my sister's throwing
me a party."

"Nice," Fiona said snippily. "Thanks for the invite."

"Not a
big
party," she added hurriedly. "Actually, it's
only me, my sister, and her husband."

"Sounds like a laugh a minute."

She couldn't care less
what
Fiona thought, it was
her
birthday and she would celebrate it any way she chose.
Besides, Sam and Emily were the only two people she cared about

By the time she finished work and got over to their apartment, it
was past seven. Emily had promised to cook, and she was looking
forward to her sister's delicious roast chicken and home-style
potatoes—Emily's specialty.

Sam answered the door looking agitated. "Where is she?" he asked,
peering past her.

"Who?" Dani asked, disappointed because there was no smell of
cooking in the air.

"Emily."

"How would I know?" she answered, shrugging off her knit jacket.
"I thought she'd be here."

"So did I," Sam said. "But as you can see, she's not."

"Then where is she?"

"
I'm
asking
you
," he said, exasperated.

"Haven't seen her. I came straight from work."

"Damn!" Sam said, frowning. "She was due home three hours
ago."

"Did you call the restaurant?"

"Yeah."

"What did they say?"

"That she signed off her shift at four o'clock."

"Maybe she went shopping."

"She did all her shopping yesterday. The food's in the kitchen,
waitin' for her to cook." He ran his hand through his tousled red
hair. "It's not like Emily to screw around."

"Do you think something might have happened to her?" Dani asked
tentatively.

"Dunno," he said, grabbing his jacket. "I'm gonna run over to the
hotel, see if she's there."

"I'll come with you."

The restaurant at the hotel where Emily worked had no news of her.
She'd signed off at four o'clock, exactly as the manager had informed
Sam over the phone.

"Is there anyone here who was workin' with her today?" he
asked.

"I think Sharon's still around," the manager said.

"Can I talk to her?"

"Wait in the back. I'll see if I can find her. No need to disturb
the customers."

"You got it," Sam said.

He and Dani made their way to a small stockroom at the rear of the
restaurant and waited.

Five minutes later Sharon appeared. "What's up, Sam?" she
asked.

"What's up is Emily ain't come home," he said agitatedly. "Did she
say anythin' about where she was goin' after work?"

"No," Sharon replied. "She told me she'd see me tomorrow, that was
it."

"Maybe we should check the hospitals," Dani suggested, joining
in.

"I'm sure she'll turn up," Sharon said cheerfully. "You know
Emily. Miss Reliable."