Rosa had decided that grabbing the purse was her bonus for helping out. She wasn’t walking away empty-handed – why should she?
After recovering the purse from the car, she scurried back into the house and stashed it under the kitchen sink. Later, when Benito was asleep, she’d take a look and see what was in it. Hopefully money, ’cause Benito gave her nothing; she had to steal from his pockets when he was sleeping.
“Yo!” he yelled from his seat in front of the TV. “Get me another beer, an’ slide your ass in here.”
Rosa obliged. She knew what he wanted. Beer followed by a solid blow-job.
It was never wise to fight with Benito.
* * *
Gaining consciousness, Carolyn realized she must have passed out, for when she came to she was no longer tied up in the trunk of a car, she was lying on a narrow sagging bed in a dark room with her right wrist tightly affixed to the bedframe.
Little did she know that this was the same room Gregory had woken up in, only a couple of days earlier.
Waves of fear overcame her as she attempted to sit up. She was desperate to use the bathroom, her stomach ached and she began shivering uncontrollably.
The room was small, cold and damp. There was the smell of cigarette smoke and onions in the air, no carpet on the bare floorboards, and the tattered covering over the one window was tacked up with nails. Through the walls she could hear the noise of a loud TV, and overhead there was the faint drone of a helicopter.
Where was she?
What was happening to her?
She wasn’t rich or famous, so why would anyone want to kidnap her?
Panicked, she couldn’t be sure how much time had passed since she’d been taken. A few hours? A day? She had no idea, but it seemed like it was night-time, and her growling stomach informed her she was hungry, while her dry mouth craved water.
Overcome with feelings of fear and confusion, all she could do was hope and pray that any minute she would wake up, and this would turn out to be some insane nightmare.
Then the thought came to her. Gregory would race to her rescue. He had to.
After all, she was carrying his baby.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Bobby
The dinner with Brigette and Kris, M.J. and Cassie, Lucky, Max, plus the two female owners of the Cavendish Hotel, Renee and Susie, went well. As usual, Bobby found himself impressed by his mom’s knack of making everyone feel comfortable, even though Max spent most of the evening needling her.
Lucky seemed delighted with Brigette’s choice of lover, while Kris was totally enamored with Lucky. Renee and Susie were in lesbian heaven. Meanwhile Cassie and Max were hitting it off big-time.
Why not? Bobby thought, watching the two girls chat nonstop. They’re almost the same age. M.J. is definitely cradle-snatching.
Finally he got a chance to talk to Lucky alone, just the two of them. “What’s up with Miss Wild Thing?” he asked, referring to his little sister.
“Max is driving us crazy,” Lucky confessed, making a helpless gesture. “But what can we do?”
“How about letting her make her own decisions?” Bobby suggested. “She’s almost eighteen, she’s smart enough.”
“Not as smart as you were at eighteen, and she’s still only seventeen,” Lucky responded. “It would drive me insane to see her go through the kind of experiences Brigette endured.”
“What makes you think that might happen?” he asked.
“C’mon,” Lucky said. “Max is young and gorgeous, plus she comes from a mega-rich family. You and I both know that every asshole searching out a major score will be after her, which is why I want her safely stashed in college until she’s older.”
“No chance, Mom,” Bobby said, shaking his head.
“Why do you say that?”
“’Cause Little Sis is ready to roll – with or without your permission.”
“You think?”
“She’s already told me she’s not going to do the college thing.”
“Too bad, ’cause there’s certainly no way I’m letting her run wild. That’s not an option.”
“Could be you got no choice.”
“There’s always a choice,” Lucky said, her face clouding over. She took a long beat before continuing. “You know what the main problem is? She takes after me when I was her age. And trust me – I never listened to anyone.”
“Shouldn’t that make you understand where she’s coming from?”
“Believe me – I try.”
“If I remember, didn’t Gino marry you off at sixteen?”
“Oh yeah, he sure did,” Lucky said with a dry laugh. “Gino did it ’cause he thought that way he could control me. Naturally it didn’t work. I outsmarted him all the way.”
“But hey – Mom – you turned out a winner. You’ve achieved so much. And you did it all by yourself.”
“Thanks, Bobby, but you still don’t get it. Nothing’s simple any more – we live in dangerous times.”
“Back in the day, wasn’t your mom murdered? And your brother, and the guy you were engaged to? Are you telling me things weren’t dangerous then? Jeez, Mom, gimme a break.”
“Sure they were, but like I said – it’s a different world now. Besides, I was major street-smart, I knew how to look after myself in any situation.”
“Max is smart, too. She got herself out of that whole kidnapping scam a couple of years ago.”
“Pure luck. Besides, she had Ace to help her.”
“Whatever happened to him? He still around?”
“Kinda, it’s an on off thing.”
“I guess you know she wants to move to New York.”
“Oh yes, I’ve heard all about that. She’s conjured up this fantasy about living with you.”
“No way,” he said. “I love Little Sis, but I’m not about to be responsible for her.”
“Believe me – I get it, Bobby.”
“Hey, you and Lennie will work it out.”
“We’ll sure as hell try.”
“Hey, lotsa luck with that,” Bobby said, grinning. “You’re gonna need it.”
Lucky smiled ruefully. “Enough about Max, what’s going on with my number one son?”
“I’m taking over your club, that’s enough to keep me busy.”
“I mean relationship-wise, Bobby. What’s the deal? Any girl I should know about?”
“Nobody special,” he answered casually. A pause, another grin. “I’ll just have to keep looking.”
The next morning, Max flew back to L.A. Bobby drove her to the airport. Once again, he urged her to think about giving college a try, then he left it at that. There was no point in arguing with her. Max wanted her freedom, and as far as she was concerned, nobody was going to stop her.
Later, he spent the day at the club with M.J. They brought in an architect, a designer and a building contractor. It was all systems go.
Immersing himself in the meeting, Bobby also kept a sharp eye on his watch so he’d be around to welcome Frankie and Annabelle when they arrived at the hotel. He wasn’t sure why he’d invited them; it was a spur of the moment decision he was starting to regret. On reflection he realized that he might’ve thought he needed a wall of people around him to protect him from Zeena, the maneater. Not that he planned on getting sucked in again, but perhaps it was inevitable.
Where were all the nice girls – the smart, intelligent, age-appropriate girls? They certainly weren’t hanging out at Mood. He’d had it with the models and the party girls and the rich heiresses.
For a moment his thoughts turned to Denver – the lawyer he’d run into at Annabelle’s in New York. She’d mentioned that they’d attended the same high school. He hadn’t remembered her from then, but he’d liked her style – even though their meeting was brief. She’d given him her card, and it occurred to him that maybe he should call her, she’d seemed normal enough. She’d had a kind of appealing glow about her, and she wasn’t stick-thin, she looked as if she might
enjoy a steak or two. He should’ve told Frankie to bring her.
Hey – too late now. What was he thinking, anyway? He was simply trying to protect himself from Zeena.
Or was he? Bring it on, Miz Superstar. I can deal with anything you got.
* * *
Like most mega-stars who are known by only one name, Zeena expected everything – and then more. Her demands were calculated and bizarre, and nobody dared argue with her. She strolled through life secure in the knowledge that most people would bow down to her, and she could get away with anything.
Zeena had a penchant for using people. She got off on seeing how far she could push them. It was all a game, and if she happened to destroy someone along the way – too bad.
Men intrigued Zeena, although she was not averse to a woman or two when the occasion arose.
Bobby Santangelo Stanislopoulos intrigued her. He was different from the usual younger men she was attracted to. He had style, he had money, he had presence. And . . . even though she’d criticized him in bed, he certainly knew what he was doing.
So when Zeena discovered that Bobby would be in Vegas the one night she was appearing there, she considered it serendipity.
Renee, the owner of the Cavendish, let it drop that Lucky Santangelo and a group – including Lucky’s hot son – would be attending Zeena’s one-night charity event.
Zeena feigned total disinterest. “Would Zeena find them interesting people?” she asked.
“You mean you’ve never met Lucky?” Renee responded. “Oh my God! Lucky is the most amazing woman. The two of you should get together – you’ll love her.”
“Zeena is very particular about who she loves and doesn’t love,” Zeena purred. “However, I trust your judgment, Renee, so after my show, arrange for this Lucky woman and her group to attend a private dinner with us.”
“Done!” Renee said, clapping her hands together. “You won’t regret it.”
“Hmm . . .” Zeena drawled, reaching for her trademark Gauloises. “I sincerely hope not, because Zeena hates to be bored. Being bored is a mortal sin.”
* * *
By the time their meeting was over, Bobby found himself alone. M.J. had taken off with Cassie, Brigette and Kris were at the spa, and Lucky was on the phone in her palatial office dealing with business.
He wondered if he could get out of attending Zeena’s concert that night, then he remembered he’d invited Frankie and Annabelle along with everyone else, so there was no escape.
Zeena would be up on stage doing her thing. It wasn’t as if he’d have to see her or spend any intimate time with her.
On impulse he decided to make the limo trip to the airport and meet Frankie and Annabelle himself. It was better than sitting around doing nothing, and maybe they’d all stop off at the Wynn Hotel and play a few rounds of blackjack before hitting The Keys.
On his way through the lobby to the front of the hotel, he passed the magazine and newspaper stand. A headline caught his eye on the front of Truth & Fact. A headline that stopped him in his tracks.
Holy shit! This was not about to be pretty.
Chapter Forty
Annabelle
There were two flight attendants on the Stanislopoulos plane – Gitta, an attractive Dutch woman, and Hani, an Hawaiian beauty. Both women were pleasant and competent, and both knew how to deal with any situation. They’d been working for Stanislopoulos Shipping and Industries for over ten years – Gitta since she was twenty-five, and Hani a day before her nineteenth birthday. But today they were aware they had a problem, and both were mulling over different ideas about how it should be handled.
Frankie Romano was aboard the plane with his girlfriend Annabelle Maestro. They were on their way to Las Vegas – and therein lay the problem. Gitta and Hani could not decide whether to tell the loving couple about what could be lying in wait for them the moment they stepped off the plane, or whether to maintain a discreet silence.
Gitta opted for silence. Hani thought it best if the couple were forewarned.
At loggerheads, they consulted one of the two pilots, an older married man who harbored a secret crush on Hani.
“You should do what feels right for you,” the pilot said, gazing at Hani – the woman he could never have, on account of a wife and three small children at home.
“Then we tell them,” Hani said firmly.
“Not them – him,” Gitta said, always the diplomat. “He should be the one to inform her. Less embarrassing.”
“Maybe I could take a peek at this magazine,” the pilot suggested.
“We don’t have a copy,” Gitta answered.
“Gitta thought it best if we didn’t bring it aboard,” Hani explained.
The pilot shrugged. “If it’s one of those tabloid magazines, then it’s probably a story based on lies,” he said. “Could be best if you don’t mention it.” Hani threw him a stony look which forced him to hurriedly change his mind. “Although,” he added quickly, “you could take this Romano guy to one side and warn him.”
“I’ll do it,” Gitta offered. “It’ll be better coming from me.”
“Why?” Hani argued. “Are you not sure I can handle it?”
“I know you can,” Gitta said soothingly. “But should he get excited, I’m an expert at calming people down.”
“And I’m not?”
“We both are,” Gitta allowed. “Why don’t I bring him to the galley, and we’ll tell him together.”
“Problem solved,” the pilot said, relieved that he was off the hook. “Let me know how it turns out.”
* * *
“I have a horrible suspicion that I might’ve been molested as a child,” Annabelle mused, picking at a dish of nuts as Bobby’s plane zoomed them toward Vegas.
“An’ you’re only remembering it now?” Frankie said incredulously.
“It’s all coming back to me,” Annabelle persisted. “Obviously I buried the memory, but now that you’ve dragged me back to L.A . . . .”
“I haven’t dragged you anywhere,” Frankie said, narrowing his eyes. Jesus! She was in a pissy mood.
“May I remind you that it was your brilliant idea that we fly to L.A. for the funeral, leaving a perfectly excellent business in New York which Janey and her moron son are probably screwing up as we speak.”
“Janey’s not screwin’ up anything,” he snapped.
“Have you spoken to her?” Annabelle demanded, removing her sunglasses and glaring at him. “Checked in?”
“Jesus Christ, babe, we just got here,” he groaned. “Isn’t it time you stopped breakin’ my balls?”
“I thought you left your balls with Daddy,” Annabelle sniped. “All tied up with a pink satin ribbon and the credits of his latest movie.”
“You can be such a bitch,” Frankie said, shaking his head.
“Ralph Maestro. Your hero,” Annabelle taunted. “And possibly my molester.”
“Gimme a fuckin’ break,” Frankie said shortly. “When did you decide to invent that story?”
“Oh, you think it’s a story, do you?” Annabelle said, bristling with annoyance that he didn’t immediately believe her. After all, it could be true. Frowning, she decided she needed to go to one of those regression shrinks who would dig deep into her murky childhood and find out everything.
“It’s not that I don’t believe you, babe,” Frankie said, figuring that he should at least humor her, because once she got into one of her impossible moods, it could so easily turn into an outrageous knock-down fight about nothing. “It’s just that I think your mom’s murder is affectin’ you emotionally.”
Unexpectedly, Annabelle’s eyes filled with tears. Yes, of course it was. That and Sharif Rani’s big fat son attacking her – about which Frankie had done exactly nothing.
There and then she made a life-changing decision: she had to lose her boyfriend. Frankie was a toxic sonofabitch who thought about nothing except snorting coke, scoring money and looking out for himself. Plus she couldn’t stand t
he fact that he’d sucked up to Ralph as if he was the fucking President of America.
The thrill was definitely gone.
Should she tell him now, on the plane, leaving her free to run to Bobby?
Hmm . . . interesting thought. But probably wiser to wait until they got back to New York and things calmed down.
Bobby was definitely a future prospect, but since he was a friend of Frankie’s she had to make sure her timing was right. If she dumped Frankie, she was certain Bobby would offer a sympathetic shoulder to cry on.
And from there . . . who knew what could happen?
* * *
“Excuse me, Mr Romano,” Gitta said, lightly tapping him on his shoulder. “Might I have a word with you?”
“Huh?” Frankie said, wondering if he’d left a residue of coke on the bathroom counter and this woman in her smart pink and green uniform was about to tell him it was against federal rules to snort coke on a plane.
Shit! What could she do? Arrest him?
No way. He was being paranoid.
“Is there a problem?” he asked, automatically swiping his hand beneath his nose, obliterating any telltale signs of white powder.
“There’s something you should be aware of,” Gitta said. “I don’t think we should disturb Miss Maestro at this time, so perhaps if you can come with me?”
They both glanced over at Annabelle who had fallen into a light sleep, a copy of Us Magazine almost slipping off her lap.
It occurred to Frankie that maybe the plane was in trouble. A faulty engine, a locked landing-gear, a fire. Jesus Christ! It could be anything.
Leaving his seat, he followed the flight attendant to the galley, where the second flight attendant – a pretty Hawaiian girl – was standing with her arms crossed. She didn’t look panicked, she looked altogether too calm for there to be anything wrong with the plane.
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