Deadly Embrace by Jackie Collins (best 7 inch ereader .TXT) 📗

Chapter Fifty-eight

Wednesday, 11 July 2001, 1.45 a.m.

Dani still couldn’t sleep. Now that she’d made such an important decision about her future, she was nervous that she might change her mind.

Only one way to solve that little problem. Dean was staying at the Mirage.

She picked up the phone and called him.

The front-gate buzzer rang. Serge checked out the security monitor in the guardhouse. He was relieved to see the old Cadillac he’d lent to Zaroff waiting outside.

Finally, he thought, pressing the entry button to activate the heavy gates.

He continued watching the monitor as the gates rolled open. The Cadillac stayed put.

‘Come on,’ Serge muttered under his breath. ‘Drive in, you fool.’

Then he saw his idiot nephew jump out of the car and take off.

What was happening?

Serge didn’t know, but he’d soon find out. Making sure his gun was secure in the underarm holster, he set off to investigate.

The limousine slid to a stop a short distance from the entry gates to the Bel Air mansion.

‘What’s the deal?’ Gus asked, leaning forward to ask his driver.

‘We’re checkin’ it out,’ the driver said. ‘Seems there’s a car blockin’ the gate.’

‘Going in, or out?’ Gus asked.

‘Stationary.’

Michael took himself back many years to the night in Central Park when he’d shot Roy. The waiting was the worst. Not knowing what would happen. Hoping everything would go down smoothly. Never sure.

Then the moment when it happened. The act of vengeance executed. Bang bang–you’re dead. It was almost like playing a game.

Was he capable of doing it again?

Yes. They’d been capable of murdering Stella and her boyfriend in cold blood.

Mamie and Bone deserved the ultimate punishment.

Madison had always fancied herself an athlete. At school she’d excelled at sports, and living in New York, she’d always made sure to work out at the gym at least a couple of times a week.

Thank God! Because she was now in a life-or-death situation, and only her speed and agility could save her.

She was faster than her captors and a lot smarter. If she could outrun them she could possibly hide in the heavy underbrush at the top of Bel Air until it was safe to emerge.

The house they’d been taking her to stood alone. No neighbouring houses, only steep hills and brush and trees. Not that she could see much of anything as she stumbled into the bushes. It was pitch black. There were not even any streetlights because they weren’t on a proper street.

Her heart was pounding like a sledgehammer. It felt as if it might burst out of her chest and explode. She could hear her captors somewhere behind her, cursing and threatening as they chased her up the hillside.

A branch hit her in the face, almost knocking her down. Dizzily she moved on, clawing her way through the thick brush.

She stopped for a moment to catch her breath, bent over, stood up, and kept going. Climbing, climbing, one foot in front of the other. Don’t look back. Keep going. Mustn’t weaken.

And then suddenly, as she put her right foot forward, she lost her balance and began falling, tumbling downwards over the side of a precipice.

‘You moron!’ Serge exclaimed, slapping his nephew hard across the face with the back of his hand. ‘Your shit could cost me my job.’

‘Didn’t know she was gonna run,’ Zaroff said sullenly, not such a big man now that his uncle had hold of him. Serge was notorious in the Gorban family. A tough, scowling man with a vicious attitude, he’d arrived from Moscow via Switzerland several years ago. Rumour had it that he’d been involved with the Russian Mafia and had been forced to flee because of a ‘misunderstanding’ about some missing money.

He’d soon landed a job working as chief security adviser for Mr and Mrs Porno–a title Zaroff had bestowed on them when he’d done a few maintenance jobs round their house. Zaroff hated the way his uncle kissed their big, fat American asses. They were a couple of freaks–especially the hateful woman, who’d tried to come on to him.

‘You arrive here hours late,’ Serge scolded, ‘with no girl. And you bring those other losers with you. What the fuck is the matter with you?’

‘I had some problems,’ Zaroff mumbled. ‘Needed help.’

‘You needed help to get one girl from the airport?’ Serge demanded.

‘Couldn’t work it there,’ Zaroff muttered. ‘Hadda follow her to a restaurant. There were complications…’

‘You’re shit!’ Serge spat in disgust. ‘Dog shit. No,’ he said, changing his mind, ‘dog shit’s too good for you. You’re fuckin’ pig shit, that’s what you are. Now take my flashlight and your useless friends, an’ go find the girl.’

‘I don’t do S and M,’ Tawny said, all teeth and perfect tits.

‘Nor do I,’ Heather chimed in. She was fairly new to the game and followed everything Tawny did and said.

‘Putting on rubber masks is not S and M, you moronic cunts,’ Bone snapped. ‘Put on the fuckin’ masks an’ stop your bitchin’.’

‘I’m out of here,’ Tawny said, getting off the bed.

‘Me, too,’ Heather agreed.

Mamie was in the bathroom, otherwise the argument would not have happened. She was as fond of the rubber masks as he was, but she knew that special girls had to be booked for such activities, and tonight she’d requested pretty ones. Pretty did not come cheap. And pretty hardly ever wanted to do anything unusual.

Bone’s fury escalated. Were these two pieces of trash actually telling him no?

He stood up, his red silk robe flapping open, revealing a poor excuse for a cock.

Heather made the unforgivable error of tittering. Bone moved faster than a man half his age, and whacked her so hard that she fell like a log, hitting her head on a side table.

Tawny began to scream. Mamie ran out of the bathroom wearing a man’s suit and flourishing a riding crop. ‘What have you done?’ she yelled at Bone.

‘Cunts,’ he muttered.

‘Jesus!’ Mamie exclaimed, turning on a still screaming Tawny. ‘Shut your mouth!’

Tawny shut up and began dressing feverishly, while Heather remained