Deadly Embrace

her a look as if he couldn’t believe she’d said something so stupid.
‘I know I sound dumb, but shouldn’t someone be trying to communicate with these guys?’
‘They will,’ Cole said grimly.
‘Anyway,’ she whispered, ‘why would the cops turn the air off?’
‘Cause they want to make it as uncomfortable as possible.’
‘That’s comforting to know.’
‘It’s not such a great plan.’
‘How’s that?’
‘Cause it’ll mean these guys’ll have to take their masks off, an’ it’s better if we can’t identify ’em.’
‘I guess I should applaud you on your great choice of restaurants,’ she whispered, attempting to lighten the situation.
‘Hey–I figured you’d had a boring time in New York, so I thought I’d make this evenin’ fly.’
‘I’M NOT SAYIN’ IT AGAIN!’ the gunman screamed. ‘SHUT THE FUCK UP.’
The older woman raised her hand as if she was in class. ‘I have to go to the bathroom,’ she said, in a quavery voice.
‘Piss your pants, lady,’ the gunman growled, ‘’cause you ain’t goin’ nowhere.’
Then, to everyone’s relief, they heard a voice on a loudspeaker coming from outside. ‘Put down your weapons, walk out and nobody gets hurt. Do you hear me? Hands in the air and come out.’
‘Mothafuckers!’ muttered the gunman. ‘They got shit for brains if they think I’m doin’ that.’
No, Madison wanted to say. You’re the one with shit for brains.
But for once she kept quiet. She knew it was the only way to get through this.
‘What is it you wanted to show me?’ Andy Dale mumbled, already bored as he slouched round Vincent’s expensively appointed office.
Vincent sat behind his impressive mahogany desk and stared at the short, insignificant movie star. ‘My books, my pictures, my objects,’ he said, gesturing.
‘Yeah, well, does one of your objects have some coke sittin’ in it?’ Andy asked, with a maniacal little laugh. ‘Cause if it doesn’t, you lost me.’
‘Why do you do drugs?’ Vincent asked, levelling the actor with a cold stare.
‘Why d’you get up in the morning?’ Andy Dale retorted, slumping into a leather chair.
‘Here’s what I have to tell you,’ Vincent said, in a low, even tone. ‘You put your hands on my wife one more time, and I’ll break your chicken neck. Do you understand?’
‘You talking to me?’ Andy Dale said, startled, because nobody spoke to him that way.
‘I don’t see anyone else in here,’ Vincent said mildly.
Andy Dale narrowed his eyes. ‘You got any fuckin’ idea who I am?’
‘More important,’ Vincent replied coldly, ‘do you know who I am?’
‘What?’ Andy Dale said, nose twitching, face blank.
‘Look in the mirror and who do you see?’ Vincent said. ‘Because I’ll tell you who I see when I look at you. A moronic, coked-out movie star who thinks he owns the world. Only I’m here to tell you that you don’t.’
‘What the fuck is this shit?’ Andy Dale spluttered.
‘I’m making it real for you, Andy,’ Vincent said. ‘I couldn’t give a damn how many people worship your skinny ass. My wife is not one of them, and if you touch her again, it’ll be a move you’ll live to regret.’
‘Are you threatening me?’ Andy Dale asked, outraged.
‘No,’ Vincent said calmly. ‘Simply telling you the way it is.’
‘An’ I’m telling you, asshole,’ Andy Dale retorted, leaping to his feet, ‘that when my manager an’ my agent hear about this, they’ll bust your freakin’ nuts.’
‘How old are you?’ Vincent asked.
‘Old enough to do what the fuck I want,’ Andy Dale replied belligerently.
‘Nobody does what they want,’ Vincent said. ‘There are always compromises.’ He rose from behind his desk. ‘Now, you’re coming back to the table with me like a good boy, and when you get there you’ll behave yourself. Because if you don’t…’ His words trailed off, the threat implicit.
‘Whaddaya think this is, a freakin’ Pacino movie?’ Andy Dale exploded, red in the face.
‘Care to test me?’ Vincent said, heading for the door. ‘Go ahead. Only you’d better believe me, Andy, one more hand on my wife and we’ll see whose balls get crushed.’
‘Where have you been?’ Jenna asked, directing her question to Andy Dale, not her husband, which was a big mistake on her part.
Ignoring her, Andy clicked his fingers at his exotic model girlfriend, who was sipping an apple martini and wondering who a girl had to fuck to get out of there.
‘Up!’ Andy Dale said, glaring at her, his voice tense.
‘What?’ Anais said blankly.
‘We’re going.’
‘Where?’
‘For crissakes!’
Getting the hint, she slid from the booth, flashing plenty of well-toned, chocolate-hued thigh in the process, plus a whisper of well-trimmed pubic hair because wearing panties was so out.
‘Why are you leaving?’ Jenna asked, her voice a plaintive whine.
Anais shrugged. Andy Dale glowered. Jolie gave a knowing smile–she knew why they were leaving: Vincent had no doubt given the studly movie star the ‘hands off my wife’ speech.
‘They have some place to go,’ Vincent said brusquely, sitting down next to Jenna.
‘Where?’ Jenna persisted, her pretty face pouting with disappointment.
‘Do you care?’ Vincent said, fixing her with a steely look.
She opened her mouth to say something, thought better of it, and shut up. Vincent was in one of his moods.
Andy Dale stormed off, girlfriend in tow.
‘Nice work, Vincent,’ Jolie murmured, caressing the stem of her champagne glass with elegant hands. ‘I’d bet money on you any day.’
‘Where does Nando find these punks?’ Vincent asked, shaking his head. ‘And not only does he find ’em, he dumps them on me.’
‘Jenna didn’t seem to have any complaints,’ Jolie said, stirring the pot.
‘Jenna’s too young for her own good.’
Meanwhile, Jenna had transferred into sulky mode, and was tapping her freshly manicured nails on the table, preparing to throw a fit. She didn’t know what Vincent had said to Andy Dale, but whatever it was, it hadn’t been good. After all, what harm was there in talking to a movie star? How many times did she have that kind of opportunity?
Damn Vincent and his jealous streak. She wasn’t his possession, she was his wife–big difference. And Jolie was so annoying, with her smug smile and knowing expressions. Jolie was simply jealous because Andy Dale