Angel backed toward the Christmas tree. “You know who I am. You know who my grandfather is. If he finds out about this-”
“He won’t find out.” Tony slipped off his robe and followed her. “You won’t tell him. Just think how it would sound: Grandpa, I got drunk with the heavyweight champ on New Year’s Eve. You know, the jailbird with all the tattoos. I let him take me home. And then he-”
“Stop it. Just stop it.”
But Tony didn’t stop at all. He grabbed her and tossed her against the wall. She had nowhere to run. And then his hand closed around her throat.
“Stop it, Angel,” he said. “Stop acting so innocent. Everyone in town knows your game. Those guys I mentioned. . they told me all about you. Even your girlfriends are wise to you. You’re a little starfucker.”
“No. . I’m not-”
“Come off it. I’ve been in the best bars in Las Vegas, honey. And I’ve seen your name written on the restroom wall in every damn one of ’em.”
“That’s not true.”
Tony smiled a really awful smile. “Tell me it’s not.”
His hand slid under her dress. Angel slammed her fists against his chest, but he only laughed and shoved her back against the wall.
Spike scampered around his ankles, barking. He kicked the dog away. Then he came at Angel again.
The point of her shoe smacked his shin and he grunted. He slapped her and called her a bitch. She slapped him back and then he caught her hand and turned her around and suddenly she was on the floor, her face buried in the thick shag carpet, and Spike was barking again and Tony’s hands were between her legs and he roughly parted her thighs.
“No!” she screamed. “No!”
Tony laughed. Spike growled. .
. . and then Tony screamed.
Suddenly he was off her. Angel rolled over fast and gained her feet.
Tony lay on the white carpet.
Spike was between his legs.
There was a lot of blood.
“Spike!” Angel shouted. “Spike. . no!”
Spike ran to her side. She scooped him up and stumbled to the door and didn’t look back. As she ran down the driveway, she heard Tony Katt’s screams.
The cool night breeze cut through her Versace dress as she hurried down the street. Gunfire exploded behind her. She ducked into some oleander bushes, clutching Spike to her breasts.
Not gunfire. Firecrackers. It was New Year’s Eve. It was midnight. All over Las Vegas, women were kissing men that they loved. And here she was, cold and shivering, hiding in some stranger’s oleander bushes, hoping that no one would see her at all.
When it was quiet, Angel started down the street. Spike whined in her arms, but she wouldn’t set him on the ground. She was afraid that he might run off.
There were no pay phones in a neighborhood like this one. Angel had to keep walking, even if she had no idea where she was. Every time a car approached, she found a place to hide.
She didn’t know how badly Tony was hurt. She was afraid that he would come looking for her. And Spike.
Finally, Angel found a way onto the golf course. She wandered toward a building that turned out to be the pro shop. She was circling it, looking for a pay phone, when a security guard stopped her.
He took her to an office. Angel paid him fifty dollars for one phone call and another fifty to forget the whole thing.
Angel phoned a girlfriend who agreed to pick her up as soon as the traffic died down. Then she sat in the office and waited, petting Spike. The guard didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. The way he looked at her said it all.
When her friend arrived a few hours later, Angel left as quickly as she could.
The guard stuffed two fifties into his pocket and laughed at the girl in the little black dress as she crossed the parking lot, clutching a dog to her bosom like it was a baby.
“You two have a Happy New Year,” he yelled.
“The guy who drove the limo is an ex-con from California,” Jack said. “His name is Harold Ticks, and he did time in Corcoran State Prison with Tony Katt.”
“They’re after more than money. If Tony Katt’s involved in this, he wants revenge.”
“Maybe. But we don’t know that for sure. Maybe the money is the revenge.”
“I don’t think so, Jack. One of the kidnappers phoned me. . probably this guy Harold Ticks. He said that I was going to deliver the ransom, alone. He said if I didn’t come alone. Spike would end up dead. He’s supposed to call back with the details later today.” She shook her head. “The guy wants me to get the money from a safe-deposit box Granddad set up for me a couple years ago. But if they want me to deliver the ransom. . well, then I think they want me as much as they want the money.”
Jack nodded. “The thing with Tony Katt. . you never told Freddy what happened?”
“He’s my grandfather, Jack. I couldn’t tell him about it. Freddy Gemignani is the kind of man who thinks there are two kinds of women in the world-those with rings on their fingers and whores. He wouldn’t understand.”
“I don’t know. Maybe he would. Maybe you owe him that chance.”
“No. I’m not telling my grandfather anything. It was hard enough to tell you.” Angel rose from the couch and carried her empty coffee cup to the kitchen. “There’s got to be another way.”
Jack sipped cold coffee. Angel was right about one thing. It was hard for her to tell him about Tony Katt. But it was harder for her to talk about herself-the private things she kept inside and the insecurities she never revealed to anyone.
Jack knew that, because he’d heard Angel’s voice tremble when she spoke the word that cut her to the bone.
“Starfucker.”
That word wasn’t important to Jack Baddalach. He wasn’t going to judge Angel Gemignani’s past. Only Angel could do that.
But no matter what Angel had done in the past, she didn’t deserve Tony Katt.
No woman deserved Tony Katt.
“What do you think we should do?” Angel asked.
Jack told her. It was kind of involved, but none of it mattered.
When the phone rang a second later, everything changed.
The voice on the other end of the line was cold as ice cream but twice as sweet. Jack recognized it right away.
He said, “You’re the one with the wrist braces, right?”
“That’s right, Jack. I never thought I’d be talking to you again. How’d you handle that rattler, anyway?”
“I ate it.”
She laughed. “Well, I guess I don’t want to tangle with you. . or maybe I do.”
“Yeah. . right. . how’s the Chihuahua?”
“Sick. That’s why I’m calling.”
“Look, if Spike needs a vet-”
“We’re way ahead of you, Jack.”
“You’ve got a vet?”
“Yes, we do,” she said, “and he’s in Las Vegas. In fact. Spike’s in for an office visit even as we speak. Want the address?”
“Sure.” Jack laughed. “But first I’d like to know why you’d give it to me when I haven’t given you half a million bucks.”
“Because there’s trouble in paradise, Jack.”
“Huh?”
“Look,” she said, “do you want your Chihuahua back or not?”
“Sure I do, but-”
“Then get a pencil. Here’s the address. .”
Jack slipped the Colt Python into his shoulder holster.
“This is all pretty complicated for a guy who’s used to getting hit in the head for a living,” he said. “But I’d better check it out, anyway.”
“You’re not going alone.”
“Yes, I am. Listen, Angel, these nuts kidnapping your dog is bad enough. If they snatch you, Freddy will kill me.”
“One thing I decided after my night with Tony Katt- nobody’s going to make me do anything I don’t want to do. And I don’t want to sit around waiting to see if some refugee from a Russ Meyer movie ambushes you or not.”
“Angel, these people. . they’re nuts."