Gilda frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re not getting away with this,” Vanni promised.
“Ignore her. Pastor Woods said he’s taken care of it. She won’t dare do anything but exactly what he wants.” Her gaze locked with Vanni’s. “I’m calling Bruce. Do you need a reminder?”
“Fuck you, Mable.”
“Bruce!” the bitch yelled.
The door opened and the guard stepped out of the way. Bruce entered the room. He wore a dark suit and a pissed-off look. “Is she giving you trouble?”
“She’s making threats of jail.”
He opened his jacket and showed off his gun. “It would be the last thing she does.”
“What are you going to do? Shoot me at the press conference?” Vanni’d had enough. “You can’t make me stand up there and lie. I won’t do it.”
“You will.” He allowed his jacket to close and withdrew his cell phone. A few taps of his screen and he turned it toward her. Even from five feet away she could make out the photo. It was Beth taking out the trash. Bruce grinned. “You don’t care about your life? This was sent to me by one of my men. He’s going to drive over there again when the press conference starts. You say anything besides what is on the cards put in front of you or fail to make it look convincing, he’s going to shoot your bitch of a friend.”
Vanni’s knees weakened but she kept upright.
“I also will have that package delivered to the NSO that we talked about. Do you want to know what that means? We’ll want you dead. They will want you dead. You won’t have anywhere to hide and one of us will take you out.”
“I hate you.” She said the words softly but meant every one.
He backed out of the room and the guard closed it. Mable beamed. “I knew he’d shut that foul mouth of yours. Now stand still and let me fix your makeup.”
Vanni froze, allowing it. Beth was in danger. It was bad enough that they were threatening her life. That was something she was willing to risk but not Beth’s. She had to get away before that press conference started and warn her to get out of the apartment.
But how?
Chapter Nine
“It’s time to go,” Mable announced.
“I’m going to be sick.” Vanni ran into the bathroom and slammed the door. She didn’t rush for the toilet though, but instead grabbed Mable’s cosmetics bag. There wasn’t much in it she could use but she spotted a small travel-sized hairspray. She shoved it down the front of her shirt into the gap between her breasts, securing it along the center.
She flushed the toilet, hoping it would mask the sound as she shuffled around the contents of the bag, searching frantically for the eyeliner pencil. It was at the bottom. She tugged it out and hid it inside her underwear, hoping it wouldn’t fall out, then returned the small bag to the counter. She ran water in the sink and opened the door.
Both Mable and Gilda stood there staring at her.
“False alarm. Gas.”
“Disgusting,” Mable hissed.
“I haven’t eaten. No one bothered to feed me last night or this morning. That’s probably a good thing or I would be throwing up my guts. You people make me sick.” She moved away from the door and crossed the room, hugging her waist, hoping it would help keep the eyeliner in place. She pressed her fingertips against it.
The door opened. Bruce and the other guard entered. “Let’s move. We don’t want to be late.”
Vanni meekly walked forward. She didn’t want to give either man a reason to touch her. They might feel her two stolen items. Bruce took the lead with the guard close on her heels as they went down two flights of stairs and out the front door to a waiting limousine. Bruce opened the passenger door.
“Get in.”
Vanni didn’t have a plan but she hoped she could get her hands on Bruce’s gun and maybe hold Gregory hostage. All she’d need to do then was take his phone and call Beth. Her next call would be to 9-1-1. The cops could take the gun away after they arrived and she’d explained why she had pointed it at the jerk’s head.
Gregory wasn’t inside the limousine. It was empty and her desperate escape plan was destroyed. She climbed in and moved toward the bar, wanting to be far away from the big man who climbed in after her. Bruce sat in the center of the bench seat between the two doors. She looked out the window, watching the other guard enter the driver’s side. Privacy glass blocked the front compartment from the back. It was possible Gregory was in the passenger seat.
“We’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Great.” She hoped Bruce recognized sarcasm.