“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.
“Do you want to go over the cards one more time? I have a copy of them in my pocket.”
“No. Gilda covered it fine. I can read them.”
He grunted but didn’t reach for his seatbelt when the engine started. She didn’t either. She had twenty minutes to escape the limousine and find a phone. Vanni tried to appear relaxed as she sat back, casting sidelong glances at anything she could use for a weapon. The small plastic bottle wedged between her breasts seemed her best option. She could blind him if she flung the contents in his eyes but he was a big man. He sat between the only two exits. She’d have to get past him to get out one of those doors.
“Nervous? Just read the damn cards and act the way you were told.”
She held his stare.
“We’ll enter from the side of the church and go directly to the front where the press will be set up. Gregory and Carl are already there. Carl is going to take your arm and hold your hand. Allow it or so help me, I’ll break your damn fingers one at a time. You’re still a couple and you will pretend to be grateful that he’s standing by your side during this difficult time.”
Vanni clenched her teeth.
“Get that damn look off your face.”
She lowered her gaze and turned her head away. The small bar contained a few glass bottles, drinking glasses and bottled water. Her attention lingered on the dark bottle of alcohol. “May I have a drink?”
“Fuck no. The last thing we need is for you to be drunk.”
“I meant the water.” She pointed.
“No.”
“Fine. My throat is dry. I’m sure that will sound great when I’m trying to read those cards and clearing my throat two dozen times.”
“Drink the damn water. Just don’t spill it on your outfit.”
She glanced down at the button-up white top. The neckline rose to her throat and it had long sleeves to her wrists. The black shapeless skirt fell almost to her ankles. It reminded her of something a schoolteacher from the early nineteen hundreds would have worn. “God forbid. Does your grandma want it returned to her?”“Shut the fuck up.”
She faked a cough, turned in the seat and stealthily removed the hairspray. She twisted the cap to loosen it and wedged the small bottle between the seats to make sure it was hidden. The belt buckle for the seatbelt stuck out and she hoped it blocked his view when she leaned forward toward the bar.
“Water,” he reminded her.
“I heard,” she muttered.
She took a bottled water and twisted the lid. It wasn’t a lie that her throat was dry. She took a couple of sips, glancing out the windows. They’d left Gregory’s property and were driving through a neighborhood of upscale homes. In less than a block they’d hit a bunch of shops and restaurants. The freeway would be after that. It was soon or never. She took another sip, sat back and dug down the side of her skirt since her hip faced away from him. She removed the eyeliner and used her thumb to flip off the plastic cap.
The limousine made a turn and she spotted the first shops. They lined the streets close together and would continue for two blocks to the onramp to the freeway. Traffic slowed the car to a crawl. She watched Bruce from the corner of her eye. He appeared relaxed. She glanced at her water and just let it go. The plastic bottle hit the floor and water poured out.
“Whoops.”
“Son of a bitch!” he yelled. “Grab it.”
She refused. “You.”
He lurched forward and almost fell out of the seat. She twisted the lid off the hairspray. The back of his neck was exposed as he picked up the plastic bottle, cursing about the water all over the carpet in the expensive limousine. She fisted the eyeliner pencil with her right hand and grabbed the hairspray in her left.
Fear and anger drove her to stab him with the pencil. Part of it dug into his skin before it broke. He roared out in pain and grabbed at his injured neck, falling all the way out of his seat. He turned his head, pure rage twisting his features. She shoved the hairspray at him and frantically dumped all of it. The liquid poured over his eyes and he tried to jerk away, squeezing them shut.
“You fucking bitch! I’m going to kill you.” He blindly fumbled at his suit with one hand, while wiping his eyes with the other.
Vanni stood, bent and grabbed one of the almost-full glass bottles of booze. The fact that Bruce had nearly tugged his gun out of the holster motivated her to swing the glass as hard as she could. It smashed over his head. He grunted and the loud sound of the gun going off at close range almost deafened her.
He slumped and the driver applied the brakes. She stared down at the motionless man, shocked. Blood spread along his thigh where the bullet had embedded. He’d shot himself. Horns honked and she looked out the windows. They were holding up traffic. The limo driver suddenly punched the gas, almost knocking Vanni on top of Bruce, who was sprawled at her feet.
She managed to use the bar in front of her and the ceiling to keep upright. The driver seemed to be looking for a place to park as the limo slowed. Vanni dropped to her knees, landing on Bruce’s hand. She dug into his jacket, avoiding the gun. She found the cell phone he’d used to torment her about Beth. As an afterthought, she bent a little over him and dug his wallet out of his pocket. She crawled to the door.
The second the limousine stopped, she shoved the door open, happy it wasn’t locked. She stumbled out and was almost hit by a car. The driver honked his horn as he slammed on the brakes, screaming obscenities.