Dangerous Kiss (18 page)

The role of Zoe was small, which was a drag. After all, in the modelling world Lina was a major star. But her agent had pointed out that unless she had film on herself, she'd never get a chance. And a flashy role in a Charlie Dollar movie could be it.

She wondered if she should call Brigette's godmother, Lucky, when she got to LA. Then she remembered, Lucky was in London with Brigette. Shame. She'd like to have met her.

The businessman sitting next to her was desperate to make conversation, he kept shooting her knowing looks. She foiled him by hiding behind a Stephen King paperback, which she had no intention of reading, but knew it offered good protection.

She hadn't remembered to order a limo at LAX, so it was into another cab and on to the Bel Air Hotel, where she was greeted by fellow Brit Frank Bowling, the manager, who always looked after her. He gave her a room near the pool, and she unpacked the few things she'd brought with her.

As soon as she was settled she called the LA branch of her agency. 'I'm here,'

she announced to Max Steele, her LA agent, whom she'd never met.

'Great, Lina,' Max said, sounding overly friendly. 'Wanna have dinner?'

'No thanks,' she said crisply. 'What I would like to know is when I'm supposed to meet Charlie Dollar.'

'I'll set it up,' Max said. 'I might even get good old Charlie to come to dinner.'

'What is this?' she asked, slightly irritated. 'A social event or a bleedin' audition?'

Max laughed. 'Don't get upset. It's an audition. This is the way we do things in LA. I'll get right back to you.'

She hung up the phone. One of the disadvantages of being a world-famous supermodel was that everyone wanted to be seen with her. Especially agents.

They thought it raised their profile. And that's not the only thing it raises, she thought, with a ribald chuckle.

Of course, Max Steele might be incredibly attractive, and if he was, she'd be missing out. Better check him out over drinks, she thought. Because if she liked him, they might end up in bed. Lina excelled at sex, it was her favourite pastime, and lately she'd been going through a dry spell. Nobody since Flick Fonda, and he had been a total waste of time and energy.

Sometimes, when she was feeling very bad, she imagined what it would be like to be a porno star. Oh, God, what a kick - showing off her goods in front of the world! Naughty, naughty!

Not that she'd ever consider it. It was merely one of her erotic fantasies - of which she had many.

Kyra talked too much in her loud, squeaky voice. Brigette wished she'd shut up as they entered the exclusive London restaurant. Jeremy, the man who ran the place, gave them a big greeting, ushering them to a prime table against the wall.

Brigette made sure not to look around. She didn't want to catch Carlo's eye if he was already there: she wanted him to come to her.

Kyra ordered a martini and immediately began talking about her husband, a fellow model she'd married a few months ago. 'He's meeting me in Milan,' she squeaked. 'I got him the job. Calvin wanted him in New York, but I insisted he come to Milan. He's sooo hunky. A real man.'

'I know,' Brigette said. 'I've worked with him.' Actually, she'd always thought he was gay.

'Can you imagine what kind of children we'll have?' Kyra said dreamily. 'Do you know how cute they'll look?'

Hmm, Brigette thought. Kyra's about as modest as Lina. 'I'm sure they'll be very beautiful,' she said.

'I'll get pregnant in two years,' Kyra announced. 'Then I'll give birth in Australia, because my mum would like that.'

'She must be very proud of you.'

'Oh, yes, all my family are. I'm a national treasure in Australia. Me and Elle MacPherson and Rachel Hunter - we're totally famous. Not like here where there's supermodels all over the place. Cindy, Suzi, Naomi, you. Lina, Didi—'

'You'd better not let Lina hear you call Didi a supermodel,' Brigette interrupted.

'Why? Is she jealous of her?'

'I'd say there's a touch of rivalry. And, besides, Didi hasn't been working that long, she doesn't deserve the title.'

'She's still pretty famous,' Kyra remarked. 'It's those great big tits on that skinny little bod. Guys cream over her.'

'She's famous because she hired a PR,' Brigette pointed out.

'I have a PR,' Kyra said, as if it was a given. 'Don't you?'

'No,' Brigette said. 'Publicity is the last thing I need.' And out of the corner of her eye she observed Carlo enter the restaurant.

Good, she thought. Let the games begin.

Chapter Thirty-four

Teddy spotted the posters first. How could he miss them? How could anyone miss them? They were everywhere. Big freaking posters with a hundred-thousand-dollar reward printed in huge letters right in the middle. Naturally everyone stopped when they saw that. And then they read the smaller print, and when Teddy read it, his stomach did a double somersault.

ANYONE WITH INFORMATION CONCERNING A CAR JACKING

ROBBERY ON 1 SEPTEMBER

AT THE CORNER OF WILSHIRE

AND LANGTON WILL BE ELIGIBLE

TO COLLECT A REWARD OF ONE

HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS

The reward announcement was bad enough. But there were also pictures -

supposedly of him and Mila. Not that the sketches looked like either of them, but there were certain similarities. Mila's narrow eyes and sharp nose. His wide forehead and cropped hair.

He immediately ran to the burger joint where Mila worked and told her what was going on.

She freaked out. 'You'd better keep your mouth shut,' she warned. 'Nobody knows we did it. There are no witnesses. They don't have the number of the jeep, so we're safe. Remember - keep your fucking mouth shut, Teddy.'

But even as she uttered those words, her mind was zooming in a million different directions. A hundred thousand dollars. Boy, what she couldn't do with a hundred thousand dollars!

Teddy, meanwhile, was making his own plans. It was definitely time to run: things were getting too hot. Any moment the cops could come knocking at the door, and when his father discovered he'd been involved in a murder… Well, it didn't bear thinking about. He shuddered at the memory of that horrible night. If his dad ever found out he would definitely kill him. Price was a maniac when he lost his temper. He expected his son to be perfect.

Teddy decided he'd better get to his mother's fast. He knew she lived in an apartment on Wilshire, and even though he'd had no contact with her in years, he was sure that when he arrived at her door she wouldn't turn him away. He'd make up a story that Price was back on drugs and beating the crap out of him: that way she'd have to take him in.

Saturday afternoon he put on his best rapper outfit - baggy pants swaddling his hips, a hooded oversize sweatshirt and high-top Nikes - then attempted to sneak out.

Price was lounging on the couch in the den watching football on TV. 'Wanna catch some plays with me?' he called, as Teddy tried to sidle past.

'Gotta see some friends, Dad,' Teddy said, in a low voice.

'What time you comin' back?'

'Later.'

'Later,' Price repeated, tossing pretzels into his mouth. 'Now, don't you go smokin' no weed with any of your friends. 'Cause I'll know, an' I'll whack the shit outta you. Got it, boy?'

'Yes, Dad,' he said, moving towards the back door.

As he walked out to the garage, Mila appeared from the kitchen, wearing a tight T-shirt with no bra, and a short fake red leather skirt. She'd dyed her dark hair a startling shade of white blonde and cut it even shorter so that it looked like a crew-cut. He knew why.

'Where you goin', Teddy?' she asked.

He couldn't take his eyes off her nipples, they were sticking out under her T-shirt, demanding attention.

She saw him looking and stuck them out even further.

'Gonna hang with some friends,' he mumbled, not about to confide in her - she'd be the last one he'd tell.

'Shame,' she said, chewing on a hang-nail. 'Thought we'd do something today.'

She'd hardly spoken to him since the night of the murder, except to warn him of the dire consequences if he opened his mouth. 'Like what?' he ventured, frightened of her, yet at the same time drawn to her.

'Dunno,' she said, with a casual shrug. 'Take a drive, catch a movie.'

'Not me,' he said, shaking his head. 'Not after the last time.'

'Shit, man,' she said scornfully. 'That's never gonna happen again. I don't even have a gun.'

He didn't believe her, but her nipples were beckoning and he was beginning to weaken. 'You sure?'

'Course I am,' she said, thrusting her tits in his face. 'Besides, you an' I never get t' spend any time together since I'm workin'. Don't you think we should talk?' He nodded. 'You like my hair?' she added.

' 'S okay,' he said.

'How about it?' she said, moving even closer. 'Can we do something together?'

'S'pose I could meet the guys later,' he said.

'That's my Teddy,' she said, giving him a playful punch on the chin. 'Let's go see The Bodyguard.'

'Who's in that?' he asked suspiciously.

'Kevin.'

'Kevin who?'

'Kevin Costner, dunce!'

'Who wants to see him?'

'I do. Anyway, you can jerk off over Whitney Houston. She's in it, too.'

'Okay,' he said, unable to resist.

'Okay,' she mimicked, teasing him. 'I'll go get a sweater.'

He waited patiently, hoping she'd come back soon. He could always go to his mother's in the morning. If he had a chance to be with Mila, he didn't want to blow it, even though she still scared the crap out of him.

She emerged a few minutes later, a blue sweater tied casually around her narrow waist. 'Let's go,' she said bossily.

He looked at her long legs, then at her tits. 'I'll drive,' he mumbled.

For once she didn't argue.

Irena took her boss lunch on a tray. Price was lounging in front of the TV in a tracksuit with no underwear. Irena was well aware that on weekends he never wore underwear, it was one of his little idiosyncrasies.

'Okay, hon,' he said, indicating the coffee table in front of him. 'Put it there.'

'Yes, Mr Washington,' she said.

He glanced up at her briefly, his heavily lidded eyes immediately swivelling back to the TV. 'Teddy's out. Where's Mila?'

'She went with him,' Irena said. 'They're seeing a movie.'

'Nice t' see the kids gettin' along,' he remarked, although he would have preferred Teddy not to hang out with Mila - he still considered the girl a bad influence.

'They should,' Irena said. 'They were raised together.'

'Right,' he said, splaying his legs in front of him.

She couldn't help noticing that he had a semi hard-on, quite obvious in his tracksuit pants.

'Sit down here for a minute,' he said, patting the space next to him. 'Watch the game with me.'

'I have things to do, Mr Washington.'

'I got things for you to do, too,' he said, pulling her down beside him.

Irena was tense. Price Washington was her boss, but he was also, when he felt like it, her lover. Well, not exactly her lover. A more apt description would be that she was his sex slave.

She hated herself for doing everything he asked. She hated herself for being there whenever he felt like getting serviced and none of his girlfriends was around. She knew she was a fool to oblige him. But the sad fact was… she loved him.

Price Washington had taken her in when she'd had nothing, just the one small suitcase of possessions that was all she'd brought with her when she'd fled Moscow, where her life had been unbearable. Thank God for the man in the American Embassy who'd befriended her and helped her get an exit visa in her dead cousin's name. They would never have let her out of the country, a convicted prostitute and felon who'd done jail time for killing her pimp, an unspeakable monster who'd grabbed every rouble she'd ever made, and amused himself by carving his name on her buttocks. She'd been lucky and escaped.

And when she'd arrived in America, Price Washington was there for her. She would always be grateful.

'Eat your lunch, Mr Washington,' she said stiffly.

'Quit with the Mr Washington shit,' he said, taking her hand and placing it on his crotch. 'There's nobody around.'

She knew exactly what he expected her to do. She was supposed to rub it a little, make it hard, take it out, suck it, put it back and go away. The routine never varied.

'I have work to do,' she said.

'Work this,' he said, moving her hand up and down.

In a way she supposed she should be flattered. Price Washington had many girlfriends, and any one of them would have been only too happy to sit in front of the TV with him all day doing whatever he wanted. But Price enjoyed watching football alone. He liked making his phone bets, hollering at the players on the TV

screen, and snacking on a variety of junk foods. Maybe he even liked having her around. She didn't know. He never told her.

Once in a while he summoned her to his room late at night when Mila and Teddy were asleep. There were times he even touched her, but not very often. Once, when Teddy was away at summer camp, and Mila was staying with a girlfriend, she'd spent the night in his bed, naked and in total abandon. It had been the most memorable night of her life. After it was over he'd never mentioned it again.

When he'd first started coming on to her it had been in his drug days, those lazy, hazy days when he had no idea what he was doing. She'd dismissed his attentions at first. But even after he was stone cold sober and absolutely straight, he continued from time to time to call on her services.

There weren't any other men in Irena's life. She lived for Price, he was all she cared about.

Of course, there was her daughter, Mila. But Irena was well aware what a devious little bitch Mila could be. There was nothing she could do about it. She'd given up trying.

Although if she was truthful with herself, she'd admit that she'd never really tried in the first place.

Her most fervent hope was that Mila would find a man, get married and go away.

And then when Teddy left, she'd finally be alone with Price, and maybe, just maybe, he'd realize she was the only woman who genuinely cared about him.