She'd helped incarcerate him in a jail full of villains, perverts and sick people. She deserved everything she was about to get.
He willed himself not to think about the years he'd spent in prison, desperately trying to push those thoughts to the back of his mind. But sometimes incidents filtered to the surface, and he couldn't help remembering the daily humiliations, the tough beatings and the brutal sex.
One day he would be able to wash his mind clear of all the hateful memories.
One day, when each one of the women who'd helped put him away was dead and gone. Buried beneath the ground. Strangled by his own hand.
Cheryl tipped the valet, got in her silver BMW and drove off.
The Man followed, keeping a suitable distance behind her. He knew it wouldn't be long before she ran out of gas. It had been a fairly simple task emptying the tank of her car while the valets weren't around.
He wondered if she'd noticed her car was on empty. Probably not. Women didn't bother with such details. And if she did, she'd have to stop at a gas station and then he would put his other plan into action.
Either way he had it covered.
She drove down Sunset, then turned on Alpine, cutting up to Lexington. Two blocks along Lexington her car ground to a halt.
The Man pulled up behind her, just as she was attempting to restart the engine. He had on his dark shades, so she wouldn't recognize him. It was night anyway, and his hair was different.
He strolled over to her car and tapped on her window. 'Having trouble, Miss?' he asked courteously.
She hardly glanced at him. 'Oh, God, I think I'm out of gas,' she groaned.
'There's an empty can in my car. I can drive you to the nearest gas station and bring you back if it'll help you out.'
'That's nice of you, but I don't want to put you to any trouble. I can call.' She picked up her earphone. It was out of action, he'd made sure of that, too.
'Would you care to use the phone in my car?' he offered politely.
All Cheryl wanted to do was get home, running out of gas was a real bummer and certainly not on her agenda. 'Thanks,' she said, getting out of her car, completely forgetting about security and how careful one had to be.
The Man followed as she walked towards his car, opening the passenger door for her.
'Where's the phone?' she asked.
'It's a portable,' he said. 'I keep it hidden. Too much crime going on today. Just a minute.' He walked around the car and got in, settling himself behind the wheel. Then he immediately activated the special locking system he'd installed.
Now he had her. She was his prisoner, only she didn't know it yet.
He felt a rush of triumph.
'The phone?' she repeated.
The Man was very calm. 'There's a gun pointing at you,' he said in low measured tones. 'Do not scream. Do not do anything. We're taking a ride. One that I promise you'll never forget.'
Chapter Forty-Four
The call from the cops came through long after Cheryl had left the house.
'I'd like to speak to Miss Landers.'
'Maybe I can help you,' Grant said, thinking it was a would-be client.
'Who are you?'
'Her associate. Who are you?'
'Detective Carlyle.'
There were a few moments of silence while Grant digested this information. A detective calling Cheryl could only mean trouble. And the last thing Grant needed was to be involved in a Heidi Fleiss type scandal.
'She's not here right now,' he said at last. 'Can I pass on a message?'
We need to talk to her regarding a case we're investigating. Are you her husband?'
'No, no, just a friend,' Grant said quickly.
'And what's your name?'
'Shep,' he lied, deciding it wouldn't be prudent to reveal his proper identity.
'Is there anywhere I can reach her now?'
'No.'
'What time did you say she'd be back?'
'Ten, eleven - I'm not sure.'
'Well, Shep, have her call me when she gets home. Tell her it's quite urgent.'
Grant hung tip wondering what the detective wanted. If Cheryl was about to be busted he had no intention of being dragged along for the ride.
To be on the safe side, he got up from the couch - his favourite resting place - and hurried to his drug stash. Best to get everything out of Cheryl's house and head on back to his own apartment.
He scrawled a message on a piece of paper and left it on the kitchen table.
Call me at home when you get back. G.
Jesus! He could just see his father's face if he got himself busted for pimping. The headlines would really sing:
MOVIE STAR'S SON ARRESTED.
DRUG BUST IN BEL AIR.
He should've stayed an agent, but pimping was so much more fun.
Taking a final look around the house, he made sure he'd removed all his stuff, then he got in his car and beat a hasty retreat to his apartment.
* * *
Charlie Dollar threw open the door of his rambling mansion and ushered Kennedy inside with a theatrical flourish. 'How about a drink?' he suggested. 'Or a joint?'
'I've made a reservation at Orso's,' she said. 'I thought we could sit outside on the terrace.'
'Does this mean you're picking up the check?' he asked, grinning wickedly.
'It certainly does.'
'Dinner two nights in a row,' he commented. 'Seems to me you're gonna have to put out.'
'Not necessarily,' she replied good-naturedly. 'Don't forget, I'm paying.'
He chuckled. 'Does that mean I'm gonna have to put out?'
'Oh, Charlie, Charlie,' she said, sighing, 'it doesn't always have to be sex. I thought we were going to be platonic friends.'
'That's not what you want, Kennedy. Somebody stood you up tonight, and you're running to me to get even. I understand. I've been there.'
'Very perceptive.'
'Who was he?'
'He was a might-have-been,' she said vaguely.
'Might have been what?'
'Might have been involved in my life if he'd come up to expectations, but he didn't.'
'You an' me could be very good together 'cause you're an understanding woman an' that's the kinda woman I'm ready to share with.'
'You've already got one understanding woman in your life - the mother of your child - remember?'
'I get off on those... you know, tribal set-ups, where a guy has three or four wives, an' everybody lives in harmony, an' nobody ever gets pissed off. That's the way things should be.'
'You're really just a sweet old-fashioned kind of guy, is that it?'
'Well, whaddya know, she's discovered my secret.'
'Can we go, Charlie?'
He took her arm and escorted her outside. 'Hey, green eyes,' he said, squeezing her elbow. 'You written the Style Wars piece on me yet?'
'Yes, I have.'
'Will I like it?'
'Do you care?'
'Not particularly.'
'I've written you as a sexy unpredictable eccentric. Does that suit you?'
'Didja say I was thin?'
'No.'
'Bitch!'
She couldn't help being amused. A man and his ego would be the perfect shout line.
He headed for his Rolls parked in the driveway. She pulled him over to her car. 'This is my date. I'm driving.'
He smiled his wild-man smile - slightly ragged around the edges. 'Are you sure you don't want to stay here and sample my movie-star charms?'
'It wasn't what I had in mind.'
'Then I'd better warn you, I am not a cheap date. I do not give head in the car, and I eat everything in sight.'
'You certainly know how to turn a girl on,' she said drily.
'Thank you, sweet journalist. Nice words always get me ready for the big seduction.'
'Don't hold your breath,' she murmured.
* * *
The kisses they exchanged were hot and slow, fast and exciting. Kissing hadn
't been this much fun in a long time.
Bobby didn't even want to think about what he was getting into. It just seemed right, and that was enough for him.
Jordanna knew immediately that what she felt for Bobby was completely different from anything she'd ever felt before. She really cared about him, there was no logical explanation, it was simply a connection they both seemed incapable of stopping.
They were necking on the couch like a couple of teenagers on a babysitting gig, and the kissing was so good she didn't want it to end.
After a while, when things started to progress, she summoned every bit of strength she possessed and pushed him away.
By this time he was ready to rock and roll. Her sudden change of direction confused him. 'What's the matter?' he asked. 'I thought this is what you wanted.'
'It is,' she said breathlessly, trying to pull herself together. 'But first we should have a conversation.'
'Jesus, Jordanna. What kind of a conversation?'
'Safe sex,' she said, standing up.
He began to laugh. 'A safe-sex conversation?'
'Yeah, I know, it's funny, but since we both recently slept with high-risk partners...'
'You sound like a doctor,' he said, somewhat bemused.
'I'm trying to be responsible.'
'Hey,' he joked, 'it's difficult being responsible with a hard-on.'
'Don't tempt me. This is serious,' she said, frowning. 'What is safe sex anyway? Do you know?'
'Abstinence.'
'Oh, you mean only latex can touch our bodies?'
Well... a condom is safe.'
'Do you have any?'
'No - how about you?'
'They're at Marjory's.'
'Great. I'll run down to the drugstore.'
'Isn't that kind of a mood breaker?'
'Jordanna,' he said patiently. 'Trust me, you've already broken the mood.'
'Do you think I'm being stupid?'
'No, you're being wise,' he said, standing up and opening his arms. 'Come here.'
She fell into his arms as if she belonged there, and felt totally at peace.
He hugged her tightly. 'Y'know what, maybe we've found what we've been looking for.'
'Yeah,' she said wryly. 'A truly great relationship - you, me and a box of condoms!'
They both burst out laughing, perfectly in tune.
'I'm taking you home,' he said.
'No!' she responded, objecting strongly.
'Yes. My call's six a.m. tomorrow. It's my first day working with Jerry, so I need to be prepared.'
'But, Bobby -'
'Hey,' he said. 'Tomorrow night we'll start early and finish late. I'll have condoms coming out my ears!'
'It's not your ears I'm worried about!'
He took her hand, leading her over to the door. 'When we start this, we'll start it right.'
'I know,' she said softly. 'That's exactly how I feel.'
'Good.'
'Good.'
They stood by the door and began kissing again, their bodies pressed closely up against each other, the heat rising.
'Has anybody ever told you you're extremely sexy?' she gasped, leaning back, wondering why she'd stopped him in the first place.
'Nope,' he said, smiling.
'Oh, sure. Just about every woman in America. Like you don't get a zillion fan letters a week.'
'They see an illusion.'
'And what do I see?'
'The real me,' he said, seriously.
'I'm looking forward to the real you. Every single inch.'
'Does that mean you're coming to bed with a tape measure?' he quipped.
'Would I do that?' she asked, widening her eyes.
'Yes.'
'Do I need to?'
'No,' he said, kissing her one more time. 'C'mon, wild child, I'm driving you home.'
'You don't have to. My car's outside.'
'You're not driving alone.'
'Hey, Bobby, it's me you're talking to. I'm quite capable of getting from A to B in one piece, I've been doing it all my life.'
'I'm sure you have.'
'I'll call you as soon as I reach the mausoleum.'
'Come to the set tomorrow for lunch?'
'Of course.'
'I'll be waiting,' he said, pulling her so close she could barely breathe. 'Hey, Jordanna -'
'Yes?'
'I'm not used to saying anything meaningful-'
'Nor am I,' she interrupted, feeling extremely light-headed.
'But I've got a strong suspicion you're right - this was meant to be. And I'm looking forward to tomorrow night.'
'Me, too.'
'Not as much as I am.'
'Wanna bet?' she said, grinning.
She began the drive home on a high. Love had snuck up, taking her completely by surprise. And the amazing thing was that love had nothing to do with sex - the sex would be the final prize, because she knew it was going to be sensational.
Putting in a tape she sang along to the upbeat sounds of Salt 'N' Pepa sexily mouthing off on 'Whatta Man'. Then she shoved her foot down hard on the accelerator, zooming her Porsche home as fast as possible.
Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough for Jordanna.
-=O=---=O=-
The Man had no idea what time Jordanna would arrive back at the Sanderson mansion. He'd already ascertained she wasn't home, so all he could do was wait.
She might not be as easy to take as the other one. As far as he could recall Jordanna was tougher, stronger and more willful. But he was convinced nobody could beat him, because he had the one element that gave him a supreme advantage - surprise.
Cheryl had been easy. Once he'd gotten her in his car and she'd realized she was trapped, she'd shut up.
At first she'd thought he was kidnapping her. Going for a big ransom. 'Don't hurt me,' she'd said. 'My father will pay anything you ask for.'
'I don't care about your father,' he'd replied contemptuously. 'I don't care about anything except punishing you for what you did to me.'
'What did I do to you?' she'd asked. 'I've never seen you before.'
'Am I so unmemorable that you could send me away to prison and not even know who I am?'
A few seconds of silence.
'Zane?' she'd ventured.
'Clever girl,' he'd replied.
'Oh...my... God!'
She'd realized who he was, and desperately tried to get out of the car. But the locking system was in place, and she was caught in the trap, just as he'd planned.
He'd driven her back to the house in the hills off Laurel Canyon, the isolated, deserted house where nobody could observe what he was doing.
When they'd arrived, he'd bundled her inside, shoving her roughly down on the couch. There was a mug of cold tea spiked with strong sleeping pills on the table, carefully prepared by him before he'd left. 'Drink that,' he'd commanded.
'I'm not drinking anything.'
'Drink it. Or suffer the consequences.'
She'd stared at him with frightened eyes and reluctantly choked down the tea.
He'd watched until she'd slumped into a drugged sleep, then he'd picked her up and carried her down to the cellar, where he'd placed her on a blanket in the corner. Her coat had fallen open on the way, revealing that she was not properly dressed.
He'd stared at her breasts, almost exposed in a black push-up bra. And then he'd touched the insides of her thighs and was tempted. But temptation would only hinder his progress, there would be time later to do anything he desired, so he brought the handcuffs he'd purchased at a sex shop into play, handcuffing her wrists to a solid pipe that ran down one side of the wall. Then he'd bound her ankles together with strong rope.
He'd thought about gagging her, but it wasn't necessary. There was nobody to hear her screams. And the strong sleeping pills would keep her unconscious until morning.
He'd pulled her coat so that it covered her strange outfit, and left her alone in the dank, dark cellar.
Now, as he waite
d for Jordanna, he couldn't help feeling pleased with himself. All those years in jail he'd thought about what he would do when he got out, and in a short period of time he'd successfully disposed of four women.
The betrayers.
The bitches.
And when the other two were gone, he would be able to return to New York and get rid of everyone else who'd tried to ruin him.
The anticipation of strangling his mother filled him with such a burning intensity he could barely stand it. She was a woman. And everyone knew that women were lying, cheating, unfaithful vile scum.
Allowing his mind to wander, he remembered the time shortly after his father had been sent off to prison. A warm New York night. He was sixteen years old and enamoured with a girl at school. She was seventeen and didn't want anything to do with him.
He'd arrived home from school and gone straight to his room to study. At eight o'clock his mother had appeared at his bedroom door, dressed in a diaphanous pink néglige, reeling slightly, drunk and flushed. 'I need your help, poopsy,' she'd said in the baby-girl voice she sometimes adopted.
'I gotta do my homework, Mom.'
'Come with me now, poopsy, Mommy needs you.'
Reluctantly he'd followed her into her bedroom, an oppressive room filled with lace-trimmed cushions, movie magazines, stuffed toys and shopping bags abrim with clothes she'd purchased, worn once, and always returned.
She'd wandered over to her bed and flopped down in the middle. 'Come over here, poopsy,' she'd coaxed. 'Sit on the side here and talk to Mommy.'
He couldn't stand it when she called him poopsy. He loathed it when she demanded his time.
She'd held open her skinny arms. 'Mommy's having a bad day,' she'd sighed. 'Mommy is not happy.'
'What is it?' he'd asked, drawn towards her in spite of himself.
'I received a letter from your father. He writes mean things to me. Cruel things.'
'Well...' he'd started to say, attempting to comfort her.
Before he could get any further, she'd thrown her arms around his neck and pulled him down next to her, kissing him full on the lips.
He'd smelted booze mixed with cigarette smoke and a cloying sweet scent. Her tongue had flicked into his mouth, exploring, searching... And then her hand had crept between his legs, and to his eternal shame he'd been hard, and when she'd unzipped his pants...
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