But she was down here in this situation now, and somehow she had to make it out alive.
“Listen to me, Mr. Moreno,” she said, holding her hands up in a “don’t shoot” gesture. “Brad is lying about all of this.”
“How?” the Mob enforcer demanded, glaring at her. “You said yourself that you caught him in bed with another woman!”
“Yes, but that was over two years ago,” Jillian emphasized. “I left him after that and I haven’t seen him since. He’s the reason I lost my house and my car and my job,” she added, glaring at Brad.
Moreno didn’t look convinced.
“You sure your house and your car didn’t just go up your nose, honeybee? That’s what I’ve been hearing from Braddy, here. Says you got a little too interested in a certain white powder and that’s how you lost your job. The head honchos at The Palms didn’t want a coked-up Head Chef running the place.”
“What? Why would you say a thing like that about me?” Jillian demanded, rounding on her ex. “Have you been spreading that lie all over Vegas? Are you trying to ruin my reputation along with my credit and everything else?”
Brad only gave her puppy-dog eyes.
“Jilly-baby, don’t deny it. Addiction is a disease—everybody knows it. If you snorted that fifty thousand, just admit it. Mr. Moreno just wants to know where his money went.”
“It went into your pocket and then out onto a craps table!” Jillian exclaimed. “Or else into some cheap showgirl’s purse or some stripper’s g-string! I have no idea why you wanted to involve me in this mess of yours, but I have nothing to do with it!”
She started to storm past Moreno, only to have one arm caught in a vise-like grip.
“I don’t think so, honeybee,” the Mob enforcer growled in her ear. “See, my associates and I aren’t about to let anyone leave until we get our money.”
“But I don’t have your money! Brad is lying to you—lying like he always does!” Jillian exclaimed.
But it was clear her pleas were falling on deaf ears. Jimmy Moreno yanked her around so that her back was to his broad, beefy chest and looped one arm around her neck.
“Hey! Let go of me!” Jillian started to struggle…and then she felt something cold and sharp pressing against the small of her back.
“Shut up, honeybee,” Moreno growled in her ear, pressing the knife blade threateningly against her spine. “Nobody’s going anywhere until you tell me where the money is!”
46
It was kind of nerve-wracking, watching the ship appear to pilot itself down through Earth’s atmosphere. But Kalis knew that it was actually the Goddess at the steering yoke. In fact, several times when he looked at it, he could almost see a pair of fine-boned, feminine hands resting on the yoke. So he knew he was literally in good hands. Still, when the ship finally landed silently on a darkened street, he felt relieved that the strange trip was over.
The Goddess spoke to him just once more.
“Go Warrior—you have no time to lose.”
Then she was gone.
Kalis was already out the door of the shuttle with her words echoing in his ears. No time to lose…no time to lose. He had to get to Jillian before it was too late!
That was when he heard her screaming.
47
“You know, my associates call me ‘Jimmy the knife’—you wanna know why?” Moreno asked in her ear, his rank breath blowing against the side of Jillian’s face. “It’s because I’m real good with a blade.”
He pushed her around suddenly, so that he had her right arm hooked firmly under his left with his hand locked around her wrist.
“What…what are you doing? I swear I don’t have your money—I don’t know anything about it!” Jillian gasped. She pulled and tugged, trying to get away from the big bastard, but it was no use—he had a grip like a vise.
Like being grabbed by a Trollox, Jillian thought, feeling sick. But Jimmy’s next words brought Ripper and his shop of “Fine Meats” even more clearly to her mind.
“You know, I bet as a chef, you use your fingers quite a lot—don’t you, honeybee?” he said to Jillian in a conversational tone of voice. “I mean, I bet it would be hard to cut up veggies for a yummy stew if somebody chopped off one of your fingers, right?”
“What…what are you talking about?” Jillian felt sick to her stomach with fear as he suddenly brought the knife he’d been pressing against her back out into the light. It was long—practically a machete that tapered to a fine, slender point. The bare bulb’s radiance glimmered wickedly along its edge and Jillian could see, just from looking at it, that it was razor sharp.
Her chef’s eyes analyzed it automatically. Carbonized steel—a really good blade for chopping meat. Ugh—why had she thought that? Especially at a time like this?