Untraceable (15 page)

Jonathan’s
eyebrows went up, “You cannot be serious.”

Micah undid his
jacket and was reaching inside when Jonathan put up his hands
defensively.

“Okay, you win.”
He unbuttoned his jacket and began to slip it
off.

My heart started
to thunder in my chest as I saw what looked like a black harness
against his dress shirt, but when the jacket was removed it was a
pair of suspenders. I gave an audible sigh then did something that
surprised Micah—I smacked his shoulder and told him to stop acting
like a Neanderthal.

“Turn around,”
Micah continued, ignoring my displeasure.

Jonathan was
obeying Micah’s every request by this point as he turned around so
that Micah could see there was nothing hidden in the small of his
back.

“Micah, you’re
going to give me an anxiety attack,” I breathed unsteadily. “Stop
it.”

He finally turned
and looked at me, “I’m sorry, baby, but Mr. Rossi here just doesn’t
seem like the architect type to me. But,” he continued, “So far he
is proving me wrong.”

“Thank you,”
Jonathan said rather sarcastically. “I have had this happen a few
times in Italy, but I never expected it here in
America!”

Micah almost
laughed, but refrained.

“I have a question
for you, Micah,” Jonathan asked. “Since you were so bold, it is my
turn. Are you in the mafia?”

“Yes I am,” rolled
out of his mouth without hesitation.
“Would you like me to take off my
jacket?”
The words were
icy and a flicker of blankness flashed in his
eyes.

“You leave that
jacket on,” I warned.

“No, it is all
right, Leese,” Jonathan continued. “I have designed homes for such
men before and perhaps it is better to, how you say, to put all our
cards on the table.”

The jacket came
off and exposed his double Glocks, poised, loaded, and ready to
slide out of the holsters at the lightest touch of Micah’s
hands.

“Can we talk
architecture now?” Jonathan asked.

“I’m gonna be
sick,” I announced and then crumpled into the cushioned chair,
cupping my hand over my mouth.

Jonathan was quick
to place the small waste can beside his desk next to my chair. “I
have a restroom, if you can make it.”

I shook my head
no, afraid that if I moved an inch everyone was going to get to see
what I’d had for breakfast.

“I’ll get you some
water,” Micah stated, stepping over to the water cooler and pulling
off a tiny paper cup and filling it for me. “I’m sorry, baby, but I
had to be sure,” he said as he handed me the
cup.

My eyes were
watery as I looked up at him, still seething mad over how he
treated Jonathan, “Is this going to happen every time we meet
someone Italian?”

“It is okay,
Leese—he is just very protective over you and I can understand
that.”

Micah’s eyes cut
to Jonathan and then back to me.

“Please, put your
jacket back on,” I asked. “
Before
someone
comes in here and sees you like that.”

“I gave my
remodeling crew a break, but I agree. They might abandon their work
if they were to see your—your attire.”

Micah put on his
jacket and we, under somewhat strained circumstances, talked with
Jonathan about the house plans and what we wanted to do with
them.

“You know many
people do what you two are considering, expanding a house to
include extra guest suites, but have you ever considered one or two
guest houses instead? If you have someone staying with you for any
length of time they appreciate the privacy of a guest house. You
can make it like a small village for that extra sense of
charm.”

“That’s not a bad
idea,” Micah agreed.

I nodded. “So
you’re saying leave the main house no more than five bedrooms,
which gives us one guest room in our home and then anything over
one guest or couple would stay in a smaller
residence?”

“Correct. It is
better than one massive home, and you can use the pool area as the
central courtyard.”

“I like
that.”

“Me, too,” Micah
added.

“So, I suggest you
go back through this book and find one or two smaller homes that
you like the layout and I will redesign the exterior to match the
main house. And then we can meet again another
time.”

I laughed
unintentionally, “I can’t imagine you’d invite us
back.”

Jonathan smiled,
“Well, I do have an ulterior motive.”

Micah’s brow
dropped low at that remark.

“This visit makes
us even for clipping your car. I actually charge eight hundred
dollars an hour for my services, so returning is totally up to
you.”

Micah and I both
smiled.

“Not a problem,” I
said, rising up and extending my hand to him. I was expecting a
handshake, but instead he drew it quickly to his mouth and kissed
the back of it.

I watched the
thermometer-red color run from Micah’s neck to his
face.

“Micah, you have a
lovely wife. I am glad to see you are a man ready to protect her.”
And then he offered Micah his hand.

Surprisingly, he
accepted the handshake and we left.

As soon as we
closed the doors to the car, I came unglued. “Micah Gavarreen, I
cannot believe what you did in there to that man! Or to me, for
that matter!

Micah’s mouth
opened, but he was not going to interrupt me.

“You are not
trying to keep your promise. You told me you wanted to be someone
different—you promised me that you weren’t going to kill anyone
else, but if that man had been armed what would you have
done?”

“I would have
protected—”

“Some
people
legally
carry
concealed weapons. You know they make permits for those things, but
that isn’t the point. You strap on those guns for one purpose and
one purpose only. Yes, I know you wanted to check this guy out and
make sure you could protect me, but you—you promised,” I cried.
“The guns have to go!”

“No. I’m not going
to kill any—”

“Stop it, Micah. I
don’t want to hear it.” I dried my tears and turned my face as Palm
Beach blurred past my window.

He didn’t say
anything the rest of the way home until we pulled into the
garage.

“Leese, I meant
what I told you, but there might be times when I need
them.”

“NO! Stop making
excuses, Micah. If you were an alcoholic, do you think I would
understand your need to carry a bottle of whiskey in your coat? If
you were—were an abuser and what happened between us in Colorado
hadn’t been due to drugs, would it be okay for you to threaten me
with violence saying it’s better than beating the hell out of
me?

“If you were an
alcoholic, you’d drink from that bottle. If you were an abuser it
would just make it easier for you to hit me the next time. But you
aren’t those things. What you are is a man who has been trained to
kill, either by command or by necessity. What’s going to happen if
you keep carrying those guns?”

“But,
baby—”

“No—no excuses.
You and I both know if those guns don’t go, something horrible will
eventually happen. Let me know when you decide to give them up.
Until then,” I took a shaky breath, tears slipping down my cheeks,
“I’ll be in the apartment.”

He just sat there
in the car as I went sobbing into the house. I stopped in the
laundry room and dug through the hampers until I found one of his
white cotton undershirts and headed to the apartment. I still felt
sick from how frightened I was when I saw that blank flicker in his
eyes at Jonathan’s office. I thought that look was gone for good. I
thought he had made a change, but today he was the man I knew
before he married me. His voice still echoing in my head as he
quickly and effortlessly stated he was in the mafia—not ‘I used to
be,’ but a definitive ‘Yes I am.’

I loved him enough
that I could turn my back on him when he needed to see how grave an
error he made. Maybe I wasn’t always strong or wise when it came to
decisions regarding Micah, but I would never doubt the good person
I knew was inside him. I just couldn’t let the cold, blank,
emotionless part take back over—and if those guns stayed, the empty
Micah would never be too far away.

Once in the
apartment, I headed for the bed. My cell was ringing before I could
stretch out. It was Mom.

“Hey,” I snuffled.
She was out grocery shopping and wanted to know if I had any
special requests, but she picked up quickly on the fact that I
sounded different and asked if everything was okay with the
baby.

“Yeah he’s
wonderful, but his daddy right now is in the dog
house.”

She asked
why.

“We just had
our—our first fight,” I sobbed. “I really don’t want to discuss it
right now. I need a—a nap.” Okay, technically this wasn’t our first
fight, but it was the first one where no one influenced the reason
we were fighting. This was strictly an issue between the two of us.
“I’m okay. I’m going to stay out in the apartment for a while, at
least until he and I can see eye to eye on a couple things. Love
you, Mom. Bye.”

I crawled onto the
bed, put a pillow between my knees, one under my head and another
one hugged to my breast with Micah’s undershirt pressed to my cheek
as I inhaled and closed my eyes. When I woke up, I was thinking I
had slept until evening, but it didn’t take too long being
conscious to know why it was dark outside as I heard the rumble of
nearby thunder. The wind had picked up, and I was wishing I was in
the main house, but the rain was already falling and the lightening
was popping so I’d just have to stay where I was until the storm
blew over.

I was still
unbelievably upset as I kept seeing Micah standing there with his
guns strapped to his sides and that cold look in his eyes. The
lightning struck somewhere nearby and I flinched. The thunder
clapped so hard that the windows shook. The one light that had been
on when I lay down flickered and then went out. The power was off.
I curled into a smaller ball and rubbed my little buddy, wondering
how loud the thunder had been when it reached his tender
ears.

His tiny hand
pushed back against my skin as if he were reaching out to make sure
he wasn’t alone.

“It’s okay, little
guy, Momma is here for you,” I cooed. Trying to sound calm and
soothing when I was hurting and afraid myself.

“And so is Daddy,”
came a voice not far over my shoulder.

I didn’t mean to
jerk, but he honestly scared me. “Ow!” I was certain it didn’t
re-tear the weak muscle, but I did pull it too quickly and was
painfully reminded that it hadn’t been healed for very
long.

I felt his weight
come down on the bed, “Did you pull that muscle
again?”

I had a grimace on
my face as I rubbed it, “No, just moved it too
fast.”

He nuzzled into my
neck as his warm hand came around and rubbed it, “I’m sorry,
Annalisa.”

I wasn’t sure if
he was apologizing about scaring me or if this was about our
argument.

“You’re right,
baby—the guns have to go, but—”

“There can’t be
any buts to this, Micah.”

“It’s not that.
I’ll have to either give them to Dad or David, because of—of
ballistics.”

I rolled over to
look at him.

“They aren’t
registered, but they certainly match a lot of unsolved cases. If I
turned them into the police, I’m afraid they’d throw away the key
on me.”

“Do you really
mean it? You’re getting rid of all of them?”

“You’re right. I
always thought of them as one of my strengths, but I’m starting to
understand they’re part of a weakness inside me. I don’t want them
to come between us—nothing should come between us.
I
want
to keep my promises.”