Untraceable (34 page)

He rolled her onto her back and pushed
her onto the silk pillows, his hand finding that familiar spot at
the base of her throat, but this time it was different. This time,
for the first time, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her
hard and deep. Breathless surprise was written across her face as
he pulled away, “I’ll be back and I’ll stay as long as you don’t
double cross me.”

Her eyes were huge and wet as she
shook her head no and gasped that she’d make sure Leese was
safe.

He rose from the bed, pulled on his
clothes and was gone.

CHAPTER twenty-six

Pascal Botachelli knew the plan. He
invited Jerry Martin to dinner in his home with the pretense that
he was finally going to approve one of Jerry’s friends, a Biloxi
hotel/casino owner, as a new associate. He didn’t normally bring
business home, but this was a special occasion. Micah assured
Botachelli that he would terrify and torture Jerry so thoroughly
that he would gladly tell all he knew about Sharon Moretti’s plans.
Once all confessions were made and the man begged at his feet,
Botachelli himself would put a bullet between Jerry Martin’s beady
little eyes.

There is an old saying that there is
no honor among thieves. To Botachelli, Jerry was a thief and there
would be no honor in the type of death he would receive. He stole
information and worked to undermine the Family. Although the mafia
is considered a criminal organization to the outside world, within
it they are a society of businesses. And, like all societies, they
have codes to be upheld. They dispense justice according to their
own determination of rights and wrongs.

Botachelli was judge and jury for
those in his Family. There would be no appeal process for Jerry. No
one with higher authority would intervene because no one else knew
his deeds had been discovered. Payment for his crimes would be
exacted immediately, and Jerry Martin’s remains would be nothing
more than fodder for sewer rats by the time the sun rose the next
morning.

With the exception of Rizzo, and Micah
who was hidden, the house was empty. Botachelli treated his wife,
Tanya, to an overnight spa package at the New Orleans Ritz Carlton,
and his house staff had been given the night off. No one needed to
see what would take place tonight.

Rizzo escorted Jerry to the dining
room, making small talk as they went. Jerry appeared confident, yet
his eyes betrayed his inner fears. His gaze darted constantly
toward every shadowed doorway and hall. When the double doors to
the dining room where opened, Botachelli had his chair turned
facing the bay window. He was smoking a cigar and watching the
moonlight reflecting off Lake Pontchartrain.

“
Hey Boss,” Jerry began,
“This is some pretty nice digs you got yourself.”

“
That damn accent of yours
must be hard to suppress,” Botachelli stated, slowly turning his
chair to face them. “Where did you say you were from
originally?”

“
Eh, Florida, Boss—but my
mother was from New Hampshire. Gave me a weird accent, I guess,” he
said, laughing just a little too readily and quick. “But I ain’t
tried to hide it, Boss. Not much anyway,” he added when
Botachelli’s expression didn’t change. “I mean maybe a little but
only ‘cause these southern boys don’t like Yankees. Right, Rizzo?”
he said, giving the man beside him a poke in the ribs. When Rizzo
didn’t smile, Jerry seemed to wilt.

“
When we first met, you
worked hard on your southern accent. You’re either getting
forgetful, Jerry, or else you’re getting careless.”

Jerry lost a bit of color as he
swallowed audibly.

“
I’m thinking that your
accent sounds more like someone who has worked a number of years
out of New Jersey—say perhaps, Atlantic City as a weasel for the
Moretti Clan?”

“
Nope,” he stated quickly.
“I don’t know her and I don’t want to know her.”

“
Who?” Botachelli asked
with the first registration of a smile on his face.

He realized he’d slipped, “That—that
lady who runs that Family. Sh—Sharon Moretti, or something like
that.”

“
Hmm,” Botachelli murmured
as he put his cigar out in the ashtray, “something like
that.”

Micah stepped from the darkened
kitchen hallway and into the lighted room.

“
I’d like you to meet
someone, Jerry.”

But the look on Jerry’s face showed
instant recognition—and instant panic—he knew exactly who was
standing less than a dozen feet away.

There were few soldiers in the
Families that earned the kind of reputation that Micah Gavarreen
had earned. He and his brother were considered the elite team—a
‘feather in the cap’ so to speak for Botachelli’s
Family.

“
No. No. No. Boss, I don’t
know what this guy’s been telling you, but it ain’t true! It ain’t
true!” he blurted sounding as if he was on the verge of
whimpering.

Micah drew one of his guns and began
to advance, but with no more emotion in his face than a man about
to smash a cockroach under his shoe.

Jerry Martin pissed all over
himself.

Rizzo pulled a chair away from the
table.

“
Sit,” came Micah’s one
word command.

Jerry complied, but continued to
babble that he hadn’t done anything wrong. Micah reached into his
pocket and tossed handcuffs to Rizzo. “Secure his hands while I
blindfold him.”

Rizzo wasn’t accustom to taking orders
from a soldier, but he hated Jerry sufficiently that it was a
pleasure to take part in whatever Micah had up his sleeve—or at
least so he thought.

When Rizzo knelt down and secured
Jerry’s hands, he felt a stabbing burn in his neck as Micah’s
weight descended, knocking him to the floor. The last thing he was
conscious of was Botachelli shouting, ‘What the hell are you
doing?!” and then seeing the empty hypodermic roll across the
floor. The room faded to black.

When Rizzo came to, he was also tied
to a chair. Micah was in front of him, slapping his face and
telling him to wake up. He was still groggy as he tried to focus on
the helter-skelter scene before his eyes. A large and dark bloody
pile of liver was splayed on the dining room table. Blood was
splattered across the floor, and Botachelli’s chair was tipped on
its side with a hole blown through the back. Pascal Botachelli’s
body was at the far end of the room wrapped in a blood-soaked
sheet.

Jerry was still tied, but Micah had
recently removed his blindfold.

The putrid aroma of vomit stung
Rizzo’s nose. That was when he realized Jerry was covered in puke.
“Wh—what the hell did you do? I’ll have you shot! I’ll—” Rizzo
began as his brain cleared.

“
No you won’t,” Micah
calmly stated, placing his Glock against Rizzo’s chest and racking
the slide. “You’re going to pay careful attention so you never end
up in this situation again, do you understand me?”

Rizzo nodded.

“
Sharon Moretti is taking
command of this Family.”

“
You’ll die for this
Gavarreen,” he stated, his bravery rekindling. “Your whole damn
family.”

Micah’s face was
expressionless as he drew closer to Rizzo, “First thing you need to
know is my family has no idea what I’m doing. If you hold them
responsible and
any
harm comes to them, I’ll make your death so slow you’ll have
time to watch flies lay maggots on your dismembered body parts, and
then watch the maggots turn to flies.

“
You have a choice. You
can either tell Sharon you’ll help with the transition, or you can
tell her you’re taking Botachelli’s place. But know this: if you
tell her you’re taking command, she’ll send me back to kill
you.”

Rizzo swallowed.

“
These Families can come
together or they can come apart—in pieces. I left Vitale Moretti’s
heart on a bedroom door and Botachelli’s liver on the table. If she
gives me your name, I’ll find you—guards and soldiers won’t matter;
I’ll get to you. And when I do, I’m going to bring my saw and carve
a ring around the top of your head. They say the brain doesn’t have
much feeling, Rizzo. But I wonder what you’re going to experience
when I pull off your cranial cap while you’re still breathing, and
then reach in with both my hands and very slowly pull out your gray
matter and leave it sitting in your lap?

“
You could save us both a
little time by telling me now if you’re going to refuse to work
with her. Hell, I’ll even make it painless for you and just remove
your brains with my Glock—it’s up to you.”

Rizzo appeared to have a mouthful of
cotton as he tried to come up with a response; sweat had beaded on
his forehead and his color paled.

“
I guess you’re choosing
the latter,” he stated as he pressed his Glock to Rizzo’s
temple.

Jerry squeezed his eyes tightly closed
so he wouldn’t witness what was about to happen.

“
I’ll—I’ll work with her,”
Rizzo finally managed to say.

Micah lowered his gun, “Make sure you
don’t forget what you promised—or I will be back.” He turned his
attention to Jerry, “Make sure you tell Sharon about his
willingness to help her. If you forget and she kills him, then I’ll
kill you.”

“
No—no sir, Mr. Gavarreen.
I—I won’t forget. I’ll tell her Rizzo will help.”

“
Good.” Micah holstered
his gun and walked across the room, grabbing a double handful of
blood-soaked sheet, he drug the body out of the house.

Rizzo and Jerry would have a lot of
time to talk things over before Tanya Botachelli found them the
next morning.

~:~

Micah had completed Sharon’s final
request and he could only hope that he’d scared Rizzo sufficiently
to keep him cooperative. If he changed his mind and decided to
rally their Family against the merge, there could be bloodshed, and
everything he’d worked so hard to accomplish would be
ruined.

He had come to actually dislike all
the blood—strange for someone whose prior life seemed to keep him
splattered in it. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d washed
it off his skin with no more consideration or thought than a child
washing dirt from his hands after playing outside. Now, as he stood
in the bathroom of the small warehouse watching the red run down
the drain, he disliked everything about it from the iron aroma to
the unique stickiness, and the way it colored the soap as he
lathered and rinsed his hands. These last two weeks felt as if he
had been so saturated in it that no matter how much he washed his
hands or showered, it was still there, still reminding him of his
violent past.

He was drying his hands when he felt
his cell begin to vibrate. He lifted it from his pocket. Ryan was
right on time.

“
Are you there?” came
Micah’s question.

“
Yeah. How long before you
get here?”

“
I should be there in
twenty minutes. Are you on the southern end by the dirt
road?”

“
Yeah, I just hope no one
drives out here and sees me. You know this place is freaking creepy
at night,” he added, “and that strip was a bitch to see with only a
quarter moon.”

Micah finally smiled since his long
night began. Ryan was a great pilot, even though Micah would never
speak up and tell him to his face. “I know. Keep your lights off,
but don’t worry, nobody goes out there anymore, and certainly not
at this time of the night.”

“
Hell, I haven’t had
lights on since I hit Louisiana airspace! Hurry up.”

Micah closed his phone and then
climbed inside the van and drove out of the warehouse. He’d be out
of Louisiana shortly and the only thing left to do would be to pray
that his plan would work and Leese would soon be safe.

CHAPTER twenty-seven

Trent unlocked the gate and pulled it
open as Jeanie drove the truck and trailer inside. He was studying
the ground. There had been quite a bit of traffic through the
entrance. He found that a little difficult to understand since he
knew it had only been a few weeks since Leese had been killed in
that horrible car accident. Surely, Micah was planning to sell this
place, but who had been here?

He jumped into the passenger’s side
and allowed Jeanie to drive to the boat launch.

“
Now whose truck and
trailer do you suppose that is?” he said as they pulled up to the
lake.

“
Don’t know, but I can see
their boat on the other side,” Jeanie replied, pointing to the
airboat on the opposite shore. “You don’t think someone is stealing
stuff from that house, do you?”

“
Hmm, sit tight. I’m going
to go take a look at their vehicle.”

He returned after a few minutes from
peeking in the SUV’s windows. “It looks like a rental; there is
some paperwork from Enterprise between the seats. But I swear it’s
been here at least overnight, maybe longer.”

“
Why?”

“
The hood is perfectly
cold and the tire tracks and shoe prints have leaves over them and
they look like the dew has fallen and dried on them.”