To his happy amusement, and her displeasure, without the violence it seemed his physiological body had no interest in her. Just like the two different times he hired hookers when D’Angelo sent Leese running, he wasn’t aroused.
He wasn’t surprised when she opened her handbag and produced a bottle of Viagra.
“Somehow, I knew you were going to be difficult,” she cooed. “But that’s okay, handsome,” she continued, pushing him to seat himself on the couch. “I enjoy a challenge.”
She straddled his naked lap. The only thing she wore was a mid-thigh-length, thin t-shirt, and as soon as she seated herself, he realized she didn’t have any panties on.
She tried, unsuccessfully, to push the pill into his mouth.
“Don’t piss me off,” he threatened, roughly removing the pill from her slender fingers, and then throwing it across the room.
“What’s the matter Micah?” she tisked. “Do you need a little porn show to get you going? I could call Giovanni. He and Leese could—”
He grabbed her by the throat and picked her up, moving her body from being seated on him to beside him and pressed against the arm of the couch.
“You should have threatened me with your phone call routine first,” he hissed as he loomed above her. “If he’s not expecting your call in a certain number of minutes, then you have a problem.”
She was struggling under his powerful grip as she attempted to remove his hand to no avail. “I don’t need to, Micah,” she hoarsely choked. “I check in with him every day. What happens when I don’t call tomorrow? You have no idea where to find her, do you? If you did, I’d have been dead by now. Let me go; play my game or forget she ever existed.”
Even if Giovanni made Leese untraceable, he could never forget her nor stop searching. His grip softened.
“Now you can either remove my top and get into this, or you can take a pill and get into this, either way Gavarreen, I want everything you’ve got tonight—minus the bruises.”
He gripped the neckline of her tee and shredded it as his mouth descended to her breast.
Her lips parted as she inhaled deeply; normal breathing wouldn’t be easy tonight. She asked for her lover’s intensity, but receiving it caught her off guard.
~:~
“You seem a bit pre-occupied,” Sharon whispered as she reached over and allowed her fingers to trace his jaw line. She propped herself onto her elbow in the darkened bedroom and kissed his shoulder. “Don’t worry about her, Micah. Giovanni is fully under my command. He isn’t going to do something stupid to her unless I order it. And, as long as you do what I want then there won’t be any need to have him do anything. I am concerned about one thing though.”
“What?” he stated flatly. He honestly didn’t care about her concerns.
“If you need more time to get rid of Botachelli and arrange my entrance into your clan, I doubt Giovanni knows the first thing about how to deliver a baby.”
“You have to promise me, Sharon that you will let her go when this is over. Once you have command there won’t be any reason to hurt her or my son.”
“Oh,” she stated with genuine surprise, “it’s a boy? I didn’t know you knew that already. Actually I’m getting rather torn on this subject.”
“You said as long as I did what you wanted—”
“Yes, I did, and I fully intend to honor what I promised you. I just may have to hold something back out of the bargain.”
The low growl rolled up from his chest without warning, “Don’t cross me.”
“Cross you? No. I’m starting to think I’d like to keep you. You can be my underboss. I might even consider some type of co-boss arrangement. Your family will be safe, but you will stay with me.”
“I decline,” he replied as he stared at the ceiling.
“Why are you even attracted to her? You’ve been mafia your whole life, just like me. We don’t know any other world, Micah. You’re trying to fit into her orderly society and become something you’re not.”
She sat up on her knees and turned his face toward her, “You weren’t responsible for the original contract on her life, but everything that has fallen on that poor girl since is directly attributable to you—and you know it’s true.
“Even if you finish this job and walk away from me, how long will it be before something else happens? And, I don’t mean by me,” she added quickly. “You’d be doing her and your son the most unselfish favor of their lives by stepping out of the picture.”
She leaned down and put a slow kiss over his heart, her voice dropping into a throaty range, “I’ll make you comfortable, happy even if given the chance. We’re right together, and I think you’re starting to figure that out.”
His face was expressionless, but inside his heart was being ripped apart by her well thought-out lines. He kept telling himself that this is what she does. This is how she plays her game so well; she makes you see things her way—but what if she was right?
Once Robert had been jailed, he should have never returned to take Leese for himself. He could feel the anger inside as he considered how very selfish he had been to hurt Leese this way, all so that he could claim her. Had he stayed away, he was certain what would have happened. She would have gone on her date with Ryan. Ryan would have won her over, and she and he would both be happy and safe. At the rate he was going, he’d end up getting them both killed. Good people were going to pay for his desire to take what her pure heart had unselfishly offered him.
“I’m flying to New Orleans in a few hours. Botachelli will be dead in a day or two,” he whispered. “With him and your father out of the way, you can have what you want and she goes free.”
“But you are becoming what I want, Micah. If you know she’s absolutely safe, will you stay with me?” she begged, cuddling back down against his body, stroking his muscled arm, nibbling and kissing his shoulder, and allowing her groin to press firmly against his bare hip. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted something as much as I want you—not even being a Boss,” she finally admitted. “It’s like we were made for each other—absolutely perfect together. Come back to me and we’ll set her free together. I’ll have Giovanni take her to the nearest airport and let her go. She can rent a car or buy a plane ticket, but she’ll be alone and safe—permanently.”
“And if I refuse your offer to stay? What happens if I go back to her?”
“Then be happy until something else goes wrong and you end up blaming the only person who is truly responsible for all her pain. When Botachelli is dead, and providing you scare Rizzo enough for him to step out of my way. I want to meet and celebrate, Micah. Just the two of us—tell me if you’ll come back or if you’re just going to torture her for a little longer?”
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 informatio
n 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?
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