Untraceable

by Lindsay Delagair

  CHAPTER thirty-nine

  Micah was seated on the sofa as he listened to Vitale continue to beg for Sharon’s life. Caprizio seemed more irritated than moved by the older man’s requests, but since their families had been friends for many years, he permitted him to continue. Giovanni had just finished taking a shower and was slipping into his button up shirt over a cotton tank as he re-entered the room.

  When they heard the sound of the truck cranking, everyone experienced a momentary pause of frozen shock. Micah, David, and Giovanni were the first to snap out of it and run for the door, followed by another one of Caprizio’s soldiers, Caprizio himself, Botachelli, and Vitale.

  All Micah could think, as he watched the truck and a Camaro leaving at a high rate of speed, was how did they get past the men who were posted? But he didn’t have time to worry about it, he needed to catch them.

  He heard David yell, and he looked up just in time to see his coil gun being thrown at him. He snatched it from the air and opened the door to the 300. Jonathan had the keys, but he put them in Micah’s hand, and then quickly moved into the backseat. Caprizio was going for the passenger’s side, and (to his surprise) Botachelli and Vitale were also getting into the backseat. He certainly did not like the idea of having mafia’s elite top brass involved in a car chase and possible gun battle, but with David armed with both Glocks and a coil gun, Caprizio’s soldier, Eddie, wearing a pair of Walther’s, and Giovanni… Micah paused for a glance in the rearview. Giovanni had just come from the shower and had been in the process of dressing—he was unarmed. Damn, Micah thought, but he knew as fast as everything happened there had been no time for Giovanni to run to the back bedroom and grab his harness.

  He watched the driver of the Camaro take out the first car, but he couldn’t understand why the men didn’t open fire; even Caprizio was asking why the hell didn’t they shoot? The second car with his men fared no better against the skilled driver. Whoever this was had to be a top wheelman for the mob.

  When David blew past him, he was certain the Camaro was going to meet its match; David was one hell of an aggressive driver. He was stunned as he watched the auto-ballet taking place between the two cars—David couldn’t get in a hit, but perhaps he’d get in a shot. He saw the intersection coming up and watched the other driver dance through the cars like some kind of freaking ghost, causing a pile-up in the worst possible place. David would have done the same if it hadn’t been for an unskilled driver plowing into the BMW. He hated the idea of leaving David behind, but he hated it more because the only weapon he possessed now was a coil gun with eight rounds.

  Suddenly the Camaro slowed. Caprizio himself grabbed the coil gun and prepared to shoot the first person he saw when an amazing thing happened. The Camaro’s driver hit the brakes and began to spin around. Micah realized two things: the car was going to slide sideways through an opening which Micah was approaching too fast to make, and he instantly knew who his opponent would be—his wife!

  He got out the words, “Don’t shoot!” just as the car drifted through the barriers and he saw Annalisa’s face. Her expression was intent. Just before she hit the gas, he saw Sharon and another man in the backseat.

  “That’s my damn daughter!” Caprizio snapped as he recognized the driver.

  “Sharon has her,” Micah uttered as he began to think about the direction the truck had been heading. If Leese was running interference for the truck, perhaps she’d influenced Sharon about where to take it—the dolomite pit! There was a road at the end of the beach that should take less time, if Micah could get through the traffic. Thankfully, there were no cops to stop the speeding, black 300—they were all headed to a multicar pile up at the last intersection!

  “Turn around!” Caprizio barked.

  “No, sir. I think I know where they’re headed, and I’ll never catch her if I turn around now. There is another road we can take,” he said, increasing his speed.

  “Who the hell taught a woman to drive like that?” Botachelli asked.

  “A guy named Tony Dix,” Micah began to explain when Caprizio cut him off.

  “No—she thought that was his name. I may not have been visible to my daughter, but I had enough people in her world to keep her safe. It was Antonino Diccionni.”

  That immediately explained everything Micah had ever wondered about Annalisa’s skill behind the wheel; Antonino Diccionni was a legend in the mafia as the best wheelman of all time. No wonder she drove like a bat out of hell!

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Even though by this point, Ryan had one hell of a lead on me, with all this horsepower, I guessed I could catch him. I could hear Allen in the backseat still repeating over and over how amazing my maneuver had been—and I could hear Sharon telling him to shut up! For the first time since this began, I smiled.

  Even though I don’t think she liked the distance we were traveling before Ryan turned off, she didn’t try to stop him. If the overgrown, wide shell drive had obvious fresh tire tracks when Ryan pulled in, I hoped they would be unnoticed by Sharon’s men; Ryan, I knew, would wisely follow any such tracks to where they ended. He stopped about twenty feet before the unusually deep green waters of the abandoned pit and got out. Sharon’s men had pulled up on either side and were exiting their vehicles. There were eight of them, all armed and formidable.

  Ryan was standing just outside the driver’s door to the truck. I ran immediately to his side and slipped my arms around him.

  He hugged me tight and whispered, “You did good, baby girl—it’s out of our hands.”

  Then he whispered one final thing that made me feel faint.

  “He’s not here.”

  I wasn’t sure if Micah didn’t figure it out, or if something happened along the way but all I knew was that we were in deep trouble.

  A man grabbed Ryan’s arm and pushed us toward the back of the truck.

  “I want to see it,” she ordered.

  The trunk to one of the cars was opened and a pair of bolt cutters and a crowbar was produced. The lock was removed and the door went up; there sat two large crated pallets marked as 100% pure Columbian coffee.

  “Open the crate. I need to be sure it’s in there.”

  The man pried the end off and let it fall. The packages inside were definitely not coffee.

  “Pop your trunks, boys,” she said, “I think we can fit five thousand kilos in three cars and then we’ll sink the truck.”

  “What do you want to do with them?” Allen asked.

  She studied us briefly, “I still need her,” she said, and then gave a deprived look at Ryan. “But I’m afraid I have no further use for you, handsome.”

  “No!” I cried as the two nearest men jerked us apart.

  “Once the truck is empty,” she added with a heinous smile. “Put him in the back and lock the door down—he can drown.”

  “Why?” I yelled at her. “He did what you asked? I don’t understand why you want to hurt him.”

  “Because, Annalisa—darling,” she crooned in her mordant, honey-sick tone, “he means something to you. You can bear that pain for the rest of your life knowing you were the reason he died. I bet it’s going to really hurt to lose someone so precious to you, isn’t it?”

  There was no way I was going to give that bitch any satisfaction! Ryan and I would most likely die, but I would make sure I damaged her where it would hurt the most—in her wallet. The man holding me never expected to find my knee plowing into his balls—matter of fact, I don’t think he expected anything out of me. I knew I couldn’t get his guns unstrapped quickly enough, but I wouldn’t have been a match for those men anyway. What I was after was the driver’s seat of that truck—no one was fast enough to stop me.

  It happened so quickly, but time seemed to move in slow motion as I made it into the driver’s seat and twisted the jimmied ignition lock. The truck cranked just as one man’s arm was reaching inside to grab me. I bit down on his exposed wrist so hard that he screamed out in pain and fell away. I slam
med the shifter into first gear and dumped the clutch. The next thing I saw was lots of green—that pit was freaking deep!

  The driver’s door had been open and the window was down, but the forward motion had slammed it shut. The force of the water flooding in from the window prevented me from getting out, and the heavy engine was pulling the truck’s nose down rapidly.

  I was trying hard not to panic.

  I could do this if I just didn’t freak out. As soon as the cab was completely flooded, I was able to swim out the open window. I could feel the suction as the truck sank beside me into the abyss below. When my head cleared, I felt strong arms helping me swim to shore—it was Ryan.

  Sharon was standing on the bank, her face riddled in disbelief as she watched the crates, which initially floated out the open door to the surface, begin to sink. The drugs were absorbing water. The kilos were wrapped in plastic, but evidently they weren’t water-tight. Ninety million dollars of her revenue simply disappeared.

  “Kill them both!” she roared.

  We had just gotten out of the water when I heard a strange noise and observed her men falling to the ground in apparent seizures.

  That’s when I saw a frighteningly beautiful sight.

  Micah was there; blank, emotionless, and fearless, as he dropped the armed men. They attempted to draw on him, but he was just too fast. Jonathan was to his left, and I could make out three men behind them. The two men closest to Ryan and I, dove toward us, apparently thinking to either grab us as shields or hostages. Dirt sprayed up into my face as a large cartridge plowed into the ground, narrowly missing the shoulder of the man who was reaching for me. Just as his hand touched me, a second cartridge imbedded into his upper arm, blood immediately soaking through his shirt. I felt a strong tingle from his hand, but he was already rolling away from me on the ground and convulsing into unconsciousness. The man going after Ryan, took a cartridge to the chest and stumbled and fell backwards into the water.

  Someone was shouting stop, but I wasn’t paying attention as Ryan dove in for the sinking man. No matter what had just happened to us, he couldn’t let the man drown. I helped him pull the cretin onto the bank.

  Vitale Moretti was the man who was shouting. Allen and Sharon were the last two remaining upright. Allen had been preparing to draw and fire at Micah until he saw Vitale. Micah’s barrel was pointed at Allen when everything stopped.

  Allen immediately dropped his weapon and simply asked in wonder, “Boss?”

  Sharon was frozen motionless with shock, her face devoid of color, and her mouth was ajar, but silent.

  Micah lowered his weapon as shock number two stepped around his right side; my father and Botachelli appeared. Shock number three was when my father started talking—she now knew who this mystery man was: Leonard Caprizio, the Capo dei Capi.

  “You greedy, stupid bitch,” my father said. “You couldn’t be happy with what you had? You had position and power. What you tried to do to your father and Botachelli is unforgivable. But,” he added as he looked at Vitale and saw the distress on his face. “Your father has asked that instead of taking your life, I strip you of all power and association with the Family. For his sake, my decision has been made. You are leaving this country. If you ever,” he emphasized, “come back to the United States, you will die. Do you understand me?”

  I wasn’t sure, but it appeared that she wasn’t looking at my father. Her eyes seemed to be fixed on Micah. She burst into tears, crumpling to the ground—only to come up with Allen’s gun—and that gun was aimed for Micah’s heart.

  I screamed and lunged, but I was too far away. I heard the blast and watched the fire leave the barrel as Allen dropped on to her to take the gun away. The sound of a body falling to the ground made me afraid to turn my head, but I had to know if she had just ended my world.

  My father’s back was to me blocking my view as the men gathered around the man on the ground. I don’t know where the strength came from but my weak legs suddenly firmed under me as I ran toward the group. Ryan was shouting, ‘No,’ but I couldn’t stop. I wasn’t prepared for what I’d see.

  Jonathan was on the ground, his eyes wide open, blood splattered across his chest from a hole in his shirt. He was struggling to breathe.

  Micah was kneeling beside him; huge tears forming on his lower lashes when he saw me. “He—he stepped right in front of me,” came his choked words that were filled with astonishment.

  “Giovanni!” I cried out, calling him by his real name for the first time, as I dropped down and lifted his hand into mine.

  “No,” he uttered and then corrected me, “Jonathan.”

  Hold on, Jonathan, we’ll get an ambulance. We’ll—”

  He gave a faint shake of his head to tell me no.

  “You were right,” he whispered. “I did find something worth leaving the mafia for. I could not allow her,” he paused squeezing my hand tightly as he tried to get another breath, “to take away someone you love.”

  Micah took Jonathan’s other hand. He couldn’t speak, but he didn’t have to as the two men stared briefly at each other.

  I leaned down and kissed his cheek as I became hysterical, telling him to hold on, telling him it would be okay, he would make it, but in that moment I knew it wasn’t true. His eyes squeezed shut in pain; he didn’t attempt to take the next breath. His grip on my hand relaxed—Jonathan was gone.

  My father rose quickly and stalked to where Allen was holding Sharon on the ground. I watched him pick up the gun and put it to her temple. Vitale was in the background begging for mercy for his daughter.

  “Dad,” I cried out.

  He paused and turned toward me.

  “Please—I can’t take anymore murder!”

  “He was like a son to me,” he said, sounding as if he was about to lose his grip on his cold emptiness.

  “And she’s his daughter,” I stated, pointing to the tearful man who was now beside me. “You made your decision. Send her away,” I said, barely able to get the words out of my emotion-restricted throat. “No more killing—please, no more killing.”

  He turned back to Sharon. With one hand on her throat, he pushed her head against the ground using the barrel of the gun.

  I felt Micah’s arms surrounding me, turning my face toward him, and drawing me against his chest. I don’t think he wanted me to see what was going to happen. I heard the gun go off, and Vitale’s cry.

  But then I heard something else.

  “That is what you should have received,” came my father’s voice. “You owe my daughter your life. Get her out of my sight and out of my country!”

  He had fired a shot into the ground.

  The nightmare was over.

  chapter forty-one

  The next several days were a mixture of joy and sorrow. I had my husband, my son, and my best friend, but I had lost a friend along the way. My father said he still had some decisions to make about my family, but he would need to take care of Jonathan’s arrangements. He said he wanted us all to return with him to New York. Ryan politely asked if he could go home instead—he’d been away from Candace for too long. My father agreed. The rest of us went to New York.

  Jonathan’s body would be sent home to Italy. There wasn’t a service to be held here in the states, but we spent an hour in quiet reflection and prayer beside his coffin before they placed him on the plane. His family asked for privacy for his burial, so this was as far as we could accompany him.

  We returned with my dad to his home on Long Island. Once Kimmy was being entertained with a Disney movie, and Joshua was sound asleep, my father called us into his den and closed the door.

  He began with David as he looked at him with a steady, serious gaze. “I’m giving you an opportunity,” he stated. “I’ll make you an underboss and eventually a boss if you’ll give up Nadia.”

  It was a surprising request, and I could tell Mom wanted to voice her desires in this matter, but I knew what she was doing. Sacrifice is a thing best done in
love; she loved David enough to let him go if this position was something he wanted. It would be a position of great power, certain to make his father extremely proud, but would he choose it over the woman that he loved? I could see Mom was weak but willing, and even though he was looking at her, she wouldn’t speak. She wouldn’t impede his heart’s desire.

  “I’m honored that you would select me for that type of position. I’ve never known any other life than the mafia and being an underboss is something I’ve wanted for a long time, but I’m in love with Nadia. She doesn’t need a husband in the mob; she needs a husband who will always be there for her. She needs someone who’ll always take care of her—and I intend to be that man. So, with respect, I decline and ask that you allow me to step out of the Family.”

  The relief and love washed so completely over her that she didn’t need words.

  But, could my father accept David’s decision?

  “Nadia, I didn’t want to leave you,” he admitted. “Your father asked me if I was prepared to make you a mob wife and sentence our child to a mob life. I couldn’t do that to you, but I also couldn’t do what David is willing to do for you now. I wasn’t prepared to give up the life I was raised in to keep you, so I let you go—both of you,” he said, looking to me.

  “Had I been able to see in the future and know that you’d both end up with mafia soldiers, I would have changed my mind—I still can’t believe that you both ended up tangled in the mob!” He sighed, but continued, “I want to know right now, if you love this man? Or, do you want to have another chance with me? I come as a package deal—you get the mob, too. I’ve loved you for twenty years, but I’ve never interfered with your life. Well,” he corrected, “not too much. Make a choice, right now, between us. I’ll respect whatever you decide.”