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  UNTRACEABLE

  (Book Three in the Untouchable Trilogy)

  by

  Lindsay Delagair

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2012 by Lindsay Delagair

  All rights reserved

  Published by Lindsay Delagair at Smashwords

  Smashwords Edition License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be reproduced, copied, sold or distributed. If you would like to share this book with another person, please direct them Smashwords.com and have them purchase their own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This ebook is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  This has to be dedicated to Micah and Leese’s fans

  (okay, Ryan’s fan’s too…lol). I wasn’t sure I would finish

  this book. I wrote half of it a year ago and then stopped.

  I loved their story, but (perhaps as many writers do)

  I became discouraged.

  Then something wonderful happened.

  Notes from fans started coming in for Untouchable,

  and then for Unforgivable. I realized I wasn’t

  the only one who cared about their love for each other.

  Thank you for your notes and words of encouragement

  —they mean more to me than you will ever know.

  The depth of true love is not discovered

  until we come to the point when we realize

  we are willing to go

  to whatever depth it takes us.

  Lindsay Delagair

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Editing Assistance: Jan Ayola,

  Bobbie Burtard, and Linda Elkin

  Italian language: Luigia Tella

  Weapons Assistance: Jim Johnson

  Prepublication Readers: Lori Francis,

  Monica Delesline, and Julie Tillett

  Fast forward

  The Aero was moving at tremendous speed, like the wind from a hurricane, as it wove around cars and trucks. No one who lived in the area had any doubts about the beautiful blonde behind the wheel. She was a Palm Beach native and excessively famous. She wore a perpetual smile when she was in the driver’s seat of that car, and who could blame her? If you could afford a half million dollar vehicle, you’d be smiling, too.

  A stretch of open interstate appeared and the Aero shot forward like its previous speed had been a Sunday drive. The interstate cameras clicked off shots, but the car was moving so fast that it wasn’t much more than a blur on the computer screen. The car quickly came up behind the next group of vehicles that appeared to be standing still when approached upon so rapidly. Fast lane, center lane, fast lane, center to far right lane, and back to the fast lane and she was around the grouping with barely a break in speed.

  One more vacant stretch of interstate was one more chance to let the car prove that what was under its hood was superior to anything that had ever burned across this driver cursed, multi-laned menace known as I-95. The radar detector was silent as the speed climbed well into the triple digits.

  Suddenly, the driver’s front tire exploded into fine shrapnel and the car began its violent tumble through the air; over and over as pieces of it flew hundreds of feet. Seventeen revolutions, and then it smashed into a stand of trees in the median. Good Samaritans were pulling over and running toward the wreckage, but they would never reach the trapped driver in time as a tremendous explosion went up like a fire-ball from the splitting of an atom. It was too late to save her; all that was left was to watch in horror as the car became an unrecognizable, molten mass.

  Photographers and reporters somehow managed to arrive on the scene even before the emergency crews and state troopers. The troopers dispatched someone immediately to her home before the news broke. There was only one Aero in Palm Beach; locating her family wasn’t going to be difficult, but telling them about the young, expectant mother’s last moments would be.

  REWIND

  CHAPTER one

  I reached in the darkness to feel for Micah’s arm, but it wasn’t there. I rolled to my back and let my hand slip across the smooth, cool sheet. He had been out of the bed for quite some time for the space he should have occupied to be so cold. “Micah?” I whispered, sitting up slowly. The muscle I’d pulled a few days earlier was tolerable, but I made sure to move carefully now. It was painful enough when I did it while trying to injure my best friend with a knee to his groin.

  I smiled in the darkness, considering that poor Ryan tended to get beat up by the women in his life. The problem was that he made women so comfortable around him they felt no compulsion to restrain themselves. This could lead to him getting everything from slugged to goosed, from kissed to slapped. He was just so dog-gone touchable—well, that and because he was very good natured about it all.

  I wiggled my toes into my bedroom slippers and then picked up my silk robe and wrapped it around my somewhat ill fitting baby doll nightwear. I really needed to go ahead and buy some maternity clothes. The baby seemed to expand my form with every passing day, and I couldn’t imagine what I would finally look like at nine months. My disturbed sleep had now disturbed the baby and I could feel him stretching inside me. That was another thing that increased with each passing day; the baby grew more and more active—it was the most unique sensation of my life, and I loved every push of the tiny hands, feet, knees, and elbows. I rubbed my tummy in response to the nudges and continued to search for my handsome husband.

  I went downstairs to the kitchen, but he wasn’t there, then the dining room, the living room, and media room. Where could he be? I checked the garage and found, to my relief, his car was there. But where was he? It finally dawned on me where he might be if he was having a restless night. I strained to see across the shadowy pool deck. A dark, hulking form resided on one of the loungers. I took in a big sigh of relief—I didn’t like him disappearing, even if only to another room in the house.

  My hand came to softly rest on his shoulder, but he never flinched. “You know I can’t sleep if you aren’t in the bed,” I whispered.

  “Sorry,” he stated lower than my whisper.

  I moved around the lounger to stand in front of him and lifted his heavy hands to rest under my open robe and top. As soon as his hands came in contact with my active flesh, he re-animated; life filled him and he was suddenly engrossed in the movement taking place within me.

  He lifted my top and placed his hot cheek against my skin. “Ah, little guy,” he crooned. “It’s way past your bedtime. I need to tuck your mommy in and help you both get some rest.” He kissed my stomach slowly, over and over.

  “Why did you get up?” I finally asked. “I thought I was your sleeping pill, too.”

  “Trust me, baby, you are,” he said, rising from the lounger and wrapping me in his arms.

  My cheek tucked against his chest as I listened to the beating of his heart. “What’s wrong? You didn’t get up without reason; something is bothering you.”

  “You need to go back to bed,” he dodged. “This baby is going to have his days and night so confused that—”

  “Tell me what’s wrong,” I begged. “I won’t be able to go back to sleep if I know you’re upset.”

  I could tell he didn’t want to talk about it, but he knew I’d never give up until I got an answer from him that satisfied my insatiable appetite for knowing his thoughts.

  “Tomorrow is what’s wrong, baby. I—I don’t think I should go to church with you in the morning.”

  “Why? We have a lot to be thankful for.”


  “It’s not that I’m not thankful, but I—I don’t… It’s what I’ve been doing since, I…” his voice had become thicker with each uttered word until the emotions strangled off the end of his sentence.

  I placed my hands on either side of his cheeks, letting my thumbs gently wipe away the pain-filled tears that washed down his face. “Micah, the day you went forward, if you meant it, all your sins were forgiven; that included the future. God knows everything about us, beginning to end.”

  “Leese, do you remember the first time you invited me to church?”

  “Of course I do. It was in French class, at the end of the period.”

  “Do you remember what I said?”

  “Yes, I even remember how you acted when I mentioned church, but you said it had been a long time since you’d been in church. I’m thinking now, given your—your, well, the way you were raised, it was probably a lie. Am I right?”

  “No, it wasn’t a lie, baby. When I was very young, we attended a Catholic church. I was about seven when we stopped going. It was the one time in my life that I knew there was a force in this world bigger than all of us, including my dad, and that was unsettling to me. But what had been an eye-opening to the existence of God for me was simply business for my parents. There were several members of the family who attended and deals were often made in quiet whispers right there on church grounds.”

  “What does this have to do with tomorrow?”

  “I remember asking my mother once as I watched people going in and out of the confessional booths what were they doing. She explained they were confessing to the priest the bad things they had done. I asked her if I could go inside one, and she told me no—she said our family was different and someday I would understand.”

  I could picture Micah as a little boy wondering about the practice of unburdening his soul only to discover that in his world he would simply learn not to let whatever he did get anywhere near his soul or even his conscience for that matter. He learned to be an empty vessel—empty like the look that washed away his emotions when he had to kill someone. I wanted so badly to turn back the clock and return to that place and time. To take that little boy who was still fresh and beautiful aside and tell him how much God really, truly loved him. I wanted to shelter him from the hell that would mold him several years later into becoming a methodical, mechanical, and heartless killer. But God doesn’t give us an opportunity to move backward, only forward. That was when I realized if he hadn’t been trained into becoming the untouchable Micah Gavarreen, he and I would have never met. God has an unusual way of working out the most impossible feats in our lives.

  “I need to—”

  His voice broke me from my deep thoughts. “Tell me what you need,” I begged, wanting nothing more than to end the discomfort he felt.

  “I need to confess. Baby, I’ve been so bad since you’ve been out of my life. I’ve got to talk to someone about…” his words choked again. “I’ve never, and I mean never, cared about the people I’ve killed and now it’s eating inside me so hard that I literally feel sick.”

  That was when I noticed he had begun to tremble softly; I knew this was serious for him. He had a lifetime of hurt to deal with and it was assaulting him all at once.

  “I guess I need to talk with Pastor Anderson.”

  My heart skipped a beat. The Baptist Church wasn’t the Catholic Church, and confessing to murder wasn’t something that would be kept in confidence—at least I was pretty sure it wouldn’t.

  “How many people, Micah? How many since we were apart?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “This confession is going to have to be between us, baby, because I don’t think it’s a good idea to tell—”

  “Twenty,” he said and fell silent.

  I swallowed, hard. I wasn’t prepared for the number. Eight months of separation and he had taken the lives of twenty people. I could envision Pastor Anderson’s face as Micah sits with him in the quiet church office and confesses to twenty murders since salvation. I was pretty certain law enforcement would be called.

  But my husband needed a release from the pain he was experiencing. His former empty, sleeping conscience was now vividly waking to the fact that his whole life had been wrong and wicked, whereas before he simply saw it as his job. Remorse was a new concept for him, and I could only pray that I could help him deal with what he was going through.

  “I’m going to become your confessional.”

  “But I don’t want you to know what I’ve done—it was hard enough just to tell you how many.” He was becoming more emotional by the minute, “You look at me differently from anyone who really knows me. You know me—and you love me anyway—that is just so unbelievable. Leese, I’m afraid if you get any closer to the real me, you’re going to want to run away—and you won’t need the kind of reasons D’Angelo gave you.”

  “No, Micah, no. It wouldn’t have mattered to me if he had shown me a file on every single person you’ve killed since the first one. He could have never torn me away from you with that knowledge. I love you, and that isn’t going to change. Please, baby, let me be the person you lean on. I want to be the one to help you, but avoiding church isn’t the solution.”

  “I just feel like I’m drowning—literally drowning, like I can’t take a breath. It started the minute you told me you forgave me for what I’d done to you, and it hasn’t let up. My only lapse was when I killed D’Angelo, and I honesty still don’t feel any remorse over ending his miserable life.” Micah gave a bitter laugh and turned away from me, “You want to know what the hell of it is?” Now I know I should feel remorse over even a bastard like him. It’s starting to drive me a little crazy.”

  “We’re going to talk with Pastor Anderson tomorrow, but we’re going to be very careful with what we tell him.”

  “Leese, I can’t lie to him. That would be just as bad as—”

  “No, I didn’t say lie.” Whether Micah realized it or not, he had just taken a huge step. I knew Micah could lie more smoothly than most people can tell the truth. “We just need to explain that you’re dealing with sin issues and ask what he thinks we should do to get you through this.” I went up on my tip-toes to be equal in height with him and kissed him very gently. “I’d like to go back to bed for a little while, but I need you. This baby is doing somersaults and I’m starting to get a little nauseous.”

  A smile finally broke across his face as he reapplied his hands to my stomach. The immediate warmth to my skin seemed to slow the baby’s actions. “You have no idea how much I love you, Annalisa. And I don’t mean it just because of this baby, but he has got to be the second most incredible thing in my life, next to you.”

  “Well, let’s get little Mister Incredible back to bed and hopefully he’ll be a good boy and settle down.”

  Micah scooped me up in his arms and started inside.

  “Baby, it’s a long way from the pool to our room. I can walk, you know. That pulled muscle makes me a little slow, but—”

  He ended my speech with a long kiss, “I like carrying you.”

  “But I’ve got to be heavy when you go up the stairs, Micah.”

  “I’ve carried body armor and weapons that weighed more than you up the side of a mountain, but that’s a confession for another time,” he said, nuzzling into my neck and continuing the walk.

  It was time for me to shut up, wrap my arms around his beautiful neck, and simply enjoy the moment.

  He placed me in our comfortable bed, but instead of allowing me to roll away from him, he had me roll toward him as he slid down and placed his cheek against my belly button. He began to hum a very deep base version of ‘Hush Little Baby.’ My little bundle became very still, and I could feel the vibrations on my skin as he literally hummed our son to sleep. I almost dozed off myself when I felt the tender kiss against my stomach and he quietly returned to face level. He kissed the tip of my nose, wrapped his arm over my shoulder, and told me goodnight.

 
When the sunlight came through the windows to shout its morning wakeup call, I was snuggled deep into his arms. I tucked my head down into the V created by him having one arm under me and one arm over me. It was almost dark enough to drift back to unconsciousness, but he inhaled and began to move. It didn’t matter anyway; I had to get up and go to the bathroom. I rolled to my side and slowly rose upright.

  “Potty run?” Micah teased.

  “You know it,” I laughed, but then I became serious, “Are you going to be okay today? I mean about talking with Pastor Anderson?”

  I glanced over at him. He was lying on his back with one arm tucked behind his head and the other resting midway across is bare upper body. His face was serene, but thoughtful. His eyes closed slowly as if he was falling back to sleep. “You know it’s a terrible thing,” he began, “to want so badly to get something off your chest, but at the same time not to let a soul on earth know what you’re going through.”

  “Always,” I began as I leaned over and placed a light kiss on his chest, “know I am the soul who has to know what you’re going through. We are one person, so don’t keep me in the—”

  His eyes flew open, “Ah, crap!”

  That wasn’t the response I expected, “What?”

  “Leese, you’re pregnant and I annulled the marriage in the end of August. We haven’t remarried and he’s gonna know we’ve been sleeping together.”

  “I still consider myself as married to you. Other than the pain those papers caused me, I pretty much dismissed their validity to—”

  “But they were valid.”

  “So remarry me. I’ve thought of myself as a Gavarreen this whole time, but I do want to be sure our son has your last name and not—not Robert’s.”