Sworn to Secrecy

By Bill Bitetti

Following a four-year stint in the Army Rangers, Mario Amato returns home to discover that nothing has changed, until Tom Hanley, the childhood friend he left behind, persuades Mario to join him in attending the University of Miami. Amidst the glitter and glitz of one of South Florida's most trendy and exciting cities, Mario falls in love with Julia Hernandez, a rich beautiful co-ed, who happens to be the daughter of Pedro Hernandez, the Prosecutor General of Columbia.

However, when Julia's kidnapped by someone working for the Palmeri drug cartel, for the purpose of blackmailing her father, Mario and Tom travel to the jungles of Columbia in a foolhardy attempt to rescue her.

What happens next, changes their lives forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bill Bitetti
• Release date: Apr 15, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301729128

Bill Bitetti

Bill Bitetti earned a Bachelor of Arts degree from William Paterson University in Wayne, New Jersey. Soon thereafter he traveled extensively throughout Europe earning a living as a professional model and actor. Upon returning to the states, he started his first business with only five hundred dollars. Some time later, he moved to Florida to publish a singles magazine. He has gone onto become a prosperous entrepreneur, buying and selling numerous businesses and commercial properties. His hobbies include gardening, art collecting, traveling, remodeling old homes, hiking, writing poetry, and alternative medicine. Currently, he owns a successful land development company in Florida and North Carolina. Additionally, he operates a franchise of National Tenant Network. NTN happens to be the largest privately owned and operated tenant screening company in the world with franchises in the United States and Canada. He has written related articles which have appeared in Condo management Magazine and various Florida newspapers since he purchased the franchise in 1987. He lives with his Norwegian wife, Ingrid, her two daughters, and their harlequin Great dane, Moses, in a dream house he built on five acres in a gated community atop a hillock in a bucolic setting in Northern Florida.

Book preview

Prologue

July 13, 1988

Mario Amato’s eyes darted back and forth, searching the tall grass for snakes. His shirt stuck to his back like wet tissue. He unbuttoned itand let it fall over his pants, revealing a rippled stomach and muscular chest. Tom Hanley walked behind him with an uncertain gait, his curly blond hair falling in front of his baby blue eyes. Tom’s shorts hung low, making him appear short-legged, though he was the taller of the two.

Together, they entered the woods beyond the empty lot.

Let’s stay out all night, Tom said with a half-hearted grin.

Mario looked back at Tom with an endearingly comical face, and chuckled, Your mother would call out the National Guard.

You’re lucky, Tom said, throwing his hands out in front of him.

Why?

You get to do whatever you want.

What do you know?

Tom grabbed Mario’s arm from behind. At fifteen you’re already in control.

What’s so great about having a mother who doesn’t care?"

Like I said, you get to do whatever you want.

Mario shook off Tom’s hand, avoiding his probing eyes, and said with a sneer, You don’t understand.

Tom frowned, then blurted out, Last night I dreamt we hopped a freight train.

Mario stopped, twisted his head around, and studied Tom’s face with a penetrating stare.

To Colorado, Tom said, with a faraway look in his eyes.

I was thinking the same thing.

Tom arched his eyebrows. Yeah?

Yesterday, I sat in the grass and watched the train pass, Mario said in a giddy voice, and thought what would happen if we jumped on?

Let’s do it.

I don’t have any money.

Whatta ya chicken?

Who, me? Mario asked in an angry voice. He pressed his lips into a thin gray line. He hated it when Tom called him chicken.

A bizarre smile snaked across Tom’s face. We can sleep outside.

Mario turned and started to run down the narrow path, every step sure and fast like a gazelle.

Tom followed him down the hill with long strides and a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

Mario slowed to a walk when he reached the railroad tracks, turned his head and loudly threw his words over his shoulder, How much money do you have?

Tom struggled to speak, gasping for breath, Two bucks.

Mario thrust his hands into his pockets. l got three bucks and change.

Shit.

That won’t get us far.

Tom shrugged, We could find work.

Mario chuckled. Where?

I don’t know. Anywhere.

We’re too young, Mario said, craning his neck to look for the train.

Nonplused, Tom scratched his head, then placed his hands on his hips.

My mother wants to plan my life.

Mario pointed to the approaching train. Here it comes.

Tom glared at it with a devilish grin. Let’s play chicken.

A rush of reckless bravado propelled Mario forward as he stepped into the middle of the tracks, and placed his hands above his eyes to block out the sun’s glare.

Tom jumped in front of him, shouting, I’m not moving.

What? Mario strained to hear him above the roar. Suddenly, he got a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, remembering the last time he and Tom faced off an oncoming train. Why had he let Tom talk him into coming here?

Tom folded his arms and breathed deeply, pushing out his sunken chest. He fixed his dreamy eyes on the train with a steadfast gaze.

The conductor stuck his head out the window, and the train’s booming whistle echoed through the valley.

Mario grabbed Tom’s arm and tried to pull him off the tracks, screaming, Come on. Get off.

Tom stood his ground, his legs firmly planted between the tracks.

Mario jumped out in front of Tom and was aghast when he saw the pacific look in Tom’s eyes.

By now the train’s engine sounded like thunder in Mario’s ears. A chill ran up his spine. He threw his arms around Tom’s waist and pushed with all his might, and they both fell onto the crushed stone outside the steel rails. It felt like needles digging into his flesh.

After rolling over several times, Mario landed on top of Tom. He clutched to the roots of the grass. Tucking his head down, he tried to hide from the earsplitting scream of steel against steel.

When the train’s roar finally faded, he raised himself up and glared at Tom.

What the hell’s wrong with you?

Why did you stop me?

Are you crazy, Mario ranted, pushing himself up.

It’s the only way

Mario pointed his finger in Tom’s face. You almost got us killed.

I’m not afraid, Tom said coolly.

I’m never coming here with you ever again, Mario said, staring intently into Tom’s eyes. He was always amazed by how Tom‘s choirboy face belied his penchant to do the strangest things.

It would have been over by now.

You want to die? Mario asked, through gritted teeth.

Tom nodded with a blank stare.

Snap out of it, will you?

Tom went silent for a moment, then shrugged and said, It’s almost funny.

Mario brushed himself off. What’s so funny about killing yourself?

I’d never have to hear her nagging again.

If you hate your mother so much why don’t you bring her out here and tie her to the tracks?

Tom dropped his eyes and turned away.

The ensuing silence seemed to resonate in Mario’s ears. It frightened him to think of what would have happened if he hadn’t been there to save Tom.

And with an incredulous look on his face, he turned and walked away.

Chapter 1

The pledges rolled on the beer-soaked floor, barking and howling, while a house full of drunken, jeering fraternity brothers jostled to get a closer look.

Mario studied Tom’s strained face. He couldn’t help think how different Tom looked last April. After returning home for the first time in four years, he’d heard from a mutual friend that Tom had been in and out of various psychiatric hospitals. Nonetheless, he had found Tom in good spirits, with plans to attend the University of Miami in the fall. It hadn’t taken long for Tom to convince him to send in an application. After Mario had been accepted, they’d spent every day together. It had been like old times.

However, after moving to Miami Tom began to feel lonely and depressed. Against Mario’s advice, Tom decided to join a fraternity. A week later, Mario also became a pledge for the same fraternity with the sole purpose of keeping a watchful eye on Tom.

OK dogs, get up, the fraternity president, Carlos Janez shouted, waving his arms high above his head, and dance.

Mario got up alongside the other pledges and began moving his body in a slow jerky motion. He couldn’t understand Carlos’ popularity, given his scabrous personality. He had the urge to sink his fist into Carlos’ ugly face.

Soon the pledges were waving their arms and laughing, mimicking Carlos.

I feel like a dancing bear, Tom grumbled, stumbling around the floor.

Mario examined Tom’s face. You drunk?

Tom’s legs wobbled. He pressed his hand against his lips to stifle a belch, then groaned, I feel awful.

Suddenly, Carlos stood perfectly still, casting his brooding dark eyes on the group of pledges standing in front of him. And with a dictatorial wave of his hand, he motioned to the fraternity brothers to circle the two dozen pledges, so he could lead them in reciting the oath of secrecy.

Next, he told them to strip to their briefs, while the rest of the fraternity stood in line waiting to paddle them.

Afterwards, the pledges dressed and paired off. One was told to act like a chicken, and the other a worm. This charade went on for some time egged on by the jeers of the ribald crowd.

When they finally stopped, Tom’s eyes were glazed over, and he was short of breath.

Come on, Tom, let’s go outside. Mario placed a supporting arm around Tom’s waist in an attempt to steady him. You need some fresh air.

All of a sudden someone jumped Mario from behind and wrapped a blindfold over his eyes, while several other fraternity brothers bullied him across the room toward the stairway.

Halfway up the stairs he heard a loud thud. He stopped, turned around, and called out, Tom, are you alright?

Keep moving, worm. Or I’ll step on you, Jimmy Dupree shouted, digging his knuckles into Mario’s back.

When they reached the second floor Mario heard a door swing open.

Get in, Jimmy shouted, shoving Mario through the doorway.

Mario took a few steps, then stopped.

Jimmy smacked him hard across the face, then laughed as Mario blindly attempted to wipe the blood from his mouth.

Straight ahead, Pretty Boy.

Screw you, Mario shouted with a vengeance.

Jimmy shoved Mario to the center of the room. We’ll see if you’re man enough for Phi Beta Philos.

Mario fought to keep his balance, but someone tripped him and fell to his knees.

Jimmy turned back to face the others, and snickered, Look, he’s already on his knees.

Mario jumped up, ripped off his blindfold and glared at them.

John Walker picked up the blindfold and tried to put it over Mario’s eyes.

Mario slapped it from his hand, and stared him down.

Hey, the worm thinks he’s a lion, John shouted with a sardonic grin.

We’ll see about that, Jimmy said in a threatening tone.

And they all formed a circle around him.

What makes you think you’re good enough to be one of us? Ben Crocker yelled out, standing alongside John. The grimace on his fleshy face, along with his bulging mustang eyes made him look grotesque, almost like a caricature of himself.

Get on your stomach, Ben commanded.

Mario looked him in the eyes, and said in a gravelly voice, Fuck you.

Kiss the floor, Jimmy said in a low rumble.

How about you and me, Fat Boy? Mario’s eyes locked with Jimmy’s.

Don’t threaten me, dirt bag.

Your sadistic rituals make me sick.

Hit the floor, Ben screamed.

By the time hell week’s over you’ll wish you were dead, John quipped.

Come on, Mario grunted, crouched in a fighting stance, staring into the eyes of his tormentors.

You heard the man, get down, or we’ll kick your ass big time, Jimmy yelled.

I’ll take you all on, Mario growled.

Calm down, Mario, Andy Tarello said, his restless eyes darting around the room.

So these are the great guys you told me about, Mario said, mockingly. He felt an explosion of rage course over him. The alcohol had opened a vein of beastly rage he normally kept under control.

Andy didn’t reply; he stood stiffly several feet behind the others.

OK, tough guy, we’ll give you one more chance, John said with a jittery grin. He looked around the room, examining the faces of the others, in an obvious attempt to elicit their support.

Shut your mouth, and get down on all four, Ben insisted.

Or we’ll kick the living shit outta ya, Jimmy slurred his words. Evidently, he’d drunk too much beer.

Tonight, you’ll crawl, Donald Anderson called out as he took a step forward. He was the quarterback for the football team, and the most popular jock on campus.

Kick his ass, Big Don, the smallish-faced boy standing behind him shouted slapping him on his broad back.

Mario glanced at Andy, who appeared wide-eyed with worry. He knew Andy wouldn‘t try to reason with him for fear the others would think he was a coward, or even worse a traitor. Andy had sponsored him. Mario had told Andy not to tell anyone about his past. Had he?

Andy gasped and looked away from Mario’s savage sneer.

Mario didn’t flinch. He watched and waited, muscles taut, ready to fight. It was what he was trained to do. It made him feel strong, like a man. Oh how he had missed it.

Suddenly, Jimmy jumped in front of Donald, his beer belly shaking, hanging over his trousers like a sack of potatoes.

Mario kicked him squarely in the groin.

Everyone froze, stunned at the sight of Jimmy’s elephantine body crumbling to the floor, his hands cupped between his legs.

John looked down at Jimmy, then back up at Mario. What the hell?

Who’s next? Mario asked in a deep, dark voice.

Donald snarled, then waved the others back and swaggered up to Mario acting like a brute. He took off his shirt, revealing a massive chest and arms resembling small tree trunks. He flexed his pectoral muscles, and they jumped in unison.

Everyone blanched at the awesome sight of Donald’s spectacular physique with the exception of Andy, who had by now grown pale.

However, much to their surprise it soon became evident that Mario was far too fast for Donald.

Donald to hit the floor hard each time he attempted to grapple with him.

Time and again Mario methodically placed his powerful blows, and soon Donald was dragging his beat-up body like a cripple.

Mario could feel his adrenalin pumping, masking the pain, urging him on as he punched and kicked Donald at will. Everyone looked at Mario with an unmistakable mixture of horror and awe. They couldn’t help marveling at the deadly accuracy, power, and speed of his blows.

After Donald’s third fall, he lay on his back motionless for several minutes. His beady blue eyes staring at the ceiling.

Then, peering up from his swollen, bloodied face, Donald again shook his big block head and painstakingly forced himself up off the floor.

With lightning speed, Mario threw a kick into the side of Donald’s face.

Donald’s head snapped back, splattering blood and teeth everywhere as he crashed to the floor with a loud thud.

The room fell silent, waiting for Big Don to get up.

But he didn’t.

Mario stood over him for a moment, and then turned slowly and walked toward the door.

Where the hell do you think you’re going? John asked as he ran over to block the doorway.

Putting his fists up, John said in a threatening tone, We’re not finished with you. Mario didn’t break his stride as he sauntered toward John.

John tried to throw a punch, but Mario’s right leg flew up and hit John on the side of the head.

And John went down in a heap.

Mario turned and stood with his hands on his hips. I should have known better than to think I could play your little boys’ games.

John struggled to his feet, red with rage, blood trickling from the side of his mouth.

And again, he stepped in front of Mario, trying to block his way.

You son-of-a-bitch. You’re gonna pay for this.

Mario grabbed the back of John’s head and smashed his raised knee into his nose. A cracking sound reverberated through the room as John’s body went limp, and he fell face down onto the floor.

Then the others watched in silence as Mario left the room.

Chapter 2

Everyone was staring at Tom as he lay motionless in the middle of the fraternity kitchen floor.

Dave Oglesly’s dark eyebrows formed a wedge that seemed to cut his face in two, as he frowned and said, Ed, you’re in pre-med. Do something.

Man, I’m no doctor, Ed Vermullen grumbled. His eyes wide open with fright.

Looks like he passed out, someone shouted from the other side of the room.

Dave eyes darted around the room, then he shrugged his narrow shoulders. Don’t look at me.

What did he drink? Ed asked, looking askance at Dave.

He downed some scotch…

Carlos Janez made a fierce face and barked, How much?

I don’t know. Maybe half a bottle.

Carlos shook his head and said low, Half.

We need to call an ambulance, Ed said.

Carlos‘ cold, dark eyes bored into Ed.

I don’t want the pigs snooping around.

Jake Jacobs knelt down and placed his ear against Tom’s chest. His heart’s still beating.

Mario burst through the kitchen door and saw Tom lying on the floor. He ran to his side, knelt beside him, and asked in a strong voice, Are there any smelling salts in the house?

Yeah, in the top cabinet, Ed said, then reached for the jar of salts and handed it to Mario.

Mario held Tom’s head and waved the salts under his nose. His hand was shaking. He blamed himself for not making Tom leave sooner. Had he lapsed into a coma?

Tom’s eyes fluttered open. He choked, coughed, and then gasped several times. Mario lifted him up to a sitting position. "Hey, Tom, it’s me,

Mario."

Tom stayed like that for a few minutes, then Mario helped him to his feet.

All of a sudden, John and Ben burst into the room.

What the hell’s going on here? John asked, confronting Mario.

Back off, Carlos said in a stern voice.

You can’t just let him walk, John shouted at Carlos, like nothing happened. Mario gave him a cold-blooded stare.

He’s dangerous, Ben bellowed, pointing at Mario.

Carlos doesn’t want any trouble, Andre Mendes said, stepping in between John and Mario.

He needs to be taught a lesson, John demanded.

Andre pushed John back against the wall.

Not tonight, Carlos insisted.

Why? Ben asked.

Let him take his friend home, Carlos said with an inauspicious stare, his pockmarked face taking on a dour cast.

You must be kidding, Ben protested, jostling to get closer to Carlos.

Two fraternity brothers grabbed Ben from behind, slammed him up against the wall, and held him while Mario and Tom passed in front of them.

Mario shoved the kitchen door open and saw Andy standing on the stairs. He gave Andy a callous stare, then continued to walk to the front door carrying Tom on his shoulder. Mario shoved open the front door, stumbled down the steps and out to his car, which was parked at the curb in front of the house.

Mario eased Tom down onto the passenger seat, then walked around to the driver’s side and climbed inside. He took a deep breath, trying to focus his eyes on the road. He knew he’d drank far too much beer to be driving; however, he was sure that if he stayed he would kill someone.

Looking up, he saw Jimmy Dupree staring at him from one of the upstairs windows. The thought struck him to go back inside, and finish what he’d started. Instead, a wry grin worked its way across his lips - and he flipped Jimmy the bird.

Then Mario jumped into the car and started the engine.

Tom sat slumped over, his head rocking back and forth as if it was loosely attached to his shoulders.

Mario looked over at him, and then punched down the accelerator.

The tires screamed, leaving the foul smell of burning rubber in the air.

How do you feel?

Tom’s head jerked back, hitting the headrest, Like I’ve been hit by a train.

You really had me scared …

I shouldn’t have taken those Valium.

What! Mario exclaimed, glaring at Tom wild-eyes. You promised me …

I need them to relax.

Mario furrowed his brow, took a deep breath, and then let out a tortured sigh. He knew alcohol and Valium could be a fatal combination.

You dumb bastard.

Tom’s mouth hung open with a queer look on his face. Everything’s swirling…

I’ll take you to the hospital.

Why?

To have your stomach pumped.

No. No hospital.

But--

I’ll be all right. I took the pills early this morning.

He gave Tom a dirty look and spit out his words, You knew we’d be drinking tonight.

Pull over. I have to…

Hold on… Mario’s words trailed off as he swerved the car off to the side of the road and slammed on the brakes.

Tom swung the door open and lurched his head out just as a powerful stream of dark, vile liquid erupted from his mouth.

He gasped for breath, then again his body heaved.

Mario grabbed onto Tom’s belt and held onto him so he wouldn’t fall out of the car.

Finally, Tom breathed a sigh of relief.

Mario pulled him in and handed him a paper towel he’d retrieved from the glove compartment. Here, wipe yourself.

Mario slowly drove the car back onto the road.

I feel, Tom groaned, like I’m dying.

Mario felt the car swerve from side to side. He squeezed the steering wheel and squinted, peering into the darkness. He knew he shouldn’t be driving, not after all the booze he’d drunk.

You’re not dying.

Let’s go back, Tom cried out.

Mario gave him a sideways glance. What?

I blew it, Tom moaned. Carlos must think I’m a loser.

Who cares what he thinks.

It’s what I do best.

You love doing this, don’t you?

What?

Berate yourself.

No, I don’t.

You’re a coward.

Tom turned to him with a drunken sneer and asked, How’s that?

Don’t you think it’s time you took control of your life?

What do you want me to do?

Act like a man, instead of a frightened little boy. Then you wouldn’t need to join a fraternity to meet girls.

Tom paused, gazed dreamily out the window, and then continued, I need a few drinks to loosen up.

That solves everything, doesn’t it?

You sound like my shrink.

He told you to start dating, Mario shot back.

Yeah, sure.

Why don’t you?

You don’t think I’ve tried?

You haven’t been on a date since we came down here.

I’m too self-conscious.

Why? You’re a good-looking guy.

Tom looked over at Mario, then turned away with a disguised look on his face.

I’ve told you a million times. Girls are people, just like you and me.

Tom sighed. I don’t know what to say.

Talk about anything.

Maybe it’s easy for you, but not for me.

Tom, you’re twenty-three years old. You can’t keep making excuses for yourself.

I’ve got a big, he grabbed his nose, pointy nose.

Mario grimaced. What the hell are you saying?

You heard me.

Are you for real? Mario threw up his hands laughing, and the car veered dangerously into the next lane.

It’s not funny.

Mario grabbed the steering wheel, and said in a dismissive tone, Your nose is fine.

Every time I look in the mirror, Tom said pulling on his nose, I want to rip it off.

I can’t believe you’d say something like that.

I wish it was smaller. Tom looked at Mario. Like yours.

You’re never satisfied.

Tom stuck his head out the open window and screamed.

Go ahead, Mario grunted. Wallow in self-pity.

I don’t do anything right.

Complain, complain. All you ever do is complain.

How come you’re so damn good with the girls? Tom examined Mario’s chiseled profile with his bloodshot eyes.

Your problem is you’re too easily intimidated.

It seems you always know the right thing to say.

You’re your own worst enemy.

I wish I had your confidence.

Man, if you don’t like your nose, get a new one.

You make it sound so simple.

With all you’ve spent on psychiatrists you could have had ten nose jobs by now.

And what about my chin?

Mario’s brooding eyes flashed back and forth between Tom and the road. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Yet, he felt he had to persist no matter how morbid the conversation, with the hope of discovering the root