Caught In A Hellish Nightmare

By Bill Bitetti

Living the good life in a mansion a few blocks from the beach in glamorous Boca Raton, Florida, Bill Roman unsuspectingly takes Louie Lombardo, a Mafioso as a business partner.

Brokenhearted and searching for love, Grete Aune, reluctantly responds to the love ad Bill places in a Norwegian newspaper. However, Grete's life soon becomes endangered when her ex-fiance Vladimir Korensky, a renegade Russian arms dealer, comes back to stalk her. Separately, Bill and Grete struggle to escape the wrath of their vengeful adversaries with the hope of one day meeting face to face.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bill Bitetti
• Release date: Apr 30, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301337668

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

Chapter 1

Louie Lombardo glanced down at his gold Rolex, cursed, then stepped hard on the accelerator. And his white Range Rover sped through the red light. Joe Santorrine liked his card games to start on time, and Louie was already fifteen minutes late. He didn’t slow down until he waved off the guard at the entrance to the gated community and disappeared into the lush, tropical landscaped residencies of the most prestigious address in Boca Raton; beautiful, rich Boca, home of corporate CEOs, film stars, only the most successful businessmen and their perfectly turned-out wives, and Santo Armando.

Santo’s home was a takeoff of an expansive Florentine villa, pink stucco with a red tile roof and tonight it glowed.

Smartly dressed armed-thugs patrolled the grounds, while Joe Santorrine’s grand yacht, Casino, eased into the dock behind the house.

A dozen men in light silks and linens stood on the deck waiting to disembark. They called out banteringly to each other as the band played vintage Sinatra, and anxious laughter came from the beautiful young women in waiting, all tall, shapely, and well-tanned in their designer dresses. In the background confetti-colored lights washed across the pool, roughly shaped like the country of Italy.

One by one, the men stepped off the boat into Santo’s waiting arms. He greeted each one with a strong hug. He looked dazzling in a white silk jogging suit, half open on top, exposing his muscular, dark-haired chest. A diamond-studded clasp held his pony-tailed hair in place, and a matching earring sparkled in his left ear.

In the front of the house, Louie’s car sped past the valet and came to a screeching halt in the circular driveway in front of the house.

Louie jerked the door open, threw himself onto the pavement. and started to walk quickly toward the front door.

Three men waited close to the house with guns drawn. Only seconds from firing, they heard Jerry DeMarco cry out, Lombardo, don’t move..

Louie stopped dead in his tracks.

Hey, Crazy Louie, you want to get yourself killed? What the hell’s gotten into you?

Louie’s eyes darted in every direction.

You know there’s security here tonight. Half these guys don’t know you.

Uh huh.

Jerry shook his head, then his lips spread open with an irresistible smile. Slow down, Louie. You’ll live longer.

Louie was afraid to move. He was in such a rush he’d forgotten about the guards.

Jerry’s round, shiny face and thick, jet black hair reflected the glow of the bright lights. He let out a deliberate groan, put his arm around Louie’s shoulder and jabbed his stomach, saying, You know better than to rush into one of Joe’s parties.

Sorry.

Come on, Golden Gloves champ, let’s go a few rounds.

I’m late, Louie said, putting up his fists in order to deflect Jerry’s mock punches, and you know Joe.

Yeah, I know.

He hates to have anyone late for his card games ... Louie’s voice trailed off into a sigh as they walked toward the house. He was happy to be alive. He flashed a jittery grin, exposing a mouth full of crooked, rotting teeth. His broken nose lent a hint of violence. Already, his disheveled, black suit had a rumpled look, and hair climbed up from his open collar to meet the dark stubble on his neck. Although tall, he appeared egg-shaped, his rounded shoulders emphasizing his bulging stomach.

The Casino’s just docking. Relax.

Louie followed Jerry through the front double doors and into a marbled thirty foot high foyer with a winding stairway that led to the second floor. From there they walked down the hall past a maze of spacious rooms.

Louie arms jerked up and down at his side. He wanted to grab Jerry by the arm and pull him into one of the empty rooms, even though he knew it wasn’t a good time for a heart to heart.

Louie paused, then looked into Jerry’s dark eyes and said, Jerry, you and me have always been close…

Jerry half-nodded.

You got me out of a lot of jams.

Yeah.

We grew up in the same neighborhood.

Yeah, sure, Jerry said half-heartedly, turning away.

Ya nephew married my niece.

Jerry gave him a sideways glance. Louie, what’s up?

I know the family don’t trust me. Louie resisted the urge to grab Jerry to get his attention. They think I’m trigger-happy and quick-tempered. But that’s gonna change.

Hmm.

No, I mean it, Louie blurted, staring at Jerry with pleading eyes.

Joe won’t talk to me but if you could…

Not tonight.

But…

Jerry sliced the air with his open hand, then said reluctantly, I’ll do what I can.

Minutes later they quietly exited through the back door and stood alongside the pool, overlooking the Intracoastal Waterway.

Jerry’s look was dead serious, as he asked, Are Bob and Eddie set up for tonight?

Yeah, it’ll be going down soon.

Jerry gave him a crooked grin. It should be a clean hit, not like last year in Puerto Rico.

I was high when I blew that bartender away, Louie grumbled, annoyed by Jerry’s remark.

Yeah, I remember.

Hey, we got that shipment of coke through the island, Louie said with a shrug, and we were celebrating.

It wasn’t much of a celebration for him, Jerry snickered.

Louie’s nostrils flared as he took a deep breath, trying to control his temper. The punk had a wise mouth.

Joe was afraid the DEA would hear about it and start snooping around.

Louie’s eyes opened wide. He couldn’t believe his ears. He grabbed Jerry’s arm with a vice like grip. Jerry, are you saying…

Jerry stared Louie in the eye, and said in a strong, smooth voice, Joe wanted you sacrificed. He told me to make it look like a double murder.

Louie’s jaw dropped.

I saved your ass.

You never told me.

lf I didn’t stand up to him, you wouldn’t be here.

Thanks, I owe you.

I had to remind Joe you’re a man of honor. Jerry glanced over at the people standing around the pool. Luckily, I was able to convince him to send you to the Betty Ford Clinic to dry out.

Louie dropped his head, and his arms fell to his side.. It won’t happen again.

Just stay away from the coke, OK? Jerry turned, bullied his way between two men standing beside him, and strutted toward the pool.

Louie’s last conversation with Joe Santorrine, Capo Di Tutti Capi, while at his island retreat, La Bene Casa, flashed through his mind. Inside the huge gazebo, looking out on the ocean, Joe had said in a matter-of-fact tone, I didn’t like what happened in Puerto Rico. If you want to whack somebody, hire a jerk-off to do it. Use your brain, find a way to wash some money for me. Then I’ll let you deal again.

Joe’s eyes had burned into him, as he’d waved his Havana cigar in his face, saying, Buy a cash business and use it as a front. If you don’t have the money, take a partner and squeeze him. I don’t care how you do it. I want everything to look legitimate.

Louie shuddered at the thought of what might have happened if Jerry had carried out Joe’s orders. Louie thought Joe was ruthless, courageous, intelligent, and imaginative. And if he hadn’t chosen a life of crime, he could have easily become a successful leader of industry.

Tonight, though, the mood was festive, and Joe waved to Louie from across the pool.

Chapter 2

Twenty miles down the coast in a trendy, up-scale eatery/discotheque near Fort Lauderdale Beach, Bob Adamo sat waiting for his dinner guests to arrive. At his side was one of his soldiers, Eddie Santoro. The penthouse suite was set on top of a four story brick building overlooking the Intracoastal. It was divided into a plush office overlooking the water with a private dining/meeting area off to the right, which was used primarily for special occasions, or to discuss important family matters. The other half lay behind ornately carved, wooden double doors. It was facetiously called the cheating room. Its track lighting emphasized an eye-catching collection of modern paintings. Teal satin sheets covered the king-sized Italian black lacquer bed, and a matching entertainment center equipped with a large screen TV stood against the opposite wall. The speckled gray, marble-tiled floor seemed to sparkle under the piercing lights. Jerry DeMarco used it to entertain his many girlfriends. His wife hated him for it, but she dared not divorce him for fear he would never allow her to see their children again.

Looking dapper in their tropical-weight, woolen suits, Bob and Eddie stood side by side in the meeting room, gazing down at the passing boats through a large window. Bob appeared dwarfed by Eddie’s height and wide, barrel chest. Neither one appeared distracted by the muffled percussion of loud music vibrating the walls.

Bob gave a cursory glance in Eddie’s direction. I requested the chef prepare gnocchi.

Eddie arched his eyebrows. Why make a big deal out of this?

You know I like gnocchi.

I know why you’re doing it.

Why?

To impress Gina.

Bob cocked his head to one side and looked out the window. Finally, he turned back to Eddie with a lopsided grin. I also requested two imported bottles of Italian Chianti, Gina’s favorite, and for dessert we’ll have espresso and freshly baked cannoli.

Eddie shook his head, smacked Bob on the back, and said in a deep baritone, You’re still not over her, are you?

At that moment there was a muffled knock on the door.

Bob glanced at his watch. Who’s there?

Flexing his strong jaw muscles, Eddie stared intently at the door.

It’s Guido, Gina and Arthur are here.

Good timing. Show them in.

The head waiter, Guido Ramazitti, wheeled in the dinner on a server, accompanied by two other waiters. Together they began to prepare the table. Arthur and Gina O’Reilley followed them in and stood near the doorway. Arthur’s lanky frame towered over Gina. Her petite stature and white complexion made her look delicate, almost like a porcelain figurine, except for the long, raven black hair framing her face.

Arthur nonchalantly raised his right hand. Louie told me he wanted to see us.

Come in, Bob said in a commanding voice, and sit down.

Gina looked at Bob with a dubious expression. Where’s my uncle?

He’s running late.

Arthur brushed back his long, sandy blond hair, then slipped his long slender hands into his pants pockets. He looked handsome, dressed in white pants, a powder blue boat-neck sweater, and a navy blue sports jacket.

Gina looked stunning in a short-sleeve, black silk pullover and white cotton miniskirt. Her large sensitive brown eyes studied Bob’s anxious grin. She knew he was waiting for her to give him a special smile.

Arthur sauntered over to the table. How are you, Bob?

Louie wants everybody to have a nice time. Bob smiled and gestured for them to take a seat at the table. So let’s enjoy. The chef is preparing gnocchi.

Gnocchi, Arthur replied with a puzzled face. I’ve never seen gnocchi on the menu here.

That’s because it isn’t, normally. It’s only by special request.

I guess we rate, hey? Arthur sighed and eased down into his chair.

It’s one of my favorites.

Gina, come, sit next to me, Bob said as he gently took her hand.

Gina nodded and took a step forward.

Bob kissed her on the lips and rubbed his hand up and down her back.

You look gorgeous.

Well, thank you, Bob. She leaned forward and ran her hand over his lapel. She wanted to be extra nice tonight. She had a sneaking suspicion something was wrong, and she hoped to use her power over Bob to control him. That suit looks good on you. Neither man made any attempt to shake Arthur’s hand, as he eased himself quietly into his chair.

Eddie bent down and kissed Gina’s cheek, and then pulled out a chair for her to sit on. Gina, you look great.

Oh, Eddie, that’s sweet. She smiled and sat down. She glanced back at Bob. She hadn’t seen him so happy in a long time. Why the smug smile?

Arthur glanced at Bob, and then at Eddie. What’s the special occasion. Did one of you guys get lucky at the track?

Have some Chianti. It‘s good for your nerves, Eddie quipped.

Guido told me you turned down the headwaiter’s job. Bob gazed across the table at Arthur. Is that true?

Arthur glanced at Guido, who was busy preparing the table. Let’s be realistic. I want something with a future, something more in tune with my managerial skills.

Eddie shook his head back and forth with a wry grin What managerial skills?

Bob turned to Eddie, and growled, Pipe down, Eddie.

Gina gave Bob a puzzled look. Isn’t that why we came tonight – to discuss my husband’s future?

Arthur looked at Bob with a smug grin, threw his hand out in front of him and said in a loud voice, I want something more…

Bob carefully unfolded his napkin. How about the job Louie got for you with the trucking company. I guess that wasn’t for you either, right?

I already told Louie; they wanted me to do too much lifting. I’d pop a disk if I’d stayed there.

And the one before that, the chauffeur’s job, the hours were no good, right? Bob threw his hand over his head. Isn’t that what you said?

Yeah, Bob, Louie knows about it, Arthur sighed and waved his napkin in front of him. I must admit I’m disobliged by your tactless analysis of my past work experiences. After all, I happen to be a college graduate.

Pardon me, Mr. College Graduate! Eddie exclaimed, with a sardonic grin.

Arthur was on call all day and night with that job, Gina protested. It was horrible.

Eddie’s sarcastic laughter filled the room. Who ya kidding, Gina? The job with Mr. Aenazio was a plum. The man has a heart condition. He only leaves his house a few days a week to buy food.

That’s not true.

Come on, your husband didn’t like it cause he couldn’t spend time at the beach getting a suntan and chasing the young…

Where’s my uncle? Gina blurted out, looking frantically toward the door. She could feel a knot growing inside her gut. Why isn’t he here?

She didn‘t want to look at Eddie. He made her nervous. He had an ironic way of speaking that was provocative and mocking at the same time. But what really worried her was his reputation.

Bob raising his hands up in front of him, and said in a stentorian voice, Louie said he might be late. Let’s eat. I’m hungry.

He nodded, and Guido began serving the salad.

An hour later Gina felt much more relaxed with the taste of the fine chicken sauce still lingering on her tongue. The chicken was flavorful, the gnocchi tender yet firm, and the garlic bread crisp, with just the right amount of garlic and a hint of basil. She commended the chef on what truly had been a magnificent meal.

While they waited for dessert, Arthur drank his third glass of wine. And when Gina placed her hand on Bob’s arm to thank him for the meal, Arthur scolded her for acting like a coquette.

She tried to ignore him. She had warned him about drinking too much. And she hoped he wouldn’t make a scene. Aptly, Bob changed the subject by telling everyone about his recent fishing trip to the Bahamas.

After the waiters had served dessert Guido bent down and whispered in Bob’s ear. Then he and the two younger waiters left, locking the door behind them.

Bob turned to Arthur with a scowled face, and asked, What happened the other night at La Verde?

Arthur raised his eyebrows, and said with a sneer, Nothing happened.

One of Louie’s friends told him you were drunk again, and you roughed up Gina. Is that true?

Hell no, I wasn’t drunk. Arthur looked at Gina, then back at Bob. Gina and I had a couple of drinks, he shrugged, and a few laughs.

That ain’t what we heard, Eddie rasped with a malevolent gaze.

Gina nervously rubbed her thighs, and insisted in a choked voice, Arthur’s been treating me right.

Yeah, right, Eddie quipped.

Suddenly, Gina plucked the napkin off her lap and began waving it from side to side to get Bob’s attention. She couldn’t keep still, remembering the night one year ago, and the wild look in her uncle’s eyes after she had told him Arthur had refused to marry her after making her pregnant. She had buried her head in his hairy chest and sobbed. Louie had gone out to search for Arthur. She later found out that he’d spotted Arthur’s vintage Mustang at a seedy motel along the Fort Lauderdale strip, forced his way into Arthur’s room, and dragged him from the arms of a screaming girlfriend out into the surf. There, he had beat Arthur into submission, then repeatedly plunged his head under the water, until he had agreed to marry her.

Keep quiet, Gina, Arthur commanded, giving her a dirty look. I’ll take care of this…

No, Arthur, this is none of my uncle’s business.

Louie don’t like, Eddie interjected, to see you unhappy. He warned Arthur what would happen if he didn’t treat you right.

Gina turned to Bob with pleading eyes. Suddenly, she knew why Louie wasn’t there. Please, don’t do this, Bob.

I’m talking to your husband, not you, Gina.

Gina hid her face in her hands and started to weep.

Hey, we have our problems, Arthur said with a slur, sticking out his chest. I’d be the first to admit it, but what couple doesn’t?

Bob quietly sipped his espresso.

Who’s the sleazy punk who told you? Arthur asked in a shaky voice, his face flushed with fear. Who is he?

Eddie stared into Arthur’s panic-stricken eyes. You don’t ask the questions. We do.

Arthur’s right eyelid began to twitch. He pushed his fingers through his hair, and then with a loud groan slammed his trembling hands down on the table and stood up. I’m leaving.

Bob grabbed Arthur’s arm and yanked him back down. Sit down. You’re not going anywhere.

Who the fuck are you to tell me how to treat my wife? Arthur ranted, struggling to free himself from Bob’s grip.

Arthur, please be quiet, Gina squealed. She tried to think of something to say to cool things down, but couldn’t. She knew it was too late.

She jumped in front of Arthur to try to protect him.

You’re just a couple of errand boys, Arthur shouted, pushing Gina aside.

Shut the fuck up, Eddie yelled, his face up close to Arthur’s.

You guinea bastards can drop dead for…

Bob smacked Arthur across the face with the back of his hand. Who do you think you’re talking to?

Eddie smashed his fist down on the table. Louie says it’s got to stop, Gina. He don’t want to see you abused.

Arthur jumped up, wall-eyed. I’ve had enough…

Eddie reached over and slammed him down so hard he almost knocked him off the chair. Then he held him down with both hands, while he screamed in his ear, Louie says Gina ain’t happy. It’s all over, Pretty-Boy.

That’s not true, Gina screamed. I’m very happy. I love Arthur.

Arthur twisted in his chair, trying to free himself from Eddie’s viselike grip. What the hell are you doing?

Ignoring his question, Eddie pressed down hard on Arthur’s chest to make sure he didn’t move.

Bob jumped up and gripped Arthur by the shoulder and held him down, while Eddie returned to his seat.

Gina sat crumpled up in her chair, overcome by a feeling of helplessness, her petite frame shrinking to half its size. Don’t do this, she screamed, convulsing with sobs. Please, let me speak to Louie…

Arthur’s eyes fixed on Eddie, who sat motionless in his chair. Then he turned to Bob, but out of the corner of his eye he watched Eddie’s arm reach under the table.

Gina let out a bloodcurdling cry. Then she cringed, hearing the earsplitting sound of a gunshot.

Arthur’s eyes opened wide, obviously shocked by the burning pain ripping through his insides.

Eddie’s eyes were stone-cold. He lifted his chin, puckered his lips, and threw Arthur a kiss. Arrivederci, baby.

You whap fuck… Arthur’s loud, tortured cry rang out as he slumped in his chair, holding his stomach.

He looked at his bloodstained hand and began to scream.

Eddie fired another bullet into his heart, silencing him.

Arthur fell to the floor in a bloody heap.

Hysterically, Gina flung herself over her husband’s body.

You killed him!

Sobbing, she cradled his head in her hands. The feeling of his warm blood made her sick to her stomach. She wanted to lay on top of him and die.

Bob stood still, watching Eddie pull off the tape that had held the .44 Magnum to the underside of the table.

Chapter 3

Dripping wet, Bill Roman stepped out of the heart shaped swimming pool. Suddenly he caught a glimpse of a striking, red-haired beauty in a white bikini through the picture window in the front of the house. She was stepping into a gold Jaguar convertible. It was a woman he’d met at a disco Saturday night. He’d told her to drop by the next time she went to the beach. He wanted to kick himself for not asking for her telephone number. Why hadn’t he heard the front doorbell ring?

He shook his head, muttering, Ah, shit…

Sauntering over to the outdoor shower, he took off his swimsuit and held his face up close to the nozzle. Yanking the chain, a powerful, chilling stream of water shot out, making his skin tingle. And he let out a brawling sound.

Finished, he tied a white towel around his waist; it made him look deeply tanned.

Shaking the last droplets of water from his hair, he turned and picked up the day’s copy of the Boca News from the table. The front page caption grabbed his attention - Second prostitute found dead, in peaceful, prestigious Boca.

He read further, "‘The mutilated body of Julie Nickols, 23, of Fort Lauderdale, was discovered by a newspaper delivery boy in a wooded area west of town, handcuffed, with whip marks on her body, and rope-burns on her neck. Like the prostitute, Ann Harris, who was killed on August 10th, Julie had a drug habit and a rap sheet an arm long, police said.

"‘There’s a definite pattern here and two victims,’ said Clifford Dawson, Chief of Police of the Boca Raton Police Department. Police have opened a twenty-four hour Crime Stoppers hotline, and are asking anyone with information to call.

A psychologist is trying to come up with an analysis of the type of person who would commit such a crime. So far we suspect the killer is a sadomasochist, who tortures and sexually assaults his victims, before strangling them. However, there is an indication that this killer might be different, in that he sees himself as a visionary who claims the right to kill those he feels don’t deserve to live,’ Lieutenant Frank Murphy said.

In confidence, Lt. Murphy had told Bill that he was concerned with the rash of particularly vicious murders. Murphy had said that both victims had deep teeth marks on their breasts, and that their nipples had been bitten off. Also the word human garbage was written in red lipstick on each woman’s stomach. Bill wondered what sort of a man would be capable of such atrocious crimes?

Strolling over to one of the lounge chairs alongside the pool, Bill sat down and began to peruse the classified section. His inquisitive blue eyes drifted to the personals column, where he read the following ad, Attention, adventurous singles. Discover how to meet men and women around the world. Put an advertisement in a foreign newspaper. Information and assistance provided.

Rereading the ad, he recalled a conversation he’d overheard years earlier at a Danish hotel, between members of a visiting American soccer team. One of the players had commented on the natural beauty and forthright nature of Swedish and Danish