Pieces (The Breakaway #2)

by Michelle Davidson Argyle

  “Naomi, drink,” Jesse said, pressing a glass to her lips. She felt lukewarm liquid and took a sip. Club soda. The carbonation in her mouth brought her vision more into focus. Jesse’s face was clear now and she reached up to hold the glass, taking several gulps.

  “Just ... dehydrated,” she said with a nervous laugh. “That’s all.”

  Jesse’s expression turned skeptical. “Yeah, okay. What was that, Naomi? You looked terrified and then you almost passed out.”

  “I did?”

  “Yes. Were you feeling too crowded?”

  “I guess so.” She gripped the glass, savoring the feel of it against her fingers. Jesse opened his mouth to say something else, but then reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. It was vibrating. He pushed a button to read an incoming message. Curious, Naomi tried to read the screen, but Jesse moved it out of her line of sight. His eyes narrowed before he shut off the phone and slipped it back into his pocket.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked, annoyed he would hide something from her.

  “Nothing.” He looked past her, searching the room. His face glistened with a thin sheen of sweat. “Listen, I’m going to leave you here for a minute, alright? I’ll be right back.”

  She turned around, but nothing seemed amiss. “Jesse, I—”

  He was already handing the bartender several bills and talking to him in Italian. She guessed he was paying the guy to keep an eye on her. The bartender, a thin, olive-skinned man with a ponytail, looked her up and down. A soft smile spread across his lips.

  “I speak English if she need,” he said to Jesse, taking the bills and shoving them into his back pocket. He winked at her and she turned away.

  “Don’t leave,” Jesse ordered, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Five minutes, okay? Get a drink and try to relax.”

  She folded her arms and glared at him. “I almost pass out and now you’re leaving me?”

  The muscles in his arms flexed. “Please, Naomi. Don’t argue.”

  “Fine.”

  She watched him disappear into the crowd. When she turned back, the bartender was looking at her chest. The dress’s wide, plunging neckline pretty much invited anyone to look, but it still annoyed her. She gave the bartender the dirtiest expression she could manage and then ordered a drink as Jesse had suggested. When she had it in her hands, she was sure she wouldn’t get through half of it before Jesse returned. She was wrong. She finished the drink and ordered another one. She finished it faster than she should, and ordered a third. It wasn’t a good idea, but she was caring less and less. The alcohol calmed her nerves, but she hoped she wasn’t dead drunk by the time she saw Jesse again. This would be her last drink, for sure.

  The lights for the music changed to neon green and the room lit up brighter than before. Then she saw him leaning against a far wall half-hidden in the shadows. His back was to her, but she recognized his hair and the shape of his shoulders. He faced two men taller than him. They wore black suits, of all things, and Naomi felt something dark sink into her stomach. She finished her drink in three more gulps and sat stone-still on the stool, waiting. Her mind spun in circles.

  “That your boyfriend?” the bartender asked, leaning forward. She could feel his gaze wrapping around her, studying every inch of her exposed skin now flushed from the alcohol.

  “Yes,” she said, keeping her eyes on Jesse as he talked to the two men. She wanted to know what he was discussing and if it was something illegal. Whatever it was, she knew deep in her gut it was nothing good.

  The bartender made a swishy sound like a low whistle, and Naomi tore her attention from Jesse. The bartender’s eyes were still on her.

  “What?” she asked, her words slurring. “What do you mean by that?”

  He shrugged. “Nobody ask questions. If you ask questions, you die.” He slid a finger across his neck and gave her a wicked smile. “You be careful with boyfriend.”

  Naomi thought she might be sick. Pushing some hair away from her face, she stood up.

  “You stay here,” the bartender said with a growl in his voice. “Boyfriend pay me to keep you here. You owe for drinks.”

  She let out a heavy sigh and sat back down on the stool. Now a bartender was controlling her. All she wanted to do was go home. A headache began throbbing behind her eyes—the same rhythm as the music. She leaned forward and buried her face in her arms. The counter smelled like bourbon.

  “You need more drink?” the bartender asked, a laugh in his voice.

  “No, just leave me alone, please.” She allowed a nagging question to blossom in her mind. Had Jesse brought her here so he could talk to those men? She wondered why he hadn’t left her home and invented work as an excuse to go out by himself. Mostly, she kept thinking about the bartender’s finger sliding across his throat.

  WHEN JESSE returned, Naomi was half-asleep with her face still buried in her arms. Jesse ran a finger up her left shoulder blade and leaned close to her ear.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “How long were you gone?” she asked, keeping her face buried.

  “Forty minutes.”

  “That’s a lot longer than five minutes.”

  “I know.”

  Lifting her head, she glared at him. The sweat on his face had dried. He looked worn out, just like she felt.

  “I want to go home,” she said, taking his offered hand to help her off the stool. The bartender approached with a curious expression. He said something in Italian and Jesse answered in cold, clipped words. He handed over some more bills to pay for Naomi’s drinks.

  “We’ll go now,” he said, and pulled her close as they made their way out of the building. They stopped to pick up their jackets and were soon on the street. The moon was a sliver in the sky.

  Naomi sucked in the crisp air as Jesse helped her into her jacket. She pulled it close around her middle, not bothering to zip it up. There were so many things she wanted to say, so many things to ask, but she couldn’t open her mouth for any words at all. Instead, she let Jesse wrap an arm around her shoulders as they started the walk home. Christmas lights twinkled everywhere, reflecting in countless rain puddles along the street. Everything blurred.

  “Isn’t it pretty out here?” Jesse asked, his words pushing little white puffs into the air.

  She shrugged and answered in a monotone voice, “Sure.” She didn’t know if Jesse knew she had seen him talking to the two men in suits, but she was certain that if he knew what the bartender had implied to her, he wouldn’t be so relaxed. She was quiet the rest of the way home. As soon as they were inside the apartment, Jesse closed the door and took her into his arms.

  “I want you,” he whispered. “I keep thinking about you on the dance floor—the way you moved.” He kissed her on the lips, but she didn’t kiss him back. Instead, she pushed away.

  “I, uh, gotta get out of my jacket,” she said, stuttering as she yanked at the material over her arms.

  Jesse smiled and helped her. “Mmm, that’s better,” he said once she was standing in front of him in nothing but the dress. He dropped the jacket onto the floor and slipped out of his too.

  At any other time, Naomi would have laughed and pulled him into the bedroom, but now she simply stared at him, feeling naked as he looked her up and down. She remembered how frightened she had been the first time he kissed her. He had wanted her then too. He had always wanted her.

  He cocked his head, a concerned expression spreading across his face. “What’s the matter? Aren’t you feeling better?”

  She knew her voice was going to tremble and the alcohol in her system would slur her words. There was no way Jesse was going to take her seriously tonight. “I have a headache,” she answered, turning away. “I want to sleep.” She walked down the hall and into the bedroom, Jesse right behind her.

  “Drink too much?” he asked. “Or are you still not well from what happened on the dance floor? Do you want to talk about it?”

  She put a hand to her head a
s she stopped in front of the closet. “Too many questions,” she muttered, ripping off her boots and then slipping out of the dress. She stood in nothing but her panties, knowing it would take all of Jesse’s willpower not to touch her. She wondered why he wanted her, why he had urged her to come to Italy with him, why he had chosen to spend the rest of his life with her. Or if she was assuming he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. It was those two men in suits, she realized. They were messing up her head. They made her question everything more than she had before. Anger boiled up inside her, forming words she shouldn’t say. So instead of letting them free, she pushed them down, pressing as hard as she could. She turned away from Jesse and started rummaging through her drawer for a pair of sweats and a shirt.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. She could hear him undressing behind her.

  “For what?” she muttered, still digging in her drawer. She looked up for a moment, staring at her oil pastel sketch of an artichoke. She had set the drawing on the dresser, leaning it upright against the wall. The paper was thick enough to stand up on its own, but if she slammed a drawer shut, it would fall.

  “For leaving you,” Jesse said as Naomi tried to soak in the rich greens of the artichoke and remember all the good things about Italy and why she was here. “You weren’t feeling well and it was an unfamiliar place for you. I’m sorry.”

  She spun around with a pair of sweats clenched in her hand. “Who were they?”

  “They?”

  “The two men in suits.”

  Jesse was looking at her naked breasts, and she threw the pair of sweats at him. They hit him in the face and then fell to the floor, but he didn’t move.

  “Answer me!”

  Now he was looking at her face. “They’re helping me with paperwork,” he said, each word coming out precise. He had taken off his shirt and unbuttoned his jeans, but she refused to want him right now, no matter how hot he looked.

  Her voice came out in a hiss. “Paperwork?”

  “Yes. Italy’s government requires certain permits and visas for non-citizens living here past a short period of time.”

  “So you take care of that in a nightclub?” She folded her arms.

  “It’s because of my parole. I’m not exactly ... it’s illegal ... without these men’s help, I could be extradited back to the US.”

  Her jaw dropped. “I thought you came here legally. How did you get a job if you’re not supposed to live here? How did this not come up in customs when we flew here?”

  He kept his attention on her face. She could see in his eyes he was telling the truth, but the truth was almost too much. Her heart was racing now. She felt like she was standing on hot coals and should start running away.

  “It’s complicated,” he said, keeping his words controlled. “I know the right people who are handling everything as quietly as possible.”

  Her face turned hot. The headache pounding behind her eyes was beginning to feel like a sledgehammer trying to split her wide open. “You always know the right people, don’t you?” she spit at him. “You stole millions of dollars’ worth of jewelry without ever getting caught in the act. You hid from the FBI for three months after you let me go. Now you’re here making deals with some sort of underground network, and I don’t even know—I don’t—I can’t make sense of—”

  “Naomi, explaining all of this would take hours. You aren’t feeling well. You’re tipsy and you’re tired. I’m going to put you to bed and we’ll talk about everything tomorrow.”

  She watched the rise and fall of his shoulders. He was right that she was tipsy. Her body couldn’t handle much alcohol, and what she had drunk at the club was doing a number on her. She was beyond tipsy and Jesse didn’t want to tick her off by saying so. He was too late for that, though. She already wanted to throw something a lot harder than a pair of sweats at his head.

  “Fine,” she muttered, and walked to the bed without putting on any more clothes. She yanked back the covers and climbed in. “But I want to be alone.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  The last thing she thought about as she drifted into a hazy sleep was the yin and yang tattoo on Finn’s arm. The deeper she got into her screwed-up life, the more she realized there couldn’t be a balance of black and white. Not for her. It had to be one or the other.

  XX

  WHEN SHE WOKE, THE ROOM WAS FLOODED with light. It wasn’t happy sunshine, she realized. It was a gray, dismal sort of glow from clouds covering the city. All the same, any light at all made her headache worse. She groaned and covered her face with the blankets. Last night. The club. Jesse.

  She sat up. His side of the bed was empty. She remembered the men in suits and the neon green light and the bartender. Another groan. Throwing back the covers, she shivered and rushed to the dresser to find some clothes. Those three drinks last night had been a terrible, stupid idea, but she wondered how much worse things could have gone if she hadn’t been so tired and drunk. She might have reacted worse. Or better. She sucked in a quick breath. She had no idea about anything.

  “Love?” There was a soft knock before Jesse cracked open the door and looked inside. She finished pulling on her shirt and turned to face him.

  “Morning,” she mumbled, hardly able to meet his eyes.

  He opened the door wide. “I have lunch ready. Are you hungry?”

  “Lunch?” She glanced at the clock on the wall. Twelve-thirty. “Oy,” she moaned, putting a hand to her forehead.

  “Oy is right.” Walking to her, he gave her a hug and then steered her out of the room and into the kitchen. He had made some grilled sandwiches with fresh mozzarella and prosciutto. Naomi sank into her chair. The room was spinning

  “I’m not hungry,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have to eat any, but at least drink some water.” He went to the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of water. He put it in front of her as she picked up her sandwich and took a small bite. It was good, but her stomach twisted as she chewed. She forced herself to swallow.

  “No good?” Jesse asked, watching her with a frown as he sat in his chair across from her.

  “I feel like crap,” she sighed. “Otherwise it would be amazing.” She picked up the water and took three swigs. Setting it back down, she pushed her plate away so the smell wouldn’t make her stomach turn any more than it already was. “So, tell me about those men.”

  Jesse leaned back in his chair. He needed to shave. Naomi noticed he had put on a dirty shirt from the laundry room, probably because he hadn’t wanted to wake her earlier. “What do you want me to tell you?”

  “Everything.”

  He sighed. “I didn’t want to tell you any of this until later, but I guess it’ll have to be now. Those men you saw last night are helping me. They forge legal documents, and they’re damn good at it. They take care of everything, right down to encrypted online files and fingerprinting, if needed. I was going to use them for your paperwork when Eric and the others wanted to bring you here. That’s how I first found them.”

  “Okay.” She kept seeing the bartender’s finger slice across his throat and wondered if forged legal documents were a bad enough crime to involve such violence. “So you were going to give me a new identity, then?”

  “Yes.”

  She took another drink of water. “So why do you have to do all of this? Why is it illegal for you to live here?”

  Lifting his sandwich, he took a few bites, chewing slowly as he prepared to answer. “There are a lot of things I can’t do now that I’ve been in prison,” he said in a bitter voice after swallowing. “That’s one of the reasons I wanted to come here. It’s a fresh start.”

  “I thought it was because of the job.”

  “That too.” He leaned forward. “Listen, Naomi, the less you know about any of this, the better. Trust me on that, okay?”

  She watched him reach across the table for her hands, but she pulled away, disgusted by how much he had lied
to her. “And what about my parents? When can I talk to them? When my mom finds out you’re here, she’ll know it’s illegal and she’ll shove ‘I told you so’ in my face. She’ll do whatever it takes to get me away from you.”

  Jesse returned his hands to his side of the table. “Now you understand why I don’t want you to talk to her. Maybe sometime in the future I’ll arrange a way for you to tell them you came here on your own. You can tell them you have no idea where I am. Years from now, you can fly back and see them, but not with me.”

  “But there’s—”

  He stood up so fast his chair tipped over. The clatter made Naomi wince.

  “Jesse, I—”

  “Hear me out,” he said, walking around to her side of the table and bending his knees so she could look down at him. She turned to face him.

  “This is crazy,” she whispered as he took her hand. “You knew I wouldn’t come here if you told me about any of this. You knew ....”

  He nodded. “I know, but you waited for me for over two years. You’ve given up everything to come here with me. I knew there was a good chance this would all work out.”

  She thought about a conversation she’d had with his father after her escape. Jesse doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, he had said. She believed him even now as she looked into Jesse’s eyes filling with frustration. Beyond all of that, she saw fear. He didn’t want to lose her. He would do anything to keep from losing her. She wasn’t afraid he would hit her, as Brad had, and she wasn’t afraid he would yell at her. But she was afraid of being manipulated and lied to. Deep down, she knew she had to ask herself if she would do anything to keep from losing him—if she could accept some of his darkness and move on. She tried to push away the thought of Finn’s yin and yang tattoo.

  “Why didn’t you trust me enough to tell me?” she asked, trying to ignore how good it felt when he held her hand, even when she was so upset with him. Her frustration boiled even more. She needed him. He was all she had left. “I told you the truth about Finn and my phone. I thought secrets and lies were over between us. You could have told me.”