I didn't think my comment would affect him, but I can feel his body somewhat ease back. Next time I'll make sure we have adjoining seats so I can cling to him more and give him reassuring rubs.
My stomach drops. There most likely won't be a next time.
Dammit, now I'm depressed. How do I keep letting Jay weave himself in? I really suck at this whole wall building thing.
“Hey, Jay?”
He grunts and it seems like it's hard for him to manage that. I clamp a hand over my mouth to hold in a giggle.
“How do you not let a person affect you?”
“It's easy when you don't like people,” his mouth is fastened together and it's hard to understand, but once I figure it out I laugh.
“Surely you've come across a few you do? Like Malik, for example. How do you keep from getting attached?”
“I don't know, I just do. I've been doing it since I was a kid. It's not something I have to think about.”
“Oh,” I chew on my lip, contemplating if I want to keep going. Fuck it, I want to hear what he has to say, “What about with me, how do you stay closed off?”
The plane jolts as it hits the landing strip and Jay curses, looking like he might lose his breakfast.
My favorite thing about private jets is the minute the plane stops we are free to leave, luggage in hand, and a taxi is waiting for us close by. Flying will never be the same again.
Before getting in the cab, Jay pulls out the Giants baseball hat and sunglasses. He takes hold of my hair, stuffing it all inside the hat, and puts the sunglasses on me.
“I don't want anyone knowing what you look like. The only time you are allowed to be without it is inside the hotel room. Got it?”
“Yup,” I answer before ducking into the taxi.
Jay tells the driver to take us to the Hyatt Regency in the Embarcadero Center. I stare out the window, taking in as many of the sights as I can.
Jay leans over to whisper in my ear, “To answer your question from before – staying closed off from you is impossible. Having to walk away from you ripped my fucking heart out.”
Oh my. I wish I had the perfect response to tell him, but words fail me. All I seem capable of is watching the city go by and feeling overwhelmed with how to absorb his remark. From the day I met him our relationship has been a roller coaster that has turned my world upside down. It launched full speed into steep uphills and even more intense downward descents, full of loops, twists, and turns that have left my head spinning. I'm in a constant state of adrenaline, excitement, and fear. It leaves me wondering if this ride will ever end, or if I even want it to.
At check-in, the front desk calls me Mrs. Lincoln and I smile all the way to our room, where we drop off our stuff. Jay goes into the hall to make a private phone call. And yes, I press my ear to the door like an immature teenager trying to hear the latest gossip. Unfortunately, I can barely make out what he's saying.
The door swings open and I land in Jay's arms.
“Remind me to teach you how to be a better spy,” he chuckles, hoisting me back up. “You hungry?”
“For hotel food or San Francisco food?”
“We're in San Francisco, they're the same thing.”
“No they're not.”
“I'm guessing you want San Francisco food?”
“My husband knows me so well,” I mean it as a joke but it falters as I watch Jay jerk back in alarm.
“Chill.” Man, I'm really bad at banter. “I was only teasing because of how everyone keeps calling me Mrs. Lincoln.”
Jay swipes his head a few times and brushes past me, “It was easier to give us the same last name.”
Ouch, he didn't have to sound so irritated by it. I seriously only meant it as a joke. Jay's mood swings are incredibly frustrating. He continually makes me second guess his feelings for me. It leaves me wondering if it's because he hasn't figured it out for himself yet.
Jay takes off his shirt and throws it at me, “Put this on.”
I'm momentarily immobile as I take in the sight of Jay's glorious, muscular, chest and abs. Images of what it's like to touch and taste him surface to the front of my mind.
Dammit.
I don't need those kind of thoughts right now.
He pulls another shirt out of his bag and puts it on, followed by his dark olive cargo jacket that nicely hides his weapons.
“Why am I wearing this?” I ask.
“To hide your body. A person's frame can be as easy to remember as a face.”
I take off my hat and shades, placing them on a bed. I pull off my shirt and put on Jay's, inhaling his scent as the material cascades down. It causes an ache in my chest from missing the smell of being cuddled in his arms.
“Why do you get a clean shirt, and I have to wear one you already wore?” I look down at how I swim in the shirt, then back at Jay who is staring at me. His eyes are blazing in a familiar heat and a half smile tugs at my mouth, glad that he's also affected by seeing me topless. I only wish I was braless to really spice things up. “This isn't going to work, Jay. Your shirt is way too big on me.”
He's still staring at me, “Jay?”
He averts his eyes, clearing his throat, “Yeah, I guess we'll have to pick something up for you.” He grabs the keycards, “Lets go get some lunch and I'll fill you in on what's going to happen today.”
“You mean I get to know?”
“A few details, yeah.” He hands me back the hat and shades, “Let's go, I'm starving.”
We take a cab to Fisherman's Wharf and Jay buys me a cheesy tourist sweatshirt from a street vendor. It's a pale pink large (I'm usually a small), with a picture of the Golden Gate Bridge and “I left my heart in San Francisco” written in cursive across it. Needless to say, I've never looked hotter.
“It's beautiful here,” I gush, removing my sunglasses and placing them next to Jay's on the table. I stare out the window of Scoma's where we stopped for lunch. A light drizzle has started and fog is still hovering over the bay. I already love it here and can't wait to return to really take in all this city has to offer.
“It's one of my favorite cities in the US.”
“Have you come here often?”
“When I was a teenager I lived here for about six months, and I've been back a few times after that.”
“Did you like always having to change locations growing up?”
“Never bothered me. I never went to school so I didn't have to worry about making friends. I've been all over the world and almost every major city this country has to offer, and I'm only twenty-five.”
“Why'd you pick Mesa this time?”
“The race track. Not all tracks allow drifting because of the beating the road takes. The owner of that place likes what we do and wants to get a buzz going. He's hoping not to have to sell it and make it into a popular place for drifters to come and race. When I heard about it, I knew that was the next place I had to go live. Being able to drift is one of the things I miss most when I'm in a new place.”
“Can't you find curvy roads to do it on?”
“Sure, but not all places have anything worth driving. Some places have underground racing, but I can't stand that shit. It's too 'my penis is bigger than yours' crap.”
“Well you'd win that contest no problem.” I wasn't trying to flirt. The words fell out, but I loved watching Jay's cheeks redden. “Are you blushing?” Now I can't help but tease him.
“Shut up,” he mumbles, focusing down at the table, the rest of his face growing red.
It's rare to see Jay being bashful. It warms my heart and my legs extend to give his a playful nudge. As I bring my legs back up he loops his in with mine. They stay locked together, making a thousand tiny butterflies shoot off inside my belly.
“So what's the plan for today?” I ask, because I'm starting to get nervous and flustered feeling and I don't want to be.
That snaps Jay back to reality and his walls go back up. He unhooks his legs from mine and sits up straighter
. I knew that's what he would do. Even though that's what I wanted because it hurts too much to only get little pieces of him, it still left my body longing for more.
“We're going to Cole Private Bank and Trust, where I will meet with a man who has what I need.”
“The dagger,” I add, which makes Jay's upper lip sneer.
“Fuck you’re nosy.”
“Because I listen to a conversation you're having in the bed next to mine?” I snap. I can't believe he's irritated at me over this. “I can bet anybody else would have done the same. And don't get mad at me because you're too afraid I know more than you want me to. Get over it.”
Jay works his jaw back and forth a few times before continuing, “Fine, yeah, we need this dagger from him.”
“What's so special about it?” I ask as the waiter comes over, placing our clam chowders on the table.
“Some kind of sentimental crap.”
“I thought you guys didn't get sentimental.”
“We do over weapons.”
“How sweet.”
Jay grins at my sarcasm and starts eating his soup, which is delicious. We are silent for awhile, each having an intimate moment with our food.
“You'll wait in the bank lobby,” Jay informs me, finishing off his bowl, “I won't be long, and you can't leave the building. You will be safe as long as you don't-”
“I'm not going with you?”
Jay growls in irritation, “Stop interrupting me. And no you're not.”
“Is the person you're meeting bad?”
Jay scratches his scruff and doesn't explain more until our bowls are cleared and our Crab Louie’s are put in their place.
“Bad is such a broad term. Who he is is complicated. He's not good or bad, he deals with both.”
“Why can't I go with you?”
“How many times do I have to tell you I don't want you involved in my life,” Jay curses when he sees the hurt on my face. He reaches over the table and takes a hand in both of his, “I didn't mean it like that. The more people who know about you, the more stressed I get. You not meeting anyone is for your safety and my peace of mind.”
I want to tell him that I want to be involved, even if that means I can never return home and I get to be with him, but I know over time I would miss my family (Naomi and Stevie included).
He moves his hands back and we eat our crab salads. This is the first time I've had crab and it's definitely on the top of my list of best things to ever enter my mouth. Jay being at the top, followed by pumpkin pie, then would have to be this crab. I want to have a love affair with this crab.
After we finish, I glance over the dessert menu and look up to find Jay intently staring at me. He's studying my face the way he used to when we first met.
“What?” I ask, longing starting to whirlpool in my core.
“Still trying to figure you out.”
I laugh, “I'm about as easy as they come.”
Jay leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, “In some ways, yeah, you're everything you appear to be: sweet, nurturing, naïve, but there are parts of you that are in another dimension compared to most people. If you love someone you look past their faults and flaws, where most people dwell on them and use it against them. It isn't always in your favor, but you don't let that stop you. You can't reign in your emotions; when you feel something, you feel it, in every fucking part of you. I love that about you. I'm jealous you feel so freely and powerfully. You're not afraid of your emotions, you own them, and I have mad fucking respect for that.”
My heart is in full hammer mode and swelling so much in size it might break a bone. I wish I could see myself through Jay's eyes because I want to be that person. “I'm afraid of what I feel for you,” embarrassed at my honesty, I go back to looking out the window.
“Being afraid of an emotion and not letting yourself feel it is different. It may scare you, but you don't stop it. You let the emotion in and every concern that goes with it, no matter how scary or terrifying it is. I'm trying to figure out how you can feel that much but still be so strong.”
I snort, “I'm not strong-”
“Yes, you are,” he cuts me off and my head moves back to view him. The whirlpool starts again when I see the admiration in his eyes, “You may not be packed full of muscles or good at hiding your emotions, but you're strong, Lily.”
I roll my eyes and Jay's features harden, “You were able to walk away from a man you loved and trusted after he betrayed you by hitting and raping you. Four men attack you, another two kidnap you, and none of it destroyed you.”
I cringe, he makes it sound more horrific than it really was. “That's not true,” I say, earning another scowl from him, “I let Will control me for two years. I let him destroy the woman I was before we met.”
“Yeah, but you fucking got her back, and I would bet every cent I have that you're an even better version of who you once were.”
“Thanks to you,” I softly say.
Jay shakes his head, “I had nothing to do with it. No one can heal another, you have to be able to heal yourself. Only one's own strength can truly make the right changes to heal and grow.”
“I disagree. Maybe I would have found myself again, but you made me better. I wouldn't be who I am right now if it wasn't for you. I don't think it's a bad thing to allow a person in to help heal you. You had what I needed to restore, you offered parts of yourself that made me change for the better. So, yeah, I disagree. We can't always work everything out for ourselves, and sometimes need the guidance of another. It's not bad to find strength in another person, Jay,” am I talking about myself or him? Somehow this conversation has turned into me scolding him, “It doesn't have to be a weakness to let people in.” Yeah, okay, I'm definitely scolding, “The only reason you admire my over-emotional brain is because you fight so hard to control yours. The only emotions you freely give are ones that come in the form of hatred and anger. If you took the chance to let someone in I bet they would change you. In a sense you're right, the person has to want the change, but another person still has the ability to guide them, make them view things in a different light. You did that for me and I wish you'd let me do the same for you.”
Jay looks pissed and once again I should have kept my mouth shut. “You did fucking do that for me,” his voice is low and gruff as he sneers the words out, “but it's not as simple for me. I don’t know how to deal with emotions and still stay strong. It's easier to shut down and get shit done, especially when you're killing a man with your bare hands. That's not something you want to fucking dwell on. Not everyone has the luxury to feel every fucking emotion that passes through them.”
Fuck keeping my mouth shut, I'm sick of feeling guilty for his mood swings, “Now you're using it as an insult? Which is it, Jay? Do you like that I'm emotional or is it a nuisance? I get too many mixed messages from you.”
“Why does every conversation have to end in a fucking argument now,” he scans the dessert menu, “We're never going to be us again, are we?”
“I'm not really sure if we have the same definition of us, but if you're talking about how we were before you left, it's impossible,” I watch Jay's brows scrunch together and his jaw lock, “It can't be like that because you won't let it. You're trapped in your head and have convinced yourself for too long that you can never let anyone in. Your life is about revenge, and as soon as this is over you'll leave me again. I don't think you realize how badly it hurt that you left me so easily, and right after we made love. Maybe I was just a good fuck to you, but it meant more to me. That's why we fight now. I'm sick of your bullshit, sick of the secrets, sick of you pushing me away, and sick of remembering every fucking day what it feels like to be in your arms.”
“You finished?” He growls.
“Yup.” I'm tired of fighting too. Real tired. In fact, right now I'm exhausted and wish I could curl up in my bed at home and sleep for the next month or two.
Jay pulls out his wallet and throws
down a hundred, “Lets go.”
“Do you ever wait for the bill?” I ask, feeling cranky now.
Jay stands up and holds his hand out to help me up, “Don't have the fucking patience for it.”
I sidestep his hand and walk past him, “You waste a lot of money that way.”
“True, but I probably made the waiter's day with that tip.”
We are outside now and walking across the mini bridge to where the city's bustling with tourists and people on their lunch break.
I come to a halt, making Jay crash into my back and causing him to curse.
I whip around and poke his chest, “That right there. People with no hearts don't give two licks about making a waiter's day with a tip.”
He takes in an agitated breath, removes my hand, shoves my sunglasses back on my face, and hails a taxi. We sit in silence the whole ride to the bank, and I'm too grumpy to enjoy the sights or even remember what I saw.
When we enter the building Jay leads us to the right, where they have a waiting area. We sit on opposite leather chairs, facing one another.
“You wait here. Don't move from this spot until I get back.”
I don't answer. I'm too busy observing the inside of the place, taking it all in. It's definitely a bank for the wealthy. All the chairs surrounding us are a rich brown leather; you can smell their authenticity. The columns are made of dark woods and the floor a beautiful marble. Then there are the customers: women dressed in designer clothes and accessories, decorating themselves with jewelry that blinds you. Men with well groomed physiques, fitted suits, and freshly shined shoes.
“Are you listening to me?” Jay asks, sounding peeved.
“Stay here. Got it.” I don't look at him, continuing to seem enthralled with the place.
After fifteen minutes of us silently sitting, I finally look at Jay. He has his shades up and is scorching me with his eyes. I pretend I don't feel them burning holes into me, “Don’t you have to let them know you're waiting?”
“No,” his voice is level, and he's hardly blinking as he continues to narrow in on me, “He knew I was here the minute we stepped through the door.”
Marked. Part I: The missing Link Page 20