Pieces (25 page)

T
HE SAFE
house was more like a safe
palace.
A wall of ancient rock blanketed with ivy surrounded it. A black wrought-iron gate guarded its entrance. As the taxi driver pulled up to the gate, Naomi caught a glimpse of the house inside the walls. It was at least three stories tall, built of rock and what looked like peach-colored plaster, with columns and white-trimmed windows. The grounds were lush and manicured, even in December, shaded by palm trees and flat-topped pines.

“Who owns this?” Naomi asked as they climbed out of the taxi and began unloading their luggage.

“Lots of people,” Jesse said, shrugging. “I don’t ask questions.”

It seemed there was a lot he didn’t know, and even more she didn’t know, and there was nothing she could do about it. A man wearing a suit and sunglasses came to the gate and pushed a code on a panel in the rock wall. The gate slid open and the man motioned for Jesse and Naomi to walk through. Jesse paid the taxi driver, and Naomi watched the car drive off before she turned to look at the house. She wondered how many people lived here and what kind of illegal crap they did to make money. Her stomach sank at the realization she was one of those people, even if she didn’t directly do anything illegal. She was with Jesse. She was staying with him, and that meant she supported whatever he was doing.

They were escorted into the house through the front door. The inside was as grand as the outside, filled with plants and sunlight and pastel décor. A thick rug woven with images of swans adorned the floor. Naomi looked up as a beautiful woman with slick black hair pulled into a bun on the top of her head greeted them, speaking in Italian. She wore a cream-colored suit, much like Naomi’s mother wore.

“English,” Jesse said, motioning to Naomi, and then continued in carefully pronounced Italian. He was far from fluent, she realized, but at least he could communicate.

The woman nodded and then smiled at Naomi. “I am Angelica,” she said in a thick accent. “We welcome you here while you need protection.” She held out a hand, palm-up. “I will need all mobile phones, please. They will be returned to you shortly.”

Jesse nodded and handed his over. Naomi pulled hers from her purse and placed it into Angelica’s hand.

“Hers you will need to destroy,” he said with a nervous glance at Naomi. “It’s no longer safe.”

“Of course,” Angelica said with a nod, and then motioned to a maid standing near a wide staircase leading upstairs. “Sonia will take you to your apartment.” She looked at Jesse and spoke in Italian before he nodded and motioned Naomi to follow him. Sonia gathered a few of their bags, and the three of them walked up the stairs.

Once Sonia left them in the apartment and Jesse closed the door, he set his bags on the floor and turned to Naomi. “We’ll be safe here. It’s nicer than the last place, anyway.” He smiled and pointed to a small kitchen to Naomi’s left. “And we can still cook if we want.”

She grunted and folded her arms. “So how do you know
these
people? Same as the guys in the suits?”

“Same network, yes.” He glanced at his watch. “Listen, you can relax here in the room for a while. I have to go meet with some people and get some work done.” When he spotted Naomi’s vicious glare, he sighed. “I know you have issues with this. I know we need to talk about things, but I have work to do and there’s no way out of it. I’ll be back in a few hours and we can go out to eat for dinner, okay? There should be food in the kitchen if you get hungry, but don’t leave the apartment until I’m back.”

She continued to glare at him as he gathered up his computer bag and a few other things and left the apartment. When he was gone, she stared at the door. There was a chain lock and a deadbolt, but both were on the correct side of the door, not the wrong side locking her in, like at the house. The two windows in the lavish living room looking out over the grounds didn’t appear as if they were locked from the outside to keep her inside, either. When she walked over to one and pulled the curtain aside, she thought the glass looked thicker than normal. Probably bulletproof. Great. She was living in a bulletproof palace. At least she could leave if she wanted to.

She found the bedroom and an office and then sat down on a leather sofa in the living room. There was a large screen TV on the far wall. She stared at it until her focus blurred. She didn’t want this, no matter how nice it might seem to live in luxury with her every need met. Her whole life had been that way so far, but worst of all, it was like being back in the house. As much as her heart sometimes ached to return to that time where she was happy with Jesse and felt safe with her kidnappers, she knew it was ridiculous to want such a thing. It was the Stockholm syndrome. She had read enough about it to know how her mind had been twisted. The worst thing was that much of what she had read made it clear only a certain type of personality responded so deeply to such manipulation. Everybody else, it seemed, would have tried to escape their kidnappers, even if the clear outcome was death. Most would rather die than live in such circumstances, so what was wrong with her? Jesse had called her stubborn and submissive. How could she be both? She was screwed up, that’s what it was. Everybody else was normal and she was wired in such a way nobody would ever understand her. Including herself.

She pulled a couch pillow into her lap and hugged it to her chest as she realized Jesse didn’t understand her on every single level, no matter how much she had convinced herself he did. He would never have brought her here to Italy if he understood her. He would never have kept so many things from her if he knew how betrayed and frightened it was going to make her feel. Here, in a place where she was alone, she looked into the darkest parts of herself and saw a girl desperately weaving threads into a thick shroud to hide the truth. All those threads she had thought connected her to others were nothing more than excuses to weave into the shroud, one by one. Jesse’s was the thickest and ran straight down the center. He loved her, of that she was certain. But he loved her for all the wrong reasons and she loved him for all the wrong reasons. She wanted someone strong to make decisions for her, protect her, and cradle her from the reality she had been running from her entire life. As far as she could see, he still felt guilty for kidnapping her. Prison hadn’t erased the guilt, so taking care of her was his next attempt at fixing everything. It was all wrong, wrong, wrong, and she wanted to escape no matter how much it hurt to leave him. Thinking about doing such a thing made her squeeze the pillow even tighter to her chest. She fell sideways onto the couch and curled into a ball, too exhausted to do anything except count her trembling breaths.

W
HEN SHE
woke, the room was a mix of gray and purple light. The sun was beginning to go down. She sat up with a start. Jesse hadn’t returned. A clock on the wall showed the time was just past four-thirty. She hadn’t expected to fall asleep, but it made sense that her subconscious wanted to escape. In fact, her entire being wanted to escape, but she wasn’t sure how to do it without breaking her heart in the process. Leaving Jesse—after all she had sacrificed to be with him—made no sense. She knew it would hurt, but to the logical side of her brain, it made perfect sense. That was the side Stacy tapped into, or at least what she had tried to tap into for so long.

Looking down, Naomi realized she had been hugging the couch pillow so tightly that it was damp with her sweat. She set the pillow aside and went into the kitchen. It was small but clean. There were sleek granite countertops, bone china plates stacked in the cupboards, and shiny black stools set in front of a bar at the far end of the room. Naomi opened the refrigerator door and peeked inside. Cheeses, condiments, some vegetables in the crisper. None of it looked good at the moment. Closing the door, she walked out of the kitchen and stood staring at her and Jesse’s luggage they had both left in the entryway.

Money.

That was what she needed to get away. She had cashed out her entire bank account before coming. Jesse had deposited half of it into his bank account, and the rest they carried on travel money cards and in cash. Jesse had told her he didn’t like the cash all in one place while traveling, so he split up what they didn’t carry in their wallets between several envelopes separated into different luggage bags in case one was stolen or lost—as if that would happen driving across town, but she didn’t question him. Some envelopes held euros, some held dollars.

Taking a step forward, she realized how much her heart was pounding. Her hands shook as she knelt and unzipped the first bag. Digging around, she found an envelope. Euros, pretty and colorful. She slid out the stack and set it aside, then moved on to the next bag. Finally, she had all of the money on the floor in front of her. Several stacks of euros, one stack of dollars. Worth thousands all together. Jesse was probably carrying more with him, but that didn’t matter. She could pay a taxi, hop on a rail, find her way to the airport, and then buy a plane ticket and fly home.

Gathering the cash and stuffing it into one envelope, she carried it to her purse and buried it at the bottom. She had more than enough now, and under her breath she whispered,
“I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.”
There was a bag already packed by the door, filled with clothes and necessities for a week. Enough people spoke English for her to get around.

Then she remembered the black iron gate guarding the bulletproof palace she was standing in. She remembered Jesse handing Angelica her phone to be destroyed. She remembered Jesse’s order not to leave the apartment until he returned. She had no doubt someone would stop her. He had probably told that fancy-dressed man with the glasses to make sure she didn’t try to walk out.

Wiping her sweating palms on the front of her pants, she told herself Jesse wanted to protect her. It was all he had ever wanted. He kept Eric from killing her when they hit her with the car. He kept her safe all those months at the house. This was for her own good.

When she looked up and saw herself reflected in one of the windows, she knew it was all a lie. Maybe she didn’t need protection anymore. Maybe she didn’t want to be protected. Her parents wanted to protect her too. But from what? Pain? Living a
life
?

She set her purse on an end table and went into the kitchen to make a snack. She would force herself to eat something and then wait for Jesse to return. Whatever was going to happen, it wouldn’t be here in the palace.

XXIII

J
ESSE RETURNED BY SEVEN AND ASKED HER
to change quickly into something nice so they could make it on time for a reservation he had made at a restaurant.

With a sigh, Naomi did as she was asked and changed into a skirt. “Which restaurant?” she asked, slipping on a pair of heels.

“They serve whatever the chef decides to make for the day,” he answered, smiling as they headed out the door.

The restaurant was small and decorated with indoor plants and wrought iron. The floor was red brick. Naomi stared at it after settling in her chair.

“Do we know what they’re serving today?” she asked, making sure her purse sat squarely in her lap. It was heavy with all the cash stuffed in the bottom. She looked up as Jesse shrugged.

“I don’t know. We’ll have to see. A guy I met with today told me about this place, so I thought we’d come give it a try.”

“I hope they’re not serving fish,” she mumbled. “I hate fish.”

“I know you do.”

She looked into his eyes and hated how he was ignoring all the obvious issues swirling around them. She hated that he had left her alone in a cage all afternoon. She hated that he didn’t see it as a cage.

The waiter approached and told them the dish today was salmon with lemon sauce and capers. Naomi almost stood up to leave, but Jesse put on his warmest smile and talked to the waiter in slow Italian. Naomi felt her purse heavy in her lap. She thought about the money. She thought about taxi drivers and navigating an unfamiliar airport. She thought about what it might be like never to feel Jesse hold her again, his lips on hers, the gentle but firm way he made love to her and knew what she liked.

When he looked back at her, still smiling, she wiped away her terrified expression. “So, will we need to leave?” she asked. “Because I’m not making myself eat salmon, I’m sorry.”

He leaned forward. “No, I talked him into convincing the chef to make us something special. Don’t worry.” Reaching across the table, he tried to take her hand, but she pulled it away.

“We need to talk,” she said, looking him in the eyes.

He leaned back into his chair. “Yes, I know. So, start asking me whatever you want. I’ll answer. No more lies. No more secrets, I promise.”

“That’s not the issue anymore and you know it.”

The waiter returned to pour their wine. Naomi waited until he was gone before taking a sip. She wanted Jesse to continue the conversation. She wanted to see where he would take it—if he had any idea how close she was to walking away.

“Alright, Naomi,” he said, folding his arms. “Let’s look at this from the ground up. I kidnapped you and we fell in love. It was that simple.”