His foot taps on the wood floor as he swallows, hard. I’ve never seen someone so bothered by what they are about to say. It’s making me nervous.
“Your family is involved in something bigger, and Carlo Lugazzi is upset because they’ve infringed on his turf.”
“You’re being vague again, Jesse.”
“And I promise, it’s for your benefit. You need to understand that me telling you this can get me killed.”
“You saved my life tonight—”
“No!” He turns his body to me. His eyes are red-rimmed, and he looks irritated. “You can never let anyone know you were here. They can’t know you were here with me, and most importantly, no one can find out we spoke. You have to promise me.”
The plea is enough to make me grab his shoulder and hold it steadily. “I won’t. I promise. It’s a stupid promise to make because what you’ve done is nothing short of amazing.” I mean it. I don’t know this man as well as I should, but he put his life on the line for me tonight.
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You protected me.” My words make that pained expression morph into surprise and wonderment. “You rushed into action and didn’t hesitate. I put my confidence in you, and now, you need to believe in me. I want to know everything.”
“I can only tell you what I know will keep you safe.”
I swallow. “I can handle it.”
“I know you can.” He runs a hand through his hair and rubs the back of his neck. “Getting you out of Villa Russo, rushing through the tunnels and bringing you here, was the best decision. The men who came tonight were careless. No one shoots up a restaurant if they don’t want to harm a woman. That alone was reason enough for me to take you with me.”
“Why is this Lugazzi person so angry?” I swallow down the nerves, not believing this is really happening.
“When I find out, I’ll tell you.”
I accept his answer as I let out a heavy breath.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Sure. It’s not every day you find out your family is involved in business that has mobsters coming after them. I just need some time to adjust to the news.” I rub my eyes and then my temples. “I don’t suppose you have any advice. I’m sure your father has a normal job.”
“He’s a geography teacher.”
I swivel my head at his quick and honest answer. “And your mom?”
He smiles, and it settles my anxiety. “Now, you’re pushing it.” The slight bump of his shoulder into mine makes me let out a light laugh.
“Come on. You know all my secrets.”
His eyes soften as he looks down with a grin. A deep sigh escapes his lips. “My mother is a bank teller. My sister is in her third year of college.”
“You have a sister too? I’m surprised you never commiserated with me during our nights at the bar.”
“I wanted to. Especially since she is just like yours. Center of attention and late for everything.” He stares off with a gaze of wistfulness. “She drives me up the wall, but she’s mine, and I wouldn’t change her for anything.”
“I bet you’re the protective older brother.”
“Actually, I haven’t seen my family in two years.”
I blink rapidly at his statement. Not talking to my family is something I can’t even fathom. For him to have that kind of relationship with them could only mean something horrible must have happened between them. A fight or a misunderstanding blown out of proportion perhaps. It must be terrible.
“I’m sorry,” I say, and he nods. I take his hand in mine. This isn’t like when he held my hand in the dark tunnels or when he pulled me to safety. I’m gripping his hand purposefully, telling him that I’m here. “That must be so hard for you.”
He swallows with a nod, looking at our conjoined hands.
My thumb runs over the top of his knuckles. They’re red and swollen. I flip his hand over and do the same to his palm, letting my fingers gently glide over the wounds from him forcefully removing the grates to bring us to safety. “You know, I … if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here.” I shake my head at the lunacy. I’m sure he has friends or … someone. Still, it feels important to say. “Anytime. I can be there for you. If you need it.”
I drop his hand, feeling awkward by the exchange, and look away. His fingers skate along the side of my arm. The warmth of his touch has me turning back to him. His eyes rise to mine, and that blue that I find so mesmerizing paralyzes me.
“Thank you,” he breathes.
I nod as I push my hair behind my ear. The intimacy in this moment is too powerful for my fragile mind.
With a slap to my knees, I rise and walk around the room. It’s big with plank flooring and large crown molding on the ceiling. I run my hands up my arms as a sudden rush of cool air sweeps around me. “Why do you think this place is vacant?”
“The owner died three years ago. It’s been held up in an estate battle ever since.”
I blanch as I look at him. “You knew the house was empty.”
He nods. “Breaking and entering isn’t my thing. Chances of not getting caught are better if no one actually lives where you break in.”
I laugh at his nonchalant tone. This man has yet to cease to surprise me tonight. “I would ask how you, a bartender, know the map of Staten Island’s hidden crime tunnels by heart and how you brought us to this exact house”—I eye the bookcase where his gun is lying—“or how you got a gun and why there were candles and matches just waiting on the bookcase, but I’m almost afraid to ask.”
Jesse stands up and slides his hands in his pockets. “The gun was behind the bar. I grabbed it when I heard the gunfire. And the tunnels have always been a backup plan. Let’s just say, I had a feeling I’d need a way out. The candles have been here for months.”
“I have a plethora of questions I’m dying to ask, but I’m feeling pretty lucky for your preplanning and your honesty thus far, so I won’t push it.” My cheeks rise.
“I’m relieved you’re finding some humor in this.”
“This night has been surreal, to say the least. Tell me something boring. Like, super normal.”
He laughs at my request. “Define normal.”
“Stupid, mundane things you don’t put on a dating profile because it’s lame yet highly regular.”
“Okay. Well, I was voted Most Likely to Go to Jail in my high school yearbook. I have a dog named Harry, who lives with my parents. And I’m allergic to copper.”
“Oh my God, you make me those drinks every week! The copper mugs must irritate you.”
“Burns a little, and I make sure not to touch my eyes. It’s nothing.”
My hands fly out as I explain, “Burning your skin is a big deal.”
“Well, there’s this cute girl who enjoys them, so it’s worth it.”
A swarm of butterflies inhabit my belly, and I have to fight a blush. I cross my arms and shake my head at him. “Well, next time, I’ll get something else.”
“And I’ll ignore you.” He takes a few steps closer. “Your turn. What’s your normal?”