Missing Pieces (Ashby Holler Book 3) Read online

  Missing Pieces

  By Jamie Zakian

  MISSING PIECES

  Copyright © 2017 by Jamie Zakian.

  All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: May 2017

  Limitless Publishing, LLC

  Kailua, HI 96734

  www.limitlesspublishing.com

  Formatting: Limitless Publishing

  ISBN-13: 978-1-64034-107-4

  ISBN-10: 1-64034-107-2

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  For my mother.

  The day she died, the brightest star in my sky burned out.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Epilogue

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  Chapter One

  Sasha stepped off the elevator, onto the checkered carpet of a Manhattan high-rise, and tripped over her own two feet. Her hip crashed against a shiny table in the dimly lit, ghostly hallway. Its metal edge thumping the wall was but a whisper compared to the loud “Fuck!” that slipped from her mouth and the giggle that followed from the woman clutching onto her arm. Although Roxy’s snicker traveled farther down the hall than Sasha’s stumble, crash, and outburst, Sasha couldn’t say shit. For the entire elevator ride up fifteen floors, she’d lectured Roxy about being quiet. Then, like a goddamn spaz, she wrecked the place the second her feet touched plush carpet. She blamed the shimmer of the silver trim on the walls. This hallway, the floor-length window at its end showing off the twinkle of city lights, and the penthouse she and Roxy were walking toward were too fancy. She couldn’t concentrate with all the fucking glimmer, the constant distractions.

  “I’m gonna wait outside,” Roxy said, glancing at the elevator.

  Sasha pulled Roxy closer to her side. The streets of New York City were vicious, even in Manhattan, and she wasn’t letting their claws dig any deeper into her girl.

  “No.” Sasha glided her thumb along the puffy scars on Roxy’s wrist. Of all the strippers, in all the boroughs, Sasha had managed to find the one more damaged than her own fucked-up self. It should’ve been an easy feat, except most the strippers that rode her lap were hard-working, well-adjusted gals. It seemed hardly anybody was beaten, locked in a tiny room, and tortured these days.

  “Everyone should be crashed out,” Sasha whispered, leaning close enough to Roxy to get a whiff of cigarette smoke and Seven and Seven. “Just raid the fridge. I’ll hit the safe.”

  Sasha stopped in front of the penthouse door, staring at its golden knob. The people beyond that door were hardcore motherfuckers, mean bastards, and they didn’t like to be messed with. They definitely weren’t going to enjoy being robbed. Now she wanted to scurry back into the elevator and wait outside.

  The door in front of Sasha flew open, and she jumped back. Her gaze drifted along ripples of muscles hidden beneath a tight black t-shirt, ending at Dez’s glare. He looked exactly the same as the first time she’d laid eyes on him over a decade ago, sexy as hell and pissed the fuck off. If only she could be the same Sasha that he’d first laid eyes on. The scars that ripped across her cheeks, arms, entire body, coupled with the emptiness in her stare, had to be ugly as shit to look at. Nobody could ever say that about Dez, though. The man was still everything Sasha admired and always wanted to be. His dirty blond hair might be a little longer now, graying at the roots. The disappointment behind his intense leer burned brighter, for sure, but the confidence that radiated around him still lit the air in electric sparks.

  The corners of Dez’s eyes wrinkled as he glowered, and Sasha couldn’t help but smile. Dez was fucking irresistible, especially when he was fuming. She hadn’t realized it until now, but she missed the feel of his lips, the roughness of his hands. When he stopped touching her, or why, she couldn’t remember. He seemed so far from grasp now, even though he was standing right in front of her.

  “I’m sorry,” Sasha said, lowering her stare from Dez’s face. “Did I wake you?”

  “It’s seven pm,” Dez damn near growled. “Where the fuck have you been?”

  The rigid tone in Dez’s voice, along with the way he curled his fingers, reminded Sasha why she stopped getting near that asshole. Dez was a great father, but she didn’t need any more of those.

  “I told you.” Sasha pushed Dez’s big ass from the doorway, grabbed Roxy by the hand, and barged inside the penthouse. “I had some business to handle.”

  Dez snatched Sasha by the collar of her flannel. He yanked her to his side, and her clutch on Roxy broke free. “That was three goddamn days ago,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Mommy!” Tyler yelled, running down the stairs.

  Sasha elbowed Dez in the gut, ripping herself from his grasp just in time to bend down and catch Tyler’s strong hug.

  “There’s my man,” Sasha said, squeezing Tyler tight. His little shoulders wiggled, and he squirmed from her embrace.

  Tyler took a step back. His stare hardened, and he propped his hands on his hips. “Where the heck have you been?”

  A mix between a snort and a snicker erupted from Sasha’s mouth as she rose to her feet. Staring down at Tyler was like gazing at a tiny Dez. Although cuter than a June bug, Sasha didn’t even have time for one Dez, let alone two. Especially if that many days had really passed.

  “I’m sorry, buddy,” Sasha said, stepping around Tyler. “Mommy’s been crazy busy.”

  “I’m gonna wait outside,” Roxy said, scrunching down as she backed past Dez and toward the open door.

  Dez pulled the door open wider. “Good idea.”

  “No!” Sasha rushed forward, taking Roxy by the arm. She pulled the woman close. Roxy had become somewhat of a blanket to Sasha. The first two months of her return to the real world had been hell. She’d escaped a tiny stone room only to be placed in a bright, spacious tower that was crammed with sympathetic leers and promises of brighter days. The last month, after Roxy slinked into her life, had been a complete blur, which was exactly what Sasha wanted.

  Her grip on Roxy tightened, and she headed for the stairs. “I just gotta grab something from the bedroom. Then…” She stopped on the bottom step, steered her glare to Dez “…we’ll be out of your fucking palace.”

  Tyler hurried after Sasha, stopping short when Dez slammed the penthouse door shut. The boy’s little legs rocked in place, his tiny fingers twisted into the ends of his shirt. “You’re leaving again?”

  Tears welled inside Tyler’s eyes, and Sasha turned away. She couldn’t so
othe the child. The only way she knew how to dull pain was by pumping heroin into her body, and she wasn’t about to try that method on a five year old.

  “Don’t worry, little dude.” Sasha took the steps in a sprint, practically dragging Roxy behind her. A clank of charms and dangly pins rang out from Roxy’s jean jacket, the frilly pink lace of her skirt rustling as she hurried to keep up with Sasha’s pace. “I’ll be back before you head off to school.”

  “Tomorrow’s Saturday,” Tyler yelled just as Sasha opened her bedroom door.

  “I know…right,” Sasha called out, which was always an appropriate answer to shit she wasn’t listening to.

  Roxy squealed as Sasha shoved her into the bedroom, flinched when Sasha kicked the door shut behind them.

  “Your son is awesome,” Roxy said, taking her signature scared kitten stance. The woman’s bottom lip quivered, her shoulders trembling as she inched toward a corner. It would be annoying, if Sasha didn’t completely understand. The three months Sasha had spent in a rat-infested cell, dosed on LSD and brainwashed to become her dead mother, was nothing compared to what Roxy had endured. Roxy spent ten years of her life in a closet, an actual living room closet. The woman’s own father had locked her in there when she turned five, kept her in the dark. Roxy had no light beneath her door, no voice to tell her stories. Just a drunken father to beat and rape her on a whim. If Roxy wanted to cower in a corner every single place they went, then that’s what Sasha would let Roxy do.

  “And your old man.” Roxy’s back hit the wall. A sigh of relief skated past her lips as she flattened herself against the bright, white wallpaper. “Dez? He’s fucking hot!”

  “You wanna bone him, don’t you?” Sasha asked, dropping to her knees in front of the nightstand.

  “Yeah.” Roxy nodded, slow, a wicked smile lighting her dark eyes. “Don’t you?”

  “I do,” Sasha said through a groan, opening the nightstand’s drawer. “But that guy wouldn’t be down.”

  “Not down?” That drew Roxy away from the wall, a half-inch. “For a double-team?” She ripped open the flaps of her jacket, flaunting a long stretch of brown skin between her sparkly halter-top and low hanging skirt. “With us?”

  Splinters dug into the tips of Sasha’s fingers as she groped the underside of the open drawer. “Probably not. Any minute now, he’s gonna come tearing ass in here, demanding I do some dumb shit. Then—” A small paper baggie, taped under the drawer, stopped both Sasha’s jaw from wagging and the frantic search of her hand. “Found it!”

  Sasha held up a half-empty dime bag of sweet china, then flipped open its top. Before she could snort a nail-full of powder up her nose, Roxy sat on the floor beside her. There was only two things Roxy loved in this world, would sacrifice everything for—fucking and sticking needles in her arm. They didn’t have time to boot, not with Dez lurking around, so tokes would have to suffice.

  “Here.” Sasha shoved the little bag into Roxy’s palm, wiping her nose as she wobbled to her feet. “Take a few hits.” A warm tingle crept beneath Sasha’s skin, slowing her steps toward the closet. “I gotta…the money.”

  A stumble and a stagger later, Sasha made it to the closet. This fucking room was bullshit. The way it grew longer when she walked, how it tilted to the right when she leaned left. A fucking asshole, that’s what everything was for ganging up against her. She needed another toke, since her retarded brain had decided to kick on and ruin her high.

  “Don’t do it all,” Sasha yelled, louder than she intended.

  Roxy jumped but didn’t drop one bit of heroin on the white carpet. “I got you, baby. You want me to bring it to you?” Roxy climbed to her feet, faster than Sasha could wave a hand.

  “Nah. Just save me a hit or two.”

  “Or three,” Roxy snickered as Sasha dug through shoe boxes.

  “I don’t even know what I’m looking for.” Sasha ran her hand along a row of Dez’s shirts, neatly hung on silver hangers. The long leather trench coat, which she’d never seen draped on his shoulders, looked so worn, weathered. She pulled it close, buried her face inside the collar, and took a deep breath. The scent of Dez filled her lungs, bringing with it a piercing sadness. How she longed to roll in that scent, let it wrap her body in its warmth, instead of relying on a sniff of heroin to spread heat beneath her skin.

  “Bring it now,” Sasha said, pushing Dez’s jacket away.

  Roxy hurried across the room, stopping just outside the closet door. Slowly, she raised her hand. The little bag between her fingers quaked, and the trinkets pinned along her sleeve jingled as her arm trembled. “I can’t go in there, Sasha. I…”

  “Oh fuck.” Sasha tripped over a pair of boots as she rushed out of the closet. “I’m sorry. Fuck! I wasn’t thinking.” Roxy clutched the bag of heroin to her chest, and Sasha almost snatched it from the woman’s grasp.

  “I trust you.” Roxy clung to Sasha’s flannel shirt with the hand that wasn’t bogarting the drugs. “You know that, right? I just can’t go in there with you.”

  “No, I know.” Sasha wrapped her arm around Roxy, and the woman’s tight body loosened. A few kisses, some soft Spanish words, and that bag would be free for the taking. “Sorry, doll. I fucked—”

  The bedroom door flew open. Its shiny handle crashed against the wall and Roxy yelped, then scurried into the farthest corner.

  “What the fuck, Sasha?” Dez walked into the room, getting right in Sasha’s face.

  “Jesus, asshole.” She pushed Dez, but he didn’t budge, so she strolled away. “You scared my friend.”

  “Fuck your friend!”

  “Hey!” Sasha stopped in the middle of the room, turning to hurl glares at Dez. “You better be nice to her.” The words came out venomous, with more spite than she ever thought possible. “My friend is gonna be around for a while.”

  A long, slow huff streamed from Dez’s mouth. Pain, Sasha saw pain in his stare as he ran his hands through his tangled hair.

  “I’m trying really hard to understand what you’re going through right now,” he said in a near whisper.

  The laugh that burst from Sasha’s mouth wasn’t a funny one, or a mocking snicker. It was a bit of a crazed-person chuckle. “Oh wow. You’re actually waiting for me to magically poof back, aren’t you?” She took a step toward Dez, ducking to meet his gaze. “My ugly, ripped-up face isn’t going away. Neither is my disgusting body, or shitty attitude.” The sight of anguish on Dez’s face nearly broke Sasha’s hard stare, but this was what she’d become. Hard, revolting, broken. That’s what she was now.

  “Get used to it,” she said, mostly to herself. It felt wrong. The words that spewed from her mouth, the thoughts that flashed through her head, didn’t fit with the Sasha she’d built. She’d forgotten. The Sasha she’d built had been torn to shreds, all its little pieces stolen. It was a damn shame. The only piece of herself she’d been able to salvage was the part that harbored hate.

  Before she could drop to her knees in front of Dez and beg to be forgiven or saved, she turned her back to him. “Come on, Roxy. We’re out of here.”

  “Sasha,” Dez said as Roxy hurried to Sasha’s side.

  The tremble in Dez’s voice, the finality in that one word, should’ve stopped Sasha’s feet from shuffling onward. Except it didn’t, and she had no idea why. Almost against her will, she walked from the bedroom and headed down the stairs.

  “I’ll be back,” Sasha called out to Dez without bothering to turn around. She didn’t want to push her luck. It was already pretty damn amazing she’d made it through the five-minute interaction with that man, considering the near microscopic amount of drugs in her system at the moment.

  Sasha removed her arm from Roxy long enough to blow Tyler a kiss, then headed for the front door.

  “We won’t be here when you come back,” Dez said from the top of the stairs.

  The speed of Sasha’s feet slowed but only a tad. She pulled the penthouse door open and pushed Roxy into the hallway. “Yeah, wh
atever.”

  Sasha followed Roxy into the hallway, closing the door behind her. This could be one of those moments, when destinies changed depending on the direction a person walked. In the movies it would be that moment. Sasha was stuck in reality, where misery rained down in every direction. It didn’t matter if she turned back or walked forward. All roads led to the same destination–despair.

  Her shoulders fell into a slump as she followed Roxy to the elevator. Dez was full of shit. The guy couldn’t leave. He had nowhere to go, just like her, just like everybody who ended up in New York fucking City.

  “You got my bump, right?” Sasha asked, yanking Roxy to a stop in front of the elevator. She wrapped her fingers around the front of Roxy’s jacket, squeezing. Any second, she’d start pillaging through the woman’s thieving pockets. Goddamn, that woman had a fuck-load of pockets too.

  A smile lifted Roxy’s cool brown cheeks and she held the bag, with its pathetic minuscule of dust in one corner, up in front of Sasha’s eyes.

  “Fuck!” Sasha grabbed the bag, looking back at the penthouse. “I fucking forgot we came here to steal a briefcase full of money.”

  Chapter Two

  Not only was Sasha two days late for a meeting with her dealer, Reid, but she didn’t have the five grand to cover her order of six pounds of pure heroin.

  “I’m gonna get fucking shot tonight,” she said, weaving between the assholes littering her sidewalk.

  “No,” Roxy said, almost a scold. “Reid will understand. I can blow him if you want me to.”

  “He’s probably gonna make us both blow him.”

  Some guy stared Sasha down as he walked by. The bastard probably heard the words “blow him” and was looking for the line.

  “You’d do that?” Roxy asked, shock taking her pitch into a screech. “Blow Reid?”

  “Fuck no!” She wasn’t getting on her knees for no man. Well, except Dez. And maybe Vinny.