I Just Need You

by J. Nathan

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not considered to be real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by J. Nathan.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Edited by Stephanie Elliot

  Proofread by Gem’s Precise Proofreads

  Cover Design by Y’all. That Graphic.

  Cover Photo by Brian Kaminski

  Cover Model Jake Hobbs

  First Edition October 2020

  PROLOGUE

  Kresley

  I lay on my bed, the soft sounds of Paris trickling in from my open window. And though Andre wouldn’t approve of an open window—after he’d already secured the premises for the night—sometimes a girl just needed to let Paris in.

  I contemplated pulling up another movie to stream, but I had an early class in the morning so I pulled my long blonde hair into a messy knot, crawled under my comforter, and set the alarm on my phone. I closed my eyes, thinking about my presentation the following day. I hated speaking in front of a class, but it was a necessary evil to graduate.

  Just as I was about to doze off, I heard a loud thud in the sitting room and someone yelled, “Down on the ground!”

  I jerked up.

  “Where is she?” a deep French voice ordered.

  More muffled sounds.

  Then…

  Bang!

  I jumped at the sound of a gunshot as a shiver tore up my spine. I looked around my room frantically, knowing it was a matter of seconds before my closed door swung open. I slipped out of bed, snatching the knife off the dish with the apple core beside my bed. With shaking hands, I crawled underneath the bed and onto the cold hardwood floor. My body shook as I lay in a ball trying to make myself as small as I could. My comforter didn’t reach the floor, so all someone needed to do was bend down and they’d see me.

  Fuck.

  Footsteps moved in the sitting room, nearing my closed bedroom door.

  Please be Andre. Please be Andre.

  My bedroom door squeaked open and heavy footsteps moved across my floor. I lay still, but my pulse thrashed throughout my body, and my labored breathing threatened to give me away.

  An eerie silence descended over my room. Was it Andre? If so, why wasn’t he speaking?

  A hand grabbed my ankle.

  I screamed, my legs kicking wildly as I tried to free myself. But another hand grabbed my other ankle and I was dragged out from under the bed. I tucked the knife behind my back, gripping it tightly as my legs flailed in an attempt to break loose. But he was too strong, holding my ankles like two impenetrable vice grips. I gave up the fight and lay on my floor with my chest rising and falling as I stared up at a man dressed in black with a black mask covering all but his eyes. Another man dressed the same stood in the doorway.

  “Where’s Andre?” I asked, my voice cracking and sounding nothing like my own.

  They scoffed under their masks, exchanging a knowing glance.

  Bile shot up the back of my throat, knowing with every fiber of my being that the gunshot had been for Andre. Tears glazed my eyes. “What do you want?”

  “What do you think we want?” the man at my feet asked, his French accent taunting me with the very thing I adored about France.

  “I can get you whatever you want,” I assured him, fighting to keep my voice from cracking.

  He released my ankles but quickly grabbed my hand that didn’t hold the knife and yanked me to my feet. I kept the knife held against my back, terrified he’d see it. He didn’t, pushing me to the nearest wall and slamming my back to it.

  My body trembled.

  Andre wasn’t coming to save me.

  No one was coming to save me.

  My only saving grace was the knife in my hand. But did I have the nerve to use it with his partner in the door ready to hurt me if I did?

  The man pressed his chest to mine, pushing me harder into the wall as he leaned into my ear. His sweaty putrid scent strangled me, and I fought not to gag. “Tsk, tsk, tsk.” His spit brushed my ear. “Le fou de fortune,” he whispered. Fortune’s fool. “I want you to have your parents wire ten million dollars into an off-shore account.”

  “I can do that,” I assured him as I tightened my grip on the knife behind my back.

  “I wasn’t asking.”

  I closed my eyes, willing back the tears that fell regardless.

  “Then…” His hand slipped between my thighs, cupping me. “I want to know what a rich American college girl feels like.”

  I swallowed hard.

  This wasn’t happening. This was a sick dream I’d soon wake up from.

  Bang!

  The sound of another gunshot tore through my apartment.

  My eyes snapped open as I jumped, despite the weight pressed against me.

  “What the fuck?” the man holding me said as he turned to look to his partner in the doorway.

  I yanked the knife from behind my back and stabbed at him, not even sure where I was hitting since his hands flew up to protect his masked-covered face.

  He reeled back with a roar, his hands cupping his mask with blood staining his fingers.

  Now that I was no longer pinned to the wall, my eyes shot around, desperate for a way out. His partner blocked the doorway holding his chest as a pool of blood spread beneath his hand. I jumped over my bed toward the open window. I was on the second floor but I’d jump. It was my only option.

  Just then, a barrage of footsteps in the distance manifested and shouting in French warned that the police were coming.

  The man I’d stabbed rushed to his partner. He held his face with one hand and grabbed his partner under the arm with the other. He turned to me. “This isn’t over, le fou de fortune.”

  And just like that, they disappeared out my bedroom door.

  After the initial shock wore off, I scrambled unsteadily to the door to check that they were indeed gone. My apartment was empty but the front door was wide open. Andre sat on the floor with his back against the wall and blood soaking through the front of his white shirt. His eyes were barely open and his gun lay in his lap.

  “Andre!” I screamed, dropping the bloody knife to the floor with a clatter as I rushed over to him.

  Four police officers burst through the open front door.

  “We need an ambulance!” I yelled.

  “Who did this?” one of them asked.

  “They just ran out!” Tears poured from my eyes, relieved the cavalry had arrived but so shaken up I could no longer hold it together.

  The officers spread out, two searching around my apartment while the others disappeared back into the hallway.

  I wrapped my arms around Andre. He’d been like a father to me for the past two and a half years while I’d been studying abroad—not to mention the years prior as my security as a kid. But not until tonight had he ever taken a bullet for me. “You’re gonna be okay,” I assured him, having absolutely no idea if that was the truth.

  “I know, Kresley,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop them.”

  “You saved me,” I assured him, gently cupping his paling cheek. “They would have gotten me if you didn’t shoot that man.”

  “I was caught off guard. They avoided the cameras. When they burst through the door, I wasn’t armed.”

  “Shhh, Andre.” I ran my hand over his gray hair. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

  But I wasn’t okay. I was far from it. But all that mattered in th
at moment was that Andre lived.

  I was no one.

  He couldn’t die protecting no one.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Six Months Later

  Kresley

  I stood in the center of my new dorm room at Remington University in my home state of California. My eyes took in the cinderblock walls, small desk, and bare mattress.

  “Well, at least they gave you a single,” my mother offered, taking in the small size of the room.

  I swear I wasn’t a snob, but this room was smaller than my walk-in closet at home. “There’s that.”

  “You know this is the only way to ensure your safety. Getting you that apartment was a huge mistake. If you’d been immersed with the other students, they wouldn’t have been able to…” Her voice drifted off. I wasn’t the only one who hated to think about what happened in France.

  “It’s no one’s fault, Mom,” I said, not wanting to discuss the nightmare I’d lived through.

  She sighed. “I just wish you’d stay at home, that’s all. I finally had you back and now you’re leaving again. I can’t keep you safe if you’re here.”

  I dropped down onto the bare mattress as rap music from a nearby room echoed in the hallway. “I need to do this.”

  She understood. She knew I needed to keep going in order to move on. I wouldn’t let those men win. I couldn’t. “At least Santa Barbara is a beautiful place.”

  “I’d still feel a lot better if Andre was with me,” I said.

  She tipped her head. “Honey, you know the deal. You’re only here if you have more precautions in place. Andre was getting too old to protect you.”

  She was right. He was getting old. And slow. And distracted. But I needed him for more than just protection. He had been the closest person to me while I explored an unfamiliar country on my own for the first time in my life. He’d been there the first time I’d visited the Eiffel Tower and The Louvre. The first time a French guy tried to kiss me and take me back to his place. The first time a pickpocket tried to snatch my money. I owed Andre more than just my life.

  “Your protection will be discreet, but always around—and armed,” my mother said, adding the last part to drive home the point that Andre had been unarmed when the men broke into my apartment. His gun was nearby, just not on him. A no-no in the field of security. And since the men had not been caught yet, I guess I appreciated the reassurance that my new security would be armed at all times. “Duffy and Stone have their orders,” my mother continued. “They know where to be and when to be there. You will never be without someone.”

  “When do I get to meet them?”

  She glanced around as if they were somehow hiding in my box of a room. “I’m sure they’re around here somewhere. They’ve already been here for a few days preparing for your arrival.”

  I rolled my eyes, knowing it was for my own safety but hating that people needed to treat me like this precious gem when I wasn’t. My father was rich. Billionaire rich. Which meant people wanted to kidnap me, his only daughter, and hold me for ransom. It came with the territory. It happened to professional athletes, actors, and rich businessmen all over the world more frequently than the general public ever knew. But I’d known the risk my whole life. It’s why security accompanied me wherever I went. Yup, prom was real fun.

  “Mrs. Hastings?”

  My mom and I turned to the sound of a deep voice coming from my now open door.

  A huge guy with a thick reddish goatee and shoulder-length slicked-back hair stood in the doorway. His tight black Henley and black cargo pants told me he wasn’t just some floor mate coming to introduce himself. “Everything’s set in place.”

  I looked to my mom. “What’s everything?”

  “Surveillance, ma’am,” he answered for her.

  “Kresley,” I corrected him. “Not ma’am. I’m twenty-one, not eighty.” I tried not to sound like a bitch, but I hated not knowing what was going on when it came to me. And the fact that I was only meeting this guy today, when I knew for a fact that my parents had interviewed both him and his partner weeks ago, pissed me off.

  “Honey, this is Marco Duffy,” my mother said.

  “Should I call you sir, or is Marco okay?” I asked him.

  “Marco’s fine, ma’am.”

  “Dammit, Marco. Having a bodyguard is bad enough. Calling me ma’am is gonna piss me the hell off.”

  His lips twitched. “Noted, ma’am.”

  I growled low in my throat, unsure if I was pissed or amused.

  “Well, now that introductions are out of the way,” my mother interrupted, “we need to get your things brought up from the car.”

  “I’ve got Marco. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind putting those big muscles to use since he’s gonna be following me down there anyway,” I assured her before glancing to Marco for confirmation.

  “Not at all, ma’am.”

  I ignored his use of ma’am, having a feeling I’d sound like a broken record if I kept at it.

  He followed me out of my room, weaving around students carrying their own boxes and luggage as we made our way to the stairwell at the end of the hallway.

  “How old are you, Marco?”

  “Thirty-five,” he said as we took the stairs to the first floor.

  “You married?”

  “Yes,” he said, opening the side door and checking the surrounding area before allowing me to proceed.

  “Have any kids?” I asked.

  “My wife’s pregnant.”

  “Congratulations,” I said as I followed him outside.

  “Thank you,” he said, though his eyes remained on our surroundings and not me.

  “Did you go to college?” I asked as we stepped up to my mom’s Mercedes SUV parked at the curb. I hit the key to unlock the doors and open the back door.

  “No, ma’am. Military. Special Forces.”

  “Thank you for your service, Marco,” I said. “Sorry you’re stuck in college anyway. I’ll try not to make it too boring for you.”

  “Boring’s good,” he assured me as he moved to the back of the SUV. “It means you’re safe.”

  I didn’t say anything as he reached in the back and pulled out several bins. I grabbed clothes on hangers and carried those over my shoulder as we made our way back upstairs.

  It took a few hours, and multiple trips to retrieve all my belongings from the car, to unpack my things. When I finally said goodbye to my mother, she hugged me like she’d never see me again. I understood her trepidation in leaving me. I’d been home for six months where I didn’t leave her sight—except for my counseling sessions. The last time we said goodbye, I’d been leaving for France—where I’d nearly been raped and kidnapped, and my bodyguard was shot. I let her hold me for as long as she needed. Truth be told, I needed it too.

  Marco stayed outside as I decorated my walls with posters of beautiful white sand beaches and private islands. I placed framed photos on my desk. A couple of my parents and me on beaches in Greece, and a couple of us sailing along the Mediterranean. Those reminded me of happy times, and I hoped the images would bring me solace and give me a place to escape to if I felt the outside world suffocating me.

  I switched on some country music, allowing Luke Bryan to drown out the rap music still playing down the hall as I climbed onto my desk chair and hung strands of tiny white lights around the perimeter of my room. Complete darkness at night wouldn’t work for me. I needed some kind of light if there was any chance that I’d sleep. I pressed a tack into the corner of the room where the wall met the ceiling. I leaned in closer, my eyes narrowing on a small wire extending from the ceiling. I tugged on it.

  My door flew open and Marco burst in. “What are you doing!?”

  The air punched out of my lungs, startled by the unexpected intrusion. “Jesus Christ, Marco! Don’t you knock?”

  “Sorry, ma’am, I just—”

  “Is this a camera?”

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Yes.”


  “Are you watching me?”

  “No.”

  I stepped down from the chair and stood on the floor, tipping my head back so I could look him into the eyes. I wasn’t short. But he was massive. “Then how did you know to come in here?”

  “An alert goes off if anyone touches the camera,” he explained.

  “How do I know you won’t be watching me when I get undressed?”

  “I wouldn’t do that.”

  “How about if I bring a guy back here?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll search him before he comes in, but I won’t watch the camera feed.”

  Though I understood the newest precaution, I’d never had a camera in my room. I hated the idea of losing my last shred of privacy. “Where are the other cameras?”

  “In the hallway. By the front and rear entrances. In the front and rear stairwells. And, in the basement. If anyone gets in here, we’ll know about it.”

  I couldn’t be sure if I was relieved by the information or completely overwhelmed by it. “Did the school allow you to install cameras?”

  “I don’t care if they allow it, ma’am. Your safety’s my only priority.”

  There was something reassuring about his blatant disregard for school rules and his determination to protect me. But, at the same time, it meant there was a reason to be so cautious. A reason to be overly prepared. A reason to fear for my safety—especially until the French men were caught. “When do I meet your partner? You’re clearly not on duty twenty-four hours a day.”

  “He’s around.”

  “Where will you both be when you’re not with me?” I asked.

  His lips twisted as if he didn’t want to say.

  My eyes shot around my small room. “Well, I know you’re not staying in here with me.”

  “We have our own rooms,” he admitted. “I’m next door. He’s across the hall.”

  “What about your wife? When will you see her?”

  “She understands this is my job. And I assure you, when I’m on duty, you’ve got all of my attention.”

  “Do you really think they’re going to track me here?”

  “We have no idea if they were working alone or with other people. Do you have any idea how many kidnapping attempts happen every day, especially with powerful families?”