I Just Need You

by J. Nathan

My stomach dropped along with the floor beneath my feet. “How can I come alone? I have security who won’t let me out of their sight.”

  “Oh, you’re creative. You’ll figure something out…”

  Elodie cried out as he disconnected the call.

  Shit, shit, shit!

  I knew it was stupid to go down there alone. I knew with every fiber of my being that it was the stupidest idea ever. But my friend’s life was on the line. And she had nothing to do with this. Just like Doris at the shelter, I brought danger to her because of my need to live a normal life. My selfish need to live a normal life. But I knew now, I was never going to be able to do that. It was just a fairy tale I’d made up in my head. But my life wasn’t a fairy tale. It was a nightmare.

  And despite every fiber of my being telling me to call for help, I needed to stop this.

  I needed to do the right thing for Elodie. Not the right thing for me.

  I rushed over to my bed with my heart in my throat. I dropped to my knees and reached underneath the mattress, grasping around until I felt the cold metal of the gun Tristan had given me after target practice. I pulled it from the bottom of my mattress and held it in my palm. My hand shook so wildly I almost dropped it.

  Would I even be able to pull the trigger?

  My knees wobbled as I stood up and tucked the gun into the back of my jeans, making sure my shirt concealed it. I lifted the box that was on my bed, took it to the door, and knocked, letting Briggs know I needed him.

  He opened the door. “What’s up?”

  “Can you please bring this down to Tristan?”

  “Why can’t you give it to him when he gets back?” he asked.

  “Ummm.” I swallowed, my nerves wearing thin. “I’m scared and I just want to get out of here.”

  He cocked his head. “You know I’m not supposed to leave my post.”

  “Please, Briggs,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady as my pulse slammed beneath my skin. “I just really want to be done here.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Fine. But don’t open this door for anyone.”

  “Thank you, Briggs,” I said, both relieved and terrified. He took the box from my hands and waited for me to close the door before heading downstairs.

  Once I was alone, I dragged in a deep breath, waited for thirty seconds, then opened my door. I looked out into the hallway. No one was around, so I ran to the stairwell taking the two flights down to the basement.

  Dim lights filled the hallway. The whirring of washing machines and dryers in the laundry room echoed in the distance. There were no rooms down there, just storage closets, the maintenance room, and the kitchen where the girls had baked me cookies.

  I tiptoed down the hallway, staying close to the wall. I poked my head into the maintenance room. It was jammed with broken chairs and desks, but there was nowhere for two people to hide, especially if the Frenchman wanted me to find him.

  I moved to the laundry room, stepping slowly inside. Some of the dryers ran, the clothes inside spinning around behind the glass doors. The washers on the opposite side shook through the spin cycle, and I twisted around, but no one was in there either. I released a shaky breath.

  I moved back to the door, peeking out into the hallway. It was empty. I released a breath before stepping into it and creeping slowly to the next room. The small kitchen.

  I stepped inside and my eyes took in the old appliances against the wall and the wooden table in the center of the room.

  The door I’d walked through slammed shut, and I jumped.

  “Le fou de fortune.”

  A chill rushed through me as I turned. There he was. The Frenchman, taller than I remembered, wearing all black with a patch over his left eye. There was a gun in his hand, dangling at his side.

  I steeled my features, though my heart walloped in my chest. “Where’s Elodie?”

  “Have pleasantries gone out the window?” he asked. “You Americans need to learn a thing or two about geniality.”

  “Where’s Elodie?” I repeated.

  “I gave you my word,” he said. “You came, and she’s free to go.”

  I looked around, but Elodie wasn’t there. “Then let her go,” I said, trying so damn hard to sound confident, though all I wanted was to be as far away from him as possible.

  He stepped away from the door and slowly circled me as if I were his prey. “Oh, she’s free to go…just as soon as we leave. I’ve secured a private jet since I know it’s what you’re used to.”

  Bile crept up the back of my throat as I turned slowly, not letting him get behind me. I knew what he was capable of. “I can call my parents right now. How much do you want and where do you want it sent?” I reached around for my phone in my back pocket.

  “Keep your hands where I can see them,” he ordered, lifting his gun and pointing it at me. “I may be partially blind but I’m not stupid.”

  I held up my hands to show him they were empty.

  “We’ll call them once we’re far away from here.” He stopped by the counter and snatched a knife out of the cutlery block. The ping of the metal pierced the silence in the kitchen.

  Why did he need a knife? He had a gun.

  He walked to a door at the side of the room and yanked it open. Elodie and Alice were on their knees in the closet. Their ankles, wrists, and mouths were taped with thick electrical tape, their eyes wide with fear.

  I gasped. He’d taken both of them. I stared at them trying to communicate my regret. This all happened because they were kind enough to befriend me. Some friend I turned out to be. “I’m so sorry,” I said to them.

  “As a show of good faith, I’ll leave this knife for them to get free.” The Frenchman placed the knife on the table. “Just not too soon. We obviously need to leave first.”

  “How do you plan to get me out? I have bodyguards who’ll be looking for me.”

  “Oh, le fou de fortune,” he chuckled. “You really think I’m alone?”

  My stomach clenched. Had his men hurt Tristan and Briggs? Is that why they hadn’t found me yet? I needed to do something. And I needed to do it quickly. “I want to say goodbye to my friends.”

  He rolled his single eye.

  “I’ve done everything you asked,” I reminded him.

  He waved the gun in their direction. “Do not touch them.”

  I hurried over to them, moving the gun to the front of my jeans as I did so he couldn’t see me. I kneeled in front of them. “Are you okay?”

  They bobbed their heads but the fear in their eyes remained.

  “I’m so sorry this happened. You two have been the best friends a girl could ever ask for.” I tried not to cry because I needed to be able to see without tears blurring my vision. “He’s leaving the knife so you can get yourselves out of the tape,” I assured them. “I never meant to bring danger to your lives.”

  “Okay. Let’s go,” the Frenchman said, grasping the back of my shirt and yanking me to my feet.

  I prayed he wouldn’t deceive me and hurt my friends. I prayed he stayed true to his word. It was me he wanted. Not them.

  The door swung open and my head twisted toward it.

  Tristan stood there with his gun aimed directly at the Frenchman.

  Relief washed over me, but it was short lived. The Frenchman wrapped his arm around me roughly, holding me in a choke hold and pulling me against him to use me as a shield. “What are you going to do now?” he taunted Tristan as he aimed his own gun at him.

  I dropped my eyes, wanting to let Tristan know I had my gun.

  Bang! Bang!

  My eyes shot up as Tristan’s body was thrust back against the hallway wall.

  “Tristan!” I screamed, struggling to rush to him, but the Frenchman tightened his hold on me.

  “Oh no you don’t,” he said.

  Blood spread through Tristan’s shirt like a rush of ink above his heart and at his hip. Somehow, he kept himself braced against the wall and lifted his gun, aiming it at us with his eyes tra
ined on the Frenchman. But since I was still his shield, Tristan couldn’t shoot him.

  My body trembled as I watched the color draining from Tristan’s face. He needed help and he needed it fast.

  “What are you gonna do now, bodyguard?” The Frenchman snickered, the sound cold and mocking. “Do you save her or save yourself?”

  The mocking sound of his laughter mixed with my fear of losing Tristan gave me the nerve I needed. I reach for the gun in my jeans. With shaking hands, I released the safety like Tristan had shown me while it was still tucked in my jeans.

  The Frenchman was too busy taunting Tristan to notice me slip the gun from my jeans “I had no trouble shooting her other bodyguard either,” he continued. “Did he make it or did he end up six feet under?”

  I spread my legs and aimed the gun down at his feet. I closed my eyes, hoping to God I hit him and not me, and fired.

  Bang!

  “What the—” The Frenchman released his grip on me as he jumped back, startled by the unexpected sound and uncertainty of where the bullet landed.

  I ducked away from him, and that was all the time Tristan needed. The sound of his gunfire echoed through the small kitchen.

  Elodie and Alice screamed beneath their tape.

  The Frenchman staggered back, but not before turning his gun on me.

  I froze, my eyes wide and my heart in my throat.

  Bang!

  I recoiled, nearly jumping out of my skin.

  But the bullet hadn’t hit me.

  It hit the Frenchman square in the forehead.

  I looked away from the gory sight as his body was thrust into the counter behind him.

  I looked to Tristan whose gun was still extended. I rushed over to him. The blood on his shirt had spread, covering most of it. “Oh my God. Please be okay.”

  “I’m fine,” he said, though I knew he wasn’t. “Baby, you did so damn good.”

  My head spun, and I felt lightheadedness wash over me. I pulled in a deep breath and focused, needing to get him help. I needed to be the strong one. I pulled out my phone to call for help, but my hand shook so wildly I almost couldn’t dial. Once I did, I lifted the phone to my ear. “We’re in the basement of Gorham Hall at Remington University. Send police and an ambulance!” I hung up and looked to Tristan who moved to the Frenchman’s body, now strewn on the floor. Though he was clearly dead, Tristan kicked the gun away from him. Not taking any chances.

  “Please tell me you’re gonna be okay,” I said, needing his reassurance.

  “They’re just flesh wounds,” he assured me, before calling Briggs.

  I grabbed the knife from the table and rushed over to Elodie and Alice. I pulled the tape from their mouths and they dragged in gulps of air.

  “Oh, my God,” Elodie said as tears trailed down her cheeks.

  “Is it over?” Alice asked through her own tears.

  I slit the tape at their ankles and wrists. Then, they both threw their arms around me and held on tightly.

  “That was so scary,” Elodie said. “I thought he’d kill us.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, feeling nothing but regret for bringing danger to them.

  “We’re gonna be okay,” Alice said. “All of us.”

  Sirens bellowed outside the building.

  I released the girls and turned to Tristan who was digging in the Frenchman’s pockets.

  He stood up but color had completely drained from his face.

  “You’re losing a lot of blood,” I said. “You need an ambulance.”

  “I need to make sure whoever showed up with him is not here anymore.”

  Someone rushed through the kitchen door and we all instinctively shuffled backward.

  It was Briggs.

  Sighs of relief rushed out of us.

  Briggs’ eyes landed on the dead Frenchman. “Nice work.”

  “Did you find the others?” Tristan asked.

  Briggs noticed his wounds. “You all right, man?”

  “He needs an ambulance,” I said.

  “There was just one other guy,” Briggs explained, knowing Tristan would not budge until he knew. “The cops have him in custody and his story checks out. Footage from the airport shows the two of them flew in alone.”

  I released a long breath, terrified to actually allow myself to believe that all of this might really be over.

  EMTs entered the room. One rushed over to the Frenchman, while the others checked on Tristan.

  Tristan glanced to me. I could tell he was thinking the same thing as me.

  “It’s over,” I said.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Kresley

  “How are you?” Tristan asked, squeezing my hand from the seat beside me in my father’s private jet.

  “The same as when you asked me ten minutes ago,” I said, trying not to snap at him.

  “And that is…?”

  “Angry that my boyfriend, who just underwent major surgery, insisted on checking himself out of the hospital against doctor’s wishes to accompany me home.”

  “I’m fine,” he assured me, though the stitches in his shoulder and hip would argue otherwise.

  “But are you?” I pressed. “Because you scared the hell out of me.”

  “It’s all part of the job,” he said. “How are you? You scared me when you pulled out that gun.”

  “It’s all part of the job,” I said straight-faced, trying my hardest to push the vision of the dead Frenchman from my mind. The dead Frenchman Tristan killed for me. The one who put two bullets in my boyfriend because of me.

  “It’d be okay if you weren’t okay,” Tristan said, shooting me a sad smile.

  “I know.” I stared out the window watching the clouds blur past the window with so many haphazard thoughts whirling through my brain.

  “A penny for your thoughts,” Tristan said, clearly knowing I was overwhelmed with everything that had occurred over the past twenty-four hours.

  I turned to look at him with something weighing heavy on my mind. “I need to say something.”

  “Okay,” he urged.

  “And I don’t want to upset you.”

  “Nothing you say could upset me, unless you’re kicking my ass to the curb.”

  I rolled my eyes, knowing nothing could make me break it off with the guy who saved me so many times—in more ways than one. “I know I’ll never get the chance to meet your parents, but I have a few things I really would’ve liked to tell them.”

  His eyes narrowed, his brows drawn in question. “Like what?”

  “Well…I’d start by telling them that you’re the bravest person I know.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  “And, even though you don’t like it when I say it, you’re like a real-life superhero.” I ignored the snarl that left him and continued. “I know you wish more than anything that you could go back to that day when you were nine and change the outcome. But I’d want them to know, you’re doing everything in your power to make up for it now. And succeeding. I mean, you’ve saved me twice.”

  “Kres,” he pled.

  I ignored his plea. “I’d also tell them that they raised an amazing boy who grew into an amazing man. One who’s strong and confident and would put his life on the line for the people he swears to protect. Whether he likes them at first or not.”

  His soft laughter filled the plane.

  “Oh, and I’d ask who you got your looks from because you’re a total babe.”

  His smile told me I hadn’t pushed him too far by bringing up his parents. And hopefully, he’d see that he hadn’t let them down. Hopefully, he’d see that he’d done right by them. It was one thing for me to tell him that. But it was another for him to hear that I wanted to tell them that. Now, maybe his sleep would no longer be plagued with nightmares of what he couldn’t control. Maybe now he’d sleep. Because he deserved to sleep.

  EPILOGUE

  One Month Later

  Kresley

  We’d been swimming all
day and now lounged in our bathing suits on a blanket on the deserted beach. I rested my head on Tristan’s chest and could hear his steady heartbeat beneath my ear. My finger drifted from the scar on his shoulder to the one on his hip. Some girls needed their boyfriends to get tattoos that represented them or their love for them. Mine was permanently scarred as a reminder of what he’d done for me.

  The sun was just setting, and I couldn’t wait to take in the stars with no lights obscuring our view. We’d been on the island for the past two days since my parents had been gracious enough to rent it for us. They were eager to do whatever it took to make me feel safe again. Since I had my very own bodyguard who’d taken two bullets and killed two men for me, it provided them the peace of mind they needed. Not to mention, we had bodyguards on boats around the island. So, yeah. There was that too.

  “Did you submit your assignment?” Tristan asked.

  I nodded. “Now I just need to worry about exams.”

  “I’m sure you’ll ace them,” he said.

  “Obviously.”

  A long silence passed as the ocean waves crashed and the briny air worked its way into my senses.

  “Can I ask you something?” Tristan said.

  “Uh oh. That sounds ominous.”

  “For someone who loves to talk, why don’t you ever talk about what happened?” he asked.

  He’d been good about not talking about it—which I appreciated, so I had a feeling I knew why he’d brought it up now. “Did my parents get to you, too?”

  “What?”

  “They think because I don’t talk about it, I must need more counseling. Like I’m bottling it all up.”

  “Are you?” he asked with worry in his voice.

  “Not even a little bit. I feel…at peace.” I turned my head and rested my chin on his chest so I could see his eyes. “Absolutely. He was a bad man who wanted to hurt me and the people I care about. How could I regret what happened? I know he’s not out there anymore. He doesn’t even inhabit my dreams. I sleep now.”

  “I thought that was because I’m next to you?”

  I smiled. “That too.”

  He tightened his arms around me, and I knew how proud of me he was. He didn’t have to say it. I could see it in everything he did and every look he gave me. “I’m never gonna live it down that you were the one to distract him,” Tristan said.