I Just Need You - J. Nathan Page 0,26
interrupting our conversation. I slipped it from my pocket and lifted it to my ear. “Yeah?”
“She with you?” Marco asked, rushed and almost nervous.
“Yeah.”
“Where are you?”
“Just about to head back from the parking lot,” I explained.
“Get her back to her room. There’s been another development and we need to figure out how to proceed.”
“Be there in five minutes.”
“Stay alert,” he warned before hanging up.
Kresley’s eyes were trained on mine as I started toward her dorm. “What’s wrong?” she asked, following alongside me.
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
I picked up the pace as I assessed the surrounding area, unsure what Marco had to tell me once we returned. We’d already received word from our forensics team that there’d been no fingerprints on the package or the perfume bottle. There’d also been no way to trace where it had come from. The fuckers who’d sent it went to great lengths, bypassing all the major delivery services, to have that package delivered untraceably. That told us two things. This wasn’t over. And the people behind it knew what they were doing.
Marco and I couldn’t let our guards down even for a second.
“Tell me what’s going on,” Kresley said as we neared her dorm. “Should I be worried?”
“You know the threat is always there. But that’s why you have security. So, you’ve got nothing to be worried about.”
“This world is so messed-up,” she said, shaking her head.
“Not telling me something I don’t already know.”
“When did it become a bad thing for a man to make money from a company he built from the ground up? Why does he now have to worry about people threatening his family to get money they didn’t earn?”
“I guess it’s the risk of being wealthy,” I said.
“Yeah, but I’m not the rich one. I didn’t ask for this life.”
“Unfortunately, it is your life,” I said.
We stepped up to the back door of her dorm—the entrance I preferred to use when I was returning from the parking lot. The door unlocked and I pulled it open, checking the empty basement stairwell—only hearing the sound of washing machines running in the laundry room.
As we climbed the steps, I rounded each corner with my eyes open and my hand on my gun at my hip—trying not to give Kresley reason to worry any more than she already was.
“Well, someday, I’m going to live on a small island all by myself,” she said as she followed me. “And the only way to get on the island will be by plane or boat. Then I’ll always know when someone’s coming.”
“Sounds like a fairy tale,” I said as we stepped out onto our floor.
“Yeah, well, it’s my fairy tale,” she said as we reached her door.
A small knot formed in my gut. For the first time, I understood. She’d actually rather be alone on some island so she always knew what threats were coming rather than to live her life the way she was living it. I entered her room, giving it a quick sweep while she waited in the hallway. I stepped back out. “All set.” I made to walk to Marco’s room.
“Good night, Tristan,” Kresley called.
I stopped outside Marco’s room and glanced to her. The tool had been right about one thing. She did look beautiful in her red dress. “Night.”
Kresley
After slipping into my pajamas, I crawled into bed. Even though it was late, I grabbed my phone and called my mom, needing to know what was going on. Tristan may have been staying tight-lipped, but something was definitely up.
The phone rang twice before she answered. “Kresley?”
“Hi, Mom.”
“Sweetie, how are you?” she sounded relieved to hear my voice.
“Good. But I need you to tell me something.”
“Okay?” She sounded skeptical.
“Did something else happen that I need to know about?”
“Not that I know of,” she said, though something about the way she said it told me she was hiding something. And, since everyone had walked on eggshells with me over the last six months, I had a feeling she didn’t want to worry me.
“How’d your date go?” she asked, swiftly changing the subject.
“Chris is nice.”
“Just nice?” my mother asked.
“Really nice?”
“But?” My mother was always able to read between the lines.
I sighed. “Why’d you hire Tristan?”
“Ahhhh, Tristan,” my mother said, like she’d been waiting for me to say something about him. “He’s handsome, isn’t he?”
“Mom, you know he is.”
“I wondered if that would be a problem,” she said.
“We actually don’t get along most of the time.”
“Why not?” she asked.
“It’s a long story. But then sometimes…”
“Sometimes what?” she asked.
“Sometimes…he surprises me.”
“What does