You Know I Need You: Book 2, You Know Me duet (You Are Mine Duets 4)

by Willow Winters

  I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to. The only reason I agreed is because I have questions as to who could have broken in and if she has a lead on anything at all. I’ve got nothing and no one. There’s not a soul in the industry I’d trust with this information, sure as hell not with the cops on my ass for murder. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “James messaged me and said what happened to Tony could happen to me. He told me to lay off the demands for the divorce.” Her bottom lip quivers and again she glances over her shoulder.

  “As in … an overdose?”

  “I don’t know.” She takes a deep breath and looks to her left and right as her face crumples. “I think … I think he was threatening to kill me.”

  Anger threads itself through me as the woman in front of me breaks down. “Are you all right?” She shakes her head.

  “No,” she says and her voice cracks. “He didn’t really kill him, did he?”

  “The coke was laced with enough fentanyl to kill an elephant and the cops are convinced it was intentional,” I tell her.

  “I would say I don’t think James is capable of that,” Sam murmurs with sad eyes. As she speaks, her breath turns to fog. “But he’s done things before …”

  “Things like what?”

  “He’s choked me, thrown me against the wall. He’s threatened me in the past. But he’s never …” Her eyes become glossy as she says, “I didn’t think he would ever do it.”

  “You think he killed Tony? Do you think the threat was a real one?”

  She nods her head once, a frown marring her face as she gets choked up. “He said it was for you,” she speaks softly, her eyes flicking from me to the cars passing behind us. The chill of the breeze bites down to my bones as her words sink in.

  It was James, and the coke was intended to kill me, not his client.

  I don’t give her a response in the least, hiding the anger as my heart thuds hard in my chest at the confirmation of what I already suspected.

  “What did I do?” I ask her.

  “It’s because of me,” she says and her voice cracks.

  “You didn’t do this.”

  “You don’t understand,” she says, gaining more composure and wiping under her eyes as the wind whips between us and forces her hair behind her. “He wants me to give him everything in the divorce. The properties, our investments, the business, he’s not budging on any of it.”

  “I thought it was finalized?”

  She shakes her head and says, “I pushed back.” Her words come out hard. “He’s pushed me around for so long and he thought he could just get rid of me and throw me away like he did his first wife. But I made the company what it is today.”

  “So why go after me?”

  “To prove a point.”

  “And what point is that?” I ask her.

  “That he could eliminate whomever he wants.”

  Anger narrows my gaze as I tell her, “He missed his shot.”

  “He’ll do it again,” she says, “and I’m scared.”

  “It’ll be all right,” I tell her although I’m not sure it will be. I’m already trying to figure out how to end this. All roads lead back to James and the only thing I need to know is the fastest and safest way to put that asshole six feet in the ground.

  “Please help me, Evan,” she begs, and her voice is rife with agony. “I don’t know where to go or what to do.”

  “The police,” I tell her and it’s the first time in my life I’ve ever thought of going to them. “You can tell them everything. Tell them he threatened you with that.”

  “He has them in his back pocket,” she says bitterly then adds, “You know that. Did they tell you anything?”

  I shake my head and say, “Only that the coke was laced enough to kill. It was made into a murder weapon.”

  “Oh, God,” Samantha says then lets out a gasp and hunches forward slightly. I feel the need to put my arm out to steady her and she clings to me.

  A moment passes in the wintry cold, where I think back to a few times we’ve gotten out of tight spaces. I thought a client here and there would go to trial, but they never did. I didn’t think it was because of James, though. I thought they didn’t have enough evidence.

  “He’ll go down for what he did,” I assure her as one name and one face come to mind. Mason. Jules’s husband. He’s gotten off for murder, just last month. There’s more corruption in this city than there are tourists. Mason knows it as much as I do and I can trust him.

  He killed his father, and everyone knows it. Well, the whispers in certain circles are sure of it.

  He’s from a different world than me, but I know him from back in the day. Back when both of us were a little too eager to cut loose. I helped him out back then and never called in the favor I’m owed. I haven’t spoken to him since I split up a fight a few months ago.

  He owes me for that too. And Mason’s the type of man who pays his dues.

  “What are you going to do?” she asks. Samantha scoots closer to me, almost too close, and I take a step back.

  “I know a guy,” I tell her and she’s quick to nod, but then her face falls.

  “Shit,” she whispers, her eyes focused on something behind me and I whip my head around to see what she’s looking at.

  “It was him,” she says then covers her mouth. “Shit,” she repeats with tears in her eyes.

  “He can’t hurt you.” I turn around and keep an arm behind me to protect her. My eyes search the crowd, but I don’t see him.

  Her hands tug at my arm, pulling me back to her. Her bright red lips glisten as she licks them and tells me, “He went down to the subway, but he saw us. I know he did. At least I think he did,” she says then closes her eyes tightly and takes a step back. “It was definitely him.”

  “Is he following you?” Her eyes are still on the subway entrance and her body’s still as she holds her breath.

  “I don’t know.” Her bright blue gaze flickers to mine as she says, “I’m scared, Evan.”

  “You should go to the cops, Sam—” I start to tell her she needs to protect herself, and if she doesn’t trust the cops she can always hire private security, but she cuts me off.

  “It’s not me. I’m not worried about me. If he thinks you know, you’re not safe.”

  “I don’t care what he thinks. Or what he thinks I know.” I stare into her eyes as I tell her, “I’ll kill him before he touches either one of us again.”

  Chapter 9

  Kat

  He knows what he’s doing.

  Jacob Scott.

  Coffee? I could use some advice. I reread the message as I sit in a booth at the back of the coffee shop we met at last time.

  His place, not mine. The thought makes me huff sarcastically.

  My blood rings with guilt and regret. Even as I sit here, looking from my cup of chamomile tea to the entrance of the shop as the bell hanging above the front door rings, granting entry to temptation himself.

  I should tell Jacob I’m pregnant. That I’m not at all ready to think about moving on, although I wish I were after the weeks of hell and on-again, off-again hardships Evan and I have been through. I should tell Jacob no. I should tell him sorry for not telling him sooner.

  But I don’t do any of that.

  I give him a small wave and force my smile to stay put as he walks over to me. His shoulders shiver and I can feel the faint chill of the November air flow through the shop.

  “I’m so glad you could come,” Jacob says, greeting me with a smile, shrugging his jacket off his shoulders. I offer a smile in return as I see the waitress approach, carrying the cup of chai I bought for him.

  “You have good timing,” I tell him, biting the inside of my cheek and knowing I’m playing with fire. “Now I don’t owe you.”

  A genuine chuckle fills the space between us as he’s given his drink.

  “Touché, Kat,” he says, accepting it and thanking the barista.

  I mouth th
anks to her as she turns. She’s sweet and young, but I don’t miss how her gaze trails to my ring finger, then to his. She keeps her smile in place, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

  My heart stutters and I wish I’d taken my wedding ring off. I wish I could solidify the separation as easily as Evan walked out on me.

  “You okay?” Jake asks and grabs my attention again.

  “Yeah.” I force a smile to my lips. The singular word was spoken tightly, so I pick up the tea to take a sip.

  I clear my throat and try to shake off the unwanted feelings. “Do you want a muffin?” I ask him absently. “Or a cookie?”

  I read last night about all the foods you should and shouldn’t eat when you’re pregnant. Oatmeal seems to be a winner, so the thought of having an oatmeal raisin cookie or two sounds like a win to me.

  “A cookie?” Jake smirks and I almost tell him why. But I don’t. I gesture to the display cases; I can’t be the only one who smells all the baked goods.

  “You got the drinks, let me get the snacks.”

  “Oatmeal raisin?” I ask him and he nods with another smirk before tapping on the table and making his way to the counter.

  I stare down at my not-so-big-yet belly and feel slightly guilty. An onlooker may think I look bloated. There’s zero evidence I’m pregnant at all. Other than the box of pregnancy tests. I’ve taken four of them now, just to make sure the pink line turns darker each time.

  At least I’m not crying and wallowing in despair. I’m simply crazy with worry. My hand gently rubs my belly.

  “At least I have you,” I whisper in a sweet, sorrowful voice as I rest my hand on my lower belly. I want a doctor to tell me it’s real. That I really do get to have a baby. This little one who will love me, and I can love them back and give them every part of me.

  As I take another sip of the tea, watching Jake at the counter, I start to think that maybe it was supposed to be this way. Maybe I don’t have enough in me to love both a child and my husband. God must’ve known it and that’s why Evan left me.

  I nod my head before pulling the mug back to my lips quickly to hide my face from Jake. There’s a reason for everything, isn’t there?

  He sits down slowly, and I know he saw; I can see it in his eyes.

  “Sorry,” I say and shrug. “I read this manuscript earlier and it shredded me,” I lie.

  He hands me my cookie and I feel foolish for a moment, but then he says, “Really?”

  I nod like a fool.

  “You want to talk about it?” he asks, and I get the impression that I could tell him anything. I think I could tell him the truth right now and he’d know it’s exactly that. I could spill my guts to him and say it’s all something I read in a book. And he’d let me. He’d give me that bit of kindness.

  I’m so grateful for it.

  But I’m not ready.

  I shake my head, my hair spilling over my shoulders as I do. “Maybe another time.”

  He nods, peeling back his muffin wrapper enough so he can take a bite. “Good thinking,” he says after he swallows. “Very good call on the muffin.”

  My shoulders rock gently with another small laugh as I take a bite of my cookie, once again feeling the ease that Jake gives me.

  “It’s okay to not be okay, do you know that?” he asks me.

  I snicker and pick at the cookie.

  “You can roll your eyes and laugh, but it’s true,” he says as he peels at the wrapper, exposing more of the treat as he talks.

  “If I’m not okay, though, that means I need to talk about it.” I point my finger at him and pick off another small piece of the cookie. “And I don’t want to,” I say smartly and pop the bit into my mouth.

  “Nah, you can be not okay, but talk about something else instead. That’s a thing, you know?”

  “How’s that?”

  “It’s okay to let something bother you, that’s all I mean.”

  “You authors speak in code, do you know that?” I use his phrase right back at him.

  Now he’s the one who laughs. “Well, I guess what I’m saying is that I’m not really okay. I’m sort of running from my own problems. But now I’m okay, ’cause I’m here.”

  “Here in New York?”

  “Just here,” he says and gives me a small smile, but I read the real answer in his expression. Here with you.

  “So, what are you running from?”

  “Are we sharing stories?” he asks me in return.

  “I’m not sure how much sharing I’m willing to do,” I tell him honestly.

  “You afraid you’ll wind up in a book of mine?” he asks with a sly smile then adds, “One second, before you start I just wanted to grab my pen and paper.”

  He acts like he’s reaching for an imaginary bag on the floor and I let out a loud laugh, then cover my mouth with both my hands as a lady looks up from her phone at me with a pissed-off expression from across the room.

  Jake likes the laugh, though. Enough that he smiles widely as he settles back into his seat.

  “You don’t have to tell me anything. I just want you to know that you can be not okay around me. I get it. Some days I’m not the best, and it’s nice to just go out and get a chai … and a muffin.”

  “Like today?” I ask him.

  “Yeah, like today.”

  “I have a hard time getting a read on you, Jake,” I tell him.

  “What do you want to know?” he asks me.

  “What do you want from me?” I ask him then immediately regret the blunt question. It’s rude and risks losing him and the only distraction I really have.

  “Just company, until you want more,” he says with his dark green, hazel eyes staring straight into mine as they heat.

  “I don’t know that I’ll want more, though.”

  “I think you lie, Kat. I think you already know you want more.”

  “It’s only because I’m lonely.” The words slip out and I hate that they’re true, but a weight is lifted with my confession. I expect Jake to react negatively. Maybe to be angry or offended, but instead, he nods his head.

  “Yeah, I know. I am too.”

  “Sometimes I do stupid, reckless things when I’m lonely.”

  “Well, if you ever want to be lonely together, I’m free.”

  I should feel guilty about how Jake makes me feel.

  Wanted, appreciated, like he doesn’t want to lose me.

  It’s foolish to entertain what’s between us. But I feel so rejected. My husband doesn’t want me and yet Jake does. Even if it’s only because I’m the only person in the entire state who he knows.

  We can be just friends.

  At least I can pretend we can, for a little while. Or what did Evan call it? A short while.

  Diary Entry Two

  Hey Mom,

  I have a secret to tell you. Do you remember how I told you about Markie in middle school? He’s the one who was in Mrs. Schaffer’s math class. He had a crush on me and passed me that note. It wasn’t important really and I doubt you remember. But I had this feeling back then and I kind of have it now.

  It’s weird and it’s mixed with all sorts of other things.

  Obviously, I shouldn’t see him, and I shouldn’t even be considering talking to this guy, but I’ve been crying almost every night for so long. I started playing sad movies on the television at night, so I could blame it on that. I know I’m lying, but I’m so tired of crying.

  I’m exhausted, Mom, and this guy gives me something else to think about.

  It’s wrong, isn’t it?

  I don’t even have to ask you to know that it is.

  I’m using this man, and I’m still married to Evan. My heart is still waiting for him, even though he’s given me every reason to stay away from him for good.

  Maybe I’m a bad person. Maybe I deserve all this.

  I don’t know. Could you tell me, please? You used to give me little signs. I know they were from you. I could use one now.

  I don’t know
what’s going to happen and I’m really tired. I’m ready for change and some sanity. The exhaustion is probably from a mix of what’s going on with Evan and the pregnancy.

  It’s wonderful that we’re having a baby, isn’t it?

  See how I changed subjects there? I hope that made you laugh.

  I’m so grateful for this baby and I want to feel happy, Mom.

  But my life isn’t okay and I kind of hate myself right now.

  This guy, Jake, changes that. Does that make it better?

  Please tell me it does, because I want it all to be okay for the baby. Not the mess that it is.

  I know it can’t last, but maybe just for a little while?

  Chapter 10

  Evan

  “It’s been a while,” Mason says as I sit down at the booth in the back of the restaurant.

  “I saw you just a few weeks ago,” I point out to him.

  “Not what I meant,” he says, correcting me. “It’s been a while since the two of us have been up to no good.”

  That comment pulls my lips up into an asymmetric smile and he follows suit with a wicked grin. “And how do you know that’s what I’m here for?” I used to buy some good shit through Mason and vice versa. I came from the poor part of town, and he was from the rich. The only real difference that makes is which drugs you’re doing. Pot or snow.

  And if you want a taste of the other, all you need to do is make friends with the right people. Long story short, that’s how I met Mason and as I moved into his circle, he made a spot for me when I needed one. When he got into trouble, I got him out. It was years ago, but a pact like that never dies.

  Mason shrugs at my question. “I’m going to take a guess and say that whatever you want from me, it’s something I could go to jail for.”

  I huff a sarcastic laugh and toss my phone down on the white tablecloth, then glance around casually to make sure I don’t recognize anyone. The place is mostly empty, with only a few guys at the bar and a couple in the corner of the diner.