Lost In Between: Finding Me Duet #1

by K. L. Kreig

  It was a sad thing to witness. Someone you love so much who doesn’t recognize you. She kept calling Willow Violet, and no matter how much gentle prodding I did, Willow would only say she was confused. But I know there’s more to the story she’s not telling me because pain doesn’t lie. And I saw it in spades in the tightening of her muscles at every mention of Violet’s name.

  But if I’ve learned anything about Willow over the past few weeks, it’s that she has to give up these pieces she holds dear in her own time. And I’ll wait for them, even if it takes years for her to give them all to me. That’s why instead of pressing her more, I brought her back to my place and crowded out every ounce of pain with pleasure. So much goddamn pleasure she passed out on me with a satisfied sigh.

  Another reason I didn’t want her to go back to her place. It seems when we spend too much time apart, she drifts away from me, and I have to work that much harder the next time to just get us back to where we were before.

  I unconsciously rub the twinge I feel sitting heavy in my chest. I can’t believe how much this tiny but grandiose woman has come to mean to me in such a short period of time.

  Is it love?

  I don’t know. How the fuck would I? I’ve never been in love before, but if it’s the kind of feeling that makes it hard to breath, impossible to concentrate, and constricts your chest with pain at the thought of not having her in your life…well, then, maybe. But I’m not ready to label it yet. I’m scared as fuck, truth be told. We are two peas, that. All I know is it’s something a helluva a lot deeper than infatuation or lust. I already miss her, and it’s been less than twelve hours since I last saw her.

  Regardless of what I call this thing between us, I meant what I told her the other night. I want to take care of her. I want to unburden her heart and her life, but I know that will take time.

  What I know won’t take time is helping her financially. She’ll be pissed, just like the car, but fuck it. I’ll happily deal with the blowback because there’s no way I can let this go. She deserves to at least have that burden eliminated, so my second stop this morning is to visit Jack Hancock to discuss what provisions may have been in Charles Blackwell’s employment agreement that aren’t being honored. There’s no way a man with his intellect and worth wouldn’t have some sort of significant patent or project-based bonus due him. Even death does not erase their financial obligation to his family.

  But my first stop this morning is with a man I’d sooner send packing to the Antarctica with nothing but swimming trunks and flip-flops than have a conversation with. Trust me, if I could figure out a way to get him on the next cargo plane out of here, I would. I can’t have him getting in the way of what I’m building with Willow, and I’ve no doubt he’s going to try.

  The bell above the paned door jingles when I open it, drawing the attention of a very young woman sitting behind a low counter. She looks like a college student.

  “Can I help you?” she asks cheerfully, setting down the pen that was in her hand so she can give me her full attention.

  “Yes. I’m here to see Reid Mergen.”

  Her face falls slightly. “Do you have an appointment, Mr…?”

  I lean my forearm on the white Formica ledge that’s seen better days and deliver my killer smile. She obviously doesn’t know who I am. “No, but I have a checkbook. I assume that’s enough?”

  “Oh, yes. Of course. Your money’s always good here.” She laughs. I smile, caring about nothing but getting to Mergen. “I’ll just buzz him that he has a guest.”

  She reaches for the phone, and I place my hand gently on top of hers. When her head rises, the look she gives me is one I’ve seen a hundred times over. She would do anything I asked of her right now, including sucking my cock in the open office space if I walked around the padded wall separating us and unzipped.

  “I’m an old friend, and if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to surprise him. So if you could just point me in the direction of his office, I’d be most grateful.” When I wink it’s like yanking on a fishing line, my hook embedded deep.

  “Ah, yes. That’s…that’s so s—sweet,” she stutters. “It’s, ah, down the, ah, hall to the left. Last, ah, office on the right.”

  “Thanks.” I give her another wink for the road and weave my way quickly through the cubicles toward the opposite end. I note the last office door is closed, but I couldn’t give a flying fuck. My hand is turning the knob before I think better of it and quickly glance through the glass slice on the left to ensure my father isn’t in there.

  When I see Mergen reading the fucking newspaper, I go ahead and let myself in, uninvited. The look on his face when he tears himself away from a riveting article is priceless.

  “Well look what the wet cat dragged in,” he drawls mockingly.

  I shut the door behind me and make myself at home by taking a seat across his incredibly neat desk. It’s so neat, I wonder if he’s actually doing any work for my father, or if he’s here just to weasel Willow out from under me.

  “Busy getting my father reelected?” I ask nicely. Well, I suppose “nice” is open to interpretation.

  “Is that why you’re here? To make sure I’m doing my job?”

  “Are you? My father’s ahead by only eight points in the latest poll, so I’m wondering just how good at your job you really are. I thought you were supposed to be some fucking political miracle worker.”

  “I’ll get your father reelected if I can keep his loose cannon children in line.”

  “You’d better watch what you say about my family, motherfucker. You know nothing about us.”

  His smug face irritates the shit out of me. “I know more than you think. Now, why are you really here?”

  One corner of my mouth turns up in a snarl. “I want you to stay away from Willow.”

  Asshole leans back and laces his hands, resting them on his stomach. “And I’m supposed to care what you want?”

  “I don’t give endless fucks what you care about, as long as it isn’t her.”

  He laughs. It’s bitter and grates on my last raw nerve. When his eyes drop to the newspaper on his desk, mine follow. With a smile, I realize it’s the 7-Day, opened to the article on page two I approved yesterday. The picture they selected is perfect if I do say so myself, and it clearly shows two people who mean more to each other than a passing fling. When I saw it yesterday, it struck a chord with me. And when I brought it home—home—to Willow, she threw herself into my arms before dropping to her knees to suck me off. Jesus, I’m growing hard just thinking about it.

  “You put on a good show, I’ll give you that,” fuckface says.

  “That’s no show.” I nod to the article. “That’s the real deal.”

  His smile is more of a toothy jeer. “You’re telling me you’re in love with Willow? After just a few weeks of knowing each other?”

  I think I could be.

  I know I could be.

  It’s more than “could be.” It is. Fuck labels. I’ll own it.

  “You know, my parents got married thirty-one days after they met. Not one of their friends or family was supportive. Said they didn’t know each other well enough. Would end up divorced after just a few months. You’ve met my parents. What do you think of their relationship after forty-one years of marriage?”

  Not one person could dispute the love Adelle and Preston Mercer have for each other. They both place each other on pedestals so high their noses should bleed.

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “It’s not worth answering. It’s none of your fucking business what Willow and I have.”

  Campaign twat grabs a cheap Bic pen and starts twirling it fancily through his fingers while eyeing me. “I know about you, you know.”

  “Oh? Enlighten me.” I throw an ankle over a knee and settle in. I don’t give a shit what he thinks he knows, what he’s heard, what dirt he has on me. None of it matters because none of it will ever come close to touching Willow.


  “Tell me, does she know about your philandering threesomes with the boy wonder? You and your left nut, Noah Wilder, aka Wildman? At what point in the dating ritual do you begin to share?”

  I always loved Marvel comics when I was a kid. I desperately wanted a superpower and prayed about it regularly when I went to bed at night. Back then, I wished I could fly at the speed of sound. But now? Now I wish it was spontaneous combustion, because this fucker’s ashes would already be dusting my Brioni David loafers.

  “You’re toeing a very fine line. I don’t know what my father sees in you, but I assure you, I have far more pull with him than you do, and I’d say since you aren’t doing a stellar job at blowing away the competition, I could easily have you replaced with one phone call. On a plane out of here by noon.”

  “You and I both know this was my idea. The press. The girlfriend. The diversion from the fucked-up lives you and your siblings have in common. I wonder what Willow would think if she knew she was being used?”

  I keep my face neutral. At least this allayed one of my worries. He doesn’t know Willow knows, and he doesn’t know about her “job.” That’s good. Very good. And I, of course, knew he knew about Noah, but I’ll deal with that if it comes up. I don’t plan on sharing Willow. Ever.

  “You’re grasping at dust motes here.”

  “Am I?”

  “I slammed into the back of her car. That wasn’t orchestrated.”

  “I wouldn’t put anything past you. I know how much you love your father, how you’d do anything for him, for your family. But I also know Willow. Very, very”—I want to plant my fist in his face for the way he unnecessarily drags out those fucking adjectives—“well. And I think she’d eventually forgive you for it if she’s in love with you.”

  Jesus that sounds selfishly good.

  “But?”

  The reptilian smile he gives me should have been my first clue he’s more of a snake in the grass than I ever imagined possible. “But…I don’t think she could possibly see past your little sister’s role in her father’s death, do you?”

  Faster than I can think, I’m out of my chair and over the desk in his face, his throat twisted in my hands. “What the fuck are you playing at, you son of a bitch? My sister had nothing to do with Willow’s father’s death. He committed suicide, you sick fuck.”

  When he talks, it’s strained because I’m cutting off his air supply, but what he says chills me to the bone. “Am I playing, Shaw?” he sneers. “You picked up your sister that night from the police station. Miraculously got her off on coke possession charges. Wasn’t she soaked to the bone? Distraught? What bullshit story did your drug addict sister feed you that you bought with the gullibility of a five-year-old?”

  “You’re lying,” I seethe. My entire body is vibrating with dark hate as my mind spins with the force of a tornado. My breaths are coming fast, and my hands squeeze him tighter, trying to choke the very life from his rancid soul.

  “I can see the doubt in your eyes, thinking through that night, trying to remember the details,” he chokes, now clawing at my hands.

  “And how would you know any of this?”

  He keeps his face stone-cold neutral, not giving anything up. I squeeze harder. He’s not twenty seconds from taking his last breath, and Jesus fucking Christ, I want to watch it leave his body. Suck in the life force slowly draining from him. Instead, I release him with such energy his rolling chair flies back and slams into the wall behind him. I hope the fucker got whiplash. His hands fly to his throat, and he massages the damage I’ve done.

  I don’t have to see my face to know rage is written with a blood-red pen all over it. I don’t sit. I don’t move a fraction of an inch as we stare each other down. I purposely keep that night’s events in the back of my mind, not wanting to put any credence into what he’s saying. It’s lies. Every fucking word.

  “You think a man with a rising career who discovered the drug of the century would take his own life? No, that’s not how it happened,” he croaks.

  “And how the fuck would you know that? I think you’re the one who has something to hide here if you have those kinds of details. Does Willow know you know this?”

  Confidence.

  It’s floating plain as day in his eyes. He really believes this horseshit he’s spouting.

  What the fuck is going on here? And how is he connected to it?

  “I’m not hiding anything, but doubt is a fucked-up thing. Once it’s planted, it sprouts and roots start winding around every inflection, every unspoken word, every shift of the eye, until it grows and grows and takes on a life of its own, suffocating fragile trust in a new relationship. You’ve probably already learned Willow’s not terribly forthcoming or trusting. Are you willing to take that chance, Shaw?”

  Leaning on his desk, I get right back in his face. My knuckles turn white with the pressure I’m putting on them in order to keep them locked into the wood instead of laced around his neck.

  “You listen good, because I’m only going to say this one time. You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, you lying piece of shit. And if you plant these lies in Willow’s head, I will fucking end you, you hear me? You’ll end up homeless and penniless on the streets. I’ll make sure even homeless shelters turn your sorry ass away.”

  Easing toward the door, I turn back around and say with a steady breath I didn’t know I possessed at that moment, “I know you’re still in love with her, and honestly, I can understand why. She is…life changing. But she’s mine now, and I assure you, I will do anything—any-fucking-thing—to keep her. So, whatever bullshit plans you think you’ve conjured up to win her back won’t work. I don’t lose. Ever. And I will never give her up.”

  “Yes, you will. Just like you’ve done with every other woman who’s passed through your revolving bedroom door. And I’m the one who will be here for her when you throw her away. I’m the one who will pick up the pieces, and I’m the one she’ll marry. The one she was always meant to marry.”

  “You fucking stay away from her,” I spit with venomous hatred.

  Then I turn my back on him, but as I walk out, those seeds of doubt that he planted have already sprung. They’re already trying to find purchase, erode trust, tear relationships and lives apart.

  And by the time I walk past the receptionist at the front, who’s trying to get my attention, which I ignore, I’m terrified. My heart is beating faster than a racehorse, and I’ve broken out in a cold sweat all over. When I hold out my hand, it’s unsteady, tiny tremors of fear racking my usual calm.

  I have finally stumbled across the one thing I thought I never wanted, and although I told Mergen she was mine, she’s not. Not really. Not completely. Not now. Maybe now not ever.

  Especially if…

  Fuck.

  Fucking fuckety fuck.

  Fuck!

  Could my baby sister really be responsible for Willow’s father’s death?

  As much as I want to think otherwise, it’s not out of the realm of possibility. She was arrested close to that bridge. She was a fucking mess that night. Distraught, haunted, hysterical. Utterly broken.

  And I’ve always wondered why such an intelligent man would take his own life when he had everything to live for, especially after meeting Willow’s mother who clearly needed him.

  My insides are bleeding. Clawing at me to find the truth.

  But what happens then?

  What if Annabelle was responsible? What would I do?

  Is there a statute of limitations on something like that?

  She could be charged with fleeing the scene of a crime. Fuck, she could be charged with involuntary manslaughter.

  She could go to jail.

  I’d lose her. Possibly forever.

  Everything I’ve done in my entire life was to protect my family. If Willow wasn’t in the picture right now, I would leave no stone unturned to protect Annabelle from this, too. I’d bury anyone who tried to hurt her.

  But I’d
also bury anyone who tries to hurt Willow.

  I just found her. I don’t want to lose her.

  I can’t lose her.

  I won’t fucking lose her.

  But then I could lose Annabelle.

  Jesus Christ.

  Mergen is playing the two women I love most in the world against each other. Suddenly, I’m faced with an impossible, lose-lose situation. Could I really be forced to choose between my sister and the woman there’s no question I’m in love with?

  No.

  No…I’m not going to let that happen.

  Reid Mergen is playing a dangerous game. And he’s the one who will end up with third-degree burns. He’s fucking with the wrong man, and I’m going to put a stop to it right now before it gets out of control. Then I’m going to get his ass fired and shipped out of Seattle on the first bus tomorrow.

  First thing’s first, though. As I walk down the street to my car, I slide my phone from my pocket and dial, relieved she answered.

  “Hey, what’s up Shawshank?”

  “Bluebelle, where are you?”

  “Studying. Why?”

  “Do you have time to meet?”

  “What? Now? Won’t you lose a few mil if you’re away from the office during the middle of the day?”

  “Annabelle,” I growl.

  “Jesus, fine. I have an hour.”

  “I’ll be at your place in twenty minutes.”

  “No, I’m at the campus library.”

  “Fuck,” I mutter. It will take me an extra ten minutes to find parking. “Fine. Stay put.”

  “Shaw?” she asks just as I’m ready to hang up.

  “Yeah?” My voice cracks.

  “Everything okay? You sound upset.”

  “Everything’s fine, Bluebelle. See you in a few.”

  Everything is not fucking fine. But it will be.

  It has to be.

  I have found my breath.

  My heartbeat.