Mine: A Romantic Suspense Thriller (A Back to Me Series Book 2)

by Brittany Taylor

  The memories of Julian come to the forefront of my mind, clouding my vision as I walk back to my car. I don’t even look back to see if Natalie is still following. A person walking past, bumps shoulders with me. I stop, spinning around to catch a glimpse of the person. A man in a black hoodie looks over his shoulder at me, his deep brown eyes catching mine. He stops briefly to apologize before continuing with his day.

  My chest stings as I gasp for a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding.

  “Logan, are you okay?” Natalie’s hand rests on my arm. I follow her arm all the way up to her face.

  “Um.” I clear my throat. “Yeah, I just thought I recognized someone I knew. I was wrong.”

  Natalie follows my gaze out to the crowd outside the market. We’re now standing out on the sidewalk, my car parked just a few spaces down.

  I look at Natalie and take a step back, removing her hand from my arm. “We need to go to work. Max will be mad if we’re late.”

  Thirteen

  Lena

  Logan didn’t get home until late last night.

  He had closed the restaurant for Max dozens of times before and was usually pretty good about coming home just after midnight. In the past, he’d run through the entire routine with me. Not because I was curious, but because he thoroughly enjoyed it. He’d loved being a chef and I would lay in bed beside him, my hands tucked under the pillow, listening as he rambled on about recording that night’s sales and balancing the money drawers. Most of it was a part of the job that didn’t involve any actual cooking or preparation of food. The job was more along the lines of Abby’s line of work, configuring numbers and comparing it to sales of the same day the year prior.

  I knew training Natalie would keep Logan longer, but I didn’t know it would keep him out two hours past when he would usually come home.

  I’m digging through my closet, sifting through every outfit I own, trying to find the perfect one to meet with my client in Tacoma. The sun peeks through the windows as I quietly search my closet, not wanting to wake Logan. He’s still sleeping, the blankets pushed down to his waist, exposing his bare chest. The muscles of his torso contract with every slow, deep breath he takes before relaxing once again.

  He still looks like the man I fell in love with and married. Even more so now that he’s allowed his hair to grow back again. He turns on his side, facing away from me and I continue going through my closet.

  The curtains are drawn wide open. At first, I thought the morning sun’s rays would wake Logan, but he had been in such a deep sleep, he hadn’t stirred. After the emails I’d been receiving, I feel suffocated. I had hoped opening the curtains and allowing the day to fill the four walls of my bedroom, that it would somehow cancel out the darkness that seemed to swallow me whole.

  I felt a bit better, but the pain of the emails and Natalie’s text still lingered, latching itself on to the deepest parts of me.

  I’ve gone through nearly every shirt in my closet when I come across Abby’s sweater. The summer is coming to an end, the leaves on our trees already starting to yellow on the edges. I grab the sleeve and run my fingers across the fabric. I’ve worn it only two times since we’ve lived here, wearing it once during the winter. The brown buttons running down the center are still perfectly in place, except for one on the bottom. I run my thumb over the button. There’s only one thread still keeping it tied to the fabric.

  I push it aside, remembering today was supposed to be in the high eighties. Seattle wasn’t quite ready to let go of the summer yet and neither was I. Summer had been my favorite season, especially growing up in Boston where the winters could be brutal. I was tired of snow and the blistering winter air. Seattle was different. It was cold but not as fierce as Boston had once been.

  I push it aside and decide to grab one of my favorite tank tops. The silky fabric is cool and comfortable, perfect for the hour long drive it would take to get to Tacoma. I slide the top on followed by my favorite pair of black shorts. After strapping on my heels, I walk out into the bedroom, grabbing my phone from my nightstand.

  “What time is it?” Logan mutters against his pillow.

  “Still early,” I answer. “It’s eight o’clock.”

  Logan groans, burying his face deeper into the pillow.

  “Rough night?” I ask him.

  “You could say that.”

  I try to ignore the way my stomach flops at his answer. I wasn’t sure what he meant by that and I’m not sure I’m ready to know the reason.

  “What are you all dressed up for?” He’s now opened his eyes, looking up at me from across the bed. They’re hooded over, still begging for sleep.

  “I have a meeting with that client in Tacoma. Remember?”

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

  “I won’t be home until after lunch,” I tell him, giving myself enough time to account for traffic both ways. I also had never met a client outside of Seattle, so I didn’t know what to expect. When Logan and I had driven cross country, I’d learned I didn’t handle driving in places I didn’t know very well. I was nervous to say the least.

  “Oh,” Logan says, turning to face the ceiling. He rests the palm of his hand on his forehead, his fingertips getting lost in his long hair. “Today is inventory day so I have to go in earlier anyway. I guess that means I’ll already be gone by the time you get back.”

  “I guess so.” I frown, turning away from Logan so he doesn’t see. It’s become increasingly hard to pretend everything is okay between us. I think of what day it is and try and remember if today is the day of the week where he normally does take inventory. But I honestly don’t remember.

  I start to walk around the bed and stop to stand beside him. He tilts his head to the side, resting his cheek on his pillow.

  I bend down and place a quick kiss on his mouth.

  “Make sure you set the alarm when you leave,” he says.

  I fight back the urge to roll my eyes. He knows how strict we are when it comes to using our security system, especially now more than ever. But Logan doesn’t know how I’ve been triple checking every lock and unlock I’ve been making lately. In a sense my paranoia has intensified in the past few days.

  “Good luck with your new client. Drive safe.” His face remains emotionless. I can’t tell if he’s grown distant from me or if it’s the lack of sleep catching up to him.

  I nod once, forcing myself to keep my focus. I can’t show up to meet my new client if I’m upset.

  “Have a good day at work.” The words sting the tip of my tongue, aching against my teeth like biting into a piece of candy when you have a cavity. I hate that I’m putting on a different face for my husband, but I just don’t have it in me to show him how I’m really feeling. I still can’t bring myself to tell him about the emails. I didn’t want Logan to feel like he didn’t have a choice in his life anymore. He’d already suffered enough with Julian when we had first met. I didn’t want him to have to go through that again, even if I had suspicions about him and Natalie.

  I leave Logan without saying another word, not even telling him that I loved him. I stop at the threshold of our bedroom and turn to look at him one more time before leaving. He’s already turned back onto his side and his breathing has already started to even out.

  I grab a water bottle from the refrigerator and shove it into my purse, making sure to grab my laptop and my charger before heading out the door. I set the alarm, waiting for it to beep before knowing it’s set for me to leave.

  Thankfully, I don’t get too lost on my way to Tacoma. The I-5 is clear for the most part and I arrive at the office building where I’m set to meet with my new client. Sawyer and Sawyer Law was looking to rebrand their firm, including adding another partner to their name.

  Taking over the rebranding for this law firm would change my career and I knew it. The weight of this account and how it could catapult my career weighed heavily on my shoulders. My stomach was full of butterflies. The large open meeting room at the top of o
ne of Tacoma’s skyscrapers located in downtown was a monumental change from the small coffee shops and diners I was used to meeting new clients in.

  Candace Sawyer was famous in the Northwest, having inherited her business from her father. I gulp as I sit in my stiff leather chair, praying I don’t mess this up. Candace promised me double what I normally charge if I could show her I was up to handling the task.

  I look at the time on my phone. My eyes grow wide when I realize I’ve been waiting for over forty-five minutes. It’s already past ten.

  As if on cue, a tall woman wearing a perfectly tailored suit, pushes through the large glass door. Her hair is tied up into a neat bun, not a single hair out of place.

  “Mrs. Moore, sorry to keep you waiting,” she says, setting a stack of folders down on the table. She leans over to shake my hand.

  “That’s okay.” I grin. “And you can call me Lena.”

  “Well, Lena, I do apologize. I got caught up talking with one of my defendants.” She waves me off, pulling out a chair and sitting down in it with a huff. “I’m sure you can understand.”

  “Uh, yes.”

  “Good.” She gives me a tight-lipped smile and digs into one of her files.

  Over the next two hours, Candace runs me through every vision she has for her new rebranding. It’s almost as if she’s done most of the work for me. There was more to Candace’s design needs than any other client I’d had before. She wasn’t hiring me for one job. She wanted to hire me permanently as she added a branch to her business that wasn’t there before. She wanted to start a marketing department, with me in charge.

  “What?” I ask her, my jaw dropping. I can feel my insides twisting and the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

  “Yes. I need to jumpstart this division in the law firm, and we want someone to start immediately. We need marketing presence. Presence we’re lacking compared to other law firms in the Pacific Northwest. Presence you can give us. Your work is incredible and professional. You speak to the buyer and the seller. That’s what our law firm needs in more ways than a simple business logo. Now, if you work for us you would still be able to work from home. The distance between Seattle and Tacoma isn’t too far of a stretch to make it work. I’d love it if you could come in one or two days a week to go over your work for the week. It would be a small commute, but one I know is worth the trip. We’ll set you up with your own office for those days. Does that sound alright to you?”

  I’m still staring at Candace with wide eyes and an open mouth. I snap it shut, realizing I probably look like a deer caught in headlights. Here I was, a small business designer, working out of my home and Candace was offering me a corporate position.

  I sigh, looking down at the papers she has spread out on the table. “I don’t mean for this to come out wrong and I probably should be jumping to say yes. But are you sure you want to hire me? Am I the right person for the job?”

  Candace sits back in her chair, twirling her gold pen between her fingers. She crosses her legs and smirks, narrowing her almond shaped eyes. “See,” she points to me with the pen. “That right there. That’s why I think you’re the right person for this job.”

  I stare at her confused, feeling my eyebrows dip even farther between my eyes.

  “You’re practical,” she adds. “You look at the situation from all sides, even if it doesn’t benefit you in the end. At our firm we need someone to be honest. To tell it like it is. If something isn’t working, we want you there, telling us how to fix it.”

  “Oh.” I look back down at the papers Candace has laid out. There’s no reason I shouldn’t take the job. Logan and I wouldn’t need to move, we could stay where we’ve built our lives over the past year. The only difference I’d be making is taking on fewer clients and spending four hours out of my week commuting between Seattle and Tacoma.

  My heart hammers inside my chest, for once feeling as if a small beam of light has begun to shine in on all the darkness surrounding me. “Yes,” I say confidently. “I’ll take the job.”

  Candace sits up in her chair, stamping her stiletto against the tough gray carpet. “Perfect.” She gathers all her papers, sliding a folder over to me. “You can start next week. Here are photocopies of everything we went over today.”

  My phone vibrates from inside my purse as Candace stands. She straightens out her blouse, then looks at the clock hanging on the wall behind me. “I’m sorry to have to go but I have to be down at the courthouse in thirty minutes.”

  I stand, tucking the file Candace gave me inside my laptop bag. My phone vibrates again. “That’s okay. I understand.”

  Candace sticks out her hand. “I look forward to working with you, Lena. You’ll be a great asset to our company.”

  “Thank you.” I’m breathless. I still can’t believe this has happened to me. “I’m excited to join your team.”

  Candace spins on her heel and pushes through the large glass door with the same amount of force she used when she entered.

  Once she’s gone, I dig through my purse, finding my phone at the bottom.

  Logan: That must have been a short meeting. Did everything go okay? You didn’t send me a text telling me you came home.

  My chest feels hollow. What does he mean it must have been a short meeting?

  I type out a quick reply telling him the meeting went fine and questioned how he would know the meeting was short if I didn’t text him.

  He answers immediately.

  Logan: I saw it on our security app. It shows you came home and then left again. Are you with Abby?

  I fall forward, pressing my hand on the large glass table. How was it possible for the system to disarm if I wasn’t there? My stomach twists as if a knife’s been wedged between my ribs. My hands are moving at a rapid pace and I fight with the zipper on my bag. Frustrated, I leave it open and exit the office as fast as I can. When I reach the elevator, I tap my finger against the down button, hoping it will somehow bring open the doors faster.

  The doors finally open and when I’m taking the more than thirty levels down it takes to get to the main lobby, I respond to Logan.

  Me: Yeah, I’m with Abby now. Sorry I didn’t text you. Meeting went great. We can talk about it later.

  My hands are shaking and when I step out of the elevator, I trip, falling to the floor. My phone flies out of my hand and slides across the glossed marble floor. Loose papers and brown paper envelopes scatter across the floor, my laptop half hanging out of the bag. I struggle to get up when a hand reaches out, grabbing on to my arm. “Are you okay, ma’am? Here, let me help you.”

  I instinctively pull it back, staring at the person standing over me. His eyes grow wide and his eyebrows knit in confusion. He’s an older man dressed in a security uniform.

  “Sorry,” I mutter, letting him pull me to a stand. “I’m fine.”

  “I saw you step out of the elevator in a hurry. Are you sure you’re alright? That looked like a nasty fall.”

  “I’m fine. Thank you.” My breaths are heavy and frantic as I shuffle the papers haphazardly together. They crinkle and bend as I shove them back into my bag. When I’ve finally gathered everything up off the floor, I run toward the front door. My knee aches with a pulsating beat. I don’t even bother looking at it as I get in my car and race to Seattle.

  I didn’t know what I expected to find when I got home. The interstate is surprisingly clear, but every passing yellow stripe painted on the road makes the trip feel longer. The distance between me and the truth was fading. Logan and I weren’t home. There was no other explanation.

  “Shit,” I scream into the emptiness of my car, slamming my palm against the steering wheel. I insisted on getting a camera when Logan and I moved into our house, but Logan had said the system was one hundred percent safe and the camera wasn’t necessary. He could monitor everything that went on at our house with the system we had. Now, I regretted not getting one to begin with.

  When I pull up to the house, I don’t immedi
ately go in. My finger hovers over the green button to call Logan. I want to. I want to hear his voice, reminding me that he’s safe. That I’m safe. But I know he’s at work, training Natalie. Instead, I decide to call Abby. She answers on the first ring.

  “Hey, babe. What’s up?” Her voice is light and cheerful.

  I didn’t plan on explaining to Abby about someone being inside our house. I hadn’t even told her about the emails or knowing Julian had shown up again. There was no way I could tell her about this. I just needed to hear her voice.

  I step out of my car, leaving my purse and laptop on the passenger seat. “Nothing. I just got back from my meeting and was wondering if you wanted to come over tonight.” I inch slowly across the driveway.

  I crane my neck, peering around the side of the house before coming to the front door. Nothing seems out of place and the door is shut. I place my hand on the knob, turning it to test to see if it’s locked. It is.

  I insert my key and step into the entrance.

  “Of course,” she says excitedly. “Want to watch that new movie on Netflix?”

  I step into the hallway. The sun is hidden behind gray clouds, not allowing any sunlight to pour in. The curtains are drawn shut, the way I had left them this morning. I grab a knife from the kitchen, slowly walking farther down the hallway, peeking my head upstairs. The downstairs is empty, the intense quiet vibrating off the walls.

  “Yeah, that sounds good. Do you want to pick up a bottle of wine on your way over? I only have half a bottle left from the other day.” I speak louder hoping if the person is still in the house, they’ll hear me and know I’m here.

  “Sure. Red or white?”

  I press the phone harder against my ear. It gives me an odd sense of comfort. Abby Isn't here and wouldn’t be able to protect me but hearing her voice is enough to put me at ease, even just a fraction.