Seeing Love: Saints Protection & Investigations Page 13

  Nodding, he said, “These are really interesting, Faith. Like you, I’ve got no idea if what you see in your mind has anything to do with Erik, but I’ll share these with Krustas. Who knows? He may recognize something.”

  Releasing a breath, she had not realized she was holding, she nodded, “Good. Good. That’ll be the right thing to do, I’m sure.” Pausing for a moment, she then asked, “Mitch? What do you think? About Erik? I can’t help but think of that poor child, away from his home and frightened.”

  “I honestly don’t know,” he answered. “It would be pure speculation to hazard a guess as to whether or not he’s still alive.” Seeing her wince, he added, “But the FBI is doing everything we can to find him, regardless of what Krustas thinks. Sure, we’d love to take down all the organized crime, but finding Erik is our priority.”

  She nodded slowly, allowing the idea that her drawings were proof he was still alive to chase away her doubts. Checking her watch, she stood, saying “I’ve got to get home. My cat will be ready to gnaw my ankles if I don’t.”

  Mitch stood with her, placing his hand on her arm. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to grab dinner somewhere?”

  Gazing up at the handsome agent, she shook her head. “Thanks, Mitch, but I’m…” her voice trailed off as she realized she had no idea how to answer him.

  “You’re taken?” he asked, his smile still in place. “Bart?”

  “No, no, I’m not taken,” she answered truthfully. But smiling as she walked out of the cafe, she admitted to herself, But I’m hopeful.

  Chapter 13

  Bart lay awake, unable to sleep, thoughts of the unsolved mission and the beautiful Faith heavy on his mind. Why did I imply to the guys I wouldn’t be seeing her again when the only thing I want to do is call her?

  His phone vibrated on the nightstand next to his bed and, instantly alert, he grabbed it, seeing Jack’s name identified. “Boss?”

  “Looks like you and Ms. Romani will be working together once more. Mitch called and said the FBI would like you two to interview Sergio Krustas. They are digging into him and he is rising to the top of their list. It seems as though he has a long reach outside of prison.”

  Instantly the idea of Faith being not only in a prison, but in the presence of more filth, made him grimaced. “I can’t go alone?”

  “You got a problem with working with her?”

  “No, it’s just…I hate seeing her inside a prison and talking to one more crime lord asshole,” he responded.

  “If it were up to me, I’d say she doesn’t need to be involved at all, but this is actually coming from Ivan himself.”

  “Fuck, I know he’s desperate, but he’s seriously grasping at straws with her.” Sighing, he said, “Is the meeting set up for tomorrow?”

  “Yeah. Krustas has already called her. You can pick her up about nine a.m. and you’re to be at the prison at eleven.”

  Disconnecting, he lay back on the bed, throwing his arm over his head, sighing deeply. I get this fuckin’ assignment over with, I’m asking her out on a proper date!

  *

  Pulling up to Faith’s apartment building several hours later, he saw her coming out of the door before he had a chance to jump out of his truck. He hurried around to open the door for her.

  She smiled shyly at him, uncertainty filling her expression. “Hi,” she said, offering him a travel mug of coffee.

  “You’re a lifesaver,” he effused, taking a sip of the hot drink as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

  “How long will it take us to get to the prison?”

  “About an hour and a half,” he responded. Glancing to the side, he took her in. Her long hair was sleek and shiny, pulled back into a low ponytail. Her cheeks were rosy with the cool morning air. A navy coat cinched at the waist covered her clothes, but the grey pants with the heeled boots underneath caught his attention. Fuck, and will catch the attention of every swinging dick in the prison…guards and inmates alike!

  “I know you don’t dress provocatively, but I gotta ask because of the prison visitation rules. Your blouse, under that,” he nodded to her coat, “is it…um…does it cover everything?”

  She saw the way he attempted to avert his eyes from her chest and she could not hold back the grin. “I went on the internet and checked out the visitation procedures, so I’m wearing a very boring blouse, I assure you.”

  The thought of any blouse on her was provocative to him and there was no way it was boring even covering the assets that he now could not keep his mind off of. “Good,” he groused, adjusting himself in the driver’s seat.

  Several miles passed in silence. He hoped, after the kiss, they would fall into an easy camaraderie, but she appeared tongue-tied this morning. I didn’t contact her yesterday so she probably thought I was never going to call. The realization that this was his modus operandi hit him. He never called a woman back. Stealing another glance at her holding her coffee with both hands as she gazed out of the window, he knew she was different from other women. He had not only lied to his friends…he had lied to himself.

  Faith sipped her drink nervously, not knowing what to say. She tried not to focus on the fact that he towered over her when he opened the door for her. Or that her hand still tingled from his touch when he assisted her up into the truck. For now, his hair was not sticking up, but she smiled knowing that after a few frustrated runnings of his hand through the thickness, his hair would be in all directions. Did he want to see me again or was he forced into this trip? Before she could ponder this anymore, he cleared his throat, drawing her attention over to him.

  “You look very nice today—”

  “Thank you,” she replied a little too quickly, a nervous smile on her face.

  “Um, I wasn’t finished,” he added.

  “Oh,” she mumbled.

  “I was going to say you are beautiful, but you’ve got to remember where we’ll be today. If you thought it was bad interviewing Miguel, Gavrill, or Luciano, they were nothing compared to what you’ll face today.”

  “Oh,” she replied again, this time, nervousness and a bit of disappointment that his compliment was not exactly a compliment so much as a warning about the day’s activities, had her clutching her coffee mug even tighter.

  “I just want you to be confident I’ll be right by your side the whole time. I promise.”

  A slow smile curved the edges of her lips at the thought. “I admit I’ve never been in a prison before…but I’ve seen lots on TV.”

  He chuckled, the tension broken, and spent a few minutes telling her about the check in procedures. As he talked, he noticed her nibbling on her thumbnail again. “Still nervous?”

  Her gaze jumped over in surprise. “Does it show? I’m trying so hard to be cool.”

  He nodded toward her hand. “You bite your fingernail when you’re nervous. Or deep in thought. Or irritated with me.”

  This time, it was her turn to chuckle as she moved her hand down to her lap.

  “It’s okay,” he rushed to assure, not wanting her to be self-conscious. “Well, as long as you’re not irritated with me.”

  “I’m not.” Twisting her body to face him, she suddenly said, “Tell me something about yourself.”

  “Huh?”

  “We’ve been in each other’s constant company for two days now and there’s a lot I gathered about you from observation. But…well, I’d like to know something about you that I haven’t learned yet.”

  He looked askance at her, saying, “Now, I’m wondering what you think about me. That kind of makes me nervous.”

  Grinning as though she had a secret, she said, “Just things that I’ve picked up. It’s easy if you really listen to people and watch them when they speak.”

  “Okay, I’m game, but first—you have to tell me what you’ve figured out.”

  “That’s not how this game works,” she laughed.

  “My truck, my rules,” Bart ordered easily.

  “Humph,” she groused.
Licking her lips, she agreed. “Well, I know you’re a very confident person by the way you speak and even the way you hold yourself. That can come from being a SEAL, but I think it’s also just you. You have a great body, but I know you work at it by staying in shape.”

  He could not help but preen at that comment, knowing she had noticed his body. “Okay, keep going,” he encouraged.

  “I know you’re loyal, not only to your family but to your friends. Um…let’s see. I know you run your fingers through your hair when frustrated which, by the way, I’ve seen a lot since being on this case with you.”

  She discovered the corners of his eyes crinkled as he laughed just now, too.

  “My mom used to bug me to cut my hair because it made her crazy when my hair was long and sticking out everywhere. She loved it when I was in the Navy.” He looked over at her smile and wanted the expression to stay…and to be the one to keep it there. “Okay, what else?”

  “Hmmm, well, I know you love country music, especially if it’s a man singing and not a woman. We haven’t talked about movies—and before you ask, no, I can’t just tell what you like!”

  “So you really aren’t psychic!” he exclaimed with false surprise, throwing his hand over his heart.

  “Jerk,” she laughed. “Okay, let’s see what else I know. Oh, yeah, you’re an outrageous flirt—”

  “Hey, no hitting below the belt,” he complained.

  “I didn’t say you were an awful flirt or an insincere flirt!”

  He stayed silent at that comment with the uncomfortable feeling that if she knew how much of an insincere flirt he really was, she probably would not be enjoying his company. He thought back to the times his buddies had commented on him always leaving with the best-looking girl in a bar and he simply took that as some kind right. Or how he would wink to grab a waitress’ attention and then not look at her again when they brought his food or drink. Then his mind slid to the countless women whose bed he would leave with a wink and an insincere comment about how great it had been.

  Suddenly, the air in the truck cab seemed thick and breathing was painful. He looked over at her concerned face, sure that she could see inside of him, knowing all his unflattering qualities. And, for the first time, he felt like he knew them, too. He was about to tell her he did not want to play her game anymore when she spoke softly.

  “I know you love your big family. Your siblings, your cousins. I know your grandfather taught you about life and being a man. And your grandparents and parents have the kind of love most of us could only dream about.”

  Those words took his breath away. She was not psychic, but with just the simple, and yet complex, ability to really listen and observe people, she had garnered all this information.

  The moment lay heavy between them, but the silence was not forced. Simply reflective. Warm. Even welcome.

  To lighten the mood, he joked, “So you want to hear about my movie favorites, huh?”

  Laughing, she leaned her head sideways on the headrest and said, “You can tell me anything you’d like.”

  He thought for a moment, realizing how hard it was to come up with something to say about himself when she had already peered into his soul.

  “Tell me about how you got into investigations,” she prompted.

  That seems safe enough. “I loved being a SEAL. The missions, the camaraderie, hell, even the training. I hoped the Border Patrol would satisfy me, but the job didn’t. I had a friend who was with them and thought it sounded interesting. I should have spent more time investigating them. Don’t get me wrong, what they do is good and necessary.”

  “So…?”

  He heaved a sigh, pondering the prompt. “It’s weird, now that I think about it. In the SEALs, I had to follow orders exactly, but with Border Patrol, our hands were tied by regulations that made no fuckin’ sense. We would see what needed to be done but couldn’t do it.”

  “So you changed careers?”

  “Yeah. I knew some guys that ran security companies after getting out of the SEALs, but I was looking for something a little more…”

  “Rule-breaking?” she grinned.

  “Exactly!” he laughed. “I put out some feelers and found out about Jack Bryant’s Saints.”

  “Why does he call his company the Saints?”

  “That’s a personal reason to Jack.” Bart quietly reflected for a moment, and then added, “But the name means something to all of us as well.”

  Faith knew whatever it was he would share only when ready, so she turned the conversation to something more lighthearted. “So, what movies do you like?”

  Laughing, he replied, “Probably nothing that you’d find interesting.”

  “Action flicks with lots of car chases and bombs going off?”

  “Nope,” he pronounced, then a faint blush appeared. “I like British comedies and mysteries.”

  She had already twisted in her seat to face him, but that had her looking up in amazement. “You’re right. I wouldn’t have guessed that.” Smiling, she liked how he could surprise her. Make her laugh. Make her feel…less lonely. Is that what I’m doing? Trying to force a friendship? Her thumbnail managed to make its way back to her mouth, where her teeth began to nibble.

  He glanced her way. Is she nervous? Irritated? Neither of those seemed right. Wanting to take the pensive look off her face, he said, “Well, I do l like country music. I like the stories it tells. I don’t mind female singers…I guess I just understand the male singer’s perspectives more. Maybe the good-ole-boy feeling that comes with some songs…but mostly, I like the way they can tell a story about—” he halted suddenly, embarrassed.

  “About love,” she finished for him, smiling. “So, there is a romantic in there somewhere,” she said, swirling her finger in his direction.

  Looking over, he saw the light in her eyes as her smile lit up her face. Her dark eyes, shining, gazed into his. “Yeah, I guess there is.”

  They drove for several more miles, the comfortable silence blanketing them peacefully. Before they knew it, they turned off the main highway toward the prison. The air in the truck cab moved rapidly from content to anxious.

  “What should I expect?” she asked.

  Bart ran through the procedures with her, then said, “Take my lead with everything, Faith. If I decided we need to cut it short and get out of there, you go along with me. If I’m pushing, then you gather all the information you can as quickly as you can.”

  She watched as his hand passed over his head several times and realized her nervousness was in direct response to his. He’s worried about this one. “Bart?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What makes this one different?”

  He sucked in a deep breath before letting it out slowly, a slight hiss sounding as the air passed through his gritted teeth.

  “The other guys, they were on the outside. They wanted to keep the Feds out of their business as much as possible so they were willing to talk to us. They weren’t happy about it, but they had a lot to lose if we got suspicious. But Sergio? He’s got nothin’ to lose. He’s already in prison and has publicly threatened his uncle. A man who’s got nothin’ to lose can be unpredictable.” Running his hand through his hair that was now standing on end, he added, “A prison’s no place for a woman like you to be in and Sergio is sure as hell not a man you should ever have to be around. I fuckin’ hate he’ll even lay eyes on you.”

  “I’ll be okay,” she said softly, drawing his gaze back to hers. “I’ll be with you.”

  Reaching across the console, he took her hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Yes, you will, baby. Yes, you will.

  Chapter 14

  Faith could not explain her nervousness, considering she had recently been in the presence of three crime lords with no security around. She was fearful then, but somehow the looming structure of the prison set the sick feeling of nerves fluttering around her stomach.

  She followed Bart’s lead as they entered through the main doorw
ay and showed identification. She removed her coat, handing it to the guard before moving through the metal detectors.

  Bart glanced behind him to check on her. His eyes dropped to her outfit and he noted she had indeed dressed with care. Her long-sleeved, dark blue blouse was buttoned to the top, showing virtually no skin. He realized a week ago, this woman would not have appeared on his radar at all as someone to be interested in. And now? He had to tear his eyes away as he wondered what delights lay underneath all those clothes. Giving himself a mental shake, he offered her a small smile of encouragement.

  So far, the procedures reminded her of passing through security at an airport. In fact, the guards appear friendlier than the airport security! She expected everything to be grey in color, but found flashes of light blue on the doorframes and chairs in the rooms.

  Bart had explained that because they were there at not only Krustas’ insistence, but the visit was sanctioned by the FBI, they would not be using the main family visitation room. “They’ll place us in a smaller conference room, but don’t worry—a guard will be there the whole time.”

  She nodded. They passed through another security checkpoint and this time, she noted dark green covered the doorframes. The different areas are color-coded. She looked around at everything, nervous and yet fascinated at the same time. The sound of her boots tapping on the tile floors echoed as they continued down the long hall. Peering to the side, she slammed into Bart’s back as he came to a stop.

  Blushing a deep red, she looked up, mouthing Sorry, as he grinned down at her. Finally, they were shown into an interview room; this time, the grey table and chairs were what she expected. The windowless room had another door at the opposite end. Bart moved to a chair and pulled it out for her. Smiling her thanks, she settled in the seat, placing her shaking hands in her lap.