Seeing Love: Saints Protection & Investigations Read online

  He thought back to the meeting with Miguel. Why did she ask how he felt when he heard a child had been kidnapped? She kept focusing on Miguel’s feelings when I wanted to know the facts.

  Rubbing his hand over his face, he turned his gaze back to the road. They entered the Norfolk area and he knew there was nothing else they could do this evening.

  Time was of the essence with Erik still missing. Mitch had set up a meeting for them tomorrow morning with the Volkov head and then in the afternoon with the Maldoni family. He was surprised the groups had agreed to meet but, Mitch had been persuasive.

  She stirred in the seat next to him, stretching her legs and arms out in front of her. “Where are we?”

  “You were out for about an hour. We’re in the Hampton Roads area now.”

  “Where are we going to spend the night?” she asked. “I know your grandmother and parents live here, so you can just drop me off at a hotel if you want.”

  He chuckled and said, “Love my grandmother, but I won’t stay there tonight.” Seeing her curious expression out of the corner of his eyes, he continued, “Nonnie loves to talk and well…I’d like to process the case tonight instead of answering her million questions about how Jude and Sabrina are settling in, how my job is going, and when I’m going to bring home a nice young lady of my own.”

  Smiling, she commented, “She sounds delightful.”

  “Oh, don’t get me wrong. She’s really a darling.”

  Sighing, she admitted, “I miss having a grandmother.”

  “I’m sorry, Faith. I…” Feeling like an ass, his voice trailed off, unsure what else to say.

  “It’s okay. I was luckier than most to have had her for so long.” Not wanting to devolve into silence again, she said, “So what are we doing tonight?”

  Uncharacteristically, Bart hesitated. “I…well, there’s a nice Bed & Breakfast Inn on the cape in Virginia Beach, not too far from where I was stationed as a SEAL. I thought we could stay there tonight unless you want something else.”

  “No, no, that’s fine,” she admitted. “The sea air and a walk on the beach might be just the thing for me.”

  “The weather’s chilly tonight.”

  Smiling at him, she said, “No worries. I’ll be fine.” She recognized he had a natural protectiveness, regardless of what he may have thought about her.

  They drove the last few miles, finally in a peaceful silence, each to their own thoughts but no longer filling the truck cab with animosity. Pulling into the driveway of the B&B, Faith peered out of the window at the charming three-story Cape Cod style house. Checking in, the grey-haired owner smiled at the two, greeting them warmly. Her twinkling eyes moved between them when he asked for two rooms, but her friendly smile never wavered. The comfortable home was decorated with every Christmas ornament imaginable. A nativity set was placed on the sideboard near the door. The front porch was covered with evergreens. A tree stood tall and proud in the living room. Little Christmas knick-knacks perched on shelves, tabletops, and cabinets with lights hung around each window.

  Bart noticed Faith’s eyes jumped around to all of the decorations, her face glowing with childlike enthusiasm.

  Walking to the top of the stairs, the owner opened a door on the left and Faith looked into the beautifully appointed bedroom. White paneling surrounded a queen-sized bed, with a pale yellow comforter, taking up most of one side of the room facing the windows offering an ocean view framed with fluttering yellow curtains. A small matching dresser and blue brocade chair completed the room.

  “I hope this will be all right for you?” the proprietress, Mrs. Carswell, asked.

  “Oh, the room is lovely!” Faith exclaimed. “I have no view outside my little efficiency apartment except for the brick wall of the building next door.”

  “Well, then you should be very happy here.” Turning to Bart, the woman said, “You will be right next door with the same view. The bathroom is across the hall and breakfast will be served at eight a.m.”

  Thanking her, Bart took his key and checked out his room. It was a copy of Faith’s except decorated with various blues as the color scheme and it sported a desk.

  “I thought we could go out and grab something to eat in about an hour if you would like?” he asked.

  Smiling back at him again, Faith nodded. “I’m going to take a walk down to the water. I’ll be back in plenty of time.”

  Bart watched from his window as she made her way down the boarded path from the back of the property to the sandy beach. Grabbing his cell, he called Jack.

  “What have you got for me?” he asked.

  Jack chuckled, “Miguel thought you weren’t wired but then he didn’t expect what we had rigged, did he? I’ve got Cam, Luke, and Blaise still here going over the video feed and checking out his men.”

  “He wants to play with the big boys but he’s still a small shit,” Bart growled.

  “From what we could tell, Faith held her own well,” Cam added.

  Bart knew his best friend was curious about how things were going, but Bart’s mind was whirling and he refused to agree or disagree at this stage. He glanced out of his window, seeing her walking with her pants legs rolled up, holding her shoes in her hands and dipping her toes into the cold water. “Yeah, she did. Kept her cool. Did exactly what I asked.”

  “I’m still investigating her for you. So far, I’ve found nothing,” Luke added. “She lives frugally, works as a part-time art teacher in one of the elementary schools in the area and comes in to do police sketches when they call.”

  Bart thought back to what she had said about her tiny apartment. That doesn’t sound like someone telling fortunes and stealing from unsuspecting ones. So what’s her angle? Is she just a talented artist and thinks she has a special psychic gift?

  “Keep looking. Before I trust anything that comes out of her mouth, I want to make damn sure she’s honest.”

  For a few more minutes, the five men continued to conference until Bart saw Faith walking back up the path.

  “Gotta go. I’ll report in tomorrow after we check out Volkov and Maldoni.”

  By the time he quickly cleaned up in the bathroom, Faith was coming up the stairs. Her long, ebony hair was windblown and her cheeks were rosy from the breeze. His dick jumped to life but he willed it back down. Admitting to himself she might not be the swindler he originally thought she was, he was still uncertain about her purported gifts.

  After taming her long hair, she asked him where they would eat dinner. “I don’t have any clothes for today other than what I’m wearing,” she mentioned, her voice trying to sound casual.

  He immediately understood her reticence. Nowhere fancy. He appreciated her unspoken request to not go somewhere expensive, especially since it would have been on the Saint’s tab.

  “I know a little seafood shack,” he said. “At least I hope it’s still there.”

  The two of them walked the few blocks to a small restaurant at the end of the beach cove. The neon sign glared brightly against the weather-beaten wooden structure. Being a weekday evening, it was not crowded and Bart winked at the hostess as she showed them to a corner booth.

  Faith looked over at her partner, once more amazed at how his body was showcased no matter what he wore. His shoulders and biceps appeared huge as the material of his sweater stretched over his muscles. It had been impossible to ignore the way his jeans stretched over his large thighs and his butt…oh, my God—that butt! Wiggling in her seat, she determined to push these thoughts out of her mind. She had not missed the wink. Such a flirt…with everyone but me, she thought ruefully. Shaking her head, she wondered why she wanted him to notice her. It’s not like I’m interested in the big jerk. As soon as the thought popped into her head, she knew she was lying to herself. Yeah, I am interested. And he’s not such a jerk when he’s being nice. But me? That’ll never happen. I refuse to be another notch on his bedpost!

  By the time the food came, the bland topics of conversation had been e
xhausted and Faith was tired of pretending the elephant was not in the room. Looking at the handsome, yet irritating, man sitting across from her, distractingly pushing his hand through his hair once more, she decided to plunge in.

  “Bart, we’re here together and we haven’t mentioned the case one single time. I know your brain is on the mission, but I’d like to be involved as well.” Seeing him about to speak, she threw her hands up in defense. “And I mean talk about the case. Not argue about what perceived notions you have about me that are false. Can we do that?”

  Sheepishly he looked over at the woman sitting across from him. The thought of so many women he picked up over the years, not wanting to talk at all but just get back to their place for some quick down and dirty fucking, flashed through his mind. Some wanted more than the night he offered, but he could not remember the last time he had dinner with a woman and they only talked. With no thought of sex afterward.

  His silence embarrassed her. “Fine, forget I said anything,” she huffed.

  Jolted out of his musings, he said, “No, no. I’m sorry. I was lost in thought. I’d like to talk about the case.” He saw her eying him warily. “I promise, no arguing tonight.”

  Nodding, she said, “You wondered what I thought earlier.”

  “Yeah, I did. I was questioning him about what he knew about the kidnapping and when he knew about it. I was…well, looking for facts.”

  She smiled, saying, “And I asked about how he felt.”

  “Why that question?”

  “I wanted to see his expression. I’d been watching this man, filled with the desire to scratch out more of a living as a small time gang leader by trying to entice the national gangs to notice him. He wants the waterfront. He’d benefit if Ivan loses his business. We all know that.”

  “But you wanted to know what he felt?” Bart prodded incredulously.

  Her eyes held his, feeling the intensity of his gaze. “Yes, exactly. I wanted to see his expression when he was forced to feel and not think.”

  “What did you see?”

  “I saw a man who may have virtually no scruples, and yet I didn’t get the feeling he would have ordered the kidnapping of a child for business reasons.”

  “Business reasons?”

  “Yes. There are sexual predator kidnappers, those who plan on using or selling their victims. But kidnapping for money is seen, in their eyes, as a business deal. You know, you have something I want so I will take something precious of yours until you give me what I ask for.” Her eyes continued to hold his as she said quickly, “Bart, I’m only giving you my opinion based on his body language and how he spoke. His body language was open—he splayed his hands wide on the table. His eyes flashed irritation but not guilt.” Faith did not mention that, for a moment, the image of violence faded in her mind as she pictured Miguel as a child.

  Bart nodded, for the first time understanding she was extremely in tune with people’s expressions and mannerisms. Not only as an artist but as a psychologist. “What about someone in his organization?”

  Giving a shrug, she admitted, “I have nothing to base that on, but with you looking more at facts, I could see that being a possibility.”

  He nodded, “Yeah, I’ve got the Saints working on that with the FBI.” The waitress came around to offer them a refill and Bart shook his head after Faith did.

  She could not help but notice this time his eyes never strayed over to the pretty waitress. He must be really concentrating on the case for him to not even flirt with her! Suppressing a smile as he paid the bill, they walked back toward the B&B.

  The evening was chilly and Bart noticed her shiver slightly. The desire to put his arm around her and pull her into his warmth was overwhelming, but he forced his hands to stay at his side. She’s a partner in this case, that’s all. And not a trusted partner…at least not yet, he told himself, trying to hold on to his distrust.

  Reaching their rooms, they stood in the hall outside of their bedrooms for a moment, nervously avoiding eye contact.

  Faith leaned back to look up into his face, his strong jaw now covered in stubble. “Thank you, Bart.” Seeing the question in his eyes, she said, “For talking with me.”

  Looking down at the stunning woman in front of him, he battled the desire to take her in his arms and kiss her pink lips. What the fuck is happening to me? How the hell did I go from wanting to prove her false and denounce her to Krustas to wanting to kiss away the shadows I see in her eyes?

  Before he could find an answer to that question, she gave a sad smile as she opened her bedroom door and then closed it behind her with a soft click.

  Chapter 8

  Faith lay in the cozy bed, the sound of waves crashing in the background. She huddled under the thick comforter but refused to close the window all the way. It had been many years since she had been to the beach and she did not want to waste a moment of hearing the surf.

  She had stayed awake for an hour after they returned from dinner, sitting in the comfortable chair next to the open window. Pulling out her art pad, she closed her eyes, focusing on the images forming in her mind. Beginning to draw, she allowed the reflections to flow to her fingers. Lines, shapes, and forms. And once more the drawing of a boy, this time sitting on a bed with his head down reading a book, filled the page.

  “Auugh,” she growled. The image never moved beyond that drawing. Something unusual about the child hovered at the edges of her consciousness but never broke through.

  Turning the page, she closed her eyes and allowed the meeting with Miguel to take over her mind. Putting pencil to pad again, she began to draw and the image of the gang leader at the table took shape. The details came into view, from his gold capped teeth, to the tattoos on his arms. Even though in their meeting his eyes were full of enmity, what came through in her drawing was the look of bleakness. Something truly bothered him about a child being taken.

  As she continued to draw, the figures of the men standing behind him stayed hazy and she realized she had missed the opportunity to study them. No matter how hard she tried, she could not make them clearer so they stayed fuzzy shadows behind Miguel. I must do better tomorrow!

  Frustrated, she turned the page and began drawing again. This time, she knew almost immediately where the art was going. Strong jaw. Hair, slightly on the longish side, brushed to the side with spiky pieces sticking up where his hand so often ran through it. Deep set eyes that always seemed to be looking at her as though trying to figure out a complicated puzzle.

  By the time she lay the pencil down, the image of Bart rose from the page to stare at her. I wish…

  Flipping the art pad closed, she silenced the wishes that crept into her mind whenever she thought of him. Perhaps it will be impossible to find a man that believes in me. Remembering Mitch, the handsome FBI agent, she smiled. Well, he believes in me…but there’s no spark there. Sighing, she wondered why the spark was felt with the man who did not think she was true. She slipped out of her clothes, folding her pants and blouse neatly over the back of the chair. Pulling a simple nightgown over her head, she was glad for the long sleeves as she felt the chill in the room and slipped under covers.

  Now, an hour later, she rolled over and her mind wandered to the man sleeping in the room next to hers. The tall, gorgeous, blue-eyed, virile man. Oh, Babushka, you told me it would be hard to deal with my gifts. But does it have to keep me so alone? What would I give to be one of the women he crooks his finger at and go running? Snorting, she turned over, pulling the covers up to her ears. Yeah? I wouldn’t know what to do with someone like him.

  The sound of the surf finally lulled her to sleep, her twisted thoughts eventually giving in to the peace of the night.

  In the next room Bart sat up for hours pouring over the files from Luke, adding what little he had gained from Miguel. The words from Faith continued to trail through his mind. “I didn’t get the feeling he would have ordered the kidnapping of a child.” Bart closed the files and stripped off his shirt and
pants, leaving on his boxers as he slipped between the sheets. As much as he wanted to deny it, her words echoed his own thoughts. But the men under Miguel? That’s a different story.

  *

  The next morning, Bart knocked on Faith’s door and was surprised when it opened, showing her completely dressed with her overnight case packed.

  “You ready?” incredulity creeping into his words.

  Her blue eyes twinkling, she laughed. “I’m not very high maintenance as you can see. It doesn’t take me long to get ready in the mornings!”

  He stepped back and gallantly waved her to pass in front of him as they made their way to the breakfast area. Seeing her ass sway gently in the navy slacks had his dick wanting to answer the call of the wild. He noticed her front assets beautifully hidden beneath a light blue turtleneck, showing no skin and, yet, as seductive as the skimpiest costume. No longer fighting his attraction, he told himself it was only physical. But if it was, then I’d have already tried to get her in bed. No, I couldn’t do that with a partner in an investigation, his thoughts battled. As he followed her downstairs, he admitted to himself that she was different and that made her all the more endearing. . .and frustrating, because he could not trust her yet.

  Mrs. Carswell escorted them to a glassed-in side porch, filled with a small table covered with a light blue tablecloth. The dainty white dishes gleamed against the blue background. Bart felt like a bull in a china shop, afraid to move for fear of knocking something over.

  Faith noticed the furniture was not made for someone of Bart’s stature and could not hold her giggle in. Pretending to glare, he gave in to his chuckles as well.

  Sitting across from her, he did indeed notice she was not high maintenance. Not in her appearance, which included simple makeup on a flawless complexion and her long hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. Her mannerisms also bespoke of someone used to fending for herself. She jumped up to pour the coffee so that Mrs. Carswell would not have to keep coming in to wait on them.