Celebrating Love: Saints Protection & Investigations Page 9

  “What the hell?” Nick asked, his body jerking in surprise.

  “Oh, God,” Bayley exclaimed, jumping up. “Lickers just pooped in the litter box and he likes to run like a demon when he finishes!” Rushing into the kitchen, she grabbed a plastic bag and hustled to the guest bathroom, where she scooped out the offensive item. Tying the bag, she dumped it into the trash and searched underneath the sink for room-freshener spray. Finding it, she gave the living room a heavy dose of rose scented spray before sniffing. “Better?” she asked hopefully.

  “Sure,” Nick lied, trying not to choke on the cat-shit-floral odor now lingering. Standing, he turned off the TV, saying, “I guess it’s time to turn in. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  A smile hiding her disappointment, she nodded. “Yeah…tomorrow’s just a regular day in the shop. I’ll open and one of the Saints will be there.”

  Bayley climbed into bed, leaving the door cracked in case Lickers wanted to sleep with her. It did not take long for him to do just that, curling at her legs, purring loudly. She reached her hand out and rubbed his head, the fur soft underneath her fingertips, and her thoughts went to the man across the hall. Raised by a strong father and with an alpha brother—who worked with other alphas—she had tried to avoid them, figuring she did not need another in-control man in her life. Thinking she needed to be with the opposite type, she tried dating authors or artists, but found no one who rocked her world. Lying on her back, she stared at the ceiling. She knew the difference between a man who had to be in control and a man who took care of others, especially the ones he loved.

  Smiling, she thought of Blaise with Grace, and now their son. Her memories of her father’s no-nonsense, loving firmness filled her mind. Maybe I’ve been looking in the wrong direction…maybe I do need someone like him.

  Later, lying in bed, Nick thought of the bewildering woman in his guest room. Funny. Smart. He had had more conversation that day than in the past few weeks put together. Sexy. Whether dressed up or in PJs with tigers on them, she was beautiful. As his thoughts brought his dick to attention, he forced his mind to safer traits of hers. She’s disorderly. Rolling over, he focused on the mess in the kitchen…which was easy to clean up and the meal was delicious. Then he thought of the cat…which she also took care of quickly. Rolling back over again, he came to one final thought—one that pushed her lips out of his mind…almost. She’s under my care and therefore untouchable.

  “Johan’s made a mess of things!” Chessa shouted, waving her hands at her husband and sons. “I don’t want to have to call in my uncle.”

  Used to her loud tirades, Milos, Lazlo, and Grigory winced before Milos argued, “You will not involve your uncle. You will tend to the girls we have and let us do the planning.”

  Chessa huffed, turning back to the stove as she stirred lunch. “Agnes,” she barked, “set the table while the men work.”

  “I told you to let me handle things,” Lazlo retorted. “I could have gotten close to the girl and would have had no problem getting my hands on her phone. Now, it’s going to be much harder to find out what she knows.”

  “Get rid of her,” Grigory said, casually looking at his family, shrugging. “Problem solved.”

  “Did I raise my eldest to be an idiot?” Chessa cried out. Grigory’s lips pinched together as she continued to rant.

  “Let me go to the shop,” Agnes said, her voice interrupting the family’s tirade. The others quieted, turning to look at her. Before her brothers could protest, she said, “No one knows me. No one will suspect a young woman in a bookstore. I can easily get close to her and find out what she knows. Who she’s told. Probably even get my hands on her phone. And if need be, get my hands on her.”

  Licking her lips, she looked up as her parents were still quiet. Her father’s eyes were piercing hers while her mother nodded slowly.

  “It could work,” Milos said. “No one would suspect a woman.”

  “I’ll go too,” Lazlo insisted. “There’s no way Agnes should be doing this and certainly not alone. We don’t want any fuckups. Anyway, I’ve met one of the women that works there. I can get close to them.”

  As the others nodded in agreement, Agnes maintained a serene expression, inwardly smiling, knowing it was time to show her family what she was made of.

  10

  “You have to put all this in a book. This is stranger than fiction!” Daphne exclaimed. “And you get to go home with Mr. TDMB!”

  “It’s crazy, that’s for sure,” Bayley agreed, not wanting to admit that the last part of Daphne’s statement caused butterflies to beat their wings wildly in her stomach. She had spent the last two nights at Nick’s place and it was getting harder to fight her attraction to him.

  “Crazy? That’s putting it lightly! You’ve got FBI agents, gorgeous security men, and kidnappers all at your fingertips.”

  Bayley smiled at her friend, who gushed while serving coffees to some of their regular customers. As word of her unique shop was spreading, more people came, whether to look at books, sit and type for a while, or bring their children into the reading room. Happy for the business, her focus drifted over to the huge, muscular man sitting near the door, sipping coffee while perusing the newspaper. Marc…that’s his name. Bart was this morning. Chad and Mitch were yesterday. He appeared casual, but Bayley was learning the Saints’ habit of being ever vigilant while exuding a normal air about them.

  As Bayley walked toward the writing area, she heard Daphne greet another customer. “Lazlo, hi!” Turning, she grinned as Daphne and the dark-haired young man began chatting. Recognizing him as the customer who came in two days ago, she breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that repeat customers could be the life-blood of a business.

  Seeing Bruce at a table with a young woman, she walked over to check on his writing. Smiling, she greeted, “Hey, Bruce.” Nodding toward the new customer who smiled up at her, she said, “Welcome. I don’t remember seeing you in my shop before.” Noticing the woman’s cup of black coffee on the table was almost empty, she offered, “Can I get you another cup?”

  The woman stood, her hand extended, and smiled ever so slightly. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Hanssen. I’m Agnes. I was curious about what Bruce was working on and relished the opportunity to meet another writer. He insisted that your shop is the place to come to learn more about publishing.”

  Beaming, first at Bruce and then at the new customer, she said, “I hope he invited you to our critique group.”

  “Oh, yes, he did. I’m afraid I don’t have any work to share at this time…I’m still very new to the idea of writing.”

  “We all have to start somewhere,” she said, “so don’t be afraid to join us as soon as you do have even just the beginnings of a manuscript. We can critique your ideas to help you get started.”

  With a nod, she moved away, looking up to see Marc’s piercing eyes on her and the two writers she just walked away from. Heading straight to him, she greeted, “I see you’re just as observant as the others.”

  Grunting, Marc jerked his head toward the table and asked, “You know them?”

  Stifling a giggle, she replied, “The man is Bruce Dester. He’s a fellow writer and has been coming here since I opened. In fact, he’s the one who scared off the man from the other night.”

  “And the dark-haired woman with him? The one with no computer or books in front of her?”

  “You are suspicious, aren’t you? She’s a new customer and said she’s an aspiring writer but not ready to join the night critique group yet.”

  “Hmmm,” Marc grunted again, his gaze moving back around the large room. The bell over the door sounded and Nick walked in, his stalwart expression softening as his eyes landed on her.

  “Hey,” she greeted, her ready smile greeting him. “All good in the criminal-catching world?”

  Nick’s eyes shifted to Marc, now standing, and met the Saint’s smirk with a twitch of his lips. “Everything okay?”

  Marc nodded, promp
ting a pout from Bayley. “I swear, y’all talk in caveman-speak. A few words and it’s all done. What happened to the art of conversation? You know, full sentences. Discussions between people. Even just comments about the weather!”

  “Bayley,” Marc said, patting her shoulder, “you talk enough for all of us.” With that, he offered a head jerk to Nick and walked out.

  “Well, how do you like that?” she said, her hands on her hips as she watched Marc stalk to his SUV parked outside. Huffing, she turned to Nick and said, “I don’t know whether to be offended or to laugh.”

  Chuckling, Nick replied, “He wasn’t insulting you, just stating a fact.” He glanced over the busy shop, taking in the patrons milling about the inviting space. Children and parents. College students. A few writers at the tables. He recognized Bruce, intently typing on his laptop while his companion, with her face away from Nick, appeared to just be sipping coffee.

  “You ready to leave?” Nick asked, his focus back on Bayley.

  Nodding, she said, “Yeah. I’m having Daphne close tonight and I’ll open tomorrow.”

  Sticking out his elbow, “Then we’re off.”

  “How jaunty of you,” she laughed. “Downright cavalier!”

  Nick, losing the battle of keeping his lips from curving into a grin, held the door open for her as they walked out into the evening.

  Agnes’s gaze followed the couple as they left the shop, her lips pinched together as she stood. With a goodbye to Bruce, she was just passing the check-out counter on her way out when Daphne waylaid her. Agnes’s eyes continued to dart toward the street, and she heaved a sigh as the couple’s vehicle moved out of sight, seeing her brother’s car following them.

  Wide-eyed, Nick stood at the doorway to the hall bathroom, stunned at what he saw. The small, single-sink counter was covered with bottles, tubes, containers—some with their lids off—small brushes, and flat plastic cases filled with what he assumed was makeup. His eyes moved to the shower stall, two wet towels thrown haphazardly over the towel bar and a wet washcloth hanging on the door. Water spots covered the mirror and a hairdryer lay on the back of the toilet.

  Fighting the urge to call his cleaning service, something brushed by his pants and he looked down, seeing Lickers weaving between his ankles, purring as he pranced around. Nick sucked in a deep breath through his nose. It’s only clutter. It can be fixed. It’s only a cat. He can’t destroy the house. His fingers clenched at his sides for a moment, but hearing Bayley singing off-key in the other room again, made the tightness in his chest relax.

  Walking into the kitchen, he was no longer surprised to see the complete wreckage she had accomplished as she dished up homemade lasagna. The scent of garlic-cheese bread sent thoughts of clutter out of his mind.

  He eagerly sat down to dinner with her and he realized it had been a long time since he had looked forward to spending time with anyone, much less a woman. It took a moment for him to remember the forgettable dinner date he had had with a woman he met at a conference before the last case took him to Alaska. He could bring her face to mind but could not remember what they had talked about. Shaking his head, he cleared his mind as he stared at the unforgettable woman now sharing his dinner.

  “Do you know when I’ll be able to go back to my apartment?” she asked.

  His smile drooped at the idea that she was looking forward to leaving his place. No, that’s good. No more clutter…no more cat. Suddenly the idea of being alone again after only a few days of her presence did not appeal to him.

  She watched his smile fade and wondered what was on his mind. “I only ask because I know you’re probably dying to get Lickers and me out of your hair.”

  “No,” he said, sharper than he meant. “I mean, you’re welcome here as long as you need a safe place to stay.”

  Her smile slid easily back into place as she felt his dark eyes pierce hers. “Even Lickers?”

  Chuckling, he nodded. “Yeah…I can’t exactly say the cat has grown on me, but at least I’m not afraid of it anymore.”

  “Afraid? You were afraid of a little cat?”

  “That thing has claws. And teeth. And sometimes it looks at me like it wants to make my legs its next meal.”

  Throwing her head back, she cackled, “Oh, Nick, you’re so funny. Mr. Lickers is harmless. I don’t even think he would know what to do if a mouse ran by.”

  Giving in to the smile tugging at his lips, he could not remember anyone ever saying he was funny. He watched her hair swing down her back, his fingers itching to see if it felt as silky as it looked. Her face, animated in laughter, showcased her plump lips, blue eyes, and peachy complexion. All traits he had never noticed with another woman. He wondered if he had ever really looked at someone before her.

  As her mirth dissipated, she fastened her gaze on his, her breath now catching in her throat. He was so intelligent, so dedicated. And more beautiful than any man had a right to be. She sucked in her lips, knowing she felt safe with him but wanting so much more.

  Clearing her throat, she asked again, “So…when do you think I’ll be able to get back to my apartment?”

  “Blaise called today to say the Saints have set up security cameras in your apartment and shop, as well as secure locks on your doors and windows. They’ve got you wired into their system. There’s a security firm that works with the Saints. Alvarez Security will have you monitored twenty-four-seven. I’d say tomorrow, as long as you get the all-clear from them, you can move back.”

  “And my shop?”

  “They finished the security system this afternoon…I got the call while you were in the shower.”

  “Okay, then. Well, uh, I guess Lickers and I’ll move out tomorrow. It’s been really nice to…uh…be here…with you. All part of your job, I’m sure—” stumbling over her words, uncertainty entered her, an emotion she was unused to experiencing.

  Reaching out, Nick placed his hand over hers. “Bayley, it’s been my pleasure. You need to know that I’ve never done this before. I’ve never had a woman here and certainly not one I was protecting. This was not part of my job. In fact, it’s been a…well, let’s just say, I’ve had to convince my superiors that this was in your best interest and wouldn’t compromise the case.”

  Eyes wide, she exclaimed, “Oh, I never thought of that! I hope you didn’t get into any trouble.”

  Remembering the conversation he had with Richard, his lips narrowed in frustration. “If you fuck up this case because you can’t stay away from a witness, I’ll have your badge.” He had almost told Richard where he could stick his badge, but years of disciplined professionalism kept his mouth shut. “No, no, it’s fine,” he fibbed.

  Smiling once more, Bayley said, “I’m so glad. I really like being with you and would hate to think that you were in trouble over me. But you’d always have a job with the Saints…I know Blaise and the others would love to have you.”

  Sitting back and clearing his throat, Nick realized that for the first time in his life, he was willing to buck the system—and it was all for this woman.

  Unable to sleep, Bayley considered snooping. Her mind was filled with it being her last night in Nick’s apartment. Wondering, when she was no longer under his protection, if he’d make a move on her, then considering making a move on him.

  Smiling, she climbed out of bed, dislodging Lickers sleeping at her hip. Rubbing his fur as she moved, she turned on the light at the desk. Clean, neat. A few books neatly stacked in the corner. She snickered at what she recognized as his OCD tendencies. Moving to the bookshelf, she scanned the titles. Books on interrogation, detection, police policies, law, investigation techniques. She wrinkled her nose at the topics.

  On the bottom shelf, an old photo album lay on the bottom of a stack of other books. Curious, she pulled it out, opening it to the first page. Gasping, she realized she was staring at Nick’s childhood photos.

  A picture of a couple, the mother, dark-haired and smiling, was holding a baby while sitting in a rocking c
hair that was in this room. That’s the rocking chair that’s in this room! The father, standing behind her with his hands on her shoulders, beamed proudly toward the camera. Looking at Nick’s father, she saw how much he resembled his dad. Other shots, all with the same three, filled the pages and as she continued to go through them, she watched Nick grow from a baby to a child of about eight years old. Tall like his father. Dark-haired, like both of them. Always smiling at the camera. Pages of birthdays, Christmases, bike rides, and picnics.

  Then the pictures stopped. No more happy family. After turning several blank pages, she saw Nick’s high school graduation pictures. This time he resembled the Nick she knew—stern-faced and serious. His dark hair was trimmed close to his head, dark eyes boring a hole into the lens with a focused and thoughtful expression. What happened? Where did your parents go?

  11

  “We may have a problem.”

  Blaise’s call to Nick early the next morning did not portend good things. “What’s up?”

  “The governor just called Jack to tell him that there is a high terrorist alert for a meeting that’s going on in the capitol and he needs the Saints to provide added security and intelligence. Normally that’s not a problem, but it’s going to pull some of us away from assisting you and covering my sister—”

  “It’s no problem,” Nick assured in haste. “I’ve got Bayley covered.”

  If Blaise wondered about Nick’s words and the possible double meaning, he did not let on. “I know you do and I appreciate it. Her apartment and shop are all wired in and we’ll be monitoring it round the clock. I’m beating myself up that I had not upgraded her places before a problem happened—”

  “This is not your fault, man,” Nick said. “But I know how you feel…just like I do about taking her phone and leaving her with nothing to call with when she needed it.”

  “Well, I’m on my game again,” Blaise assured. “But Jack just wanted me to let you know that our resources will be strained for a few days.”