Seeing Love: Saints Protection & Investigations (13 page)

Trying not to show his irritation at Faith spending more time with Mitch, he agreed before disconnecting. “Looks like we need to find a place to stay tonight again.”

“What choices do we have?” she asked, twisting to look at him.

“Well, we can see if the B&B has rooms available tonight. We could discuss our thoughts and get a good night’s sleep, before driving back in the morning.”

She turned away from him, a small smile curving the edges of her mouth.
He must not hate me now to want to spend more time with me.
Feeling his earlier apology was sincere, she no longer saw him as an ogre. The thought of being with him longer had her smile widen. Nodding, she said, “I’d love to.”

*

To Bart’s relief
and Faith’s joy, Mrs. Carswell greeted them like old friends and offered them the same rooms they had the night before. She even told them about a nearby bar that had music on Friday nights and was well known for their chicken wings. Thanking her for the information, Bart paid for the rooms and then leaned down to grab their overnight bags.

“No need to show us up,” he called out, heading toward the stairs. “We can find our way.”

Faith followed him and moved into her room, immediately going over to open the window to hear the surf. Twisting around, she glanced over her shoulder and said, “I’m going to go back down to the beach for a few minutes before we head to dinner.”

Once more, he watched from his window as she made her way down the wooden plank walk to the beach. The wind from the ocean blew her hair away from her face, the silky ebony strands whipping around her shoulders. She looked…lonely.

Calling Jack, he discovered his good luck that most of the Saints were still at the compound reviewing the material.

“How’s she doing?” Jack asked, knowing Bart had been unable to speak earlier.

“We’re gonna grab a bite to eat and I’ll find out more about what she thought.”

“So you’re starting to believe her?” Cam asked.

Sitting down on the bed facing the window, Bart watched as she walked along the shore. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I’ll admit that a lot of my pre-conceived notions about her don’t seem to be true. I don’t believe she has any kind of
gift
or psychic abilities, but she does seem to be very in tuned with people. I go for the facts and she goes for the emotions.”

Luke piped up, “Just so you know, I still haven’t found out anything negative about Faith. I’ll send over what I do have on her. How do you want it?”

“Send it to my email,” Bart said, watching her turn and walk back toward the house. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow after meeting with Ivan.”

He met her at the door as she came up the stairs, her appearance the same as the evening before. Red cheeks and windblown hair. Dark eyes twinkling.
And fuckin’ beautiful.

Arriving at the bar, they found it was crowded but managed to snag a bar top table. As tall as he was, it took little effort to wave down a waitress…and as handsome as he was, it took little time for the perky blonde in short shorts and a cut-off top to make her way over to him.

The waitress managed to place herself in between their stools, giving her attention to Bart and her back to Faith. Recognizing the maneuver, Bart felt an unusual sense of irritation. “Miss, you need to step back so that you can take the lady’s order first.”

Chastised, the waitress moved but gave a grim-lipped smile to Faith. The orders placed, the woman moved away tossing her hair over her shoulder in a sign of indignation.

Faith peered up at Bart and asked, “Does that happen a lot?”

He cocked his head, unsure of her question.

“You know, having women throw themselves at you. Try to catch your eye. Ignore anyone else you might be with?”

Bart squirmed uncomfortably as he thought of his answer, having the grace to be embarrassed. Hearing her giggle had him jerking his gaze back to her.

“It’s okay, Bart. I have a feeling it happens all the time and you just take it for granted. And you didn’t have to reprimand her on my account,” Faith said. “It’s not like we’re on a date.”

“But she didn’t know that,” he replied. “If we had been on a date it wouldn’t have been acceptable for her to cut you off. Even if we’re not on a date, a good server would know that it is commonly expected to serve the woman first.”

They were silent for a moment before Bart confessed, “I admit, in the past, I didn’t give it much thought.” Seeing her questioning gaze, he shrugged as he explained, “Women coming on to me. I’ve always been a big man and I worked out so I could play football in college and then be in the Navy and then SEAL training.”

“No doubt about it, Bart. You’ve got a body women love,” she said honestly.

Her candor caught him off guard, realizing her comment was not being used to get him into bed. His dick jumped at that thought.
Down boy, this is not the time or the place…or the woman. Was it?

With their wings and beer delivered, they continued the light conversation while eating. He occasionally looked around and saw other men eyeing Faith, feeling a jolt of unfamiliar jealousy. She no longer seemed the threat he originally assumed and, staring at her innocent beauty, he could not help but think,
Could this be the woman for me?

As his eyes moved back to her face, he leaned over and wiped a dab of barbecue sauce from her cheek. She blushed as she laughed, trying to wipe her cheek in case there was more.

“I got it all,” he said, smiling at her blush. Flustered, she was adorable.

Normally one for enjoying a loud bar, Bart found himself wanting to spend more alone time with Faith. Assisting her down from the tall stool, they made their way out of the crowd and walked back toward the inn.

“Can we walk on the beach?” she asked, her eyes bright as the wind gently lifted and blew her hair.

Grabbing her hand, assisting her over a few rough patches in the sidewalk, he led her along the boardwalk until they came to the beach. The sun had long set in the early winter sky, but the water caught the lights from the buildings behind them.

Sighing, she said, “It’s been ages since I’ve been to the ocean. That’s why I wanted to walk on the beach so much. Even though it’s cold now, it’s so peaceful.”

Bart looked over the waves, watching the undulating current glisten with the neon lights’ reflections. “I used to go fishing with my grandfather,” Bart said. “He was a busy CEO of his own company, but almost never worked on weekends, saying they were for family.”

She smiled up at him, encouraging him to continue to speak while secretly loving that he had not let go of her hand.
He might not fully trust me, nor me him, but I can’t deny that he is changing. Even if he doesn’t quite realize it yet.

“About once a month, granddad and I would walk down to the little dock at the back of their property and fish.”

“He sounds like a remarkable man.”

“Yeah, he was. I haven’t thought about those fishing trips in a long time.” He noticed she shivered when the wind blew and this time did not hesitate to put his arm around her. “Um…is this okay?” he asked, unsure of his actions.

She nodded, glad for his warmth. The few blocks to the Bed and Breakfast were over too quickly, but both knew they needed to get a good night’s sleep. Walking up the stairs, they hesitated at their doors.

“Well, goodnight, Faith,” he said softly.

“Sleep well, Bart,” she replied before walking into her room, once more closing her door with a soft click.

She sat in the chair by the open window again, trying to clear her mind so she could draw the images from the day. The black eyes of Gavrill’s men, his square jaw set in anger, Luciano’s youngest son picking imaginary lint from his jacket as he avoided looking at anyone. All the images rushed through her mind, creating a hodge-podge of drawings in her art pad. And before she went to bed, she allowed herself one more drawing. This time of the handsome man walking on the beach with her, sharing stories of his childhood. Tossing the art pad on the other side of the bed, it was the last drawing that left a smile on her face as she fell deep into sleep.

T
he next morning,
sitting at the same breakfast table, once more afraid of breaking the chair, Bart looked over at Faith. Sleep had eluded him, as his mind had been a convoluted mixture of the case, the interviews, and the beautiful woman in the next room. She, on the other hand, appeared rested and fresh.

“Are we making any progress?” she asked, her expression worried.

“Yeah. Jack’s group has been working on the surveillance tapes from our three interviews. The FBI has them as well and everyone is trying to garner more information. Ivan has another demand for money and, even though the FBI is all over that as well, Ivan wants to meet with us also.”

“I thought something would come from the interviews. I…I just don’t know. To be honest, the violence coming from Miguel and Gavrill was overwhelming. It was the only thing I could feel.”

“And Maldoni?”

He watched as she bit her bottom lip nervously before lifting her gaze to his.

“The domestic scene appeared sweet,” she began.

“Sweet? That’s all—”

“I wasn’t finished,” she admonished, before continuing. “A little too sweet. Almost as though it were staged. Luciano, welcoming us into his home. His sons sitting nearby. The children running into the room.”

Bart leaned back, smiling. “So you picked up on that also?”

“Oh yeah. But, to be honest again, I didn’t get a strong guilty emotion from Luciano. But his youngest son? Nervousness poured off him.”

Fuck, I didn’t even notice that
, he admitted to himself.

They finished breakfast, said goodbye to Mrs. Carswell, and drove over to Ivan’s home. Like Luciano, Ivan lived at the end of a long road in a gated neighborhood, populated by families craving privacy. His property covered five acres and appeared well fortified.

By the time they made it to his house, Faith’s mouth unashamedly hung open. “Oh, my God. People really live like this?” Remembering what Bart said about his grandfather’s mansion, she blushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you self-conscious.”

“It’s fine. My grandparents did live in a house this large and the house I grew up in wasn’t much smaller. But you’ll see my house now is very normal.”

Did he just insinuate I might see his house?
Before having a chance to process that, they saw a line of large, black SUVS.

“The FBI is here, seeing what Ivan needs to do for the drop,” Bart informed her.

“Do you think the kidnappers will let Erik go this time?”

“I don’t know,” Bart shrugged. “Best case scenario? Yes, and the only thing wasted was a couple of days of us questioning some very scary fuck…uh…men that will give the FBI more info to pour over.”

Stopped by a guard before being signaled to drive on, they eventually parked as close to the front of the house as possible. Walking through the front door, they had to move through the swarm of dark-suited FBI. The starkness of their appearance was in sharp contrast to the bright Christmas decorations adorning the room. Seeing Mitch over to the side, they made their way to him.

Bart noticed Mitch eyeing Faith as he shook her hand and had the flash memory of the waitress cutting Faith out of the equation with her body.
Damn, so this is what it feels like?

“As you heard, Ivan got another demand. It’s for another quarter of a million dollars,” Mitch informed them.

As the men continued to talk while moving into the den to meet with Ivan, Faith held back, overcome with emotions. Lightheaded, she quietly slipped into another room—one less crowded. Images hovered at the edges of her mind but were hazy. Looking around, the room she escaped into sported French doors leading to an outdoor patio. Stepping outside, a blast of wind hit her, sending her hair flying wildly around her face, but helped to clear her mind. She tried to bring the images back to the forefront of her mind, but they were gone. Sighing deeply, she turned to walk back inside and ran into a wall. Stumbling backward, her arms were grabbed.

“Faith? Are you all right?” Bart asked, steadying her.

“Sorry,” she exclaimed. “I needed some fresh air and came outside.” Part of her wanted to tell him about the images flying through her head, but she decided against it.
I haven’t got anything firm…and he wouldn’t believe me anyway.

Offering a small smile, she allowed him to escort her back inside the house. “Are you done already?”

“Yeah, I talked to Ivan and the FBI in charge. They’re working out the details of making the drop. I let Mitch know Jack had the surveillance tapes from our meetings and Monty had sent them to him. So if you’re ready, we can go.”

“I’d like to see Ivan quickly if that’s possible.”

Bart maneuvered her among the agents crawling around as they approached Ivan. The older man smiled when he saw her.

“My dear, do you have anything for me?”

She stumbled at his words, feeling like a failure. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Krustas. There is nothing definite yet.” She wanted to offer him comfort by telling him she could see Erik smiling while sitting on a bed, reading a book.
But that was yesterday’s image…nothing today.