Seeing Love: Saints Protection & Investigations (28 page)

One final image burst through the inky darkness, causing her to gasp as she jerked awake, her mouth open trying to breathe. As her eyes darted around in panic, recognizing Bart’s bedroom, Faith leaned back against the pillows, willing her fluttering pulse to slow. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she padded into the bathroom. Staring at herself in the mirror, she was horrified at what looked back. The dark bruise escaped the bandage over the stitches crossing her forehead.

With shaking hands, she drank a glass of water before returning back to the bedroom and crawling under the covers.
What woke me? What was that last image?
Unable to hold a pencil with the wrappings on her hands, she could not even let her mind wander to her fingers to create an image on paper.

Willing her thoughts to slow, she brought the last image back to the forefront.
A smile. It was a smile. Innocent. Gentle. Unafraid. But whose smile?
This time, the night held no answers.

*

Jude reported in
to Jack as Bart drove back to Charlestown. Disconnecting, he looked over at Bart. “Jack says we’re upping the protection on Faith, but I know you won’t let her out of your sight.”

“Damn straight,” Bart agreed, his hand tightening on the steering wheel. After another minute of silence, he heaved a sigh. “This case is so fuckin’ frustrating. It’s not what we normally do.”

Jude, new to the Saints, turned his full attention to Bart, willing to give him the time to explain more fully.

“We’re usually given a specific assignment and we go in and do whatever we have to do to make it happen. This? Hell, the FBI is in charge of investigating the kidnapping—we’re not even supposed to be working on that. The bureau chief never called us in on the kidnapping case.”

“It’s all Krustas this time?” Jude said, more of a query than a statement.

“Yeah. Just investigate his enemies and take Faith along to see if she can help. And now, fuck, she’s right in the middle of this mess.”

The silence filled the truck cab once more, for several more miles, before Bart added, “I never expected this, you know?”

Jude looked over, unsure as to what Bart was referring to.

“Faith,” Bart said, admitting everything in that one word.

Jude grinned, remembering the first couple of times he met Sabrina’s cousin. In fact, the first time he lay eyes on her, she was on the arm of Bart. Jude had assumed she was his date and was relieved to find out the beauty was his cousin, allowing him to make his move on her before anyone else did. Bart was known for his easy-going manner and cavalier attitude toward no-strings-attached sex. To meet someone like Faith—
totally threw the man for a loop.

“You’re gonna keep her safe, Bart.”

“Or die trying,” Bart added, with a slow grin. A few more miles down the road, he asked, “Where are you and Sabrina celebrating Christmas?”

“We thought about going to Nonnie’s house but, with everything going on, we’ll probably just stay here and celebrate it together. My mom might visit to help with some of the wedding planning. What about you?”

“I planned on heading to Virginia Beach to visit my parents and Nonnie, but I don’t want to leave now. I could ask Faith if she would like to go, but it’s too soon.”

Jude laughed heartedly. “Nonnie would be planning your wedding, not caring that you’ve only known her for a week!”

“Seriously!” Bart was thoughtful for a moment, then added, “But maybe it would be good to get her away from here. We could spend Christmas with my parents.”

“Don’t think the danger would follow her?”

“I don’t know. I’d like to think that it wouldn’t, but whoever is threatened by what they think she can see would probably follow her anywhere.”

An hour later, after dropping Jude off and giving his cousin a quick kiss, he hurried back to his house. Walking in, he was not surprised to see Cam and Miriam already awake. While Cam let him know the night was uneventful, Miriam filled him in on Faith’s condition.

“She was restless and I think had nightmares a few times. I checked on her once and she was sitting in bed, frustrated because she couldn’t use her hands to draw. But she’s out of the danger zone for the concussion and I have given her some pain medicine. She’s sleeping right now.”

Thanking his friends, he walked them to the door, saying goodbye, before taking the stairs two at a time.

Stripping down to his boxers as soon as he got to the bedroom, he slipped underneath the covers, pulling her close to his body. She was warm and soft, dark hair spilling over his pillows and face peaceful in sleep. Tucking her in closely, he fell asleep with her in his arms, the surprising realization hitting him—
I want this every night.

An hour later, he came instantly awake as her body jerked against his. “Faith? Faith?” he gently shook her.

Her eyes flew open, breath coming in pants. “Bart?” she rasped. “You’re back!”

“Yeah, princess. I’ve been with you for about an hour.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry I woke you,” she said, her dark, haunted eyes turned toward him.

His large hand cupped her face as his eyes roved over her forehead. “How are you doing? Headache?”

“No, not really,” she said, more glad than she could express that he was back from his trip and holding her closely in his bed. “Just dreams,” she added softly.

“Miriam said you were upset that you couldn’t draw earlier.”

“Yeah, but hopefully today I can fix the bandage so that I can hold my pencils,” she said. “I…I’m having visions, Bart.”

His heart hurt at the hesitancy of her voice, as though she were afraid to tell him. Rubbing his rough thumb over her soft cheek, he leaned it to whisper, “Princess, don’t ever be afraid to tell me what you’re feeling. I…I don’t know what it is that you can do, but I know something special happens. And I believe in that something special.” He watched for a moment as the insecurity left her expression, replaced with a small smile. “Can you tell me what you’re seeing?”

She shook her head sadly, admitting, “No, not really. I see the images of those we have been dealing with and then it ends with just a smile. I don’t know whose smile…just a little smile and then it goes away.”

Tucking her back into his mighty embrace, he kissed her lips softly before watching her slip back into slumber.
A smile? Whose smile?
Wondering if her gifts—and he finally had to admit he believed in her special somethings as gifts—were going to help them move in the right direction, he knew that placed her in more danger. Vowing to keep her safe, he fell asleep once more.

F
aith had Miriam
come over later the next morning to re-wrap her right hand. “I’ve got to draw and, the way the bandage is now, I can’t move my fingers.”

Miriam saw that her palm was the injured area and her fingers were undamaged in the fall. “I should be able to make this work so that your fingers are exposed and you can move them.” She lifted her gaze back to Faith, saying, “But you realize that, as you bend your fingers, it will cause your palm to move, which will cause pain.”

“I can deal with some pain,” Faith assured, “but I need to be able to try to make sense of the images from my dreams.”

A knock on the door interrupted the two, as Sabrina came in. “Jude got in late and left early, so I assumed that Bart did too.”

Bart walked in from the kitchen, a spatula in his hand as he kissed his cousin on the cheek. “You’d assume wrong, little cuz.”

“Well, don’t you appear domesticated,” Sabrina teased. Turning to see Miriam re-wrapping Faith’s hand, she rushed over. “Oh, Faith, I’m so sorry this happened to you! What can I help with?”

Before Bart could tell her he had everything under control, another knock on the door produced Bethany, walking in with a freshly baked coffee cake. Rolling his eyes, he looked over their heads, seeing Faith’s eyes on his, a little smile gracing her face. Knowing she had suddenly gone from being a loner to having good friends, he grinned as he headed back to finish the eggs.

Faith enjoyed the conversation among the women while Bart quickly whipped up breakfast, easily including Bethany’s treat. A few minutes later, another knock on the door sounded and she wondered who was left to visit. This time, an unfamiliar man walked into the hallway, greeting Bart. She watched as Miriam’s eyes lit up.

“Jobe! Hey, big brother,” Miriam exclaimed, rushing over to hug the newcomer.

Bart introduced Jobe Delaro, a friend working for a different security agency—and her babysitter for the day.

About to protest, Bart interrupted her. “I’ve got to go to Jack’s and there’s no way I’m leaving you unprotected. We’ve contracted with Alvarez Security to keep an eye on you when I’m not here.”

Jobe, a tall man, fit and muscular, although, not quite as large as Bart, strolled over. His sharp eyes quickly assessed her inability to shake his hand so he gently put his hand on her shoulder in greeting. “Nice to meet you, Faith. I’ll be in the car out in Bart’s driveway today if you need me. For anything,” he added pointedly.

“It’s too cold outside,” Faith protested. “Please stay inside where it will be warmer.”

“Thanks, but I’ll want to keep a check on the perimeter,” Jobe explained. “But I’ll come in periodically to check on you in here.”

The two men walked out onto the porch for a moment, while the women finished their visit. As they left, Bart stalked back to Faith, scooping her up from the couch, twisting to sit, and placing her on his lap.

“Jobe’s a good guy, princess. Let him do his job of keeping an eye on things and I want you to rest as much as you can. The Saints are still working the case and I’ll be home as soon as I can. When I come home, I’ve got something I want to discuss.”

“That sounds ominous,” she said, anxiety in her expression. Using her free fingers to push her hair behind her ears, she held his gaze.

He watched the silky strands slide through her fingers and wanted to feel that himself again. “Nope, not ominous. In fact, I hope you’ll be happy.”

Cocking her head to the side, she continued to stare, hoping that he would spill his surprise early.

“Not happening,” he laughed as he stood and settled her back on the sofa. He looked down at the coffee table holding her pencils and art pad. “You got everything you need?”

“Yeah,” she said softly, only looking at him and not glancing at the table.

The double meaning was not lost on him as he grinned. Leaning down to kiss her full lips, he whispered, “As soon as you’re able, I want to get lost in your sweet body again. But, until then, I’ve got something for you.” He pulled his St. Bartholomew from around his neck and placed the chain over her head, settling the medallion on her breast.

She touched the esteemed pendant reverently as her eyes lifted to his.

“There’s a tracer on the back of it. I want you to wear this at all times, to keep you safe. The other women have one…I can’t believe how it has helped each one of them. Hopefully, you’ll never need it as they did, but I want you to have this part of me anyway.”

“I don’t know what to say…” she began, her lips curving in a delectable smile.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I swear, when Jack named his company the Saints, he never knew how far reaching that would be.” Leaning down he kissed her once more, losing himself in her luscious lips, wishing he did not have to leave.

Reveling in his kiss, she finally gave him a little shove. “Go save the world, Bart. I’ll still be here when you come back.”

Laughing, he left, reluctantly closing the door before waving at Jobe on his way out of the driveway.

A few minutes later, with a pencil in hand, she tried to work out the stiffness in her fingers as she began to draw. Closing her eyes for a moment, she allowed the images of the night to drift through her mind once more. The tingling that usually accompanied her thoughts traveled down her arm to her fingers.

Sharp, piercing, they assaulted as she drew what slammed into her. The evil, gold-toothed grin of Miguel. The deep set, hard eyes of Gavrill. The fierce, protective expression of Luciano, as well as the evasive expression of his youngest son. The pure hate pouring off Sergio.

Her hand ached by the time she had finished the drawings, but still an image clung to the corners of her mind. Leaning backward, her head resting on the back of the sofa, she tried to still her mind.
A smile. A simple smile.

Putting pencil to pad again, she allowed the lines and curves to shape what was in her mind. A few minutes later, a slight smile stared back at her from the page. No face. No background. Just a smile.
But whose?

*