Seeing Love: Saints Protection & Investigations (31 page)

Eyes half closed in passion, her lazy smile was his answer. Forcing his body not to impale her instantly, he lowered her slowly onto his eager cock. Her flesh enveloped his, its warmth and tightness causing him to moan in glorious agony.

Her fingers flexed tightly on his shoulders causing him to search her expression. Smiling, she encouraged him to move faster. “I need you now. Harder,” she begged.

His panty-melting smile crossed his face as he answered, “You don’t gotta beg, princess.”

He pushed up to the hilt, fully impaled, and began to move. Holding her ass with one hand, the other pressed against the tile next to her head. His mouth continued to plunder her neck, sucking on her pulse, marking her.
I haven’t marked a woman in—

All thoughts left his mind as her tight pussy grabbed his cock. Her groans filled his ears as he fought the urge to come before she had a chance to fall over the edge again.

Faith’s head tilted back, the sensations threatening to overwhelm her. She felt the sharp nip of his mouth sucking where her pulse beat erratically at the base of her neck. His fingers dug into her ass as he held her effortlessly and she wondered for only a second how strong he was to hold her with one hand.

She barely heard the sound of the water over the moans circling around them before realizing they came from her. The smooth tile was cold on her back in direct contrast to the rest of her that was burning. Within a minute, all thoughts left her as she once more hurtled up the mountain, rushing toward the peak. Higher, higher until her whole body was consumed with the destination.

“You close, princess?” he groaned at her ear, his head pressed against the tile next to hers.

Barely able to nod, she felt his body shift forward, his pelvis grinding against her clit. Screaming his name, she wrapped her fingers around his shoulders, digging in as she hung on while her inner walls vibrated.

Feeling her pussy grab his aching cock, his balls tightened before he orgasmed, his body pulsating into her warmth. She milked him as he continued to slowly thrust until every last drop emptied. His orgasm tingled down to his toes and he fought to keep his legs supporting their weight.
I’ve carried equipment far heavier than Faith, so how can my legs be so ready to give out?
He knew the answer even as the post-orgasmic bliss threatened to overtake him.
It’s because of her. Because I’ve never made love before. Only fucked, and this woman is no fuck.

Lifting his forehead from the wall he gazed into her eyes, seeing warmth in their depths. Smiling, he slid his lips over hers again, kissing her gently. His hand slowly lowered her feet to the tub as he made sure she was steady. After washing her lovingly, he reached around, turning off the water. Smoothing her wet hair back from her face, he noticed the deep blush.

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you think Mrs. Carswell could hear us? I kind of…yelled.”

Chuckling as he stepped out of the tub before turning to lift her onto the thick bathmat, he wrapped a fluffy towel around her body not wanting it to chill. “Yeah, you did yell and, I gotta tell you, it was fuckin’ hot!”

Pretending to slap his arm, she blushed deeper. Before she could dry off, Bart took the thick towel and patted her dry then quickly dried himself.

“Come on, princess.”

Linking his fingers with hers, he led her into the bedroom, settling them between the soft flannel sheets under the thick comforter.

Tucking her into his embrace, he kissed her once more. Their eyes locked onto each other’s as the moonlight streamed through the window, casting a glow on their faces.

She reveled in his arms, feeling warm, safe…
loved?
Before she pondered that emotion further, he kissed her forehead, pulling her into his body.

“Sleep, baby. We’ll enjoy Christmas Eve tomorrow with more of my family. And I promise it’ll be a great day.”

Closing her eyes, she remembered how happy his family was as she was introduced as his girlfriend. Hoping his grandmother felt the same, she drifted off to sleep, secure in the knowledge that Bart would take care of her.

*

She awoke, heart
pounding, as the early morning light was beginning to peek through the windows. Her dream…so vivid…so detailed. Turning her head slightly, she could see Bart’s face peaceful in slumber. Slipping from the bed, she moved to one of the chairs in the room, wrapping herself in a soft blanket and grabbed her art pad from her bag. Trying to keep from waking him, she closed her eyes, allowing the image to form clearly in her mind once more.

Her fingers automatically held the pencil and began their work. Lines, curves, shapes—all began to blend together as she felt light-headed, hoping to re-create the vision. Her nerves were taut and the air in the room seemed thick, making it difficult for her to breathe.

Her fingers stopped their movements and she stared at the pad held in her arms. Once more, the dark-haired boy, who was looking more and more like Erik, looked up from the book on his lap. He was sitting on rumpled bed covers, a blank wall behind him, but with the corner of a bookcase on the side. He was smiling in this image—the same smile that she had seen the previous day, but had been unable to connect to him. It was directed at someone out of her sight. Her eyes moved to the book on his lap, this time, closed instead of open. She peered closely, looking at the cover. As realization washed over her, she gasped. The cover was the same as the book Bart’s nephew held in his hand from the night before. The new book. The one that had just been published.

Heart pounding, she tried to rationalize her image.
Am I simply putting two different scenes together? Am I imposing the idea of what he’s reading to having seen the book last night? Oh, Babushka, what am I seeing?

L
uke stayed long
into the night, sleeping fitfully on the sofa that was in the compound’s main room. A small room to the side held bunk beds in case any of the Saints had to spend the night, but Luke was unwilling to be in a different room from his computers. He wanted to be close to the tenuous connection he had to someone that seemed to be able, and willing, to help unravel the complex financial trail from Ivan’s extortion money to whoever it was going to.

An alert dinged in the silent room, jolting him awake instantly. Rushing over, he quickly recognized another email came in. Clicking, he read the missive.

Look to the beginning.

What the fuck? Beginning of what?

He typed,

I need more than that.

No, you don’t. You’re smart. This is all I can give you. It’s not safe. I’m sorry.

His heart pounded as his fingers flew over the keyboard fast and furiously, trying to follow the email trail to discover who was sending the cryptic message.
Nothing—fuck!

He looked at the clock. Three a.m. He hated to call up to Jack, but had no choice. Picking up the phone that connected to the house phone upstairs, he dialed. Jack’s sleep rough voice answered, “What’ve you got?”

“Boss, you gotta call everyone in.”

“Right. On it.” Within three minutes, Jack came downstairs into the room. He had not asked Luke why he needed everyone—he trusted his men completely.

Luke met him and showed him the emails. “I can’t get a trail of who is sending these but, I’m telling you, they have to be from someone who knows what the fuck is going on.”

Jack nodded his agreement and said, “ETA for the others is about twenty minutes. We’ll wait and go over it all when they arrive.”

A half hour later, all of the Saints except Bart were around the table. Jack quickly thanked them for coming and had Luke take over.

“I’m sending the emails to your tablets so you can read what came in.” He gave them a minute to read through the notes, listening to their mummers of surprise.

“Before you ask, I can’t tell you who sent them because I can’t track it.” Looking around, he saw their amazement. “I’m telling you that whoever is sending these, has a sophisticated encryption system rivaling anything I’ve ever seen.”

“You think it came from one of the camps trying to cast suspicion on someone else?” Blaise asked.

“No way,” Luke answered. “Whoever has these elaborate computer programs and systems has top notch equipment and education. No way does Miguel or Gavrill have this kind of power.”

“What about Maldoni or Sergio?” Chad queried.

“I don’t see them having the money or the intel. I think it’s someone from the outside. Someone not involved in the case at all.” He once again saw their incredulous expressions. “There are tons of computer geeks around, usually getting their start in college dorm rooms of some of the best computer software engineering programs. Many learn some added hacking skills and most go on to jobs where they can make some serious money with gaming, business, software development, whatever. But a few—true geniuses—are able to take their knowledge to a different level. They can be sought after by companies or the government because of their ability to develop secure…super secure programs. I gotta tell you most are snapped up by companies who pay them a shit-ton of money—more money than the government can pay.”

“So you think this is someone private, who may have developed software to hide the various money laundering transactions and now have found out that you’re trying to crack it?” Jack asked.

“If that’s the case, wouldn’t they want to keep someone from getting the information? Why contact you to offer to help?” Monty asked, knowing the FBI had no system as elaborate as what he was hearing about. “Why wouldn’t someone want to work for an agency instead of using it to help criminals?”

Chad said, “They’re scared. They admit they’re in danger. Could be they started working for someone, not knowing what the software would be used for. Now they understand and want to help.”

Jack pierced Luke with his stare. “Luke, you’re in this. What do you think?”

“I don’t know, but we’ve got no reason not to trust this person right now. We’ve got nothing else to go on. The FBI hasn’t been able to find Erik and we’re no closer to finding out who might be threatening Faith.”

“All right,” Jack acknowledged. “So, what does it mean to look to the beginning?”

“The only beginning I can think of is Krustas,” Luke admitted, “but that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Let’s focus on someone from Krustas’ organization,” Jack ordered.

Monty sent the dossiers from Ivan’s businesses to Luke, who forwarded them to the others. Looking over Ivan’s contacts, it was evident there were not many. “He holds the reigns tight with his company. Other than family, there are only a couple of men who help run his dealings.”

“Looking at these men, I don’t see anything different,” Luke commented. “They’ve been with him for many years and there’s nothing to suggest their money is from anything other than him.”

“Check out the ones closest to Ivan. Hell, check out Ivan himself. Maybe this is some kind of perverse way to get attention or…fuck!” Marc said sharply, getting the consideration of the other Saints. “What if Ivan’s doing this to put the heat on his competitors?”

“I’m on it,” Luke confirmed.

“While you’re doing that, check out the nephews as well. I’ve got a feeling we’re staring at the solution and just can’t quite find it,” Jack said as the rest of the men poured over the information.

*

Bart stirred in
the bed, reaching his hand out to caress Faith, finding her side cold. Lifting his head quickly, he blinked as the sunlight peeked in the windows and heard the water running in the bathroom. Standing, he moved to the door and was about to knock as Faith walked out. His warm greeting halted in his throat at the expression on her face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling her into his arms.

“I…dreamed,” she said haltingly, before lifting her head to peer into his eyes.

“Faith, you don’t have to be afraid of what I’m going to say,” he admonished, leading her over to the bed, pulling her down beside him. Holding her cold hands in his, he rubbed them. “What did you dream?”

She sat for a moment, then stood and walked over to her art pad. “I got up early this morning to capture what I was feeling…seeing.” She turned it around, showing the latest drawing to him.