Nick’s pen halted as he looked up. Over the years, he prided his perfect FBI interview face—non-expressive, almost blank, encouraging witnesses to talk while not indicating that he agreed or disagreed with them. At that moment, he realized the FBI face was gone, obliterated by Bayley’s rambling descriptions. Looking at Blaise’s face, he knew it his own mirrored as he observed the open mouth, wide-eyed expression.
“Do you have any idea how much danger you were in?” Blaise asked, his voice now soft with an undercurrent of fury.
Heaving a sigh, Bayley shook her head. “I’m not stupid, Blaise. Yes, I was scared. Terrified, not knowing what the man wanted or what he would do. Without a cell phone, I felt vulnerable, but thank God, the man ran away when one of my writing group members came back to get something he left inside the shop.” She twisted her almost-dry hair into a sloppy bun and grabbed a pencil sitting on the coffee table, tucking it amongst the tendrils, holding them mostly in place. “I had Bruce check out the area and he walked me to my car. I made sure he got into his and we drove away at the same time. I watched in my rear-view mirror and was not followed. I locked my doors the instant I got inside the apartment and called Nick with grandma’s old phone—which, I might add, you thought I was silly to keep and pay for a land-line.”
Seeing Blaise about to protest once more, she leaned over, placing her hand gently on his leg. “I promise, I would have called you if I felt as though I was still in danger. But I felt safe, called Nick and knew he would get to me today.” Grinning, she said, “I underestimated how quickly he would come, hence I was still in the shower. When you walked in, I had just opened the door, after seeing who it was, and was showing him the bruises on my arm. Period. End of story.” She leaned back against the sofa cushions, a satisfied expression on her face as she sipped more of her coffee.
The silence that followed sounded unusual to Nick, considering that the loud voices ever since Blaise had appeared in her apartment had barely stopped. He looked back down at the notes he had taken, making sure to have her detailed description. “Anything else about the man last night? His voice?”
“Yes!” Bayley admitted, slapping her forehead with her palm. “He smelled like old cigarettes and his breath was soured from years of smoking and his teeth were stained and yellow. His voice was husky and low.” Her nose scrunched as she thought and she added, “If it was not my imagination, I swear there was a Slavic accent.”
Nodding, Nick jotted the last information down before scrubbing his hand over his face. Looking up, he grimaced as he said, “I’m so sorry this happened to you and because I had your phone, you were in more danger last night. I won’t make an error like that again.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled her phone out, but added his personal number before handing it to her. “It’s charged and ready to go. I’ve added my office and personal numbers to your contacts. I did not delete any photos, but we have copies of them.”
“Did you find anything?” she asked, leaning forward in anticipation.
Dragging his gaze from her blue eyes and partially opened, pink-tinged lips, he answered, “Yes, you had a few shots of Amy Willis. We do not have a definitive identity of anyone with her.”
Leaning back sharply, the breath left her lungs in a whoosh.
“I’m calling Jack,” Blaise said, standing as he pulled his phone from his pocket. “You want in on this?” he asked Nick.
“You know I can’t right now,” Nick said. “The Governor hasn’t called for assistance from the Saints and I can’t discuss this anymore with you than I already have.”
“Got it, but I’m telling you the damn rules’ll kill you,” Blaise said, stepping into Bayley’s kitchen.
Watching Blaise pace while talking on the phone as Bayley walked into the kitchen to pour another cup of coffee, Nick fought the urge to pull her into his arms to make sure she was safe. The Bureau’s rules are already hampering me. And in ways I never imagined.
8
An hour later Bayley sat at a grey, metal, functional desk as an agent named Mike had her flip through picture after picture, in an effort to identify the man who accosted her last night. She had called Daphne to tell her that she would be late, but now the excitement of going to the local FBI building and working on the case had dwindled as the mind-numbing parade of thugs made her eyes cross and her nerves frazzle.
Nick leaned over and asked, “Can I get you another cup of coffee?”
She leaned back, stretching her aching neck as she looked up into his face. Snorting, she replied, “Nick, if I drink any more coffee I’ll be running to the bathroom with an even greater frequency than I already am.”
He had noticed she had excused herself twice already to go to the lady’s room, but put it down to nerves. Without thinking, he placed his hands on her shoulders and kneaded the tight muscles. “I know this is boring, but keep at it for just a little while longer, if you can.”
Smiling, she groaned as his fingers worked magic on her neck. “Oh, my God, that feels good. I could let you do that all night.”
Nick’s hands stilled at the sound of her groan, the blood rushing to his dick as thoughts of what he would like to do all night with her rushed through his mind. His eyes shot over to Mike, the smirk on the younger agent’s face causing Nick to jerk his hands off her. Clearing his throat, he said, “Right…well, uh…keep at it and let me know if you find something. I’ve got to talk to Harlan.”
Watching him leave, her gaze landed on several framed photographs on the wall behind Mike’s head. Seeing Nick in one of them, she stood and walked over. It looked like a picture from a retirement party and she recognized Mike, Margery, and Nick.
Mike looked over and grinned. “It’s hard to get a picture of Nick and he rarely goes out with anyone. That was taken last year when Harlan was leaving this office.”
Looking at Nick standing next to the distinguished, military looking gentleman, she admired the image of the man holding her attention.
Down the hall, Nick stepped into his office, sitting down in his chair before picking up the phone, placing a call to Harlan.
“I hear you’ve got the woman in with Mike looking at photos. Any luck?”
“No. She’s given us a good description though, so my gut tells me we may be dealing with either the Russian mafia or a subsidiary of them.”
“Local family?”
“Maybe. I don’t know of any specific Russian dealings in this area yet, but I know we might have individual families working on their own.” Nick leaned back, his chair creaking with the strain. “I don’t like the idea of them in our district, so we’re going to focus on them.”
“If they’re working on their own, good chance they’re tied in to a larger group somewhere else. My guess would be Norfolk, if it’s the Russians. I’ll pass this on to Richard and have him check with our offices in the Virginia Beach area. They may be transporting girls there to ship them out worldwide.”
“Will their office share readily?”
Harlan snorted. “I’ll see if I can get Richard to light a fire underneath them, but you know jurisdiction plays a part in all this. They’ll want our information to see how it plays into their investigations.”
Disconnecting, Nick sighed heavily, the burden of knowing what was happening in the area bearing down on him as well as the discontent of jurisdiction battles. Everyone wants to be the fuckin’ hero.
“Hey,” Bayley’s melodic voice startled him out of his musing. He looked up, seeing her leaning against the doorframe to his office. She smiled and he returned it, feeling the burden lift slightly.
“I thought I’d let you know that I wasn’t able to identify the person from the other night.” Her smile drooped as she added, “I’m really sorry.”
Standing, he stalked closer, fighting the desire to have her smile curve back. Instead, he stopped several feet from her, his hands fisted at his sides. “It’s okay, Bayley. We may have to widen our search base. It’s possible that he came in from somew
here else and is now working this area. Did you take a look at the artist’s drawing?”
Nodding, she said, “Yeah, although the computer image he created just seems to be lacking something.”
An idea formed and before Nick could dismiss it, he blurted, “Would you be willing to meet with someone else? Someone who has a knack for…uh…pulling out of a witness things that others can’t seem to obtain?”
Her brows drew down as she questioned, “Sure? Another artist?”
“Yes. Just one who’s unofficial.” Motioning her to a seat, he said, “Let me talk to Blaise first.”
“You don’t need my brother’s permission—”
“No, but I need his input.” Sitting back down in his chair he dialed Blaise’s number.
“Good grief! Look at this place!”
Nick, driving with Bayley in the passenger seat, continued up Jack’s lane as they made their way through the security gate toward the Saint’s compound.
As they came out of the woods along the driveway, an enormous log home stood against the backdrop of the Blue Ridge Mountains, a long porch gracing the front. Nick pulled up and parked next to a multitude of other vehicles.
“This is amazing. I want to take pictures but I have a feeling that Jack would never allow it! I knew about this place from Blaise but I’ve never been here.” Bayley’s head swung around as she looked out her window, to the front windshield, then to Nick’s window. Twisting in her seat, she looked out the back window as well. “I love the mountains, don’t you? Majestic…well, obviously, the Blue Ridge Mountains aren’t as massive as the Rocky’s or even the Smoky Mountains, but still…very impressive to live right at the base! To have this view every day…good grief, it must be fabulous.”
Her babbling halted as Nick placed his hand on hers. “You ready to go in?” Before she could answer, Blaise stepped out onto the massive front porch, his hands on his hips as he stared at them. “Guess that’s our cue, whether you’re ready or not.”
Giggling, Bayley squeezed his hand before hopping out of the vehicle. As she rounded the front, Nick stepped in her path. “When you’re with me, wait until I can open the door for you,” he ordered gently.
“Hmmm, I do seem to remember how gallant you are,” she smiled. Looking at her brother, she recognized his impatience. “We’d better go before Blaise pops a button.”
The pair walked up Jack’s front steps, Nick and Blaise shaking hands after Blaise leaned down to place a kiss on his sister’s forehead.
“Come on in, the group is here,” Blaise invited.
Stepping inside the foyer, leading to the exposed beamed ceiling of the living room, Bayley’s gaze landed on the two-story stone fireplace with floor to ceiling windows on another wall. “Holy moly, Blaise! Your boss has a gorgeous home.” Seeing the others in the room stand, she threw her hands up in front of her, closed her eyes, and called out, “Wait! I’ve got to cement this in my brain!”
“Jesus, Sis,” Blaise grumbled, but was quickly interrupted.
“No, no,” she countered, opening her eyes. “With a structure like this, I need to memorize it so that later, when I need a creative way to describe a mountain cabin, I can recall the house that Jack built!” Laughing at her own joke, she appreciated the chuckles coming from the gathering. Opening her eyes, she swept her gaze at the men in the room. “And you all…I think I could write a book about each one of you.” She watched a bearded man approach, his outward appearance resembling a logger, but his eyes showing the discerning intelligence of a man used to analyzing everyone in his path.
“Miss Hanssen, I’m Jack Bryant. Welcome to my home…and the Saints’ compound.”
“Mr. Bryant, please call me Bayley. It’s nice to finally meet you. I know my brother has the utmost respect for you,” and as her gaze swept the group of men and women, added, “and the rest of you, as well.”
“Nick,” Jack greeted, his hand extended in a shake. “Glad you brought her to us.” Nodding toward Bayley, he said, “Come in and let me introduce you to the rest of us.”
Bayley made her way around the room, introduced to Cam, Jude, Monty, Chad, Patrick, Luke, and Marc.
“Lordy, I’m in man-heaven!” Bayley cackled, drawing more laughs from the group.
“Bayley, I’m Charlotte, Luke’s fiancé, but everyone calls me Charlie. I’m the lone woman Saint around here.’
She smiled at the pretty, dark-haired Charlie, before moving to the last Saint, a tall, muscular blond with his arm around a petite, dark-haired woman, she smiled as her eyes met the woman.
“Hello, I’m Faith and this is my husband, Bart. I understand I’ll be working with you today.”
Nodding, Bayley sobered as her gaze moved over the room full of her brother’s co-workers and Nick’s friends. A feeling of warmth spread over her, chasing away what remnants of nerves existed.
Nick watched as Bayley’s smile slowly morphed into a determined expression, her lips thinning. Without thinking, he placed his hand on her arm, offering a squeeze. “You got this, Bayley. Just talk to Faith the way you did to Blaise and me.” His gaze narrowed to her blue eyes twinkling up at him, missing the raised eyebrows of her brother and the knowing smiles from the others in the room.
Bayley sat on the floral cushion of the comfortable rattan chair in the sunroom at the back of Jack’s house. She watched with fascination as Faith’s pencil furiously scratched on the pad of paper she held in her delicate hands. Faith’s hair was pulled back from her face with a white headband, keeping the tendrils from falling toward the page. She bit her lip as she concentrated on her creation.
Bayley fought the desire to lean over and see what Faith was producing, knowing that she was unable to write when someone leaned over her computer. Beginning to fidget, she shifted her weight several times.
Faith looked up, her eyebrows lifting from concentration to amusement. “Tired of sitting?”
“I’m so sorry,” Bayley gushed. “I’m always a bit of a bouncy-sort.”
“I think my child is going to be that way, also,” Faith admitted. “He’ll take after his father. Bart always has a lot of energy.”
“Oh, I had no idea you had children. Do many of the Saints have kids?”
“Several,” Faith admitted. “They’re all either married or engaged, with kids or some on the way. The group has changed in the past couple of years.”
“I remember wondering if Blaise would ever find someone,” Bayley laughed. “He always liked animals more than people.”
“Grace is a wonderful friend.”
“And a wonderful sister-in-law,” Bayley added. Sucking in her lips, she leaned forward slightly. “So, uh…can I see it now?”
“Yes, but remember what I told you when we first came out here. I…well, I not only listen to your description but I tune into your emotions…fright, anger. I can…see all of that when you speak and use it to create a picture of who you saw.”
“You have a gift, don’t you?” Bayley said, her voice now soft with awe.
Nodding slowly, Faith confirmed, “Yes, although not everyone believes.”
“Oh, I believe,” Bayley whispered, her desire to see the picture even greater. As Faith turned the pad of paper toward her, Bayley gasped, her hand coming to her throat. Dark eyes stared back at her from an angular face shadowed by a fedora. A gnarled hand reached toward her from the page as stained teeth grinned underneath a slightly crooked nose.
“That’s him…oh, Faith, that’s him!”
The Saints lounged in the living room with Nick, listening to Jack discuss his latest phone call with the governor.
“Nick, I know this sucks since you just got assigned this case, but the governor has put me on alert that he may want the Saints to work the investigation as well.” Holding up his hands in protestation, he continued, “It’s got nothin’ to do with his faith in the FBI, and everything to do with his re-election coming up next year.”
“I know,” Nick admitted. “There’s not much I
can tell you about this case, since I was just assigned to it yesterday, but as much as it sucks,” he spared a glance toward Blaise, “Bayley being approached may have been just the thing to get us what we need.”
“We’ll work with you,” Jack promised, “and you’ll have all we can offer at your disposal. We’ve got a couple of cases we’re working right now, but we can fit this one in. Although I did tell the governor that we were stretched at the moment and would only be available to assist your office’s investigation.”
Before Nick had a chance to respond, Faith and Bayley entered the room. He caught her bright-eyed expression as Bayley’s gaze landed on his immediately. Refusing to analyze the warmth that rushed over him at the realization that she sought his eyes first, he watched as she hurried to him.
“Nick, she’s a genius, an absolute genius! Faith just listened and listened as I talked and the next thing I know, she’s got this picture and it’s him. I swear it’s just like she took a photograph of him!”
Meeting her grin, he lifted his gaze over her head to the art pad Faith was holding up. Staring at the man who accosted Bayley, he felt his blood run cold. Fuckin’ hell.
“Nick? Nick, what is it?” Bayley asked, her brows drawn down as she took in his face. Not receiving a response, she jerked slightly on his arm.
Swallowing as his looked around the room to see the Saints all watching him closely, he dropped his gaze back to Bayley, seeing the concern in her eyes. Finally, focusing on Blaise, he confessed, “That’s Johan Serkov. He’s a known enforcer for the Russian mafia. He hasn’t been sighted in the U.S. in two years, having fled back to Russia. He was last seen working for the Volkov family, out of the Norfolk area.”
Celebrating Love: Saints Protection & Investigations Page 7
