Celebrating Love: Saints Protection & Investigations

by Maryann Jordan

“No, no, you’re doing fine,” Jack assured.

  Understanding dawned on Bayley and she rushed, “Oh, my God. You think, that they think, they have me?”

  “We don’t know, but it’s possible,” he said. “If someone sent the men to take you, then they would expect the woman inside to be you.”

  Bayley’s heart dropped at the thought that Daphne was now in the hands of kidnappers. “Jack? What will they do when they find out she’s not me?”

  “Not going to let that happen,” his terse reply came back.

  “Bayley, it’s Luke. Can you see a license plate number?”

  “No, I’m too far back. Do you want me to get closer?”

  “No!” came the combined shout from Jack and Luke. “Just tell us where are you now?”

  “We’ve gotten onto 64 east heading toward Richland.”

  “We’ve got an idea where you might be heading and we’re following you closely,” Jack said. “I’m working with the Saints in the field who are not far from you. But listen to me, do not, and I repeat, do not attempt to go after them if they stop.”

  “O…okay.”

  “Bayley, you’ve got to promise. We need to be able to stay in contact with you, so you have to stay with your phone and the safest place is in your car.”

  Nodding again, she agreed. “Yes, yes,” she vowed. “I won’t try to play heroine.”

  “Good girl,” he said. “Now stay at a distance and keep talking us through where you are.”

  “Okay,” she said, glad for the evening daylight that allowed her to see the sedan. Letting out a shaky breath, she focused on the men in front of her, praying Daphne was all right.

  Stepping inside, Agnes’ gaze swept the room, seeing the wide-eyed expressions of the women inside. Dr. Kovenov followed her, setting his medical bag on the table.

  “The doctor has the medicine that will make you well again,” Agnes said.

  Amy interrupted, her voice shaking. “What is the point of being well, if we are…are…”

  “You have no control over where you are or what you are doing. That, lies solely with me,” Agnes ground out. “But sick, you are no help to us.”

  Just then, one of the burly guards stepped inside the room, crossing his massive arms over his chest. Agnes watched the light of defiance drain from the girl’s eyes. “Good, I see we understand each other.”

  Dr. Kovenov reached inside his bag, pulling out several small, plastic, measured cups, as well as a vial of liquid. Stepping up to the first woman, he asked her weight before measuring out a small amount of the pharmaceutical. She drank it obediently and followed his direction, lying back on her bed.

  “The medicine will make you sleepy,” he explained, “but it will make you feel better.” Moving down the line, he gave the drug to each of the women, repeating the procedure that he and Agnes had just done with the women in the hotel rooms above.

  Within fifteen minutes, all six women were lying on their beds, their chests no longer rising and falling.

  Agnes, her palms sweating, looked at the doctor, noting his shaking hands. Lifting her eyes to the guard, she jerked her head toward the hall. “Get the cart,” she ordered. “And do it carefully,” she added, as her eyes moved over the now-still women. Swallowing back the bile threatening to rise, she whispered, “Even in death, they deserve some dignity.”

  Within a few minutes, the room was empty, all six women placed in oversized laundry carts and wheeled out to the waiting moving truck parked in the alley, ready to join the women’s bodies from upstairs, already there.

  Dr. Kovenov picked up his medical bag and turned to Agnes. “I think, perhaps, it is time for me to retire.” His rheumy eyes swept the empty room. “I’m not as young as I used to be. And, this…this is not what I became a doctor for.”

  Patting his arm, Agnes smiled benevolently at the older man. “I agree, Dr. Kovenov. I think you should. But not until we have completed our task. I still need you. Then…I will make sure you are taken care of.”

  “Nick?”

  Jerking his gaze up, Nick realized his name came from his earpiece. Looking at the others, he could tell they were tuned in as well.

  “Yeah.”

  “Got a call from Bayley. You and Blaise need to keep your shit—”

  His heart stopped beating for a second as the other eyes in the van leaped to his. Before his brain managed to form a question, Blaise spoke up, “What the hell’s happening?”

  “Focus,” Jack ordered, and Nick blanked out all thoughts, including Bayley’s brother in the van behind them, and curtly replied, “Go ahead.”

  Jack outlined what Bayley had told them, assuring both men that she was following the sedan at a distance. He also explained that Luke was monitoring her positon as she called it in, so they had an idea where Daphne was being taken.

  Nick’s heart continued to pound out an erratic beat, his thoughts tangled at the idea of Daphne in trouble and yet relieved it was not Bayley. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to listen carefully to every word Jack said, glad the other Saints would have his back.

  Just then, Luke came over the headset. “Bayley’s stopped and you won’t believe it, but she’s just a block from the Gruzinsky’s hotel.”

  “Our location?” Bart confirmed.

  “Yes.”

  Nick breathed out, “Then, this changes everything…we’re no longer on a reconnaissance mission—we’re on a fucking rescue.”

  The air crackled with a mixture of tension and excitement. Before the Saints had a chance to speak, Jack said, “I’m calling in your buddy, Harlan, at the FBI, Nick. The governor has placed him as our contact. And you’re right…we can now go in as a rescue.”

  29

  “Why the fuck is she here?”

  Lazlo stood in his private room in the hotel, staring at the woman lying on his bed. His eyes jerked from the slack expression on Daphne’s face, her body sprawled on the bed, to the two men standing nearby.

  “It’s the girl you told us to get,” one said.

  Sucking in a quick breath, Lazlo growled, “She’s not the right one.”

  The two men glanced at each other, confusion, as well as concern, sparking between them. “She was the only girl in the apartment. She had just changed clothes and was heading into the kitchen when we got there.”

  Rubbing his hand over his face, Lazlo realized Daphne must have been staying at Bayley’s apartment, for some reason. The idea of Bayley staying with the bastard she had been with made him see red. Looking up at the two men, he bit out, “Well, she’s not the right girl.”

  Hesitantly, one asked, “Uh…so what do you want us to do with her, boss? Take her back?”

  “Are you fucking stupid?” Lazlo all but yelled.

  Wincing, both men stood silent, waiting to see what he would order. Pacing the room, he cursed his bad luck. Unable to figure a way out without his brother or father discovering his fuckup, he whirled around, his face red with rage.

  A knock on the door stilled the three men, gazes jerking back and forth, panic in their eyes.

  “Mr. Gruzinsky?”

  Recognizing the voice of one of the men working in the hotel, Lazlo let out a breath. Attempting to hide his relief, he called out, “Enter.”

  A tall, thin, older man entered, his eyes taking in the scene in front of him, but he appeared to ignore it as he said, “You wanted to know what your sister was up to, sir.”

  Receiving a curt nod, the man continued, “She and the doctor have completed their task and she is talking to your father and brother right now. It’s my understanding that the truck behind the hotel will be leaving shortly. With another head jerk from Lazlo, the man left the room, closing the door behind him.

  Sucking in a deep breath, he turned back to the sleeping, drugged woman lying on the bed. He knew if she awoke here, in his room, she could compromise their entire operation. Rubbing his hand over his face, he stood staring at his feet for a moment.

  Lifting his head, his
voice hard, he ordered, “Take her down. Use the special stairs and get her outside. Get her in the fucking truck out back.” Piercing them with a glare, he insisted, “Don’t talk to anyone on the way. If someone sees you, just say she had too much to drink.”

  “What about—”

  “Do not second guess me! Just get her to the truck.” He straightened to his full height as he lifted his chin. “Or do I need to get someone else to do your job?”

  “No, sir,” they said in unison, both bending to grab Daphne underneath her arms.

  “You’ve done well. To be honest, I had no idea you had it in you.”

  Agnes’ lips curved in a small smile as she bowed her head slightly, in deference to her father.

  “You have taken a problem and found an answer that had, I confess, eluded the rest of us for a bit,” he added.

  Chessa stared at her daughter, no words of praise coming, rather, studying her carefully.

  Agnes asked, “Is Lazlo going to start filling our needs soon?”

  This time Grigory answered. “Yes. According to him, he has already contacted several and will take some men this weekend and begin gathering a new crop of women to service our needs.”

  “He had better think with the head on his shoulders and not what is between his legs. Lazlo will need to fill our coffers as well as take care of my cousin,” Chessa said. “Gavrill is not happy with our latest situation. Having to fill his shipping container with dead women to dump at sea instead of live women to market has made him very angry.”

  Milos pinched his lips as he sent a glare toward his wife. “We are well aware of what we need to do.” Smiling down at Agnes, he praised, “But, for our very smart daughter, we will have a way to rid ourselves of the problem.”

  Grigory watched Agnes, his wary gaze thoughtful. “Did the doctor ever figure out what made all the women sick, even though they were on different floors?”

  Shrugging, Agnes answered, “He just said it was probably viral. Perhaps passed from the kitchen to their food.”

  Chessa stood, her words laced with venom. “I shall talk to Dr. Kovenov myself. If we do not know what made them sick, we are taking a risk that bringing in a new batch of girls will have the same effect.”

  Milos, glad for his wife to have a duty, nodded. “Good, good, Chessa. I will entrust you to this.” Turning to Agnes, he said, “And what will you do to celebrate a successful venture?”

  “Oh, I’m accompanying the truck to Norfolk.” Seeing the surprised expressions on her family’s faces, she added, “Do you think that I would risk a problem before seeing them delivered to the ship personally?”

  Grigory stood, surprise in his voice as he said, “Are you crazy? What if there’s a problem? If you’re stopped…and then caught with a truck of a dozen dead bodies?”

  “And who do you trust?” she bit back. “A driver who can be bought? Someone who would blackmail the family? Or me? I’ll get them to Gavrill’s docks and see the deed done. Then, and only then, can I rest.”

  Without waiting for an answer, she turned and walked out of the room. Alone in the hall, she leaned against the door, waiting for her heart to settle. The thought of accomplishing her mission sent a smile across her face. Even Gavrill will be impressed with what I’ve done..

  Grigory sat at his desk, now alone, pondering the family’s situation. Rubbing his chin, he leaned back in his chair, the squeak of old wood and leather the only sound in the room. Decision made, he jerked forward, grabbing his phone.

  “Yes, boss?” the deep voice answered.

  “Agnes is leaving. Follow her. Report back to me.”

  “Got it.”

  Dialing Gavrill, he said, “She’s on her way. I’ve got someone following.”

  Hanging up, he leaned back, a heavy sigh leaving his chest.

  Bayley sat in her car as the evening sky darkened. Her last communication with Jack told her the Saints were about five minutes away and she once more promised to stay in her car. She looked around, wondering if she would see them drive up.

  A white paneled truck pulled out of the alley behind the hotel and she caught the name Lomar’s Commerical Laundry painted on the side. As it turned to drive past her, she saw Agnes in the driver’s seat with an older man in the passenger side. Blinking to focus, she stared, unable to believe Agnes would be driving a large, laundry truck. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled as she started Prissy and did a u-turn in the street to follow.

  Dialing Jack, she rushed out, “I’m on the move. I just saw Agnes, a woman I know, driving a truck away from the hotel. I have no idea why, but she sure isn’t a truck driver—”

  “Bayley!” Jack bit out. “Slow down and explain. And please, keep it succinct.”

  Sucking in a deep breath, she said, “I was parked outside waiting, just like you told me, when a laundry truck, Lomar’s Commerical Laundry, came out from behind the hotel. The driver is a woman named Agnes, who comes into my shop. And I recently saw her in a deep conversation with Lazlo, Daphne’s former boyfriend. The one who gives me the creeps.”

  “Okay,” Jack said. “Go on.”

  “You said Nick was close to the hotel and I want to see what’s going on with Agnes, so I pulled out and am following her.”

  At the compound, Luke piped up, “I’ve got her on the traffic cams. Looks like the truck is heading back to Highway 64.” He looked over at Jack and said, “I can’t tell if it’s east or west yet—”

  “It’ll be east,” Jack said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they were going to Norfolk.”

  Charlie responded, “Got lots of road cams there. I’ll get that set up to follow them.”

  Nodding, Jack reiterated, “Bayley, just like before. Stay at a distance but let us know where you are going.”

  “Okay. Let me know what’s happening with Daphne, please,” she begged.

  “You got it,” he promised.

  Slipping into the dark hall, Nick stepped cautiously ahead, seeing two doors at the far end. No other sounds greeted the Saints as they maneuvered their way closer. Cam, first at the door, ready to pick the lock if necessary, found it unlocked. Swinging it open, he stepped inside, Nick and the others on his heels.

  The room was empty, bunk beds still sloppy and unmade. The sight of handcuffs on each bed made Nick’s stomach roil. The scent of the toilet wafted through the room as Jude opened the adjoining door. A few bowls on the table showed the residents had left recently.

  Bart stepped up as the others swept the room. “You think the inhabitants of this room are in that truck? The one Bayley’s following?”

  Nick, calling into Jack their findings, relayed, “There’s enough here for the Bureau to be called in. Get hold of Harlan. Tell him what we’re seeing and have him get his investigators over here. I want to get to Bayley. There’s no sign of Daphne but we’ve got more to search.”

  “I’ve got Harlan on stand-by. He’s ready to send in a team of forensic investigators.”

  Just then Nick’s gaze landed on a green blouse, wadded in the corner of one of the beds. “Jack, I’ve got an article of clothing that looks like what Amy Willis was wearing the night she was taken.”

  “Harlan’s team is on their way. He’s got to keep a previously scheduled meeting, but says his team will be there in about ten minutes.”

  Jack ordered one van of Saints to stay at the hotel to rendezvous with the FBI when they arrived, and told the others to hit the road. “Bayley just called in. The truck took Highway 64 West.”

  “West?” Nick questioned, looking at the others hearing the same information.

  “For some reason, it’s not heading to Norfolk…or the driver knows they’re being followed and are trying to shake the tail.”

  “Get Bayley off the tail!” Nick shouted, his wide eyes meeting Blaise’s.

  “I’ve already told her to pull back. She says she’s keeping her eyes on the truck until she knows what’s happening.”

  A noise in the hall had the men going
silent, signals given by eye movement. The hallway filled with two, large, suited men holding a slumped woman between them. At the sight of the others in the room, one man dropped her as he went for his weapon, quickly finding six weapons pointed directly at him.

  “Don’t move, assholes!” Nick shouted, recognizing Daphne. With a quick glance, knowing the other Saints had them under control, he lunged toward the slumping woman. Picking her up gently, he turned to Blaise, the medic of the group. Maneuvering into the hall, Nick placed Daphne on the floor.

  Pinching his lips, Nick looked at the others. “Time to split up. I’m going after Bayley.”

  30

  Bayley watched as the truck in front of her turned off the highway, making its way along several winding turns, eventually pulling into a long, narrow road. At the end, a large, metal building appeared. She sat in indecision for a moment before driving closer. Not seeing the truck, she turned her headlights off, glad for the moonlight. Calling her location in to Jack, she pulled to the side of the road, parking Prissy in a location she hoped would give her vision and secrecy. Her stomach rolled at the uncertainty of what was happening, trying to keep Jack’s warning in her mind. He said Nick’s coming. Straining her eyes toward what appeared to be an old warehouse, she saw a small, lighted window on the side. With her hand on the door handle, she fought an inner battle. Stay with Prissy.

  The area around the building was wooded and she realized they had not passed any houses for several miles. She had followed the truck west for at least twenty miles before they turned off the highway, so she was glad, and also really amazed, that Luke would be able to figure out where they were from her descriptions alone.

  Slipping her hand into her purse, she pulled out her gun, the familiar weight a slight comfort, and exited her vehicle as quietly as possible. What am I doing? “If you place your head in a lion’s mouth, then you cannot complain one day if he happens to bite it off”. Ignoring Agatha Christie’s voice in her head, she stealthily made her way to the nearest window of the building, partially hidden by trees. Peeking inside, she could see the laundry truck parked alongside a dark SUV, its windows just as dark. Agnes stepped around the side from the back and approached a man. Unable to see his face, Bayley leaned closer.