I have no idea how he even got them. I’m not sure what it means, if anything, but my heart soars when I see them. I put everything away just the way I found it and pull out the first thing I touch: wool socks.
I’m happy and a little excited when I walk into the kitchen in his big t-shirt and socks, which are WAY too big and go up to my knees. He gives me a quick glance before laughing at my appearance and I remind him that he told me to use what I need.
My feet are cold, so I need socks.
I know my own are here somewhere, but I just want to wear his. I do a flirty little spin in front of him, and when I stop I swear he’s checking out my boobs.
I can’t decide if I’m embarrassed or not, but when my nipples harden in response to his gaze I feel myself blush.
“Whatcha making?” I ask, hoping to distract myself from my thoughts. I’m sure he wasn’t actually looking at my nipples.
Or was he?
I can’t help but hope that he was. I’ve never felt the way that I do when his eyes are on my like that. It’s like a fluttering down low in my abdomen followed by a heated throbbing even lower, between my thighs.
“Grilled cheese okay?” he asks, pulling a package of sliced cheese from what I can see is a mostly empty refrigerator. Lost in a soft flush of desire, his words startle me and I scramble to catch up to what he just asked me.
“Works for me,” I tell him. He always made the best grilled cheese when we were kids. “What can I do to help?”
“Grab some plates out of the cabinet over there.” He points, and I cross the room and take two out, along with a couple glasses, and set them on the counter beside him before hopping up on one of the stools to watch him make the sandwiches. He makes us soup too, homestyle chicken noodle from a can, which has always been my favorite.
“Eat up, Sweetpea ,” he tells me, setting a bowl and plate in front of me. I adore that he still calls me by the pet name he gave me when I was little. It’s kind of nice to just relax and let him take care of me. I can barely remember the last time anyone took care of me. I could definitely get used to this kind of attention.
Especially if it’s coming from Travis.
“Why do you think a sandwich made by someone else always tastes so much better?” I ask through a mouthful of buttery toasted bread and gooey cheese.
He looks at me as he chews a bite of his own. “I suppose it’s the love that goes into it.”
I’m unsure how to respond to that, so I just hum a little and nod while stuffing another big bite in my mouth. This is a freaking yummy sandwich, so I can’t help but wonder how much love would be in it. Seems tasty enough that it must be a lot…
“This is so good,” I tell him, my mouth full of food, but I just can't bring myself to care.
“I told you. Made with love. Of course it is.”
I lower my eyes to my plate, even more unsure of what to say this time. This is his second reference to love in just a few minutes, and that plus finding the hidden pictures and letters has me feeling off kilter.
Travis
It’s almost funny how easy it is for me to keep her off balance. Not that I'm trying to or anything, but she is feeling awkward about my declaration of love.
I’m not going to hide it from her.
I loved her first when she was a scared, sad little girl. I loved her even more as a spunky, rebellious teen who never failed to make me laugh with her letters, and after being reunited for just one day I know that I love her even more now than I ever have before.
All the years of worry and searching compel me to keep her safe, to shelter her and to give her anything that makes her happy. Once she realizes that I am completely wrapped around her little finger I might be in trouble, but I don’t mind.
It will be the best kind of trouble.
After the way our lives started out we both deserve to be happy now. She makes me happy, and I guarantee that I am going to do everything in my power to make her happy too. I can’t ever go back to living my life without her.
I open my mouth to tell her how I feel. I don’t want to lose this opportunity, but before the words can cross my lips the shrill ringing of my phone interrupts me. I see that it is an unknown caller from Las Vegas. There is only one person who would be calling me from Vegas.
Taking the call as a sign that I should wait, I answer.
“Keller & Stone Securities, Travis speaking.” I step through the back door onto the porch, motioning for Faye to stay put and finish her food. I’m not sure exactly how this call is going to go and I don’t want to freak her out.
“Mr. Keller,” a deep, gravelly voice begins, “This is Xavier Cerelli. Your partner, Mr. Stone, contacted me about you having some interest in finding my wife. Something about your own missing person being located and needing protection from my family.”
He isn’t asking, he’s telling me.
“That’s correct, Mr. Cerelli. I would like to arrange a trade, so to speak. My services in helping to locate your missing wife, and in return, you take steps to ensure that my Faye will be safe from the Cerelli family. It’s my understanding that it was your father who had an interest in having her located. I would like for that search to be terminated.”
The man on the other line sighs and when he speaks his voice carries an ocean of frustration. “Why in the world was my father searching for your woman?”
I give him the abbreviated version of what happened to Brad and Claire, as well as what Faye witnessed and her subsequent years in hiding.
“She saw nothing that could identify anyone, and she has no knowledge of any dealings between my uncle and your father.”
I don’t actually know if this is true, but it’s best if the Cerellis don’t know the details anyway. It’s best if they think Faye is no threat to them.
He murmurs a sound of agreement. “Sounds as if we are in a position to help each other.”
“I believe that we are, Mr. Cerelli,” I tell him, holding back my excitement that this is going so well. I had not expected to make contact so soon, and I definitely had not expected him to reach out to me first.
He is trying to get on the straight and narrow.
“Call me Xavier. Mr. Cerelli was my father and he was a total bastard. I will email over a file about my Analise. I haven’t been able to discover much since she left.” He pauses for a moment. “I would like to meet with Faye before I end any search for her.”
I know he means to find out what she knows about his family. This is not the time to argue this point. There will be time for that once his wife is returned to him.
“I think that can be arranged. I will start looking for Analise as soon as I get the file on her.”
“Sending it now.”
I can hear the click of a keyboard as he continues, “What makes you think that you can find her when my team hasn’t had any luck in five months?”
“Keller and Stone has a very good track record when it comes to locating missing persons, Xavier. I’m certain that you did your homework on our company after hearing from Blake, so you should know this.”
“I have looked into your business. Your reputation is solid, and that’s why I’m willing to work with you.”
“Xavier, I want to level with you on this. Sometimes we locate people who have good reasons to not want to be found. When this happens, we often help them relocate in a way that makes them less likely to be found again.” I want to warn him in advance that if we find his wife and she refuses to return to him, I won’t be able to force her.
“That will not be the case with our deal, Travis. If you locate my Analise, I will be notified. No matter what she tells you. It is the only way our deal will be agreeable to me.”
I don’t like it, but I agree to his terms. Keeping Faye safe is more important to me than returning one reluctant bride to her husband, and if she has good reasons for running away I will help her escape again and disappear for good if that is what she wants. “I will write up the agreement and ge
t it to both of our lawyers for approval. You will hear from me soon, Xavier,” I tell him, and after polite goodbyes I hang up the phone and go back inside.
Faye sits at the bar, sipping iced tea and waiting for me to return. “Everything okay?” she asks, worry creasing her brow.
“Yeah. Hopefully better than okay,” I tell her as I sit down and resume eating.
Her amber eyes are sharp and focused on me. “I could hear a bit of what you were saying. Are you working for the people who killed my mom and Brad?” Her voice betrays the confusion behind her question.
“Kind of,” I tell her, knowing that I need to explain. “The Cerelli’s are a mob family from New York. The man behind killing Brad and your mom died several months ago, and his son moved west to make a fresh start for himself. His wife is missing, and I agreed to help find her in trade for him making sure that no one from his organization ever comes looking for you.”
“Oh.” I can hear the hesitation in her voice, the unspoken ‘but,’ and I wait for her to complete her thought. “Do you know why she is missing?” she finally asks, and I respond with a negative shake of my head.
“He didn’t give my any details. I am going to provide my services and he will make sure that you are safe from his family. I can’t let myself care why she ran off, not when working with him can help me keep you safe.”
I can see her absorbing the weight of my words, and I know they seem harsh, but I will choose Faye’s safety over a stranger a thousand times over. I will have her with me and free of fear, even at the expense of Analise Cirelli.
If that makes me a bad guy… so be it.
“I care,” she whispers, bowing her head and picking at the crust of her sandwich.
“I know you do, Sweetpea, and I’m sorry if this arrangement makes you feel bad, but it’s the only way I can keep you safe. Blake says Xavier can be trusted to honor his deals.”
“Will you make him swear that his wife will be safe if you return her to him?” There are tears in her eyes when she glances up at me, and I know she is thinking about Brad and how he treated her and her mom.
I will promise her anything to remove that look from her face for the rest of eternity.
“Yes, baby, I will.”
Her lips tip up in a small smile and she wipes her eyes with the neck of my t-shirt before standing up and taking her dishes to the sink.
“Okay then,” she sighs, “what can I do to help find Analise?”
Chapter Eleven
Faye
When I ask what I can do to help, I see some of the tension slip off of Travis’ shoulders. I didn’t realize how uncomfortable he was talking to me about the deal that he had made. He is scared for me, and that worries me—but hell, I can’t help but feel like I’m putting some poor woman into a bad situation. She ran for a reason, and now because of me she will be returned to her husband.
What if he is cruel to her? Abusive? I’m not sure how I can live with that.
Trying to keep myself busy, I carry my dishes to the sink to help conceal my concerns. I don’t want to do anything to add to Travis’ worries, but I have to figure out if there is a way to help this woman while assuring that I stay safe.
I’m positive Travis will do what he can, but I also know that I will be his priority and every decision he makes will be with my best interests at heart…not hers.
I just cannot accept that my safety and happiness is more valuable than someone else’s.
Especially not a woman who felt the need to run from a man she should have been able to trust.
I hold my plate under the warm stream of water, lost in thought, when Travis takes it from my hand and sets it in the sink, turning off the water.
“It’s gonna be okay, Pea. I promise,” he mumbles, pulling me back into his arms and nuzzling his face against my hair.
I sigh and let myself relax into his embrace, resting my head in the hollow of his shoulder.
“I just don’t want to condemn some poor woman to a life of misery for my own benefit,” I whisper.
“I know, Faye. I know. Blake and I will think of something so that she will be safe if she needs protection.” He hugs me even tighter against his hard body, and I twist in his arms, looking up into his blue eyes as I wind my arms around his waist.
“I know you will, but you have to let me help.”
His lips twist in a half-smile and he leans forward until our foreheads touch, and I can feel his breath on my cheek.
Time stands still.
My lips are so close to his that I could brush mine against his if I wanted to. I do want to, but I’m not sure how he would react, so I don’t.
“Okay.” His voice is rough and his breathing a little labored. “You can help.”
My heart races against my ribs at his closeness as his face inches closer to mine. My eyelids flutter closed with the anticipation of feeling his lips touch mine.
Is this really happening?
Even closer…
Just as I feel the lightest sweep of his soft lips against mine his phone rings from the table and we both jump back as if we were caught doing something wrong. I can feel my blush like fire on my cheeks and spreading down my neck as I step out of the circle of his arms. I stare down at my sock-covered feet.
I’ve never been so close to being kissed before and I’m not really sure how I’m supposed to act. Did it mean anything, or was he just caught up in the moment?
“Sweetpea.” His hard hand cups my cheek, lifting my eyes to meet his. “We’ll pick that up where we left off soon enough.”
Smiling at me, he lowers his hand and strides to the table, answering his phone. ”What?”
The conversation progresses to the arrangement with Xavier Cerelli, making it obvious that he is talking to Blake, and he hangs up not long after. “Come on, Pea,” he tells me, motioning toward his office. “Blake is sending over the file on Mrs. Cerelli. Let’s go see what we can find.”
Still a little off balance from the almost kiss, I let him take my hand and lead me up the stairs with him.
Travis
Well, that was just sucky timing. Just my luck that Blake would call and screw me out of kissing Faye’s velvety soft lips. If I didn’t know it was impossible, I would think he had timed it like that on purpose. The memory of her delicate body relaxing into me, her face tilted up for my kiss, crashes into me again and I reach for her hand as we ascend the stairs.
I need to focus.
Making sure Faye stays safe is more urgent than my driving need to taste her lips. Reviewing Cerelli’s file on his missing wife and starting the search: that is what I need to do. I hope that there is something to go on. I hate cold trails more than anything.
Pushing open the door to my home office, I usher Faye through without thinking about what is in there. She stops and I hear her quick, surprised intake of breath. The whole of my house is pretty average. Worn, dog-friendly furniture, a few framed photos on the walls, nothing unusual.
Except for my office.
Having Faye with me, in the flesh, has distracted me. I didn't think to warn her about this being where I have done almost all of my research while looking for her. It probably makes me look like some kind of stalker. There are pictures of her on the walls, lots of them.
When I came home on leave to see to the details of Brad and Claire's burial I took every single photograph in the house. I also boxed up everything I could find that belonged to Faye. By the time of the murders she had completely moved herself out of the house. She didn’t have much, but her books are on a shelf beside mine and her clothes are in the closet.
I’m aware that it’s weird, but it made me feel better being surrounded by her things when I had no idea where she was.
“Umm...Travis?” Her voice betrays her confusion. “Where did all of this come from?”
“I brought it all with me when I cleared out the house in New York and moved out here.” The simple answer might work, right?
“This is all
my stuff. Did you bring anything else?”
I guess the simple answer won’t be enough, after all. “I only wanted your things. The rest of it reminded me of Brad and Claire.” She nods, encouraging me to continue. “It helped me focus on you when I was searching. I did most of my investigations alone, from this room.”
She lets go of my hand and crosses over to the bookshelves, pulling a worn book off of it with a smile. She seems to accept my words and I release the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
Later I will explain to her how I needed to be around her things. How not finding her chipped at me, leaving a hole in my heart that I could only fill by surrounding myself with images of her smiling face, reading her books.
Sitting down in my big desk chair, I pull her onto my lap. She wiggles a little, getting comfortable, and I hold back the groan that wants to crawl out of me at the feel of her soft little ass pressed against my groin. My cock twitches and she moves against it again. Grasping her hips, I press my lips against her ear. “Hold still, Faye. We have work to do.” She sucks in a breath and freezes on my lap, and I squeeze her soft flesh. “That’s my girl,” I mumble into her hair, and I swear I hear a tiny moan in response as I reach for my laptop and open the file Blake sent over.
The first few pages are the details about Mrs. Cerelli. Age, physical description, and the circumstances of her disappearance. There isn’t much to go on and I can see why she hasn’t been located yet. It’s been about five months, so hopefully I still might be able to find some leads.
After reading the limited amount of info, I open the file of photos and Faye sucks in a surprised breath. “Oh shit,” she whispers, more to herself than to me.
“Do you know her, Faye?” I ask, unable to believe it could actually be this easy.
“I think… maybe? If it is, she doesn’t quite look like this anymore.” She gestures to the photos. “If she is who I think she is, you have to promise me that she will be safe.” Tears roll unchecked down her cheeks, making my heart clench. “I don’t want to make her go back if he is going to mistreat her or make her unhappy.”
Finding Faye: Page 8
