Seeing Love: Saints Protection & Investigations (22 page)

“To find Erik?” she asked, unsure what was happening.

“Not exactly. Our first priority now is keeping you safe and finding out who threatened you. Chances are that will bring us to the kidnappers.”

The embarrassment of being poor slid over her, but she masked it with a steel will. Sitting up straight, pulling out from under Bart’s arm, she looked Jack in the eye. “I’m afraid I cannot ask for your protection…or investigation.” Seeing the question in the eyes of the men around, she plunged on, “I am quite able to pay my bills with the little I earn, but there are no discretionary funds, Mr. Bryant. I have absolutely nothing to pay you with. I want Erik to be found, so I will give you every bit of information I can, but I can’t accept your security.”

The silence in the room was deafening and Faith felt her nerves strung tight as a bow. Hating to be the object of anyone’s attention, she now had nine pairs of eyes giving her their undivided attention. Refusing to look down at her clasped hands in her lap, she could feel Bart’s fingers grazing her shoulder once more.

Suddenly, the mood in the room shifted and she noticed smiles all around. Unsure of the change, she stared at Jack, who was grinning as much as anyone.

“You misunderstand, Ms. Romani. You are…” he glanced at Bart, who tightened his grip on her shoulders and gently pulled her back into his chest, “one of us now, and we protect our own. You, are now our mission.”

“I…um…I don’t understand,” she stammered.

“Quite simply, you are sitting in my house with one of my men’s arms around you. He’s offered his protection to you and that extends to us as well.”

“But we’re not…” she blushed deep red as she twisted around to look up into Bart’s face.

“Faith, don’t worry what we are or aren’t right now. We’re friends and that makes you mine to protect.”

She nodded slowly, still noticing the grins from around the room. She hated taking charity but had to admit she was scared.

“Right,” Jack proclaimed. “So let’s get down to business.”

She had a feeling that as welcoming as Jack had been, he was always about the business.
Except when he smiles at Bethany and then the big man showed his weakness.

Monty began, “I’ve sent the original threatening notes over to the FBI for processing and told Mitch that I would be following up as soon as we finish here. He may need to meet with you depending on what information you can tell us.” He smiled at her, “To start out, tell us exactly how the notes came to you.”

She noted his smile, feeling it was not fake. He appeared relaxed, dressed for comfort, and yet a debonair man with an air of authority. Focusing on his face, she drew a shaky breath to steel her nerves, and answered calmly, “The first came sometime when I was gone with Bart. My mail had gathered for two days in my box and I had three newspapers on my front stoop. When I went to get them I almost threw them all into the recycle bin and, then, the note slipped out. It was folded in half and must have been slipped between the pages of one of the newspapers or between two of them. Because it fell to the floor, I have no way of knowing which day it was delivered. It just said to stop what I was doing. I actually didn’t think it was for me.”

At that, she noticed the stares of the Saints, so she quickly explained with a little shrug, “I have two older neighbors who are always battling over which garbage can is theirs. In fact, this very morning they were in the alley arguing. I assumed one of them meant it for the other.”

“Do they know where each other lives?” Marc asked.

“Oh, yeah,” she smiled at the one who appeared to be more at home in the wilderness than a boardroom. “And their apartment numbers are printed on the garbage cans. That’s part of the arguing. You know, like
You live in apartment 3B so stop putting your garbage in my 8B can
. Believe me, they can argue like that all day.”

The silence slid into the room like a fog, leaving Faith unsure what they were thinking. Twisting to look at Bart, she realized he was frowning, too.

“If the two men know each other’s apartment numbers, they’re not going to leave a note at your door, which is clearly marked, 10A,” Cam added, his expression sympathetic.

“Oh,” she said, knowing the word sounded so simplistic, even to her ears.

“What about the second one?” Monty prompted.

“I had taken care of my business since I had been gone for several days. You know, mail, email, that kind of thing. I needed to get groceries so I walked to Mercer’s, down the street.”

“How far a walk is it?” Chad asked, then added, “I’m Chad, by the way.”

Warmth exuded from Chad, and she suddenly had a vision of him rescuing others.
I wonder why it’s stronger with him?
She gave a small smile, noticing the kind expression on his face. Of all the men in the room, he appeared to be the most easy-going, as though nothing would fluster him.

“Um, about three blocks away. I can walk it in ten minutes going and then about fifteen minutes coming back because my arms are full of bags.” She heard a grumble coming from behind and looked at Bart once more.

“You shouldn’t be walking in that neighborhood at all,” he groused.

“Oh, yeah? And just how do you think I would be able to live if I stayed in my apartment all day long?”

“What about your car?” Bart continued to dig.

“It’s not very reliable,” she frowned, admitting more than she wanted.

Interrupting, Jack asked, “How long were you shopping?”

“About fifteen minutes.”

“So someone must have been watching to see when she left,” Chad surmised.

Her hand moved out to grip Bart’s thigh and he covered it with his own, wrapping his fingers around hers. “I don’t understand,” she said, looking around at all the faces, including the three women who had slipped unnoticed by her to the dining room. “Bart was with me the whole time we were talking to people. There’s nothing that I know that he doesn’t know. So why me? I’m nothing special,” she protested.

“Babe,” Bart started but, before he could stop her, she jumped up and walked over to the windows, her arms wrapped around her middle in a protective stance. He began to rise, but Jack put his hand out, shaking his head. Bart understood that sometimes witnesses needed time to process what they were thinking, but he hated it now that the witness was someone he cared about.

She looked out over the yard, seeing a white picket fence surround the side and back of the house. The woods behind, trees stark in the wintertime with only the relief of the green cedars and pines amongst them. And then the Blue Ridge Mountains rising in the background, sent peace inside that she had not known for a while. Breathing deeply, she brushed away a tear.

“I know Bart has spoken of me. About me,” she began. “My grandmother lived with us and raised me since my mother died when I was twelve. She was from Russia, but loved her American adopted country. She used to tell me stories that had been passed down for generations. According to her, our family came from the Russian gypsies.” Snorting, she shook her head. “The stories of living in wagon houses and traveling to small villages sounded so fascinating to a small girl living in a shoebox apartment with no view of trees. She never told me about any gifts, though, in case you are wondering about the power of suggestion. She just talked about our family history and made it come alive for me. My father left when I was a baby and my mother…well, she sort of mentally checked out, I guess is the best way to put it. When she died when I was twelve, it was just Babushka and myself.”

The silence once more floated among the gathering, the men trained to let a witness speak in their own time, the women listening raptly, and Bart’s eyes never leaving the lone woman staring out at the landscape, baring her soul in front of strangers. And it was the bravest thing he had ever witnessed.

She turned to face the group, not lowering her gaze, but keeping it firmly on their faces. “I will just say that there were incidences when I was younger where I drew pictures of images in my head and they turned out to happen. The kids called me a freak and a few teachers avoided me after that. When I finally confessed to Babushka about what had happened, she told me about how there are women in our family with a gift. The gift to sometimes get an image of something that we can’t see, but is true.”

Piercing the assembly with her firm stare, she added, “I’ve never called myself a seer. I’m not psychic, nor am I am medium. I simply sometimes have dreams and then draw them. I get strong feelings about people and it comes out in my art.” She released a held breath and relaxed slightly as she saw no signs of incrimination coming from any of the Saints.

“Ivan knew my grandmother. They were childhood neighbors before she moved away from Virginia Beach. He knew the gift was supposed to be handed down to daughters, but they skip a generation. He called me the day after Erik was kidnapped and begged me to come. I told him I didn’t think I could help, but he was insistent. He said he was desperate and even if I could just get a feeling as to what happened to him, it would be worth it. He offered to pay, but I turned him down.” Shaking her head slightly, she asked rhetorically, “What kind of person would I be to gain from someone else’s pain?”

Once more the room was still, no sound heard at all. Squaring her shoulders, she walked back toward Bart and looked down at him as he stretched his long arms toward her. Hesitating for a moment, she placed her small hands in his and allowed him to pull her down into his embrace.

Jack allowed her a moment to pull herself together and then turned his gaze to his wife, giving her a small head jerk toward the back. Bethany nodded and moved over to Faith. “Sweetie, why don’t you come with me for a few minutes. You’ve been cooped up in here with all these men for a while, let’s take a little walk and it’ll make you feel better.”

Faith allowed herself to be propelled toward Bethany and the four women walked to the sunroom built on the back of the house. The room was filled with potted plants, wicker furniture covered in comfortable, floral pillows, and offered a phenomenal view of the back yard. Miriam brought hot tea for them and the women sat, allowing the moment to relax them.

*

Jack immediately became
all business. “Okay, what have we got? Any security cameras located anywhere close to her apartment building? Traffic lights? Building cameras?”

Luke called out, “On it,” as he pounded away on his laptop.

“What about Sergio?” Cam offered. “Or Gavrill?”

“Why them?” Chad asked.

“They’re both Russian and have a good chance of having heard about her gift.” Glancing over at Bart, he said, “Sorry man, I mean her supposed gift.”

“You’re good,” Bart replied. “It’s gotta be someone that thinks she’s gaining more information than what we know.”

“Like someone who’s heard of her gift and thought she might have had some kind of vision when she was with them?” Marc clarified.

Blaise had been quiet, processing it all when, suddenly, he said, “What if this isn’t about Erik?” All eyes cut over to him. “What if it’s about her?” Seeing Bart about to explode, he continued, “What if whoever threatened her has something to hide and they’re scared that she’s going to reveal it?”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Bart exploded. “Every one of those assholes had shit to hide, that’s why they met with us—to keep the Feds from looking too hard for anything other than to find Erik.”

“Let’s break this down, men, and look at everyone she was with,” Jack ordered.

The group moved down to the compound’s conference room where they could use all their computer resources, had the chance to video conference with Mitch, and so the women would not hear their frustration.

Once there, they began a list of who had been in Faith and Bart’s presence during the interviews.

“With this new possibility, that someone wants to hide something from her, we need to look at who was in the rooms,” Luke said, ready to enter the information.

“With the Maldonis, there were the two sons, the children’s nanny—”

“Nanny? Was she in the room long?” Jack asked.

Bart shook his head, “Nah, she honestly came running in after the kids, stayed maybe about two or three minutes and then left with them.” He hesitated as he thought, before adding, “Also the manservant or butler, who let us in.”

“Your report tells us about Miguel and Volkov’s meetings. I wonder if we can find out anything about the men who met with you.”

“I can tap into the FBI and see if we can, at least, determine who exactly was in the room,” Luke said.

“What about Ivan’s home?” Chad asked.

All eyes turned to him in question. “I’m just saying that we need to look at anyone who might want to threaten Faith.”

Bart rattled off the family members who had been present, but added, “I still think this is tied into Erik.”

“Keep working the intel, men,” Jack ordered.

As the list grew, Bart became more tense thinking of the vulnerable woman upstairs that was becoming important to him.
Hell, she already is!

*