Celebrating Love: Saints Protection & Investigations

by Maryann Jordan

  Back in bed, she grabbed her eReader and continued the story she started last night. The sexy romance soon had her squirming in the bed, erotic thoughts filling her mind. Tossing the eReader to the nightstand, she opened the top drawer and pulled out her battery-operated-boyfriend. With BOB in hand, she put it on her favorite setting and worked her body until she cried out her release. Tossing BOB to her nightstand, she frowned. Sure, she had her physical release, but it was a poor substitute for the real thing. And it had been a long time since she had had the real thing.

  “Mr. Lickers!” she called, watching as the cat walked stealthily into the room, hopping up on her bed. He curled up next to her hip, closing his eyes almost immediately. Turning off the light, she fell into slumber, her last thoughts of what Mr. TDMB had been doing in the nightclub. Who is he and what was he after?

  Outside her apartment, Lazlo stood in the shadows, illuminated by the flare of his lighter. Once his cigarette was lit, he inhaled deeply before letting the smoke curl out from his mouth, creating a halo effect. Seeing the lights go out, he waited until the last puff was completed before dropping the butt onto the sidewalk and grinding it under his boot. Pulling up his collar, he stuck his hands in his pockets and sauntered down the street.

  Prying her eyes open, Bayley slammed her hand down on the alarm clock blaring country music. Normally one to jump out of bed, she regretted the late night now that it was morning. Forcing her body to a sitting position, she realized why her room seemed darker than normal—the red dress hanging over the window blocked most of the sunlight. Giving a shiver in the cool room, she stared longingly back at her pillow.

  Fighting the urge to sleep in, she stood and padded over to the window, closing it before sniffing the dress. Not bad! Grinning as she hung it back in her closet, she headed into the bathroom, staring at the mess in the mirror. Bed-head. A pillow wrinkle down her face. A smudge of mascara that eluded the face scrub with toilet paper last night.

  Flipping on the TV as she poured a bowl of Lucky Charms, she watched the news for a few minutes. Weather. Stock market. Ads.

  Rinsing her bowl in the sink after finishing the last crunchy marshmallow, she placed it in the rack and walked back into the bedroom just as the news changed to an update. She missed the special report on a missing girl, last seen at a downtown nightclub.

  Finishing his early morning workout before most of his neighbors had woken, Nick drank his protein shake before showering, then dressing, and finally fixing breakfast while listening to the news. As he plated his scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast, the newscaster was just announcing another missing girl, this time from a nightclub downtown. As he heard the name of the nightclub, his fork halted on its way to his mouth. Turning the sound up, he listened as the reporter gave the information on the missing woman.

  His phone pinged an incoming text and he turned from the screen to grab it—8am mtg, Janice. Sucking in a deep breath, he leaned back, his breakfast forgotten, as he realized his morning had just gotten complicated.

  3

  Her green eyes stared back at him.

  Nick sat in a meeting in the State Capitol District FBI building, having chosen the seat directly across from the large screen on the wall so he would have a direct view of her face. Amy Willis. Young. Red hair cut in a short style. Only eighteen years old. As much as he tried, he did not remember seeing her. What he would not admit to was that the only woman’s face he remembered was the entertaining blonde who had talked to him.

  Inwardly cursing, he was stunned that he had been so distracted by a beautiful face that he did not keep his eyes peeled while on the stakeout.

  “Isn’t that right?” Pause. “Nick?”

  Startling, he realized all eyes were on him and Janice had asked him a question. “Sorry, what was that?”

  “I explained that we were there to specifically watch for the cartel and ISIS groups. We weren’t watching for young women in a packed bar full of women. We could have seen her but it would not have registered.”

  Nodding, he agreed, “The place was dark and crowded, making it almost impossible to lock in on anyone’s face. It makes the perfect place for drugs to be sold, deals to be made, any kind of connection between two people who don’t want to be noticed.” Grimacing, he added, “And, of course, for someone to be taken. Drinks are flowing, the dance floor is packed with everyone in a moving mass. Too damn easy for someone to be taken.”

  Special Agent Harlan Masten rubbed his face. Nick observed the older agent, his hair still cut in the high and tight military haircut of his younger days in the Marines before joining the FBI. “This is the third missing girl, taken from a night club, in the past two months. What insight we have is that we may be dealing with human trafficking, but we’ve got little to go on.”

  “Any video from the club?” Nick asked.

  “Their security is shit,” Harlan stated. “We obtained and reviewed the tapes but the quality is poor and the cameras are not placed in the optimum locations to observe. The one near the front door is the best. We did get a hit on her arrival at about a quarter past ten. She came in with two other girls, but they soon lost each other in the crowd. We don’t have a definitive time of her leaving, but if she were drugged, her face would be down and, believe me, there were a ton of drunk girls staggering out by closing time.”

  Nick’s gaze shifted around the table to the fellow agents assigned to the missing girls’ cases. He did not envy their assignment and regretted not being able to offer any assistance. The thought flashed through his mind that the enigmatic woman he met had been at risk for being kidnapped, just by being there. A sudden gasp escaped his lips, drawing the attention of the others. With a shake of his head, he forced his mind to the case at hand and not the woman invading his thoughts.

  “We’re trying to identify some of the people at the club last night to see if anyone took pictures that might have caught something. People are always taking selfies to load onto social media at places like that.”

  Selfies? Selfies! Now the blonde came slamming back to mind, but this time it was for the case currently discussed. He remembered what she had said: “I hold up my phone like I’m taking a selfie and then turn it slightly. That way I get lots of pictures all around, but no one gets creeped out.”

  Looking at the others, Nick said, “I’m not sure I can find her, but I talked to a woman last night who took a lot of pictures. Let me work on it and I’ll get back with you.”

  Harlan stared for a moment, his intelligent eyes piercing Nick, before he pronounced, “Nick, you’re at the end of filling in for Janice’s case and I want to reassign you now, rather than a week from now. If you’ve got anything on this case that can help, then we’re going to want you on it full time.”

  “But he’s been assisting on our case for two months! He knows more about it than Lenny does. We could really use his help. We’re close, I feel it,” Janice protested, her face scrunched in frustration.

  “Yes, but I’ve got other agents who can work with you. This was only ever temporary—until Lenny got back from paternity leave. Right now, we’ve got the Governor breathing down our neck telling me if we can’t find these girls, he’ll call in outsiders.”

  Nick knew who the governor was referring to—Jack Bryant’s Saints. Saints Protection & Investigations. Jack, while still in the Army Special Forces, had worked with a team of highly trained members, making up a multi-task force consisting of SEALs, SF, CIA, explosive experts, and others. Finding the team worked well together Jack re-created the idea of an exclusive multi-task force once he was a civilian. He recruited from SEALs, FBI, SF, ATF, DEA, and CIA for his new team. Top of the line equipment, weapons, security systems, vehicles, and computers—everything the Saints Protection & Investigations could need was at their disposal. And as Jack liked to say, they took on the jobs nobody else wanted or could solve.

  That arrogance used to piss Nick off—until he worked with them. Then he understood. The Saints managed to skirt aroun
d the bullshit that hampered the police or FBI. Nick found himself irritated and, at the same time, awed at their abilities. He had worked with the ten Saints for the past year and their tenuous relationship had grown into a friendship. Jack had offered a place on his team to Nick but so far, he had refused although, there were times when the chance to investigate, unfettered by bureaucracy, pulled at him. The temptation to forego the rules and structure with his work that he strived for and relished in his personal life was strong. He was definitely a man at odds with himself and he wasn’t sure he was ready to face that little fact just yet.

  “Nick, what do you want to do? You should have some say in all this. You’ve got reports and files on our case,” Janice pressed.

  As he carefully considered the situation, the reality was that any other competent agent could take up his reins easily and, a company man, Nick had always gone where assigned, so he was ready to be moved to a new case simply because his supervisor wanted it. Looked like finding the missing local girl and possibly shutting down the ring of kidnappers loomed ahead. Okay, and finding the blonde again… Perturbed that he made this personal, Nick shook his head, “Yes, sir. I’ll take the reassignment.”

  Janice tossed a glare in his direction as she exited the room, Tom offering an apologetic nod as he followed her. Lifting his gaze back to Harlan after scanning the table of other agents assigned to the new case, he said, “I’ll let you know as soon as I find the woman with the pictures, sir.”

  “And then he walked me to my car.”

  Daphne sat on the stool behind the counter, watching and listening as Bayley walked and talked, waving her hands around as she described her experience from the previous evening. Leaning her elbows on the counter, she groaned, “You have all the luck. If I went to a place like that, I’d get stuck with an OGP instead of TDMB.”

  “Huh?” Bayley asked, halting her pacing as she looked over at her friend.

  “Obnoxious, Grinding, Prick instead of your guy.”

  Throwing her head back in laughter, Bayley assured, “Well, I saw plenty of OGPs on the dance floor!”

  The bell over Bayley’s Books sounded as their first customer of the day entered. Bayley greeted, “Good morning, Sally. Here to do some research and writing?”

  The older woman smiled as she nodded, “Absolutely. Let me get my laptop set up and I’ll be over for some coffee.”

  “Daphne’ll take care of you. Just let us know if you need something else.” Bayley watched with pleasure as Sally made her way over to one of the many writing areas the store offered. The old building retained much of the restored glory of its original beauty, including the brick walls and heavy wooden bookshelves. The back held a small employee workroom plus the storage room, and a set of stairs that led to Bayley’s office in a hidden loft.

  The idea for her unusual business came to her when she first started writing and lived in an apartment shared with three other women. Crowded and noisy, it was never a good place to write. She discovered the bookstore three years ago when the old owner was looking to sell. Falling in love with the building, she managed to get a loan with the help of her parents. Desiring the concept of a bookstore and writing areas for authors, she created her business…and haven. She now had almost twenty authors that paid a small, monthly fee to use her facilities, which not only included the space and research materials, but was also used for author groups and author critiques to meet.

  The bookstore was incredibly popular with a separate room for the children’s section, where Daphne would host weekly reading times so the moms and dads could shop or write.

  Once Sally was situated, Bayley walked over with the steaming cup of coffee in her hand, setting it carefully on the table next to her. “So, what are you working on today?”

  Sally pushed her glasses down slightly so she could peer over the top at Bayley. “I was going to ask you about your research last night. How was the club?”

  “It was crazy-loud and crowded,” Bayley said, “but I met a man that I’m sure was a detective staking out the place!”

  “Well, maybe he’s looking for whoever is snatching girls from clubs!”

  Cocking her head to the side, Bayley stared at Sally. “What girls?”

  “My dear, it was all over the news this morning! This makes the third woman that’s disappeared from a night club in the area. And she was with friends last night at Neon.”

  At the name Neon, Bayley’s smile dropped from her face as her heart rate sped. “Neon? Neon the nightclub Neon?”

  Nodding, Sally opened her laptop as she took a sip of her coffee. “Yep. You’d think in a place filled with so many people, someone would have noticed something. How could a woman be dragged out of a place with no one noticing?”

  Leaving Sally in peace, she forced a smile at several more patrons in the store as she made her way back to the front counter, her heart pounding as dizziness threatened to overtake her. “Daphne,” she whispered hoarsely as she leaned close, “did you know about the girl taken from Neon last night?”

  “No,” Daphne replied, eyes wide. “You know I hate listening to the news. It’s too depressing.” After a quick pause, she added, “Oh, I wonder if you could have seen something and never realized what was happening right under your nose!”

  Rolling her eyes, “Thanks, Daph! That makes me feel so much better,” Bayley moved to her laptop in the area by the tall window. Googling the news, she scrolled through the reports about the latest incident. She stared at the pictures of Amy Willis. Jeez, she looks like half the women there last night. Not recognizing her, she finished reading the article before clicking over to her work-in-progress manuscript, but found her mind continually roamed to the previous evening. I wonder if TDMB was there watching out for a kidnapper? And I distracted him! Immediately contrite, she closed her laptop, knowing no other words were going to come today.

  With a knock on the doorframe, which garnered the attention of the room’s occupant, Nick took a step inside. Harlan stood, shaking hands with him before motioning him to a seat. “Nick,” Harlan said, “I’m real glad you agreed to be reassigned to this case. I know it’s not easy to switch horses mid-stream.”

  “When I got back from Alaska, Janice asked if I would mind assisting on the case she was heading up since she had an agent out on paternity leave. I knew my time working on her team was almost up and I’d be heading up the mid-Virginia office. Your case is in my jurisdiction and it interests me.”

  “And you don’t remember seeing Amy Willis?”

  Shaking his head, he admitted, “No, but I want to look at the tapes. There was a woman I talked to that was taking a ton of pictures. She said it was research for her books.” Shrugging, he added, “She may have been bullshitting me, but she did take a lot of pictures. I wanted to try and see if I can ID her and then get ahold of her phone.”

  Harlan leaned back in his seat, his elbows on the arms of his chair as his hands came together, his forefingers raised against each other. He quietly studied Nick before saying, “I’ve got to tell you that there’s pressure from above and things are changing. Do you know Richard Tillman?”

  Nick nodded slowly as he answered, “Yeah. Real go-getter and doesn’t mind who he steps on to get to the top.”

  Harlan chuckled. “That sounds about right.”

  “What’s this about?”

  “Richard’s angling to get moved up to the D.C. Bureau and not just as an agent. He’s been getting political backing from state senators, and is already rubbing elbows with some bigwig D.C. politicians.”

  “This got something to do with this case?”

  Nodding, Harlan let out a long sigh. “I’ve only got about two more years to retire. Been a career agent. Seen a lot of hotshots come and go, but Richard unnerves me. Make no mistake, Nick. He wants results on this case and he wants them fast. He’ll be thrilled that you’re on the case and that says a lot about you. But…watch your back. He doesn’t like anyone going rogue and he’ll cut you off at th
e knees if you give him half-a-chance.”

  “So, investigate and no cock-ups, right?”

  Harlan added, “I just want to make sure you know he’ll be breathing down your neck. You’re a real by the books guy, but he doesn’t want the governor to call in the Saints. I know you’re friends with them.”

  Giving a little shrug, Nick said, “I like the idea of working on this case. There’s a strange sense of responsibility, having the scene at a location near where I live. One where a kidnapping took place, so close, and I didn’t know it. I’d like to work to make that right. But Harlan? Even following the rules, I’ll use whatever means I need to so that this case can be resolved. And if the governor calls the Saints in…I’ll work with them just like before.”

  Grinning, Harlan nodded, “You’ll have no problems with me, so welcome aboard, Nick. You’ll keep working on it from your local office and report in to me. I’ll send whatever you have up to Richard. And if I can keep him off your back…I will.”

  “Pass the bread, please.”

  The family sitting at the dining room table smiled at each other as the mother served breakfast. The two adult sons, Lazlo and Grigory, as well as their sister, Agnes, joined their parents, Milos and Chessa Gruzinsky.

  “How is Portia?” Chessa asked, eyeing her eldest, Grigory.

  “She’s fine, Mama,” he replied, shoveling more cheese dumplings onto his plate. “She says her father is ready to discuss the wedding now that the preliminaries are out of the way.”

  Milos narrowed his eyes at his son, spitting, “He should be grateful for you to cast your eyes on his youngest. We are a family to be envied.” He pounded his fist on his chest in emphasis. Chessa placed her hand on her husband’s arm, patting it calmly.

  “I think her family is more in awe of us than against us, Papa,” Grigory stated calmly, looking up from his plate at his parents. “She’ll be fine once we’re married. I have no doubt of her complacency.”