Celebrating Love: Saints Protection & Investigations

by Maryann Jordan

  Sucking in a fortifying breath, she pressed the buttons on the old phone, dialing Nick’s work number. Hearing his official voice message, she recorded, “Nick—uh, Agent Stone. This is Bayley Hanssen. I had someone, well, a man who I didn’t know, come up to me tonight. Come up and grab me. I was outside my store and he approached. He kinda rushed over before I had a chance to react and grabbed my arms. He kept demanding my phone and wasn’t too happy that I didn’t have it. Um…I thought you’d want to know since it probably has to do with your investigation. Um…I guess you can call me back and I’ll be at work tomorrow.” She rattled off her home number before quickly adding, “Um, goodbye.”

  Feeling foolish, she shook her head as she placed the handset back in its cradle. Her fingertips rubbed her forehead in a feeble attempt to still the burgeoning headache. Leaning back against the sofa cushions, she kicked her shoes off as she lifted her feet to the scuffed coffee table, a deep sigh leaving her lips as a tendril of hair escaped her ponytail.

  Now that the shock was wearing off and the adrenaline rush had passed, she rolled the event over in her mind. Not wanting to forget any details, she opened her laptop and settled into a stool at her counter. Clicking onto her notes page, she began typing what she could remember. The man’s height, features, voice. Closing her eyes, she wondered if she would be able to pick him out of a lineup. Solidifying the image into her mind, she reviewed what she had written. Blowing out a deep breath that puffed her hair away from her forehead, she hoped it would be enough for Nick to use.

  As she slid off the stool, she eyed the open blinds on her third-floor window. Never one to worry about someone peeking in, she felt a rush of chills over her body. Nervous, she approached the window cautiously, sliding to the side to hide from sight if anyone should happen to be in the street below. Grasping the pull-cord in her hand, she jerked the blinds down, cutting off all views into her apartment. As her eyes moved back to her front door, she threw up a thankful prayer that even though she was shaken when she entered, she had locked and bolted the door.

  After she finished in the bathroom, she lay in bed, her tumultuous thoughts running, with Nick Stone still firmly in the mix. Heat infused her cheeks as she remembered BOB doing the work last night as her thoughts ran rampant with the image of the enigmatic FBI agent. And tonight? She rolled over and punched her pillow as thoughts of her assailant interrupted any thoughts of Nick.

  Flopping to her back, Bayley began clearing her mind using the technique her grandmother taught her as a child. Imagining her brain as a tub, overfilled with thoughts, she pulled the imaginary plug and allowed the thoughts to run out. Her eyes grew heavy as her concerns slipped away and soon sleep overtook her.

  Plopping heavily into the seat behind his desk, Nick watched his coffee slosh to the edge of his cup, thankfully not splashing over. His papers and files were neatly stacked from the evening before and he placed his cup squarely next to his laptop. Firing up his computer, he pressed the button on his phone to listen to his messages as he waited for his computer to come to life. Lifting the steaming cup to his lips, he startled at the voice.

  “Nick—uh, Agent Stone. This is Bayley Hanssen. I had someone, well a man who I didn’t know, come up to me tonight. Come up and grab me—”

  Jerking as Bayley’s message sank in, the hot coffee hit his chin. “Shit!” he cursed, grabbing a tissue from his desk, dabbing at both his face and the desk as he placed the cup back on the desk.

  “—Um, goodbye.”

  Hitting the playback, he listened carefully again, inwardly cursing this time. “Mike!” he barked, seeing the young agent just sitting down to his desk.

  “Yeah?”

  “Get me the home address of Bayley Hanssen. Now.”

  Eyes wide, Mike asked, “The bookstore owner?” His fingers were already flying over his keyboard, as though anticipating Nick’s response. “What’s up?”

  “She left a message—said she was approached and a man grabbed her last night wanting her cell phone.”

  “Damn,” Mike cursed before pointing to the printer. “It’s coming off now.”

  Snagging the address off the printer as he grabbed his jacket, he made sure he had her cell phone in his pocket before hustling out of the building. “Call Harlan and tell him I’m going to her house. I’ll check in as soon as I know anything.”

  Calling the phone number she left as her land-line, he growled as it went to an answering machine. “Bayley, it’s Nick…uh, Agent Stone. I’m on my way. Don’t leave the house and don’t let anyone in.”

  Rattled, he cursed the traffic as he made his way across town. Hitting every red light, the underarms of his shirt were wet by the time he finally pulled into a parking space in front of her building. Jogging up the three flights of stairs, he rounded the corner and pounded on her door. When she did not answer, he looked at his watch. Only seven-thirty. Where can she be? Pounding on the door once more, he ran his hand through his hair, causing the ends to stand up.

  Considering breaking down her door, his breath left him in a rush as he heard someone fiddling with the locks from the inside. Suddenly the door was thrown open and his gaze landed on her dripping wet form, water droplets sliding down her legs and pooling onto the floor. A short robe was haphazardly tied around her waist and her hair was wrapped in a towel, still allowing more water droplets to drip into her face. Blinking her blue eyes, she looked at him in surprise.

  “Wow, Agent Stone, I didn’t expect you so early. What time do you get into your office?”

  “I came as soon as I got the message,” he said, forcing his eyes to stay on hers, fighting the desire to allow his gaze to roam down her body, sure to be naked underneath the robe. “Are you all right?”

  Smiling, she stepped back, motioning for him to come in. “I’m fine, but admit I was scared last night.”

  “Did he hurt you?”

  Shaking her head slightly, she replied, “No, not really—”

  “What do you mean? You said he grabbed your arms.” Nick knew he was losing objectivity, so he fisted his hands to keep from reaching out to hold her. To make sure she was not injured.

  “My upper arms are bruised,” Bayley admitted, “but honestly, I bruise easily. Sometimes I just run into a table and will end up with a big, ol’ bruise the next day.” Holding the front of her robe closed to maintain modesty, she slipped one sleeve down, exposing her shoulder and upper arm, covered in faint, blue bruises matching finger marks.

  Nick stepped closer, the lemony scent wafting off her sending his senses reeling, as his gaze dropped to the bruised skin. Reaching up, he touched her gently, his finger barely tracing the bruise.

  “Bayley, I’m so sorry—”

  “What the hell?” a man yelled from the doorway.

  Nick’s hand jerked away from Bayley as she twisted quickly, her feet slipping on the wet floor. Her arm swung out to keep her balance as Nick grabbed her around her waist, pulling her tightly to his body as her robe slid open exposing the tops of her creamy breasts.

  “Blaise?” Bayley and Nick said at the same time, each looking at the tall, muscular blond stalking closer before jerking their gazes back to each other in surprise.

  “Nick? Sis? What the hell is going on here?”

  Nick, steadying Bayley’s feet as she tried to pull the gaping edges of her robe tighter around her body, shot his gaze between her and his friend. Blaise was one of the Saints and he had worked with him on several cases. Sis? He called her sis?

  “Nick? What the hell are you doing with my bruised sister, half-dressed in your arms?” Blaise growled.

  “Blaise! How dare you come in here yelling!” Bayley argued.

  Swinging his face toward Blaise, Nick said, “I had no idea she was your sister—”

  “So that makes this all right?” Blaise glared, his eyes landing on Bayley’s arms.

  “This? No, this is not what it looks like,” Nick began.

  “You’ve got no say—” Bayley began.
>
  Ignoring her protestations, Blaise stepped toward the couple, his anger palpable. Bayley inserted herself between the two, much-taller men, shouting, “Blaise! Look at me!”

  Fists planted on his hips, Blaise dropped his glare down to his sister before lifting his eyes back up to Nick. “You want to tell me why I find you here, early in the morning, with my sister almost naked, bruises on her arm—”

  “You seriously think I put those bruises there?” Nick bit back, his hands resting on Bayley’s shoulders.

  “Stop! Once and for all, shut up and listen to me!” Bayley shouted, chest heaving in frustration. Gaining Blaise’s attention, she pointed to the sofa. “Go sit down and I’ll tell you what’s going on. I’ve got to make a statement to Nick anyway, so you might as well hear it at the same time.”

  “Are you all right?” Blaise asked, his voice now flush with concern.

  Throwing her hands to the side, she quipped, “Oh, now you’re ready to find out what’s going on instead of just making assumptions?” Looking over her shoulder at Nick, she said, “Go get some coffee while I run and throw some clothes on—I take mine with lots of cream and sweetener.” With a last glance at Blaise, she added, “And you can just sit on the sofa and stew!”

  7

  No words…just glares.

  Nick sat in the chair opposite the sofa, his coffee in his hands, still angry that Blaise would think the worst of him. Blaise sat on the sofa, his anger having morphed into an expression of confusion as he darted glances at Nick.

  Bayley walked back into the room five minutes later, her hair still wet but combed away from her make-up free face, and wearing pink yoga pants paired with a slouchy sweatshirt, sporting a faded lion’s face on the front. She halted suddenly as she observed the two men filling the room with their silent presence, before settling her gaze on Blaise. “Well, I see a few minutes of calm hasn’t made you more agreeable!”

  She turned toward the kitchen counter where a cup of creamy coffee sat waiting for her. Unable to stifle a grin at the way Nick prepared her coffee just the way she asked, she carefully carried the hot cup over to the coffee table and sat on the opposite end of the sofa. Twisting her body so she faced the two men, she tucked one leg underneath her bum and took a sip of coffee. Closing her eyes, she purred as the sweet liquid slid over her tastebuds.

  Nick’s attention was focused on her lips as the sound of appreciation escaped, when a loud meow interrupted his scrutiny. His gaze dropped to Bayley’s feet, where a cat circled her legs. Eyes wide, he stared at the creature, unused to being in close proximity to a cat.

  “So…where shall we begin?” she quipped, drawing both men’s attention to her. Looking at Blaise, she continued, “Shall I start with how I just met Nick the other evening? Or maybe how I’ve now become involved as a possible witness to a kidnapping?” She threw her hand up as Blaise startled at her words. “Oh, no buddy, you just listen right now.”

  After another sip, she said, “Of course, I had no idea I was a witness to anything. After all, one doesn’t walk around expecting a kidnapping…or a bank robbery, for that matter. These things just occur and if you happen to be in the vicinity, well then, there you are.” Shrugging slightly as she took another sip of coffee, she added, “And in this case, I had no idea about any of that going on until Nick came into the store looking for me.” Her gaze landed back on Blaise as she said, “We had met the night before at the club, but only casually. I interrupted him as he was on a stakeout and I was there doing research for another book.”

  Blaise’s narrowed eyes widened with each word from Bayley’s mouth. “Kidnapping? What the hell, Bayley?” Turning toward Nick, he said, “Please make some sense out of all of this.”

  Nick growled, “You done with thinking I’m here debauching your sister—”

  “Debauching? Oh, my God, Nick, that’s hilarious!” Bayley hooted, drawing dark looks from both men. “No one says debauching anymore, but I love that word. I must work it into the book I’m writing.” She leaned over and grabbed a pad of paper lying on the coffee table and began to scribble.

  “You know what I mean,” Nick argued, his gaze piercing Blaise.

  Throwing his hands up in front of him, Blaise admitted, “I’m sorry, Nick. I know what kind of man you are, but hell, I walk up to my sister’s apartment to find you and her all tangled up together and her half-naked—”

  “Earlier you said ‘half-dressed,’” Bayley complained. “So, which is it? Half-naked or half-dressed? I, personally, think they have two very different connotations. But then, I can see where you wouldn’t make that distinction.”

  Nick leaned back against the chair, his breath leaving him in a rush. His only consolation was seeing the same exasperated expression on Blaise’s face. Calm, quiet, intuitive Blaise. How the hell can they be related? Shifting his eyes between the Nordic blondes in front of him, he admitted, so alike in appearance, it was easy to see the familial resemblance.

  “Sis, I love you, but if you don’t sit there and keep quiet just long enough for Nick to tell me what the hell is going on, I’ll tape your mouth shut!”

  At that, Bayley blinked, pursing her lips together tightly. Huffing, she leaned back, cradling her cup of coffee mumbling, “This is my house, you know.”

  Blaise turned his attention back to Nick and, with raised eyebrows, quietly waited for him to speak.

  Nodding, Nick explained, “I met your sister at a club where I was on stakeout for another assignment. She was taking a lot of pictures for her book research. The next day, I was re-assigned to the kidnapping case, which I’m sure you’ve heard of, and realized Bayley may have inadvertently taken pictures we would need to see. I found her and she voluntarily gave me her phone for a day.”

  The room was silent for a moment and she realized both men were staring at her. Lifting her shoulders while giving a little sniff, she said, “Well, that’s fine if you just want the bare-bones story, with no embellishments.”

  “Bare-bones is good by me,” Blaise groused, still looking at Nick. “So, this morning?”

  “Bayley left a message on my work phone last night and I just heard it this morning. She was accosted as she left the store—”

  At the word accosted, Blaise leaned forward, his brow drawn down, and asked, “Bayley? Why the hell didn’t you call me? Fuckin’ hell, sis! What’s wrong with you?”

  “Wrong with me?” she repeated, meeting her brother’s glare with one of her own. “There is nothing wrong with me! I came home quickly, locked the door, and called Nick. I was safe here. And there was no way I was going to call you, considering you and your wife have a new baby!”

  Standing suddenly, Blaise said, “That’s it. Pack a bag. You’re coming home with me.”

  Hopping to her feet, she planted her hands on her hip. “I most certainly am not going home with you! I have a life to live, a business to run, and you, brother dearest, have a family that does not need to be dragged into this. It was scary last night, I’ll admit it. But today it doesn’t feel like that big of a deal.”

  “It doesn’t feel like that big of a deal?” he asked incredulously. Taking a deep breath, he looked her straight in the eyes. “Okay. I’ll make you deal. I’ll go to Jack and the Saints will provide your protection—”

  “Nope, nope, nope,” she argued, “I’m not staying with any of them either.”

  Nick lifted his hand, rubbing the back of his neck as he listened to the two siblings argue back and forth. Speaking before he had time to talk himself out of his offer, he proposed, “Let’s compromise.” Gaining the attention of Bayley and Blaise, he said, “I need to interview Bayley and you need to stay for it, Blaise. Then I’ll take Bayley to the office with me, because I need her to see if we can identify the man from last night. Blaise, you talk to Jack and arrange to have a Saint be with her when she is not with me.”

  Bayley’s lips curved slightly at the thought of spending more time with Nick and, for all her bravado, she had to admit the i
dea that the Saints were keeping an eye on her and her shop was comforting. Nodding, she agreed, “I can live with that.”

  Blaise nodded as well. “Okay. Let’s hear about last night and then I’ll call Jack.”

  “Well, my, my,” she cooed as they sat back down. “All friends again?” Looking at Nick, she said, “To explain about last night, I had my writers’ group. It’s a group of published and aspiring writers who meet at the shop and we critique each other’s work as well as spend time writing.” Pushing her drying hair back from her face, she continued, “We finished about nine o’clock. I locked up after them and spent a few minutes making sure the area was clean for business opening the next day…uh, well now I guess it’s already today. I stepped out onto the sidewalk and locked the door from the outside.” Cutting her eyes toward Blaise, she added, “And I checked to make sure the door was locked, just like you are always telling me. Then I was walking to Prissy, which was parked underneath a streetlight as always.”

  Seeing the men still staring intently, she said, “I heard footsteps approaching quickly and turned. A man got right up into my space and grabbed my arms, demanding I give ‘it’ to him. Not knowing what ‘it’ was supposed to be, I asked. That, apparently, did not make him very happy.”

  Nick took careful notes as his jaw ticked in anger.

  “Jesus, Bayley,” Blaise moaned.

  Continuing, she said, “He was wearing a dark trench coat and a fedora over greasy, slicked-back hair, which I found to be completely unimaginative. You know, like he watched The Godfather movie, because he probably never read the book. I know I shouldn’t make judgements, but he didn’t look like he spends his downtime reading. Anyway, he looked like he watched the movie and dressed like the mafia-muscle that Michael Corleone had in the second movie. Only not as big…that guy was kinda thick, but the guy last night was leaner.”