Remember Love
Saints Protection & Investigations Series
By
Maryann Jordan
Remembering Love (Saints Protection & Investigation Series)
Copyright © 2016 Maryann Jordan
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, then you are reading an illegal pirated copy. If you would be concerned about working for no pay, then please respect the author’s work! Make sure that you are only reading a copy that has been officially released by the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design by: Andrea Michelle, Artistry in Design
Editor: Shannon Brandee Eversoll
Format: Paul Salvette, BB Ebooks
ISBN: 978-0-9975538-1-9
Dedication
To those who keep our airports, borders, schools, and communities safe, this book is dedicated to you. Your tireless efforts to assure our safety is noticed…and appreciated.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Bonus Scene: Mitch
Other books by Maryann Jordan
More About Maryann Jordan
Acknowledgements
Acknowledgements
First and foremost, I have to thank my husband, Michael. Always believing in me and wanting me to pursue my dreams, this book would not be possible without his support.
My best friend, Tammie, who for twenty years has been with me through thick and thin. You’ve filled the role of confidant, supporter, and sister.
My dear friend, Myckel Anne, who keeps me on track, keeps me grounded, and most of all – keeps my secrets. Thank you for not only being my proofreader, my marketing assistant, but my friend.
Going from blogger to author has allowed me to have the friendship and advice of several wonderful authors who always answered my questions, helped me over rough spots, and cheered me on. To Kristine Raymond, you gave me the green light when I wondered if I was crazy and you never let me give up. MJ Nightingale and Andrea Michelle – you two have made a huge impact on my life. EJ Shorthall, Victoria Brock, Jen Andrews, Andrea Long, A.d. Ellis, ML Steinbrunn, Sandee Love, thank you from the bottom of my heart.
My beta readers kept me sane, cheered me on, found all my silly errors, and often helped me understand my characters through their eyes.
Shannon Brandee Eversoll as my editor and Myckel Anne Phillips as my proofreader gave their time and talents to making Love’s Taming as well written as it can be.
My street team, Jordan’s Jewells, you all are amazing! You volunteer your time to promote my books and I cannot thank you enough! I hope you will stay with me, because I have lots more stories inside, just waiting to be written!
My Personal Assistant, Barbara Martoncik and Marketing Assistant, Myckel Anne Philliips, are the two women keep me going when I feel overwhelmed and I am so grateful for not only their assistance, but their friendship.
Andrea Michelle of Artistry in Design has now created all of my covers and she is amazing at taking my vision and creating a reality. Eric McKinney, my photographer and his wonder models, grace my covers.
Most importantly, thank you readers. You allow me into your home for a few hours as you disappear into my characters and you support me as I follow my indie author dreams.
Chapter 1
Blaise Hanssen reached his large hand over to the seat next to him and gently petted the small kitten. The thin, scraggly body fell to the side, its little claws coming out as it tried to defend itself. “Ow! It’s okay, lil’ bit,” he said, scratching the soft ears. “I’ll get you home and fed in just a minute.”
He drove down the long, rural road, his workweek ended, and looked forward to the weekend. The woods on either side grew thick with the summer foliage. Smiling, he felt the stress of his job fade away as his old jeep bounced along the ruts.
He had stopped by the grocery on his way home and found the stray hiding under his vehicle when he got back. He guesstimated the little ball of fur was about two months old, but had probably been living on its own for a while. The slight rumble of a tiny purr sounded underneath his fingertips and he grinned once more. Always another stray…how the hell do they find me?
Lifting his gaze back to the gravel driveway, he turned and appreciated the view. He bought the property over a year ago from the daughter of an old man who had passed away. She wanted to divest herself of the eyesore as quickly as possible and Blaise scooped up the acreage for very little money. The old man’s house was not in terrible shape, but it took a few months and quite a few do-it-yourself projects to make it a comfortable home for himself and his constant furry houseguests.
Coming around a curve in the driveway and into a clearing, he grinned again when he viewed one of his favorite houseguests lounging on the front porch waiting for him.
Parking, he scooped up the kitten and stepped out of the jeep, walking toward the beauty, while calling out, “Ransom!”
Standing as fast as his old, arthritic bones would allow, Ransom greeted him with a joyous lick, nuzzling his hand to see if there was a treat. Sniffing the spitting kitten instead, Ransom turned his reproachful eyes up toward him. Putting his hand in his pocket, Blaise pulled out a milk-bone, ruffling the furry head of the beautiful collie. He was one of his oldest pets and the most loyal.
“Come on, boy. I’ve got to get everyone fed and then it’s back out on the town for me tonight.”
The old dog ambled through the house with Blaise as he greeted his menagerie of cats, and into rooms he built onto the back, behind the kitchen and laundry room. One door led to a large space, resembling a veterinarian’s office and another led to a room full of feed. Setting the small kitten into a crate, he quickly filled the water and food dishes before closing the door. “Sorry, lil’ bit. I’ve got to keep you quarantined until I can check you out and make sure you’re up to date on your vaccines.” The small kitten, eyes large, sniffed the proferred food suspiciously before greedily digging in.
Blaise then filled a multitude of containers with feed and headed out the back to a special area. Barking filled the air, as he moved toward his kennels of rescue dogs. They jumped, yelped, barked, and tail-wagged their excitement over bo
th getting fed and seeing their caretaker.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he laughed, as he made his way down the row. “Some for you King, and you Sasha, and we mustn’t forget you, Bossco.”
As he finished their runs and feedings, he headed back inside the house, storing the containers and then following Ransom into the kitchen. Preparing the special dinner for the few elderly dogs and cats, he fed them inside.
By the time all of the animals were cared for, he realized he needed to rush. Tonight, the Saints were all meeting at Chuck’s Bar and Grille. He chuckled as he made his way upstairs to the bathroom, thinking about their ever-expanding group. Stepping into the shower after stripping and tossing his clothes onto the bed, he let the hot water ease his muscles as he reflected on how lucky he felt to have such a rewarding job with the best of the best.
When Jack Bryant, a former Special Forces sergeant, retired he re-created one of his last assignments, where he worked with a diverse group of men on a mission in Afghanistan. Jack discovered that the group worked coherently and without egos, making the experience a life-changing one, as well as a successful mission. It took Jack over a year to build his compound underneath his massive, luxury house on over twenty acres at the base of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Jack recruited men from the FBI, CIA, SEALs, Special Forces, ATF, police, and DEA to create his new business—Saints Protection & Investigations.
Upon graduating from a school for Veterinary Medicine, Blaise decided that instead of joining a practice, he would pay off his student loans by becoming a government veterinarian, first for the Department of Agriculture and then recruited by the DEA. His work with the canine program quickly moved him into a Veterinary Medical Officer position. He had hoped for a more exciting career, but red-tape had sapped the energy out of him even though he loved the idea of investigating. Finding Jack’s Saints had been a dream come true.
Originally all single men, they were slowly finding women that fit their lifestyle and so the bar nights took on a completely different role. Instead of a chance to pick up the flavor of the evening for many of them, it was time spent with their co-workers, friends, and their women.
Ransom bumped Blaise’s hand with his nose, having followed him upstairs, as he stepped out of the shower. “Hey, boy. Did you finish eating? I hate leaving, but it’s a Saints night at Chuck’s.”
Dressing in faded jeans that fit his muscular thighs and a polo that stretched over his massive chest, he stood in front of the mirror staring at his reflection. His Nordic heritage showed in his blond hair, square jaw, and blue eyes.
“Don’t worry, old boy. I won’t be bringing anyone home tonight.” He chuckled to himself, realizing that he almost never brought a woman home. At least, not after a few attempts, during which he found that the seduction of a woman was difficult with barking, wet noses, and the occasional cat sitting in front of his date with their leg up, licking their bottoms. Yeah, that’s a mood killer!
“But I’ll be back early,” he promised Ransom, then turned to see two cats now curled up on his bed, sleeping on the clothes he tossed there earlier. He started to shoo them away but knew the clothes were destined for the washing machine anyway. What’s a little more cat fur?
The thought of fur had him remembering several dates where, even if they went back to her place, the women complained of getting fur on their clothes when their bodies were flush in a deep kiss. With one last look at the cats on the bed, he headed back downstairs. The realization that bar pickups were just not his thing anymore hit him. I can’t even remember the last one! Now that so many of his friends had settled down, he yearned for more. Closing and locking the door behind him, he got back into his jeep. As he turned the vehicle around in his yard, he knew it would take a special woman to be able to accept his life. A very special woman. And I don’t have a clue where I’ll find her.
*
Blaise arrived at Chuck’s at the same time several of his co-workers drove into the parking lot. He grinned as Cam assisted his very pregnant wife, Miriam, from their vehicle, followed closely by Jack and his pregnant wife, Bethany.
Hustling to open the door for them, the women greeted him with hugs and kisses. Walking in behind the others, he allowed a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim lights of the bar. Chuck, behind the bar with his usually surly expression, offered a head jerk to Blaise in greeting.
“Yo, big fella!” called out Trudi, the longtime waitress at Chuck’s. “I ain’t seen the whole crew here in a while.”
Blaise grinned at the bar’s iconic waitress, complete with tits, ass, big hair, and big attitude. The kind-hearted, but sharp-tongued, waitress tended to mother-hen the Saints when they were around. Walking over, he hugged her, careful not to unbalance the tray of drinks she was carrying. She might have been in her mid-forties, but she still managed to out-serve the younger waitresses that she kept in line.
“I swear, every time you guys come in, another one of you has fallen,” she pronounced, nodding toward Chad, escorting his new wife, also pregnant. “And honest to God, you all must be as fertile as can be. You all hardly get with a good woman before she ends up in your house, with a ring on her finger, and pregnant!”
“Well, the only thing at my house that’s pregnant is one of my rescue dogs,” Blaise countered, a twinkle in his eye.
Trudi looked him up and down carefully. “Hmmm, I could easily see you being next. But, then, you only seem to pick up strays…not women!”
Laughing, he replied, “Ain’t it the truth!” He followed the group toward the back where several tables were pushed together, making a large seating area for the seventeen of them. It did not take long for the beer and Chuck’s wings to be served. Trudi kept them well supplied, including water for all of the expecting women.
Soon the assembly was circled around, sharing food, drinks, and tall tales of missions gone awry. The laughter rang out and camaraderie encompassed the newest Saint, Patrick, and his girlfriend, Evie. Blaise noted they fit right into the group, as though they had been there since the beginning.
Leaning over to Marc, he said, “You usually bring a date. What’s wrong? You off your game tonight?”
Chuckling at the good-natured teasing, Marc replied, “Look around, man. This group used to be a bunch of men, all on the take. Now, we look more like a domesticated bunch of—”
“Careful,” Monty said, throwing his arm around his grinning fiancé, Angel. “You’ll soon have seven women trying to fix you up!”
“Heaven help us all, then,” Marc called out, to the laughter of them all. “No need to worry, ladies, I am perfectly capable of getting my own dates.”
The others looked at the tall, rugged man and knew his words were true. He preferred the outdoors and the woman that captured his heart would have to love the same.
“Yes, but what about Blaise?” asked Dani. Married to Chad, she was also one of the newer additions to the group.
“Oh, Blaise is more suited to picking up strays than women,” Bart quipped. The former SEAL won the glare of Blaise but did not back down. “If it doesn’t have four legs and fur, I’m not sure it’ll be able to fit in with his menagerie.”
At that, Blaise hung his head, chuckling with the group. It’s true. God, that’s sad! Several minutes later, as the food continued to be consumed, the conversations became quieter and Blaise settled back in his seat, allowing his gaze to roam fondly over his friends, and then around the bar. The usual Friday night crowd was present with a few groups at the pool tables and a few couples dancing to the jukebox in the corner. Wonder how old that jukebox is? Chuck had refused to add anything newer, saying if people wanted a nightclub they could go to Charlestown.
Several people sat at the bar, casually talking to Chuck or with their eyes glued to the baseball game on the TV mounted in the corner. A slight movement in the shadows at the far end of the bar caught his eye. The bowl of peanuts disappeared from sight. Leaning over slightly, he saw a small hand scooping the peanuts out and shoving them in
to an oversized coat pocket. Curious, he shifted his seat closer to the wall in order to have an unobstructed view of the miscreant.
Shocked, he stared at a woman, her thin arm poking out of a jacket sleeve, as she slyly grabbed more peanuts. Her long, brown, somewhat ratty hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Her face bore no makeup but was striking nonetheless. Her dark eyes, huge in her face, darted around as though making sure she was not seen. He noticed a glass of water sitting on the bar next to her.
A piercing stabbed him in the heart, as his protective nature roared to life. She looks like she hasn’t eaten a decent meal in a while. She’s lucky to be in Chuck’s. He’ll not mind the missing bowls of peanuts and is probably sending more down her way, knowing she’s hungry.
Excusing himself, he casually walked to the other end of the bar and nodded toward Chuck. When the owner reached him, he leaned in and said, “The woman at the end of the bar—”
“I’ve been feeding her peanuts,” Chuck said quickly. “Trudi’s keeping an eye on her. She’s been in here before but is real skittish. When Trudi asked her if she’d like something to eat, she skedaddled out. She didn’t give Trudi a chance to tell her it’d be free.”
Blaise nonchalantly looked over Chuck’s shoulder at the woman. Her face down, she kept her eyes moving around, seemingly observing her surroundings. He slid his gaze around, glad that she had not attracted the attention of any of the men at the bar. It’s no wonder, with her clothes. It appeared she wore a man’s t-shirt with an old faded jacket over it. While her face was beautiful, to the casual observer she was no more than a down-on-her-luck woman looking for a handout.
A swelling of protectiveness overcame him again and he said, “Get her some food. Just sit it down in front of her and don’t tell her it’s from me. Just put it down and walk away. She might eat it then if she feels like no one is watching.” Realizing he just sounded like he was approaching one of his skittish strays, he shook his head. People aren’t so different. If she doesn’t trust…she won’t eat.
Remember Love: Saints Protection & Investigations Page 1