Remember Love: Saints Protection & Investigations

by Maryann Jordan

  Letting go of her shoulders as though burned, he exclaimed, “I’m sorry, Miss. How was your shower? You look amazing, just amazing. Not that you weren’t…um…nice before…but now…well—”

  She giggled, watching the normally self-assured man stumble and bumble over his words. “The shower was fabulous. And thank you for letting me use your sister’s toiletries. I haven’t been this clean in…well, a bit.”

  Her words brought him back to reality. “We’ve got to talk. But first, let’s eat.” He noticed her immediate concern and said, “Remember, I just want to help.”

  Opening up slightly, she said, “That’s sweet, but I don’t think anyone can help me.”

  Hating the despondency in her voice, he placed his hands on her shoulders, turned her around and gave her a little push toward the kitchen bar stools. “Well, we’ll fill our bellies and then see what we can do.”

  The sight of a large salad, huge triple-decker club sandwich cut in quarters, and chips was enough to stop her worry for the moment.

  “It’s not much, but—”

  “No, no, it’s perfect,” she gushed.

  The two sat down at the stools and ate in companionable silence for several minutes. She finally turned to him, saying, “When I came down, I heard you talking to someone in the back room. Is Gypsy all right?”

  Nodding while chewing, Blaise swallowed and replied, “I was talking to the three house cats. They were annoying me while I was trying to fix the sandwiches so I put them in the back room with some food.”

  “Do you talk to your animals a lot?” she queried. “I find myself talking to Gypsy all the time like she’s a person.”

  Grinning, he allowed his gaze to move over her face once again, his cock instinctively jumping at the sound of her voice, and those beguiling eyes staring at him. Irritated with his lack of self-control, he willed it to behave. “I think that happens when you live alone,” he replied. “My animals are my world.”

  Nodding her agreement, she continued to eat. Stopping only halfway through, she pushed the plate back gently. “I’m stuffed,” she confessed.

  “Are you sure? You look like you need to eat more.”

  Giggling, she patted his muscular bicep, saying, “Not all of us are so big!”

  He reached over, snagging the rest of her sandwich, finishing it off as well. Standing, he took the plates to the sink and left them, wanting to learn more about her. Holding his hand out to her, he said, “Come on, sweetheart. We need to take care of the animals and then we need to talk.”

  Licking her lips nervously, she agreed. I’ve got no idea if you can help me, but Gypsy and I are running out of options.

  She trailed behind him, observing as he filled a wheelbarrow with buckets of feed before they walked outside to the kennels. It only took a moment for her to quickly follow his lead and begin filling the dishes of food as he hosed out the kennels.

  “Are you keeping them?” she wondered aloud.

  “No, they’re boarding here while recovering from one thing or another. They’ll be adopted out as soon as they’re able.”

  He looked over his shoulder as she playfully talked to and petted each one. With the setting sun casting a glow over the yard, her eyes were alight, the genuine smile on her face taking his breath away. She’s got a way with animals. The strange realization sent pleasure throughout him as he smiled at her obvious joy.

  Finishing with their work, they pushed the now empty wheelbarrow back to the door and went inside the house. Washing at the large industrial sink in the clinic, she followed him into the living quarters.

  Placing her small hand in his much larger one, she relished the feel of his fingers closing around hers. Protectively. Possessively? No, get that idea out of your head, girl. He’s just helping. But as he led her to the sofa in the living room, she knew she was in danger of falling for her rescuer.

  Chapter 7

  He settled her down on his worn, but comfortable sofa, making sure to sit close, but not too close. Treating her like a skittish animal, he needed to provide comfort without appearing threatening.

  She watched him closely, not sure what he wanted to talk about. Heart pounding, she sat straight, hands clasped in her lap. Then he smiled and her breath rushed out of her lungs. I think I’d follow that smile to the ends of the earth. Her lips curved softly in response.

  “I want to tell you about me,” Blaise started, “so you’ll know how I can help. I’m a veterinarian, but I don’t own my own practice. I worked for the DEA as a vet with their drug dogs. It allowed me to pay off my student loans. When I got out, I started a new career.” He chuckled, adding, “Well, a couple of new careers, actually. I run this shelter and have a state license to treat the animals here. And, I’m a private investigator with a firm that specializes in big contracts.”

  At his last statement, her eyes widened as her mouth hung open. “I…I…don’t understand,” she confessed.

  “I work for a company of investigators. We don’t take the small time PI jobs. My boss gains government contracts, such as working with the FBI or other agencies or large private companies. We provide security and investigations.” He held her gaze for a moment, seeing her mind turning over his words. “Miss, whatever’s going on with you…I can…we can help.”

  Oh…I’m a case to him, she realized with disappointment. Looking into his eager face, she said, “Blaise, unless you’re a mindreader, there’s no help for me.”

  Not understanding her words, his eyes found her scar again. She noted his observation and lifted her fingers unconsciously to the injury.

  “What happened?” he asked softly. “Let’s start there.”

  Shaking her head sadly, she said, “I don’t know.”

  The silence stretched uncomfortably. “Okay,” he began again. “Let’s start with who you are. What’s your name? Where did you come from?”

  Swallowing hard, she bit her bottom lip, wanting to look anywhere but into his eyes. He lifted her chin with his fingers, forcing her gaze to fall upon his. Taking a deep breath, she answered truthfully, “I don’t know.”

  Cocking his head to the side, his lips turn down. “You don’t know who you are?”

  Shaking her head, again, she replied, “I can’t remember anything.”

  The unexpected answer had Blaise dropping his hand, leaning back heavily as his breath left his body in an audible whoosh. Can’t remember? Amnesia?

  “I can see your mind working,” she said. “Believe me, I’ve tried to understand what happened to me, but I don’t.”

  “What’s the first thing you remember?” he asked, his mind now working in a completely different direction. Hell, I thought she was running from an ex or the law. Amnesia? What the hell?

  Shifting slightly on the sofa so that she was no longer facing him, but rather toward a view of the window overlooking his yard with the woods behind, she said, “I woke up. Out there somewhere.”

  Deciding to stay quiet so she could tell her story in her own time, he settled back as well, keeping his eyes on her.

  “I was in the woods. In a car. It was at the bottom of a big ravine, with brambles all around. The car was crushed, but I was able to crawl out. My head was bloody. I looked inside the car to find something to wipe the blood away, but there was nothing in the car, so I took off my sweater. I got the dried blood off.” She touched her scar again, her expression pained. “I didn’t remember anything. My name. What I was doing. I don’t even know if that was my car.”

  Blaise stood, moving to the kitchen to pour a glass of water, bringing it back and handing it to her. She took it gratefully, swallowing deeply, draining the glass.

  “I heard a whimper…kind of a soft bark. There was a large dog next to the car. I was scared at first, but it came right to me, as though it knew me. There was a collar with a nametag. The only word on it was Gypsy.”

  “Was it your dog? Did the name mean anything to you?”

  “No. I assumed it was my dog since we w
ere deep into the woods and no one else was around.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I climbed out of the ravine, which I discovered was very deep. When I got to the road above, you couldn’t even see my car, nor were there any tell-tale signs.” Giving a shrug, she said, “I had no idea what happened, but I thought my memory would come back. A trucker passed by and gave me a lift.”

  “You hitchhiked?” Blaise asked, unable to hide his protective irritation.

  “Sure,” she said. “How else was I going to get anywhere? The trucker was nice. He didn’t ask any questions and dropped me off at the park in Charlestown. I stayed a few nights on park benches and then tried to find a homeless shelter when my memory did not return. But none of them would take me with a dog and I wasn’t about to part with Gypsy. After all, she was the only friend I had.”

  Rubbing his hand over his face in frustration, Blaise tried to still his wildly tossing thoughts, for the first time unable to think methodically. He noticed her growing still and the doubtful expression on her face. Forcing an encouraging smile, he said, “So how long ago was this?”

  “About three weeks,” she replied. “I found the abandoned house and made a home for us there. It’s horrible not remembering. I wanted to try to find someone to help me but didn’t know whom to trust. What if someone was trying to harm me?”

  “I’ve got to ask, why didn’t you go to the police?” He knew his question sounded accusatory, but he was desperate to understand her motives.

  Her face twisted in a mask of frustration. “You can’t imagine what it’s like…I didn’t even know who I was. I couldn’t think well and the fear…the overpowering fear. Even fear of the police.”

  “Were you not afraid of the trucker?”

  Reaching up to touch her forehead, she said, “I remember that he offered to take me to a hospital. He seemed kind and Gypsy wasn’t afraid of him. I think that’s why I trusted him.”

  “And nothing has returned to you?”

  “Sometimes, I have dreams…nightmares…but when I awake, I can’t recall. Just images, darkness, fear.” Her eyes implored him to understand. “I just can’t remember anything about who I was before I crawled out of the wreck, with Gypsy at my side.”

  “A chip!” Blaise said suddenly, leaping from the sofa. “God, what an idiot I am!”

  “Huh?”

  He turned back to the wide-eyed woman on the sofa looking at him as though he was crazy. “If Gypsy was your beloved pet, you probably had her implanted with an identifier chip! I can’t believe I didn’t think to scan for that.”

  Leaning down to snag her hand, he escorted her to the back room, where Gyspy laid on a blanket, eyeing the three cats invading her space. He walked to a cabinet and grabbed a microchip scanner, before kneeling over the dog.

  Running the scanner over the dog, his heart leaped when an identifier had been found. His eyes showed his enthusiasm as they sought hers. “We’ve got a number!”

  “Will that tell me who I am?” she asked excitedly.

  “Well, it will tell us who had the dog registered. Since you are the probable owner, then at least we’ll know more than we did.”

  Taking the scanned number to the computer on the counter, he began to search. It did not take long for a hit to come up, but he stared at it in confusion. Turning slowly to her, he said, “I’ve got an identifier chip. It says TSA-GMK and then a number. I don’t know what the rest of this means, but this identifies a Transportation Security dog.”

  *

  Two hours later, Blaise pulled into the driveway of Jack’s property, Miss sitting stiffly in the passenger seat of his jeep. Glancing sideways, he noticed her posture and instinctively reached over to gather her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

  Her gaze cut over to his before staring out of the window again. As Jack’s large house came into view, she gasped. “Oh my goodness, this is beautiful.” Then her eyes landed on the number of vehicles in the front. “Who all is here?” she asked, her voice tremulous.

  “My boss called everyone in. Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll be right with you.”

  Nodding, she tamped down her desire to flee. You wanted help and now you have it. Suck it up, girl and accept what’s coming.

  Fifteen minutes later, she was ensconced on a large, overstuffed sofa, Blaise protectively at her side. She looked around in awe at the nine other large, handsome men in the room. They had been introduced but she would never remember all of their names. Bethany, a pretty blonde and Jack’s wife, welcomed her before sitting down with her husband.

  Blaise smiled at Bethany, glad that Jack asked her to join them, knowing her presence would have a calming effect on the inquisition.

  Reining in her nervousness, she retold her story and then answered their questions to the best of her ability.

  No, she did not remember her childhood or parents.

  No, she did not remember her job.

  No, she did not remember how she came to have a TSA dog.

  The man identified as Luke, said, “We can try fingerprinting. We didn’t get any hits on reported missing women, but if she had anything to do with the TSA, they’d have her fingerprints on record.”

  She jerked her gaze to Blaise, gaining his approval. Looking back to the dark-haired man, she nodded. “Let’s do it.”

  He left the room for a few minutes, coming back with a fingerprint kit. Taking careful prints, he handed her the wipes as he stood.

  “Bethany is going to keep you company for a while, Miss, and we’ll be back as soon as we know anything,” Jack said smoothly.

  The men stood, all filing out of the room, Blaise leaving last. Kissing the top of her head, he said, “You’ll be fine.” Gaining her nod of acceptance, he followed the others out.

  “Come on,” Bethany smiled. “I’ve got a few friends coming over in a little bit. They want to meet you and I was just ready to pull some desserts out of the oven!”

  Going willingly, she was tempted by the smell of the berry cobbler, but her mind stayed on the men delving into her identity.

  *

  Blaise looked around the table once everyone was in the compound’s conference room. “I really want to thank everyone for coming back in today.”

  The sounds of no problem, anytime, and hell yeahs resounded around the group. Luke began the process of running her fingerprints through the various databases he had, slurping down more of his juiced-up coffee.

  “Gotta tell you, your habit of picking up strays has landed you with a full blown mystery this time,” Marc joked.

  “What have you divined from talking to her over the past week?” Monty asked. The former FBI agent’s analytical mind was already calculating the possibilities.

  “She’s intelligent. She’s very literate. I’d say, definitely educated,” Blaise began.

  “Why didn’t she seek help sooner?” Bart asked. “Why didn’t she immediately go to the police?” A bit of a skeptic, he wanted to know her motives for staying hidden.

  “She’s been having nightmares. Says things appear as black…or dark, was her exact words. And she says she wakes up frightened. Doesn’t know who to trust.”

  Jude smiled, saying, “Just seeing her in the bar that night, I have to say she cleans up nicely. You’ve done a good thing, man.”

  Smiling, Blaise replied, “Giving her access to my shower and all the girlie shit my sister leaves there, you woulda thought I’d given her the best present ever.”

  Getting back to business, Jack asked, “If that dog worked for the TSA and she’s the owner or handler…or both, then why did something not come up in the missing report searches earlier?”

  Luke, glancing over his shoulder, replied, “If no one reported her as missing, then there’d be nothing to find.”

  The Saints pondered that for a moment, before the questions began flying.

  “Why would no one report her missing?”

  “What about family?”

  “What about em
ployers?”

  “What the hell?”

  Jack lifted his hand, calling for silence. “Let’s work the problem instead of making it more complicated than it already is.”

  Cam added, “If she has no immediate family or is estranged from them, there wouldn’t be a report.”

  Nodding, Chad added, “The TSA chip could have been implanted before she obtained the dog. Maybe it’s not her dog. Or it is her dog and the TSA was just an added identifier.”

  “How’s it going, Luke?” Blaise asked, anxious to find out any information.

  “It normally takes about two hours, but I’m narrowing the search down to TSA right now to see if we get a hit.”

  The Saints continued to toss around possibilities with no perceivable results until Luke’s voice called out over the group. “Got it,” he stated proudly, followed by a more subdued, “Holy shit.”

  Blaise, jumping from his chair, rushed to peer over Luke’s shoulder before he had a chance to project the information onto the screen.

  A picture of a smiling, uniformed, dark-haired woman kneeling beside her dog filled the screen. The woman’s smile lit the photograph, piercing Blaise’s heart. His eyes moved quickly over the screen before dropping to the caption underneath.

  Grace Kennedy, TSA trainee, and her dog, Gypsy.

  Chapter 8

  In the kitchen, Bethany pulled out two large cobblers from the oven, placing them on cooling racks. “Can you grab some plates? They’re in the cabinet next to you.”

  “Sure,” Miss replied, getting two down.

  “Oh, we’ll need more than that,” Bethany said, laughing. “You’d better get down about fifteen.”

  Eyes wide, she did not have time to say anything before the front door opened and a group of women came in, all chattering away. Their eyes landed on the newcomer and she immediately felt self-conscious. That emotion only lasted a minute as the women instantly welcomed her.

  Just like with the men, she knew it would take a while to remember names, but smiled through the introductions anyway. I won’t be around long enough for it to matter.