Remember Love: Saints Protection & Investigations (11 page)

“What, babe?”

“But what if I had done something wrong? What if I were the one that someone was chasing because of something I had done?” Sighing, she said, “I know it doesn’t make rational sense, but when you can’t remember anything, everything is scary. Even the police.”

He nodded, understanding for the first time why she stayed hidden. “You kept thinking your memory would come back to you? Your past?”

“Yes, yes,” she enthused. “But it didn’t.” She lifted her gaze to his and added, “Will you please let me know about my parents as soon as you learn? I might not remember them, but I want something to hold on to.”

“Absolutely,” he promised, his voice warm and soothing. Stooping to grab the overnight bag Bethany loaned her, the two of them walked up the stairs. At the entrance to the small guest room, he handed her the bag. “We’ll know more tomorrow and see where to go from there.” Kissing the top of her head again, he said, “I hope you sleep well, Grace.”

*

Several minutes later,
Grace slid beneath the covers, the sheets feeling like silk although they were just department store cotton. The scent was from a dryer sheet, enveloping her in a floral cloud. The mattress underneath, supporting her weight in comfort, felt…familiar. Closing her eyes, she could almost imagine herself in a bedroom like this one. A flash of an image flew through her mind—
a room smelling much like the floral scent she now experienced, painted pale yellow on three walls with one wall a forest green.
Her eyes jerked open and the image was gone.

I’m not crazy,
she told herself.
I’ll remember…I’ve just got to remember.

Rolling over in the soft bed, she allowed the events of the day to melt away, leaving only the thoughts of the man in the room across the hall.
He’s so beautiful
, she thought. His muscles, barely contained in the navy polo shirt he wore or the jeans that fit his form so well. Closing her eyes, she remembered the idea that he could be on the cover of a romance novel.
I must have read some of those for me to make the comparison! I’ve had no memories until being with him and something about him is making me feel again.

But what do I feel? Oh, girl. Watch your heart. He might be a knight in shining armor but that doesn’t mean he’s for you. You’re just one of his strays he helps. Don’t confuse kindness with love.

Sighing, Grace turned over one more time, her exhausted body almost tumbling into slumber.
Yeah, but if I were to have someone fall in love with me…the gorgeous, giving man across the hall would be the one I would want.

With that last thought, sleep finally claimed her.

*

Across the hall,
Blaise laid in a similar state of unrest. His normally ordered mind was swirling with the unexpected events of the day. Starting out, only looking forward to his lunch with Grace, hoping he might have a chance to get her to divulge a little more about herself. And now, she slept in the room across the hall.

We know her name. We know a little about her family. We know where she lived. We know where she worked. But why the fuck was she missing for three weeks and no one reported it?

He heard a whimper and sat up, seeing Ransom lying on the floor near his bed, sound asleep. Throwing back the covers, he stood, slipping into the hall. Hearing the sound again, he headed downstairs. Gypsy was at the door leading into the kitchen, whimpering for her mistress.

“Come on, girl,” he called softly, leading the dog upstairs. Not wanting to disturb Grace, he knocked gently and, hearing no answer, turned the knob slowly. Opening the door, Gypsy trotted into the bedroom, hopping up onto the bed as though she belonged. Curling up at her mistress’ feet, she took her place of protection.

Smiling, he gazed at the pair as the moonlight poured through the window. Drawn into her room, like a moth to the light, he peered down at Grace’s face, peaceful in slumber. He lifted his hand to his chest, rubbing over his heart as a slow ache began.

Her beauty stunned him, from her thick, luxurious hair to her pure complexion. Her pert nose, slightly turned up and, when awake, her huge, dark eyes. In sleep, thick lashes laid against her cheeks. Her kissable mouth slightly opened as she breathed deeply made him fight the urge to lean down and taste her.

I’m such a stalker,
he admonished inwardly, but could not bring himself to leave quite yet. As he watched the pair, he understood that while it was her beauty that captured his attention, and her vulnerability that first caused him to seek her out…it was her strength that brought him to his knees.
Thank you, Lord, for watching over her.

As he made his way back to his bed, his thoughts turned over to what Bart and Cam would find tonight in her apartment. He had wanted to go himself but knew there was no way he could leave her…not even with another Saint.
No, she’s mine to protect.

*

Bart and Cam,
completely in sync after numerous missions together, slipped effortlessly into Grace’s apartment under the cover of darkness. Bart’s former SEAL missions enabled him to take on any job Jack had given him yet. A planner, he knew the best way to get the job done. His best friend, Cam, came from a different background. Cam may have come to the Saints by way of the Richland Police Department, where he had been an undercover cop, but it was his days as a juvenile delinquent that aided him now. Cam joked that breaking and entering were second nature to him.

Her apartment was located in a nice suburb of Richland, on the western side of town toward Charlestown. The neighborhood was neat and filled with middle-income family homes, condos, and apartment buildings.

Once inside, the pair moved through the modestly furnished rooms. The kitchen was directly to the left, U-shaped, with a bar that separated it from the living room. Cam examined the kitchen while Bart moved on into the larger room. A single door from the living room led to the single bedroom and bathroom.

A few packing boxes still stood in the corner, and only a couple of pictures were hung on the wall. Walking over, Bart examined the collage. Pictures of Grace, from childhood to recent, each with her animals, ending with a snapshot of she and Gypsy. Checking the boxes, he found out of season clothes in one and books in another.

The minuscule bathroom held the expected toiletries, but nothing else. Cam stuck his head into the bedroom, saying, “I’m done out here.”

Slipping back through the small, dark apartment, it was evident to their experienced eyes that someone had searched the place. The sofa cushions were in place but slightly skewed. Cans in the cabinets had been moved about, left turned over. Her clothes were partially hanging out of drawers, although the drawers were almost pushed back in.

“What does your gut tell you?” Cam asked, taking pictures of the rooms.

Bart stood for a moment, coming out of the bedroom. “It’s been searched, but not tossed. Why? Why go to this much trouble to search someone’s place, not trashing it, but not taking the time to thoroughly put everything back?”

“Someone didn’t expect her to come back. Someone thought she was dead,” Cam stated, his voice hard.

L
uke sat at
his computer early the next morning, grouchy without his super-charged coffee. As Jack came downstairs, he halted in his steps, staring at the glass of milk sitting in front of Luke. Lifting his eyebrow in a sardonic expression, he stood with his hands on his hips waiting for an explanation.

“Shut-up, boss,” Luke groused.

Laughing, Jack said, “Figured that high-octane coffee you’ve been downing for years would finally eat it’s way through your stomach.”

Saying nothing, Luke absentmindedly rubbed the center of his chest.

Jude and Monty walked into the room, hearing the last comment. “No shit, Luke? You’ve got an ulcer?” Jude asked.

“Jesus, can’t a guy drink milk if he wants to without everyone jumping down his throat?” Luke complained.

Marc, Patrick, and Chad entered next, eyeing the glass and seeing everyone standing around staring at Luke. Before they could comment, Bart and Cam hustled into the meeting room as well.

Blaise was the last to enter, not surprised to observe he was last, considering he had insisted on making a full cooked breakfast for Grace.

As they all settled around the table, Luke downed the milk, slamming the glass onto the table. Lifting his eyes to the silent stares, he said, “Yes, I am drinking milk. No, I am not happy about it. Yes, I may be suffering from an ulcer and before you think of giving me a problem, Jack, I have seen a doctor. So I am perfectly able to do my job. Just not as well since I can’t seem to get my eyes open! Any questions?”

The others grinned at Luke’s crabbiness replacing the normally easy-going, but hyper, mood of the former CIA computer expert. Shaking their heads, they quickly got down to business.

Monty patched in Mitch Evans, their FBI contact. “I’ve filled Mitch in on what we’ve discovered so far.”

“Saints,” Mitch greeted. “We don’t have an open case on anything to do with Grace Kennedy, but with her involvement with the TSA and a missing drug-trained dog, I told Monty that I wanted to be kept apprised of anything you find.”

“No problem,” Jack agreed.

“How’s Grace this morning?” Marc asked Blaise.

Smiling, Blaise said, “Really well, considering how intense yesterday was for her. I think sleeping in a real bed and getting food inside was the best thing that could have happened. She’s thrilled to know what her name is, but so far did not say she had any memories.” Suddenly looking over at Bart and Cam, he said, “Except she said, last night, before she went to sleep, she remembered sleeping in a bed before. She said the room colors were pale yellow on three walls and green on the other one.”

“Damn,” Bart said, nodding. “Those were the colors in her bedroom.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Blaise said, “Maybe, just maybe, it’ll all start coming back to her.”

Cam spoke up, “Miriam suggested a counselor for Grace. Both she and Bethany have seen a really good trauma counselor in Charlestown.”

“Dani’s started going to the groups with Miriam and Bethany now and she likes this lady,” Chad added.

“You’re right. No matter what happened to cause the accident and her memory loss, I feel like Grace is going to need some help to work through the memories,” Blaise conceded. “She has a great deal of fear, but can’t figure out why. I checked on her in the middle of the night and she was curled up tightly with her dog.”

Jack nodded toward Luke and said, “Okay, tell us what you’ve got and then we’ll hear about Bart and Cam’s visit last night.”

“Can you start with her family?” Blaise interjected. “She’s really wanting to have some facts to help her with her memories.”

“Sure,” Luke said. “Her parents, Elizabeth and George Kennedy, were in their early forties when they had her and she was an only child. They owned a small family farm northwest of Richland and moved to a house in the suburbs about eight years ago, shortly after Grace went to college. Two and a half years ago, they were on an icy road and slid down into a ravine. Both were killed upon impact, according to the police report.”