Remember Love: Saints Protection & Investigations (14 page)

They walked out, getting back onto the road, leaving behind an open-mouthed teen, fingering the twenty-dollar bill.

“You get anything good?” Jude asked.

“The road isn’t traveled much and the area is scarcely populated, so if someone wanted to get rid of someone, this is a good place to do it. Found out there are no airports or airstrips nearby, other than for a crop duster. I still want that checked out, once we find her car.”

Leaning forward from the back seat, Patrick put his arms on the seats in front of him and asked, “What are you thinking?”

“Why would a single woman be driving on this road? She knows no one up here. And she had her dog with her. Not just any pet, but a trained, drug-sniffing dog. If she wasn’t up here on business, what the hell was she doing?”

“Okay, I’m going about forty miles an hour and we’ve been on the road for almost ten minutes. Keep your eyes peeled for any signs that a car went over the edge.”

“You can park anywhere and let me and Scarlett out,” Nathan said, looking out the window at the woods. “She’ll find the scent, if it’s still viable.”

“Okay, let’s see what they can do.” Parking on the side of the road, the three Saints got out and began walking along the edge, closest to the ravine, watching in awe as Scarlett immediately began moving along the edge of the road after sniffing a shirt Grace had worn.

“While Nathan and Scarlett are searching, you two keep looking for any sign of a car leaving the road,” Marc called out. Splitting up to cover more area, ten minutes later Nathan came through the radio.

“Scarlett’s got it.”

Marc jogged back to the car and drove the few minutes to where Jude stood by the side of the road. Looking down, they could barely see where Nathan and Patrick stood in their bright orange vests. Marc grabbed his military grade scopes and scanned the area below, trying to locate anything amongst the brambles and trees.

The two men began the climb down the steep hill, but their physical training made the trek easy. Within a few minutes, they came upon Nathan, Scarlett, and Patrick standing next to a dark sedan. The front was crumpled against a wall of trees. The airbags had inflated and now lay flat on the seat, covered with bloodstains. The back left corner of the vehicle was damaged as well.

“Photograph the entire vehicle and scene,” Marc ordered, as he made the call to Jack. Disconnecting, he said, “Jack’ll call Mitch and the FBI will be coming out here. They’ll be able to determine if the car was tampered with.” He continued to stand back, observing the vehicle, his mind turning over the possibilities.
The front is smashed into the trees. Why was the back corner hit as well? Unless…
“Hey, Patrick, get close-ups of the back corner that’s dented.”

Patrick glanced first at Marc and then back to the car, seeing what his more experienced co-worker had noticed. He took pictures of the vehicle and the surrounding area. Jude searched the inside but did not find her purse, cell phone, or computer.

Marc walked over to Nathan, who was squatting next to Scarlett, giving her a rubdown. “You two did it,” he praised. “Been a long time since I’ve seen a bloodhound at work, but damn, she’s good.”

Mitch had prioritized the report and within two hours, a group of FBI agents met them at the site. Marc relayed their findings and then stood back, letting the agents do their job. Leaning back against a tree, the large, bearded man crossed his arms over his chest, seemingly at ease in the wilderness. Patrick moved to stand next to him, a glower on his face.

“What’s got your boxers in a twist?” Marc asked, eyeing the younger investigator.

“We find her vehicle and begin to process it and then they show up and take over.”

Jude grinned, knowing Patrick was about to learn the same lesson he had to learn when working for the Saints.

“You after a medal?” Marc asked sardonically.

“No,” Patrick replied, his eyes moving from the agents to his co-worker.

“Then what the fuck does it matter who gets the glory?” Marc pushed off the tree, his height giving him the advantage—one he had over most men. “We work the cases no one else wants…or can solve. And the end goal is that the case gets solved. Period. Got it?”

Nodding, Patrick blushed as he agreed. “You’re right. Sorry, man.”

Chuckling, Marc said, “No worries, rookie. We’ve all been there. Done the legwork and let someone come in and take over. But out here? We need them. If her car was tampered with, that’s something they can determine.” Shrugging, he added, “Although Cam could have, too, if he were here. But this means they can impound the entire car and go over it with a fine-tooth comb. And while they’re doing the grunge work…the Saints can be interviewing.”

The lead FBI investigator walked over, talking on his cell phone. Disconnecting, he stepped up to Marc. “I just talked to Mitch Evans and he gave me instructions to let you know our preliminary findings.”

“Appreciate it,” Marc said.

“There are multiple fingerprints on the doors and we’ll run those through our database. We are also taking samples of the blood stains to make sure they are of Ms. Kennedy. And one more thing from my lead auto mechanical investigator over there,” he nodded toward a man just sliding out from underneath the front of the car. “There are bits of white paint on the area of the back left dent, indicating she may have been run off the road.” Looking at the three men standing in front of him, he added, “And gentlemen. There are two bullet holes in the back of her car.”

Fucks
rang out from all three Saints in unison.

B
laise came in
from feeding the animals when his phone vibrated. Glancing at Grace in the kitchen, he stepped back outside to take the call.

“Marc? Tell me you got something for me,” he answered.

“We found it, man. We processed it and Jack called in the FBI. They got out there and will be taking it in. But gotta tell you, there was no purse, no cell phone, no laptop. And on top of that, they confirmed that there’s a strong possibility she may have been run off the road and shot at. We’ll know more after they go over it in detail but, for now, man, it looks like someone was definitely after your woman.”

My woman.
As angry as Marc’s report made him, hearing Grace referred to as his woman sent an arrow straight to his heart. Closing his eyes, his heart hammered in his chest at the thought of her racing down a dark mountain road being shot at. And then run off. Sucking in a deep breath, he said, “Thanks, Marc. I’ll be heading out tomorrow with Monty to interview her last training center.”

“You need me to watch over Grace?” Marc offered.

“Appreciate it, but she’s going to go with Miriam and Bethany for an initial consultation with the trauma psychologist.”

Disconnecting, Blaise attempted to contain his anger as he walked into the house, but as soon as he observed Grace moving about his kitchen fixing dinner with the cats swirling between her legs and Gypsy and Ransom sitting on their haunches, looking up in hopes of a morsel falling their way, he stopped dead in his tracks.
Jesus, she looks so at home here. And here is where I want her to stay.

The few women he had tried to bring to his house over the past couple of years flew through his mind. Their expressions ranged from disgust over having several animals in the house to irritation over pet fur on the sofa.
And I’d cleaned it!

Grace shook her hips as she danced to a tune in her head, stirring a pot that by its smell contained spaghetti sauce. Dressed in khaki shorts and a navy tank top, her rich brunette hair pulled up haphazardly on top of her head, her long legs tapped along his kitchen in rhythm to the music.
Beautiful. Fuckin’ beautiful. And some son-of-a-bitch tried to kill her.

She looked up just then, seeing him scowl at her and immediately felt self-conscious.

As soon as he saw the smile fall from her face, he headed around the counter, not stopping until he was directly in front of her, his arms encircling her. “Ignore my mood, babe. I love seeing you in my kitchen.”

“So what’s got you upset?” she asked. When he did not answer right away, she leaned back, observing the tick in his jaw. Already recognizing his facial expression, she said, “I can only think of one thing that would make you angry. Did the others find something?”

He let out his breath slowly. “Yeah, sweetheart. Your car. The FBI are processing it, but I can tell you that none of your possessions were there. And…” he hesitated, but knew her safety depended on her knowing the fact. “It appears you may have been run off the road. And there’s one more thing,” he added, his heart heavy. “The back of your car had bullet holes. Someone was shooting at you.”

Unsure what her reaction would be, he was prepared for tears, but instead, she jerked out of his arms, stalking across the kitchen.

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me!” she yelled. Whirling around, she said, “I’ve spent the past three weeks living homeless, on the streets, with nothing but the clothes on my back and my dog by my side, because someone wanted me dead?”

Red rage poured from her as she said, “Do you know what my life would have been like if you hadn’t seen me and taken an interest in me?”

Blaise immediately stalked toward her but she jerked away with her hand up, palm facing him. “Oh, no. I’m pissed. Fucking pissed!” she shouted, pacing away once more. “Lived in fear…lived dirty and hungry. All because of what? And I can’t even fucking remember what happened, so the fuckers get away with what they did to me!”

Letting her rant die down, he pulled her back into his embrace. “Grace, I’m so sorry this happened but, babe, let’s focus on finding out who was involved and making sure you’re safe now.” He felt his arms quiver as he continued, “I’ve got you in my life now and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Feeling his words slide over her, they crept into the cold, lonely places in her heart. Neither spoke for a few minutes, allowing the silence of the evening to soothe their rushing thoughts.

She felt his lips on the top of her head again, loving the feel of those gentle kisses, but wanting more. Leaning her head back, she turned her face upwards. Their eyes bore into each other’s, the unspoken question moving between them. With the barest nod of her head and a smile playing about her lips, she gave her answer.

Blaise captured her mouth with his, sealing their fates. His strong, soft lips owned hers in a kiss the morphed from gentle to possessing. She opened her mouth and his tongue invaded, tangling with hers and seeking every crevice. Plunging over and over into her warmth, he tasted the essence of Grace and knew he was ruined for any other woman…and had no desire for anyone other than Grace.

Melting under his kiss, she clung to his arms before sliding them upward to clasp around his neck, uncertain if her legs would hold her up. It did not matter that she had no memory she knew she had never been kissed…owned…like this before. Their bodies melded together, two parts fitting together perfectly.

The long, wet, possessive kiss seemed to last forever, but slowly Blaise eased the kiss into a soft exploring, finishing with small touches of his lips to the corners of her mouth before pulling back.

Both, staring into each other’s eyes, breathed heavily as they tried to regain their balance. His straining erection pressed against her stomach. Licking her kiss-swollen lips, she was thankful his arms held her tight as her body quivered in his embrace.

“Wow,” he whispered, the kiss having rocked him, never remembering feeling this connected to anyone ever before.

“Yeah, wow,” she whispered back, forcing her feet to stay on the ground and not lift up to take his lips again.

Slowly relaxing his arms, he said, “I don’t want to let you go, but if I don’t, there’s no telling where we’d end up.” He moved back just enough to ease his erection from her body.

“I know where we’d end up,” she said boldly, glancing down at his crotch, wanting to feel him more than her next breath.

“Yeah, I guess I do too,” he grinned. “But not now. I want to make sure you know what’s happening. I want it to be the right time.”

Loosening her arms, she moved back slightly as well. “I…I’m probably not what you’re used to—”

“No, you’re not,” he said, honestly. “You’re perfect.”

Cocking her head to the side, she silently questioned his response.

“Perfect for me. A woman who can be at ease in a kitchen with a bunch of animals swirling about her legs. A woman who is strong, self-reliant, yet soft and caring.” Chuckling, he added, “A woman who’s not afraid of a little pet fur.”

Giggling, she pretended to slap his arm, saying, “Wow, you’re easy to please. Just looking for a woman who doesn’t mind fur on her clothes.”

Bending down, kissing her gently once more while giving a squeeze around her waist before letting her go, he said, “Babe, you’re perfect in a lot of ways.”

“Well, you haven’t had my cooking yet, so I guess we’d better give that a try,” she said lightly, walking into the kitchen on shaky legs, trying to stop the tingling between her legs.
Damn, but that man can kiss.

Taking a moment to adjust his straining erection, his eyes followed her ass as she walked in front of him. Willing his dick to behave, he knew it was going to be hard to resist her.
I can’t take advantage of a woman who can’t remember who she is!

*