Remember Love: Saints Protection & Investigations (32 page)

He pulled her in, wrapping his arms in an enveloping hug. Kissing the top of her head, he admitted,” I just worry, babe.”

“I know…that’s why I love you.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she stopped breathing.
I didn’t mean to say that…not now…not like this. Oh, God, he’s going to think I’m some kind of clingy nutcase—

“You love me?” he asked, pushing her body back slightly so he was able to peer into her face, his eyes searching hers.

“I…didn’t mean…” Blushing, she felt her face grow hot, her body taut.

A slow grin curved the corners of his mouth until he was full-out smiling. Looking up at him, her heart pounding, she pulled in her lips.
Please, God…let the floor open up now.

“I love you, too,” he admitted, his smile now lighting his face.

“Wha…what?” she breathed.

“I knew it a while back, babe. I just couldn’t rush you. Not when you had no idea who you were. I needed to give you time to discover you…before I could ask you to discover us.”

“You love me too?” she whispered again, almost afraid the words were a dream.

He leaned down, his lips almost touching hers, his breath warm across her face. “Yeah, I do. Grace Marie Kennedy. I love you.”

Throwing her arms around his neck while lifting to her toes, she captured his lips. Sealing, searing, white-hot kiss. Taking over, Blaise angled his head, dipping his tongue into her mouth, tasting cinnamon sugar. Grinning at Grace’s love of Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal for breakfast, he relished her flavor.

After a moment, he slowly pulled back, her arms unwilling to let him go. Gifting a little kiss on the corners of her mouth before leaning up again, “Oh, girl, I wanna take you upstairs, lay you down on the bed, and not come up for air until tomorrow.”

“Can’t we?” she murmured, her kiss-swollen lips still tingling.

Just then a horn sounded from outside. Sighing, they separated, gazes still holding fast. “Marc’s here,” he said. Adopting a stern expression, he ordered, “Now, be good and be safe today out on the road.”

Smiling, she watched as he walked through the front door, down the steps and over to Marc’s truck. Lost in thought, she was not sure which she liked more—the way his ass looked in his jeans as he walked away…or the way he swaggered confidently when he came home. Deciding both were equally delectable, she jumped when Marc honked again. Caught ogling, she blushed as she waved at the retreating vehicle.

Looking down at the dogs, she said, “Okay, guys, let’s get everyone fed.”

Hours later, sitting on a back deck chair with her feet up, Grace snoozed in the warm, early afternoon sun. Gypsy and Ransom lay at her feet also enjoying the warm day. She and Gypsy were heading out to the nursing home later, but for now, she allowed her mind to clear and the gentle breeze to carry her worries away.

Faces swam in front of her…Bernie, Preston, Carter, Jocelyn, Douglas, her parents, the K-9 training center, RIA, Blaise…

I’m going up…curvy roads…but beautiful vistas. Where are they going? The radio was playing. Dusk was falling. It was hard to see the driveways between the trees. Where did they go? Did I lose them?

Taillights ahead, barely glowing red, turning left between tall trees. Gypsy’s eyes stared back at me through the rearview mirror. What am I doing, girl?

I turned. The night had settled. I circled my car around before parking near the dark house so I would be able to drive out easier. What is this place? The only vehicle in sight is a large, white SUV parked next to the house.

Gypsy is barking, clawing to get out. I open the door and she bounds out, running around the house. I can’t see her. I shout a command and she reluctantly comes back to me, still agitated.

She never gets this way unless…there are drugs around. Why are they here? Who are they meeting?

A shout. A gunshot. Gypsy runs to me, standing in front protectively. Shit, shit, shit, I scream. Turning, I make it to my car. Another shot rings out. Oh, Jesus, help me.

I throw open my door, shouting for Gypsy to get in. Gunning the engine, I race down the driveway, the darkness and curves keeping me out of sight of the shooter.

Racing, racing, racing…noooooo!

Jolting awake, Grace felt the pressure of weight on her chest. Pushing desperately to scramble from the chair, she tumbled to the ground, the weight now off but licking her face.
Gypsy.
Oh, thank God.

Continuing to lie on the deck, her dog anxiously nuzzling her, she sucked in air as her erratic breathing slowed.

I did go up on the mountain. Gypsy knew there were drugs. But why did I go there? What made me suspect something? Who was I following? Why can’t I pull up a face…or even a body?

Finally, with no more answers coming, she gently pushed Gypsy and Ransom to the side. Standing, she debated on what to do. Glancing at her watch, she knew she had little time before meeting Bethany at the nursing home.

“Come on, Gypsy. Let’s go make some people happy.” Locking up, she opened the squeaky driver door, allowing the dog to jump in. “In the back,” she ordered, smiling as Gypsy jumped over to the area just behind the bench seat.

G
ypsy made her
rounds to each of the rooms in the assisted living facility, obediently following Grace’s instructions.

“Oh, there’s my pretty girl,” one woman cooed, patting the dog’s head as Gypsy sat still by the wheelchair.

“Mrs. McDougal, she really loves you,” Grace said, smiling at the older woman.

“Oh, it must be because I had a lot of dogs myself over the years.”

“That, or the fact that you’re slipping her treats,” Bethany laughed.

Mrs. McDougal grinned as she looked up. “Well, the fact that I know to have treats is because my dogs trained me well.”

Moving down the hall, they rang the buzzer to enter the memory care facility. Glancing over at Bethany, Grace noticed her friend’s eyes were not as bright as usual.

“Is everything okay with your Gram?”

Bethany did not answer for a moment, sucking in her lips as she blinked back tears. Shaking her head, she replied, “No, not really. Honestly, if it wasn’t for Gypsy’s visits, I don’t know that she would respond too much. She’s gone downhill so quickly. It was just a year ago that she was living in the cabins. Granted,” she admitted, “not doing so great there, but still, with some help, we were okay.”

The two women stopped in the hallway, Gypsy sitting obediently at Grace’s feet, and embraced.

“I’m glad Gypsy and I can help a little,” Grace said.

“Oh, you do!” Bethany enthused. “When Gypsy comes, Gram seems to wake up and knows there is a dog there. She doesn’t do that with people much anymore.”

“Well, then come on, Gypsy. Let’s go wake up Gram,” Grace said, smiling at Bethany.

An hour later, leaving Gram’s room, the two women hugged goodbye.

“I’m going to stay for a bit,” Bethany said. “But, as always, thank you.”

Stepping out of the building, Gypsy began prancing around, excited to be getting back into the truck. Grinning, Grace unlocked the door and opened it for the dog to jump in first. Reaching back into her purse, she searched for her sunglasses.

Gypsy barked just as a hard object poked Grace’s back and a voice by her ear commanded, “Get in the truck and secure your dog, or else your dog dies. Right here. Right now.”

Whirling around, she looked up in fright at the tall man standing behind her. Dark hair, slicked back. Reflector sunglasses hiding his eyes from her view.
Unknown…but familiar.
Dropping her gaze she saw the gun pointing at her, but as Gypsy barked again, she watched in horror as he pointed the gun at her dog.

Swallowing deeply, while barely breathing, she stammered, “Wh…who…”

“Shut up and do as I say.”

Her mind rushing, she could not think of what to do, other than obey. “Quiet,” she spoke, her eyes pleading Gypsy to obey. She did not disappoint. The large dog immediately stopped barking and sat down on the truck seat, staring at her mistress.

“Put her in the back,” the man ordered, his gun never wavering from the dog, as he indicated the covered truck bed.

“I…can’t. It’s locked. I don…don’t have the key.” Working to calm her breathing, she held up the one truck key for him to see.

“Then tie her leash behind the seat and I’ll keep my gun on her. One move…one mistake on your part and you’ll watch your dog die.”

With shaking hands, she ordered Gypsy to jump over the bench seat and secured her leash to the seat belt. “Stay,” she said softly. Glancing up, she saw the man climb into the passenger seat and twist to the side facing her, keeping his weapon trained on Gypsy.

“Now drive.”

*

Mitch shook his
head, frustration pouring off him as he said, “Finally got someone at DEA to tell me what they had on the Savine farm. Looks like they’ve made a connection with a branch of the Sinaloa cartel. What they’re following is a trace from planes in Mexico flying into the United States…passing inspections…then flying to smaller airstrips where they unload the drugs. Smaller planes can then fly between the small, private, unregulated airstrips to distribute along the pipeline.”

Rearing back, Blaise growled, “So what the fuck are they waiting on? They could go in anytime.”

“They’ve been working on this for over a year and don’t want to move too fast. Getting Savine will only shut down his little part. They are after the cartel.”

“So we sit around with drug runners one county over and do nothing,” Jude bit out, his frustration matching everyone else’s.

“You got a name for me to check?” Luke said. “Give me something…anything that I can possibly link to the vehicle that ran Grace off the road.”

“Ricardo Guzman has legally entered the country, under the guise of managing a trading company. He’s a cousin in the Guzman family cartel and has been watched since arriving here. He has been known to fly in and out of Virginia and he has been seen at the Savine farm. So far, he’s the highest one on the totem pole.”

“What else does the DEA need on these guys to step in?” Cam asked, back on the job for the first day since becoming a father. Fear pierced his heart at the idea of any of the cartel operating near where his wife and baby girl rested.

Luke, popping antacids into his mouth like candy, looked down as his computer indicated a message. Grinning, he knew who was there. Several months ago, a mystery tech genius contacted him, offering help with a case. He had not been able to ascertain their name, location, or how they knew what he was working on.

He wanted to meet one day, but his mystery helper always said it was too dangerous. Knowing how many persons worked freelance for the government…or criminals…he did not want to endanger them any more.

Looking at his messages, he read:

Check connection between Guzman, Martinez car rental.

“Bingo,” Luke said under his breath, typing out a quick thank you.

No problem.

Deciding to approach something more personal, he typed:
How are you? Safe?

For now.

You always help me. Seems like a one-sided friendship.

For a long minute, there was no response and Luke assumed his helper was unable…or choosing not…to respond. Finally, one more message came in.

When I need you, I’ll let you know.

Anytime, anyplace
Luke promised.

After another minute, one last message pinged.

Maybe soon.

Before he had time to process the ramifications of that message, Jack walked into the room. “What have you got?” Jack asked, looking over Luke’s shoulder at what he was pulling up.

“Should be a hit between this Guzman and a car rental place nearby. Whatever it is, won’t be immediately visible…let me do some digging.”

“According to the DEA, Guzman doesn’t drive a rental while here,” Mitch said, interested in what Luke was finding.

“Maybe it’s not for him,” Bart speculated. “Maybe it’s for someone else around here who does his bidding.”

“Got it!” Luke declared, excitement pouring off him. “Guzman uses an alias but keeps a vehicle at Martinez Auto Rental. A white Range Rover. Fuji White Range Rover.”

Within a few minutes, Luke’s magic fingers tapped into the security video feed for the rental facility.

“Go back. Go back to the night Grace was hit,” Blaise called out, filled with renewed vigor.

It took a while, but the Saints and Mitch looked on expectantly as the video feed ran across the screen.

“Holy fuck,” Blaise shouted, shock running through his system. His sentiments were felt around the room. Grabbing his phone, his call went to Grace’s voice mail. Glancing at the time, he looked up quickly. “Jack, call Bethany. Grace was with her this afternoon at the nursing home.”

Jack immediately complied, nodding when he got hold of his wife. “Hey, babe. Is Grace still with you? No? When did she leave? Okay. No, no. I’ll talk to you when you get here.” Disconnecting, he pinned Blaise with his gaze. “Bethany is still with her grandmother, but Grace and Gypsy walked out about ten minutes ago.”