Remember Love: Saints Protection & Investigations (34 page)

Rendezvousing at Bob
Davison’s farm, the old man met the Saints as they pulled up to his barn. Hustling out, he made his way directly to Marc and said, “You take what you need, son.” Turning, Bob placed his hand on Blaise’s shoulder. “I lost my love to cancer about five years ago. I’ll do whatever you need to help you hang on to yours.”

Stepping back, Bob’s gaze danced around as the men immediately went to work. DEA and FBI vehicles arrived, with Mitch stepping out of one. Hustling over to Jack’s group, he said, “I’ve got point on this, but DEA is here for support. What have we got?”

A woman, wearing a dark jacket with DEA emblazoned on the back, hurried over. “Carin Torgensen,” she introduced. “We’ve got confirmation Ricardo Guzman came into the country and our informant had him heading to the Savine farm. We’re assuming he’s going to try to load up the drugs he brought in and take them out in a much smaller plane.”

Luke called from inside the heavily equipped van. “Her tracer has her at the Savine farm. I’m pulling up visuals and they’re close to real time. DEA sent a drone over once they discovered their satellites were being interrupted. Foliage is heavy but there’s a clearing where the house is located. I have a lock on Blaise’s truck and a deputy car, number on top is twelve, K-9.”

Before he could finish, two Albert county sheriff cars sped up Bob’s lane, dust flying as they came to a halt. Antonio Montez bolted out of one of the cars, his face dark with anger. “What the hell is going on? This is my county. Why wasn’t I notified?”

Mitch stepped up to him, saying, “Sir, you’ll have to stand down. We have evidence indicating that your daughter, Jocelyn Montez, is colluding with drug runners from Mexico through the Charlestown airport and Joe Savine’s airstrip.”

The Sheriff, visibly paling, stepped backward in shock. Shaking his head, he repeated, “No, no. Not her. No.”

Another agent moved the Sheriff to the side, as Mitch turned back to Blaise. “DEA is monitoring them from the air, but we don’t want to go in until we know what’s happening with Grace.”

“We got this,” Blaise answered, pulling on the Kevlar with the rest of the Saints. Looking over at Marc, he said, “You going in?”

Nodding, Marc said, “I’ll coordinate with DEA, but I’m going to head on up…with Bob’s assistance.”

The older man stepped forward, saying, “You got it, son.”

The rest of the Saints armed themselves and, leaving Marc and Luke, they climbed into three of their SUVS and left Bob’s farm. Within a few minutes, they arrived at the turnoff for the Savine farm. Parking along the road, they alighted and, with night vision goggles, they jogged down the lane and into the woods nearby.

Blaise cleared his mind, readying himself for the mission. He stumbled once, cursing inwardly.
Who am I kidding? This isn’t a mission. This is Grace. This is all about Grace.
Steadying his resolve, he continued forward. Hearing shots fired in the distance, his heart stumbled as his steps had earlier.

*

Grace, horrified at
the revelations, watched as the tall man climbed into the plane. Nudged by Gypsy’s head, she tightened her grip on the dog’s leash. She understood Gypsy’s desire to get to the plane, knowing drugs were onboard.
Think. Slow down and think.
As the two remaining men glared at Jocelyn, the one with the gun now with his arm pointing downward, she knew it was her chance. Shooting a fleeting glance toward the dark woods just to the right of the barn, where the illumination no longer penetrated, she knew what she had to do.

“Follow,” she commanded softly, and whirled around, running into the darkness, momentarily out of sight of the group inside.

Avoiding the underbrush, she ran just inside the woods lining the path. A gunshot ricocheted close by and she instinctively ducked. “Go, go,” she encouraged the large dog running beside her, each trying to protect the other. More gunshots fired her way as yelling from behind met her ears, but she refused to stop.

Blindly running she made it to the clearing, the still unlit house to the left. Sprinting to her truck, she yelled for Gypsy to jump in as her hand landed on the handle. The ping of gunshot hitting the vehicle next to her hand caused her to jump back, stumbling to the ground as Gypsy planted herself in front of her. The following gunshot met its target and Grace watched in horror as her beloved dog fell to the ground at her feet, blood coating her fur.

J
ocelyn walked over
to where Grace scrambled over Gypsy, trying to stop the flow of blood.

“No, no, no, baby,” Grace cried, tears streaming down her face.

“You shouldn’t have followed me,” Jocelyn accused, her expression tangled in fear and regret. “None of this would have happened,” she said, her hand shaking as it held the gun.

Ignoring the ramblings of the woman over her, Grace jerked her t-shirt over her head and placed it on the wound, applying pressure.

“Stop,” Jocelyn said. “She’s gonna die, and fuck it all, Grace, so are you. I’ve got no fucking choice.”

“Why? Why?” Grace screamed, her chancing a glance up at the woman she no longer knew.

Before Jocelyn had an opportunity to speak, more crashing through the woods was heard as Joe came into view, barely visible in the dark as he ran around the house toward them. Suddenly the woods came alive as shadows appeared, moving, circling around the group.

The sound of a small engine plane was heard in the distance, coming closer. Unable to discern why the pilot would be returning, Grace shook herself, only caring about the animal dying in her arms. Laying her head down on the ground next to Gypsy, she stared into the amber eyes that peered back at her. Trusting. Loving.

The shadows formed into men, dark clothing and blackened faces obscuring their identities and striking fear into Joe and Jocelyn. Their weapons trained on the pair, Mitch called out, “FBI. Drop your weapons.”

Joe immediately complied, but Jocelyn stood still, staring dumbly at the large assembly. Unaware of what was behind her, Jocelyn’s body slammed to the ground as she was hit in the back.

“You fucking bitch!” Grace screeched, standing with a large, heavy stick in her hand. Bringing it down again on the woman’s prone body, she hit her over and over, continuing to roar. “You tried to kill me and my dog! You left us for dead! You fucking bitch!”

Blaise rushed around the vehicle, jerking off his goggles, seeing Grace out of control with Gypsy at her feet. His heart in his throat, he grabbed Grace from behind, pinning her arms to her sides as he repeated, “Babe, It’s me. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” It took several repetitions for the words to sink in, stilling her struggling body. “Let it go, babe. We’ve got Jocelyn. Let it go.”

Dropping the stick, she cried, “Blaise! She killed Gypsy.” As her body gave out, shaking with grief, he was the only thing holding her up.

He did not want to let her go but knew she would want him to see to the dog. Signaling to Chad, he shifted her body to his friend’s arms, saying, “Get her a goddamn shirt to put on.”

Cam already had a blanket out for Grace and he wrapped it around her as Chad continued to hold her close. Jude quickly shucked his Kevlar and pulled his black t-shirt over his head, walking to Chad.

“Come on, Grace. Let’s get you dressed,” he said softly, sliding the material over the distraught woman’s head and weaving her arms through the holes.

“Patrick!” Blaise shouted. “Get the first aid field equipment and I need light!”

Patrick ran to the Saints’ SUV that Monty had driven up. Rushing back, he leaned over Blaise’s shoulder, adjusting the lights over the man desperately working on the dog. Gypsy whimpered, shocking everyone.

Jolted by the sound, Grace began fighting Chad’s arms. “Let me go!” she cried, her tear-stained face turned toward the light now illuminating the man she loved as he worked to save the dog that had protected her and held her heart.

Chad set her feet gently on the ground but kept his hands on her shoulders as she scrambled over to Blaise. Leaning down, he cautioned, “Let him work, Grace. Give Blaise room to work.”

Blaise looked up at Grace, his expression unreadable to all but her. She saw the warmth in his eyes. “Grace, she’s alive, but barely. I’ve got to get her to a hospital.”

“Where can we go?” she asked, emotion choking her voice.

From around the corner of the house, Marc came running. “Got here as soon as I could,” he panted, looking down at the scene in front of him. Glancing over at Jack, he said, “Flew Bob’s old plane right in, stopping Ricardo on the runway. Mitch and the DEA’s got him now.”

“Can you get me out of here?” Blaise asked, his hand covered in blood as he knelt by Gypsy.

“Yeah, no problem. There’s a farm next to my property, about two miles from you. I can land us there and get you to your place.”

Quickly unpacking a gurney from their emergency supplies, Jude and Patrick bent to assist placing Gypsy onto the carrier. Both men stood, easily jogging down the path, carrying the injured dog toward the plane.

Blaise turned to Grace, stepping back as her body slammed into his. He desperately wanted to wrap his arms around her, hold her while reminding himself that he did not have to perform emergency surgery on her. She encircled his waist with her arms, holding her cheek against his pounding heartbeat.

“I want to go too,” she pleaded.

“Baby, you can’t. There’s not enough room on the plane.” He looked down at her anguished face as she stared in horror up at him.

“Blaise, I have to—”

“Grace, listen to me, sweetheart. I’ve got to go. I’ve got to get her to my clinic. I’ve got another vet who’ll come help and bring blood. I promise you, I’ll do everything in my power to save her but I can only do that if you let me go.” He felt her nod as her arms loosened from around him.

She stepped back, tears flowing freely. “I know. Go. Please go.”

With a quick kiss, that he wanted to be so much more than a hurried goodbye, he ran after the others heading to the plane.

With her arms wrapped around her waist as she stood in Jude’s huge t-shirt hanging over her bloodstained jeans, she was instantly surrounded by the remaining Saints.

Stepping up, Jack bent to capture her attention. “Let’s go, honey. We’ll get you down the mountain and to Blaise’s place before you know it.”

The group hustled over to the SUVs and Chad assisted Grace into the back seat. Bart climbed in on the other side, with Cam riding shotgun as Chad pulled out.

Bart, glancing to the side at Grace, noticed her hands in her lap, twisting together nervously. “Blaise’ll do everything he can,” he assured. Catching her thankful smile, he added, “Gotta tell you, girl, seeing you beatin’ the shit outta Jocelyn while half-dressed and screamin…’bout the craziest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Blushing, Grace grinned. “I’m glad you enjoyed the show.” She saw a smile pass between Chad and Cam in the front seat, and she added, “Don’t know that Blaise was so thrilled.”

“Grace, when he gets over being scared as fuck about that gun going off on you, he’ll think it was sexy as hell!”

A giggle escaped, in spite of her anxiety, and she looked out the window smiling as the SUV expertly hurtled down the mountain road. Her memories back, she now knew what had happened that night. As she stared out of the window into the deep ravine on the side, she could not hold back the flood of memories. This time, not of what had occurred that night, but what had happened since. With Blaise at her side…she was whole.

*

Blaise sat in
the back of the tiny plane, Gypsy squeezed onto a blanket at his feet. Marc flew expertly, occasionally glancing back as he got updates from Blaise as to Gypsy’s condition. Blaise spoke softly to the large dog, glad that she was stable for the moment. He had given her pain medication and inserted an IV before they took to the air. Closing his eyes for a moment, he felt his breath choke in his throat as he allowed his thoughts to stray back to when he and the Saints entered the woods.

With their night vision goggles, they quickly traversed through the dark woods, seeing a house in the background and several vehicles parked in front. Suddenly, the sound of a shot resounded, breaking the silence of the night. Fear gripped his heart as he stumbled. Recognizing his truck, he saw a figure running from the woods, a dog by her side. Grace! Thank God!