Seeing Love: Saints Protection & Investigations (24 page)

Rounding the bottom, she said, “I can’t thank you enough for the bath! It was amazi—”

She halted seeing his angry face before glancing down at what he was holding in his hand.
My art pad!
The thoughts of the pictures she had drawn of him rushed through her mind, embarrassment flooding her face.

“You want to tell me what the hell these are?” Bart bellowed.

“You shouldn’t snoop at things that don’t belong to you,” she retorted, reaching forward to snatch the pad from his hands.

He held it away, his expression still hard. “You didn’t tell me you’ve been drawing these,” he accused.

“You may not be part of the case, but I told you that I draw whatever comes into my mind. We’ve spent a lot of time together in the past couple of days, so naturally I’ve drawn you,” she said, her voice rising in frustration.

He blinked, rearing back, a look of surprise crossing his face. “I’m not talking about the pictures of me,” he said. “I’m talking about these!” With that, he turned the art pad around, showing the latest drawing of a boy, sitting on a bed.

She looked at the image and then back to Bart’s face, her expression questioning. “What on earth are you yelling about? Those are images I’ve had in my head but have no idea if they have any bearing on Erik.”

“You could have told me! You could have shown these to me!” he retorted.

“Why? So you would berate me again for my images, which you don’t believe in anyway? Why the hell would I want to put myself through that again?”

Tossing the pad on the dining room table, he dragged his hand through his hair in frustration. “You don’t have to throw that in my face. I know I was a prick at the beginning, but I thought we were over that! We’re supposed to work together and I had no idea that you were drawing pictures of Erik.”

“I don’t even know if it is Erik! I can’t see anything clearly,” she huffed.

Standing almost toe to toe, he continued to rant. “I would have taken them to Krustas to see if there was anything to gain.”

“I gave copies to the FBI,” she said, righteous indignation coursing through her blood. Along with the desire to kick him in the shins.

Bart reared back at her proclamation. “Who’d you give them to?”

“Mitch,” she replied. “I called him and gave them to him earlier. He said he’d take care of everything.”

The jolt of jealousy Bart felt when he saw Faith with Mitch before now slammed into him. “Why would you give them to him instead of me?”

Lifting her hands to her head, she rubbed her temples, the raging headache now returning after the calming bath had it abated. Sighing, she forced her words to soften. “Bart, you made it clear from the beginning you had no belief in my ability to see anything.” Seeing him about to retort once more, she raised her hand in defiance. “No, listen to me. I get it, Bart. I really do. I’ve had to face people’s disbelief and scorn my whole life. But Ivan asked me to see if there was anything I could do to help and it’s been a huge disappointment to me that I haven’t. I have had some images of a boy, in a room, but I have no idea if it’s Erik. I don’t feel fear with these pictures. These images don’t scare me and, quite frankly, with the men we have been interviewing lately, I’m surprised.”

Her shoulders lifted and fell with another deep breath. “I kept them from you at first because you didn’t believe and I wasn’t about to give you another reason to discredit me. I continued to keep them from you because they don’t tell us anything. A boy sitting on a bed reading a book is hardly newsworthy. I have no details of the room or the boy, so they don’t offer any clues.” She stepped forward, leaning her head back and added, “Bart, I know you apologized for your harshness when we first met and I forgave you. But that doesn’t mean that you believe me now. I just thought Mitch might be more open to seeing if they had any value in the case.”

The air in the room became less chilly as Bart stepped back and hung his head for a moment. He felt her small hand on his arm and peered into her face, seeing nothing but honesty.

“I gave them to Mitch on the very off-chance that perhaps Ivan might identify the boy as Erik, but I hated to do even that. After all, how cruel is it to taunt him with the idea Erik could be alive when we don’t know if he is.”

Her gentle voice of reason broke through Bart’s irritation and, once more, he was embarrassed at his inability to say the right thing to her.
She’s trying to do the right thing,
he conceded. Placing his hand over hers, still resting on his arm, he said, “You’re right, Faith. I’m sorry.”

Her delectable mouth curved in a small smile as she threw her hand over her heart. “Why, as I live and breathe, Mr. Taggart. You can be a gentleman!”

Rolling his eyes at her gentle sarcasm, he glanced over at the Chinese takeout boxes on the counter. “I’m also sorry because I’m afraid our dinner is cold now.” He felt bad, knowing she must be tired and hungry and he had just made her stress worse. As she moved away from him, he immediately missed her hand in his.

“No worries,” she replied. “A quick microwave and they’ll be hot enough.”

As she heated the food, he pulled out the plates. Watching her in secret, he compared her to the women of his past.
She’s not demanding even when we argue. She’s not screaming about food getting cold.
Her hair was still piled on top of her head from her bath, but the escaped tendrils had now dried and curled gently over her ears. Her face, devoid of all makeup, appeared fresh and unblemished, the porcelain complexion glowing. His eyes skimmed down the figure that even her fleece robe could not hide. A pink camisole top peeked from the v-neck opening of her robe. Her toned legs encased in pink, flannel pajama bottoms ended in green, fluffy socks. Altogether…
enchanting. And cute as hell!

Just then there was a knock at the door. She looked up in surprise, but noticed Bart seemed to be expecting someone. Chad walked in carrying her small, table-top Christmas tree with the antique ornaments still hanging perfectly.

Squealing, she bounded over, clapping her hands. Bart carried the tree over to the end table next to his sofa. Placing the tree on top, he then scooted the table near a window so the lights could be seen. Plugging it in, the small tree twinkled as it illuminated the corner of the room.

She hugged Chad and invited him to dinner. He laughed, catching Bart’s head shaking behind her back. “It was no problem. This Scrooge needed a little cheer anyway,” he joked, nodding at Bart. Accepting their thanks, Chad headed back out into the night as she walked over, lovingly touching her ornaments.

Bart wanted to pull her into his arms, and cradle her close to his warmth.
But I can’t. Not yet, at least.

She saw his gaze on her and cocked her head to the side. “Are you okay?”

Startled out of his musings, he grinned. “Yeah, princess. I’m great.”

They sat down to the meal, and for the first time all day, she began to relax. The warm bath combined with the warm food gave her more comfort than she had had in a while. The argument forgotten, they conversed easily.

After dinner, Bart settled back on his sofa hoping she would join him.
Since when did I get almost shy around a woman?
Glancing over at the table where she was still sitting as she pulled out her art pad and other papers, she seemed engrossed in her work. Firing up his laptop, he reviewed the latest information from Luke. So far they had no idea who would be threatening Faith.
Great, just great.

At the table, she flipped the pages Bart had studied earlier, comparing them to notes she had jotted down after their interviews. She closed her eyes, trying to still her mind, but nothing came to her. No more visions of the boy and no inspiration from the criminals they interviewed.

Suddenly a hand came down on the table next to the drawings and a voice at her ear, said, “How’s it going?”

Jumping, she replied, “Jesus, Bart! How do you move so quietly?”

“Sorry, princess. I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you,” he said, resting his other hand on her shoulder. “You’re concentrating so hard over here and I thought I’d see if you were coming up with anything.”

She twisted around, looking at him suspiciously. Seeing nothing but sincerity, she shook her head. “No. Not at all. The images of the boy are completely gone and when I look at all of these…these…horrible people,” pointing to the other pictures, “I get nothing.”

Sliding down into the chair next to hers, he asked, “I know you’ve explained how you work and, seeing these pictures, I can now understand why you are so good at what you do. These are not anything like the typical police artist renderings. You can see the emotion in the details.”

“I do like helping the police, but I really like working with the children.”

“If I’d had an art teacher that looked like you, I woulda never skipped art,” he joked, hoping to lighten the mood.

She smiled at his words, allowing the warmth of them to slide over her. Turning back to the pictures of the boy on the bed, she sighed. “Bart, I have no idea if this is Erik. Or, even if it is, is it where he is now or could this just be his room?”

Staring at the picture, Bart said, “Faith, if it is Erik, it can’t be his room—you drew a wall behind his bed but his actual room has a window.”

Sucking in a deep breath, she jerked her head to the side, her wide-eyed gaze finding his. “You’re right!”

“I
’m telling you
to look harder,” Bart ordered into the phone.

“And I’m telling you that I did,” Mitch argued back. “We’ve gone over her drawings and there’s nothing to suggest the boy is actually Erik and, if it is, there’s nothing in the details to give us any information at all.”

“Fuck!” Bart bit out, his hair already sticking out at strange angles.

“Listen, man. No one wants to have her help more than me. She’s special, but she can’t help if she can’t see anything. I know you don’t want to hear this, but you just take care of Faith, keep her safe, and let us worry about Erik. We’re at the end of a week and the Bureau is on it…I swear.”

Bart disconnected, but his frustration had him on edge as he looked across the room at the dark, soulful eyes of Faith. “I’m sorry, princess, but he says there’s nothing to go on.”

She nodded, her face sad as she walked over to him. Stopping short of his body, she placed her hands on his broad chest, the feel of taut muscles underneath her fingertips. A bold move for her, but she desperately wanted human contact. “I had hoped I could help,” she said, the loneliness creeping through her words. “I’ve never seemed to understand the visions like my grandmother did. What purpose is it to have a gift if it can’t be used for good?”

A tear hung on her lashes and before he could stop himself, he lifted his hand, wiping the escaping drop from her cheek. Pulling her in, he lowered his head.

She watched as his lips moved slowly, the excruciating wait sending her rising on her toes to meet him.

The kiss began as a bare touch. The slightest whisper of lips gliding over lips. Even with only a few shared kisses, the heady taste of him already familiar. As his tongue traced her mouth, she felt the quivering move from her womb outward, settling in her pussy. She tightened her legs together for a moment, trying to still the tingling.
I want this man. All of him. In all of me.
Never more sure of anything in her life, Faith moved her legs to straddle one of his thick thighs in an effort to get closer. Now that he was nearer, she pressed her crotch on his thigh rubbing to ease the need for friction.

Bart felt her breasts pressed against his chest and as soon as her pussy was rubbing on his leg, he was nearly undone. He wanted this woman more than he had ever wanted anyone, but hesitated.
She’s no fuck.
Trying to figure out how to make what was going to happen special, he realized she pulled back, a question on her face.

As she attempted to extradite her body from his thigh, she felt the deep blush rise from her neck upward. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I…thought—”

“Oh no, princess. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted another woman. It’s just that—”

As soon as she heard those words, she stood on her toes, interrupting him with a kiss. He felt her lips on his once more. The sweet scent of her filling his nostrils. Sealing her mouth with his, the kiss became the answer to all their insecurities at once. Not slow. Not deliberate. The kiss went straight to white hot, scorching.

Their need met in the tangling of their tongues, each vying to see who could discover the other more. His arms snaked around her, easily lifting her body to press to his, cradling her as well as devouring her.

He pulled away from her lips, letting them trail across her cheek toward her ear where he whispered, “Give it over, princess. Let it go.”

With a moan as his mouth found hers once more, Faith let go of her frustration, allowing his talented lips to carry her away from the worries of the night.

He sucked, nipped, licked, and soothed as he devoured her essence. She tugged on his hair as he captured her moans. Angling his head for deeper access, he continued to ravage her mouth. He realized he rarely kissed the women he had been with. Kissing was intimate.
Jesus, if Faith heard that, she’d roll her eyes and tell me that sticking my dick in someone should be intimate.
Suddenly unsure, he pulled back slowly to peer deeply into her eyes.
What does she need?

Seeing the uncertainty in his expression, Faith smiled, linking her hands behind his head and leaning in so her lips were a whisper away from his. “I want you,” she breathed against his mouth. “I want this.”

Growling, he captured her lips again and, holding her easily, stalked toward the stairs. This time, he bypassed the guest room and turned into his room, walking until her legs were against the king-sized bed.

He lowered her feet to the floor, desperately wanting to do the right thing. Her breasts pressed against his chest and tugging loose the belt, the desire to taste them was overwhelming. As he held her with one hand on her ass, the other intimately caressed her smooth skin around to her ribcage, just to the underside of her breast.