Seeing Love: Saints Protection & Investigations (19 page)

Sergio snorted contemptuously before speaking. “My fuckin’ uncle? You want to know about him? Read the fuckin’ newspaper.”

No one said anything, allowing the silence to begin sliding into all the empty crevices of the room. Finally, when it appeared he was going to win the mute showdown, he shifted in his seat and said, “I loved him. Like a father. But he threw me over. And for what? So he could become legitimate? Fuck, that’s like looking at a lion who’s just eaten a kill and patting its head, saying ‘nice kitty’.”

Bart noticed Faith smiled slightly at Sergio’s analogy, but it seemed to encourage him to keep talking. He realized how much more the men would talk with Faith around.
Is it because she’s a woman…or non-threatening? Who knows, but it’s working!

Sergio’s eyes moved away for a moment before he continued. “My father was not the oldest Krustas, but he was the mightiest. Fuckin’ fearless.” Sighing heavily, he said, “He got killed and Uncle Ivan could have ruled everything. With his, and then my dad’s, share of things, there’s nothing he couldn’t have accomplished. Not even when Erik was born. Then, when his son, and then Anton’s dad, both had heart attacks, Ivan changed. No longer wanted to expand. No longer wanted to take risks.”

“What did you want him to do?” Faith prodded.

“He could have fuckin’ stepped down,” Sergio bit out. “Me and Anton could’ve run things. Dmitry could have joined us when he got out of school. Or we could’ve split things up. But Ivan wouldn’t hear of it. Decided that he wanted to clean things up so one day he could hand the reigns down to Erik.”

Hurt,
Faith realized.
Underneath all the bravado, piss and fire and anger, was a man who actually experienced hurt.

Sergio’s gaze lifted and slammed back into hers as though he could hear her thoughts and his sneer returned as he leaned forward, his forearms on the table. “I could have ruled. I could have taken the family business where my father would have taken it.”

“And Erik?” Bart asked.

Sergio leaned back heavily in his chair. “Never had anything against the kid. But he was still a kid. Why the fuck would the family alter everything we’d ever done for a kid who wouldn’t be old enough to take the reins for years? No fuckin’ way.”

“How do you feel about Ivan now?” Faith asked softly.

“Family should be everything. Every. Thing,” he growled. “But Ivan threw that away when he tossed me to the wolves. So I don’t give a fuck if he’s outta his mind with worry.”

Once more silence fell over the persons in the room, Faith fighting the desire to ask more questions while at the same time wanting to follow Bart’s lead. Sparing a quick glance sideways, she noticed Bart’s seemingly at ease posture. She adopted the same posture, her mind racing with images of a young man’s anger.
That’s what’s different than the others. He has violence and anger just like them…but his is personal.

After a moment, Sergio began speaking again. “I haven’t got anything against Erik…he’s just a kid. So if you’re looking for who took him, I can’t do anything in here.”

“You have associates. You have followers. You still wield power out there,” Bart replied.

This time, Sergio’s sneer was replaced with a smirk, as he said, “Yeah, man. I still got power.”

“So is that what this is about? You using power to get back at Ivan? Strike him in the one place where you knew it would hurt the most?”

Sergio’s face grew hard as he spat out, “You think I would mess with a kid to make a point? Then you don’t know fuck about me! Yeah, I heard about Erik. And it made me fuckin’ sick.” He shoved his metal chair back, the screeching as the legs scraped against the tile floor resounded in the small room. Twisting his body around to look at the guard, he snarled, “This shit’s over.”

One step away from the door he stopped and turned around, pinning Faith with a glare. “I know who you are, seer. I know what you’re doing.” Pointing to his head, he said, “You hope to see in here,” then he lowered his hand to his chest, over his heart, and continued, “but you can’t see in here.” With that, he disappeared through the open door.

*

The ride home
began silently as both Bart and Faith were lost in their thoughts. Finally, he looked over, seeing her still expression staring out of the windshield.

“Whatcha thinking, Faith?”

Shaking her head slowly, she said, “Fear, anger, and mostly hurt is what poured from him. But if you’re asking if I felt anything more, I didn’t. Ivan wants me to be with someone and suddenly feel they are the one who took Erik, but it doesn’t work that way. I’m afraid I’m very much a failure to him.”

They were quiet for a few more miles before he spoke again. “How did he know you were a…?”

“Seer?” she provided.

“Yeah,” he acknowledged, but then hastened to say, “I know you’re not and never claimed to be, but still…why did he say that?”

“When I was a child, I was terrified someone would think I was a freak when I would have a dream about something or draw something that was going to happen. I cried my fears out to Babushka, but she would always hold me and tell me it would be a secret. She used to say that all people who believe in the old ways would know, but others wouldn’t.”

Shrugging, she continued, “I don’t have any idea how he knew what I was doing. Maybe because I’m a psychologist he just called me a seer. Maybe he remembered my grandmother.” Sighing heavily, she confessed, “I have no idea.”

Bart, his heart pounding, realized he had done exactly what others had done to her as a child. Reaching out, he took her hand, wanting to erase his cruel words when he first met her. “I’m so sorry for how I hurt you when we first met.”

Squeezing his fingers, she said, “You’ve already apologized…and I’ve already forgiven you.”

Continuing, he added, “But you’ve put yourself out there for possible ridicule in the hopes of helping others, including Erik. I…I’m not usually so judgmental.”

She smiled as he linked his fingers with hers. “You can stop beating yourself up, Bart. It’s okay, it really is.” Seeing him about to protest, she continued, “After what happened to your grandmother last summer…I get it.” Rubbing his hand, she added, “And if we’re going to move forward, then you need to accept that I’ve forgiven you.”

Lifting her hand up to his mouth, he held his lips for a moment against her soft skin, her words soothing. Pulling back, he nodded at her smile. “Okay, from now on…we move forward. And to start with, I’ve got to call Jack.”

Placing the call, he was told Luke and Monty were already working on the video feed that was sent back to them from the interview.

“Grab some lunch on your way back,” Jack ordered. “We’ve got this end covered.”

Disconnecting, Bart turned to her and said, “Let’s grab some lunch—boss’ orders!”

A few miles down the road, he turned into the parking lot of a mom & pop diner. Looking over, he asked, “Is this okay?”

“Perfect,” she replied, a huge grin on her face. “I was so nervous this morning I couldn’t eat breakfast.”

Walking in, they found the lunch crowd almost over and were easily seated in the back where they could relax. After ordering his usual huge lunch, Bart was surprised to see Faith order a diner-special burger, fries, and a milkshake. Lifting his eyebrow at her, he smiled as she giggled.

“I’m hungry. What can I say?” she laughed, blushing.

“Hey, no worries on my part. I love that you’re not afraid to eat in front of me.”

“What? Most of your dates don’t eat much?” she teased.

Bart looked down at his hands resting on the table between them, and answered, “I don’t date very much.”

This time, it was her turn to look amazed, but he continued before she had a chance to question. “I don’t really have time to date. And never met anyone who seemed worth the bother.” Running his hand through his hair, he said, “God, that makes me sound like a prick, even to myself. What I mean is, it takes time to get to know someone really well and that’s if you find someone that you want to know. So, until that time, I just usually go for hookups that are simple.”

“Bart, what’s so simple about no strings sex?” Seeing his expression, she held up her hand. “No, hear me out. So many people, not just men, say sex without any attachment is simple. Meet, share a drink and maybe a laugh, get naked and…um…well, you know.”

Right now, listening to her unable to say the word
fuck,
she had never appeared more adorable to him.

“Bart, you can’t tell me that you’ve never had a woman hope for more? It doesn’t matter if they agreed to just have sex. Some walk away hurt…or hurt when you walk out the door. I mean, on one hand, you both get off and walk away sexually satisfied, I guess. But what about emotions? Caring for someone? Talking to someone? Actually being interested in someone?”

“I’ve just never found that,” he said softly.
Until now,
he wanted to add.

“Then you’ve deprived yourself of a chance to find what your grandparents and parents have,” she accused. “I agree sex doesn’t have to equate to love, but to just have sex without the possibility of caring for that person seems…sad.”

Saved from having to question more of his past, their food came and they both dug in heartedly. He listened as she made little moans while eating and tried to keep his dick from twitching with every bite she took.

They ate in comfortable silence, the seriousness of the earlier conversation no longer between them. He ran her words through his mind.
I’ve always sought out the bar bimbos. They were easy. Little conversation. No expectations. Just a fuck and that was it.
Then his mind rolled back to the ones that were upset when he left their beds. Expressions of anger, frustration, or even hurt on their faces.
But there was not one that he had any desire to spend any time with.
Staring at the unassuming beauty in front of him, laying waste to her hamburger and fries, he realized he knew more about her than any other woman he had ever met. And then the reality hit him—
I like her more than any other woman I have ever met!

“Hey, you know that game we were playing in the truck earlier?” he asked. “Where you told me what you knew about me and then asked me more questions about myself.”

She nodded, her mouth too full to answer.

“Well, we need to continue to play it on the way home.”

Swallowing with difficulty, he handed her his soda so she was able to speak again. “So, you want to tell me more about yourself?” she teased.

“No, no. Now it’s your turn. I get to find out more about you.”

Rolling her eyes, she finished her lunch and excused herself to the ladies’ room. Paying the bill at the register, he grabbed a bag of Skittles. As he escorted her to the truck and assisted her into her seat, he tossed the bag into her lap. “Thought you’d like these.”

Grinning, she ripped open the bag, thrilled he remembered. Popping a handful into her mouth, she rolled her eyes as she chewed the sugary goodness. He pulled back out onto the street, trying to ignore the sounds coming from her once more.

“So, more about you,” he prompted.

“Hey, you have to play the game just like you did earlier—that means you have to say what you already know about me,” she added nervously, wondering if she was opening herself up to painful criticism.

He caught her fear and inwardly winced, knowing he brought that to her. Determined to make up for his previous behavior, he began. “Okay, I know you’re smart—a double major and a master’s degree. That’s impressive.” He saw her smile and was desired to keep that look on her face.

“I know you care about people and were very close to your…um…Babushka?”

“Yes, my grandmother,” she laughed.

“I know you’re a hard worker and love what you do. I know you’re selfless.” He paused for a moment and continued, “And you like to eat although where it goes I have no idea,” glancing at her perfect curves.

Loving the blush creeping from her neck upward, he continued, sure in his ability to keep her blushing. “Okay, I know you’re beautiful, but you don’t know it.” Seeing her questioning expression, he continued, “You walk through a room and have no idea that most men are staring and many women glare.”

“Glare? Why would a woman glare at me?” She shook her head not understanding what he was implying.

“That’s just exactly what I mean. You have no fuckin’ clue because another thing I know about you is you don’t play games.”

She leaned back in her seat, mind swirling in confusion. “I don’t know what games you’re talking about,” she replied, a slight pout on her face, wondering if he was making fun of her.

Jesus, I’m fucking this up because she’s so clueless,
he realized despondently. “Okay, babe, here it is. Most women I meet are very aware of their looks. They add a bunch of shit to their faces and dress in ways that play up whatever assets they’ve got…legs, ass, boobs. They walk a certain way, talk a certain way, and act a certain way. And that’s to grab the attention of every man they can. You don’t do that, and it’s…well, it’s refreshing. I like it.”

She grinned slowly as she realized he liked something about her, but then looked over sharply as the inference swept over her. “And just where have you gained your vast experience in how women walk, talk, and dress? ’Cause I’m here to tell you there are tons of women out there who don’t give a hoot about trying to attract a man every time they go out!”