Finding Faye (K&S Securities 1)

“Yeah. I ran the tech from here. Almost had a heart attack when I saw you out on that ledge.” He hesitates before continuing. “I really almost had one when that guy caught you on the roof.”

I feel the blood drain out of my face at the reminder of what happened and Travis pulls me against his side.

“Let's go check on Ana, and then I'm taking you to our room so you can get some rest,” he tells me, leaning close and touching his lips lightly to a tender spot on my jaw. I take his hand, weaving our fingers together, and follow him down the hall.

Quiet voices reach my ears as we approach the open door of an office. Travis reaches over my head and knocks once before ushering me inside with a hand against the small of my back. Ana is standing in front of the massive window, silhouetted in the bright sunshine. Her back is to us, head tipped down toward the bulky shoulders of a man kneeling on the floor in front of her, his large hands curved around her hips. Her fingers are combing through his dark chocolate colored hair. I can hear the soothing rumble of his voice but can’t make out the words as he presses kisses to her round belly.

Glancing up at Travis with a lopsided smile, I motion that we should go. He nods his accord and we slip out as quietly as we entered.

They never even knew we were there.

Travis

My plan was to take Faye to one of the guest rooms that we have been occupying so that she could clean up and get some rest. She still hasn’t gotten a look at the damage done to her face and I’m afraid that when she sees it she is finally going to breakdown. If John hadn’t been able to stitch the knife cut and do enough of an exam to deem her well enough to not need the emergency room, I have no doubt that we would be in the hospital. I’m always thankful for his medical expertise, but even more so today, knowing that it has spared Faye the poking and prodding that would occur at a hospital.

It's probably for the best that Ana and Xavier were occupied. I know Faye really wouldn't want Ana to see her like this. Bruises are already darkening her fair skin, and the left side of her face is swollen, her eye almost completely closed. I’m opening the door to the guest room when Blake strides down the hall, holding out an electronic keycard.

“Down one floor. Honeymoon suite,” he tells me.

I give him a small salute in acknowledgment and we head back the way we had just come. When I push the elevator button, she looks curiously up at me. “Honeymoon suite?”

I just grin and shrug. I didn't make the arrangements; Blake did.

I will have to remember to thank him later.

I keep my eyes on her during the brief elevator ride. Even as battered as she is, she is still the most beautiful woman I have ever set eyes on. Every other woman pales in comparison.

If I could kill the bastard who did this to her again, I would. Without hesitation.

I'd take my time, too.

Thinking about him brings to mind the big man's dying words about Faye's mother. I don’t want to, but I’m going to have to talk to her about it. I won’t be able to get to the bottom of it otherwise. His words were way too personal for a plain old mob hit. There was obviously something between Claire and the man who took Faye and Ana.

But not today. For the rest of today I'm going to baby her and do everything in my power to make her feel better. I know the only thing that will help me recover from the terror that flooded me when I thought she was about to die will be to have her naked in my arms while she comes. That will have to wait, though. I’m not an animal who can’t control his urges.

The suite is the perfect place for Faye to recover for a few days before I take her home. There

is a living room and small dining room with large windows and a sunny balcony with a café table and two chairs. I can already picture her sitting out there in the sunshine, sipping coffee, dressed only in one of my shirts. Leaving her standing in a ray of warm light, I wander further into the suite.

A short hall leads to a wide doorway that opens into the luxurious bedroom. A king-sized bed dominates the room, and there is an en suite bathroom with a huge sunken tub.

“Ohhh. A bath…” The words rasp out of her. She doesn’t have to say anything else. I go to the tub and turn the water on, and dump a small tube of bath salts into the steaming water. When I turn around Faye is standing in front of the mirror, staring at the damage to her face and neck.

“Don't look right now, baby,” I tell her, turning her to face me instead of her damaged reflection. The sight of tears streaming down her face make my insides twist. I want her to never have cause to suffer like this again. I press a kiss to her forehead. It’s one of the few unbruised areas on her face.

“Let's get you in the tub before it fills up all the way.” I gesture toward her ribs. “You have stitches that shouldn’t get soaked for a couple days.”

I give her space to take off her tattered clothes. Her movements are stiff and uncoordinated. The last time they were removed was against her wishes. I would offer to help, but I know that she needs to uncover herself in front of me willingly so that she knows that she has control.

As the ruined garments drop to the floor I gather them up and discard them in the trash without a word. Her bag was already brought to the bedroom. If she needs anything she didn’t pack, I’m confident that we can get it from the shops on the main floor of the hotel. Right now I just want to get her clean and into bed. She needs to rest, and I just need to feel her in my arms.

For the moment, I am content as I hold her hand, helping her step into the tub. Just being close to her soothes me. She lowers herself down slowly, sighing as her legs sink into the water. I try to stop my reaction, but the soft sound goes straight to my groin, and I curse myself for wanting her like this when I know she is hurting.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell her as I turn away from the sight of her naked skin. I remember her packing her shampoo and getting it gives me a reason to leave the room and get my dick under control.

When I return my hormones are locked down. Wetting a cloth with cold water I lay it over her swollen eyes and sit on the edge of the tub.

“Lean back a little, Sweetpea,” I tell her as I help her head tip back so I can work shampoo into the long strands of her reddish brown hair. Her perfect breasts lift up toward the ceiling and she moans as I massage her scalp, watching as her pink nipples tighten into hard little nubs.