Seeing Love: Saints Protection & Investigations by Maryann Jordan Page B

think of anything else to say. She fiddled with the napkin for a moment until the waitress came and took their order.
    “Okay, now we should be safe enough to talk some.” He saw her hesitate and hurried to add, “It’s okay, Faith. I want you to feel free to tell me any of your impressions. I promise I want to hear them.”
    He saw the uncertain expression on her face and running his hand over his scruffy jaw, added, “I haven’t apologized for what I said when we first met.”
    Her eyes narrowed as they jumped to his face. Cocking her head, she waited to see what else he would say. It seems apologies do not come easily to him. Well, suck it up, ’cause I’ve been waiting for one!
    “I made assumptions about you…false assumptions it seems. Instead of finding out more about you, I thought the worst.” He held her gaze and admitted, “I really am sorry, Faith. I do want to hear about your impressions.”
    With that assurance, she nodded slowly, taking in his words. “Well, I was honestly frightened at the level of violence coming from Gavrill.” She lifted her gaze to his, seeing nothing but true interest, and explained. “Usually, with the police, or even the few times I worked with an FBI agent to interview a witness, victim, or possible suspect, the strongest emotion I get is anger or fear. The violence comes as a flash, like…” she struggled how to explain, before saying, “like a lightning bolt. But with Gavrill, it felt black. Deep. Pervasive, not sharp. The room was thick with violence that had nothing to do with anger.”
    Bart stared at her, hearing for the first time how descriptive she was in her words. While he knew the same thing to be true about Gavrill, it was fascinating to hear how she interpreted the emotions in the room, giving an insight into their thoughts. “What about Miguel?”
    They were interrupted when the waitress brought their food, both diving into the cheeseburgers and greasy fries.
    “Well,” she began between chews, “It was a different feeling of violence. With Miguel, the room was filled with lots of lightening.” She wondered if Bart was going to mock her, but found him listening intently. “Just as much violence, but more anger. Quick. Sharp. Reactionary.”
    Chewing methodically, he nodded. “I see what you mean. It makes sense. Did you get a sense of whether or not either one of them may have taken Erik?”
    “With Miguel, no, I didn’t,” but then she added quickly, “but that doesn’t mean he didn’t, Bart. Remember, I’m just reading people and am in tune with the emotions, body language. I’m not psychic so I can’t say he wasn’t in charge of taking Erik. Or, for that matter, it could be someone in his gang.”
    They continued to eat silently for a few minutes, each to their own thoughts. Glancing to the side, she could not help but smile. “I don’t think you paid enough attention to the hostess when you came in.”
    “Huh? Who?” he asked, stunned out of his musings as his gaze followed her nod. “Oh,” he said, actually embarrassed at the unwarranted attention. “I guess it was hard to focus on that when I wanted to get over to you.”
    He watched as her eyes warmed at his words. Fuck, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore. His phone vibrated and he growled as he saw who it was from. “Stay here and finish eating. I’m stepping outside while someone from the FBI checks the truck.”
    She watched as he folded his tall frame out of the booth and immediately missed the warmth his long legs provided when they surrounded hers. Glancing down at the table, she realized he had finished his burger and she was full. After taking a quick trip to the restroom, she stopped by the table and paid by cash. Bart has picked up the tab for all the expenses, this is the least I can do.
    She pulled on her coat as she walked through the door and looked to the left at Bart and another familiar man, talking next to the truck.
    “Mitch!” she