Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
S aint couldn’t believe how much they got done in the past two weeks.
At first, it was hard to tell because the walls pretty much looked the same, but mudding required several steps before they could do the final sanding.
Since the cement flooring was one of the first things Val had installed before he started the drywall, once the mudding was done, they could start installing the system that would hold all the bricks in place. It was pretty ingenious.
With both of them working on the wall, it went quicker than if Val had been doing it on his own.
Val marked the wall with a pencil, showing Saint where the bricks should join.
Each slim brick was unique, some pieces shorter than others, some faded, chipped, or discolored.
Speaking of walls…. They’d hit one where Val’s assailants were concerned.
It was like the assholes had vanished off the face of the earth.
Jack had called last week with news on the note, and unfortunately, they were back to square one.
The note had no fingerprints, other than Saint’s, obviously, and no other traces of DNA.
Leo managed to track down where the note was printed, but whoever printed it knew what they were doing, and they were extremely careful.
The printer belonged to a library two counties over.
And, of course, that day, the cameras happened to be out. So again, they had nothing.
As much as they hoped that maybe the bastards had given up, they all knew better, and the more time that passed, the more concerned Saint became. Which was why he never let his guard down, no matter where they were.
His phone buzzed, and Saint removed it from his pocket. It was Mason. Talk about perfect timing. “Hey. Tell me you got something.”
“Jack’s been looking into the incidents you mentioned and tracked down the people involved.
A couple of the guys have criminal records, but one’s been in prison for the last seven years for assault with a deadly weapon, and the other guy’s up in Detroit and hasn’t been back to Florida.
One of the firefighters who lost his job for gross misconduct moved to New Jersey and hasn’t left since, and the one who was investigated left the state after he lost his family in a car accident.
He’s staying at a property in South Carolina owned by his mother.
The woman who threw the eggs at Val is living in Georgia.
Jack’s diving a little deeper, but so far, he hasn’t found evidence to suggest any of these people have returned to Florida. I’m sorry, man.”
“Okay. Thanks, and tell Jack I said thanks.”
“Will do. Watch your back. I don’t like any of this at all.”
“Same.” Saint hung up with a sigh. He’d been hoping Jack would find something but wasn’t surprised he hadn’t. It would have been too easy.
Time to get back to work. One of the issues Saint faced with being around Val all the time, was the fact that Saint was enjoying their time together far too much.
When they went home to Val’s, they were usually exhausted, but it was nice, comfortable.
And maybe that was the problem. No matter what they were doing, they seemed to gravitate toward each other, like their bodies couldn’t stand to be apart.
Being so close to Val in the kitchen and not being able to wrap his arms around him, kiss him, feel him, was driving Saint nuts.
Every night, they had dinner together, watched TV, and one of them usually fell asleep on the couch.
A couple of days ago, Saint fell asleep in the recliner and woke up with a blanket draped over him.
He never thought he’d get so used to having someone around this quickly.
The second issue Saint faced, was his growing need to kiss and touch Val. He’d lost count of how often Val caught him staring. Saint usually blushed, which Val found amusing. If Val knew the kind of thoughts Saint had about him throughout the day, he’d be the one blushing.
Saint couldn’t help it. He might have told Val they were good after their kiss, but that didn’t mean Saint could stop thinking about it and wanting more.
He’d done pretty good at pretending it was no big deal because he didn’t want Val to regret having him here.
Kissing Val had felt so, so right. Saint hadn’t known what Val would feel or taste like.
He hadn’t known if he’d hesitate when the time came, but when Val pulled Saint into his arms, the world fell away, and all that was left was a feeling of belonging, of safety.
Focus. Bricks. That’s what he needed to be thinking about. Not that there was much to think about there. Pick up brick, apply glue to brick, place brick in steel slot, repeat.
While Saint placed the bricks, Val brought in boxes and put them in what was going to be his office.
He’d set up a makeshift desk to have a place to put everything until the official desk arrived next month when the furniture started coming in.
An hour later, he emerged from the room looking very grumpy.
“You okay? I was about to go in there. Thought maybe you fell in a box.”
Val’s lips quirked at the corners. “I hate paperwork. Always have.”
“Maybe I can help.” Saint dusted his hands off on his jeans and walked into the office, where he reeled back at the sight before him.
“Holy shit, what is this? Besides the place where trees go to die?” Saint shook his head in disbelief.
He’d never seen anything like it. Apparently, Val’s tidiness did not extend to paperwork.
The stacks of paper and folders were truly terrifying. Somewhere underneath it all was the desk; he was sure of it. “You do realize that not even Ace is this bad, and we’re talking about the guy who told King he couldn’t do his paperwork because he’d developed an allergy to short-fiber cellulose.”
“What the hell is that?”
“What our office printer paper is made of.”
Val snorted. “What did King say?”
“It’s King. He didn’t say anything. He walked away and returned two minutes later with a pair of gloves.”
“Sounds about right.”
Saint picked up the first stack of documents clipped together and looked through it. He picked up the one underneath. “Um, why haven’t you filed for your liquor and food licenses? That’s kind of important if you want to open a place that serves both alcohol and food.”
“Funny. Because there are a few requirements I’m unsure of and haven’t had the chance—or patience—to look into it.”
Saint arched an eyebrow at him. He tapped his lips and hummed. “Gee, if only you knew someone who owned an establishment that sold alcohol and food. Perhaps even a close friend you’ve known for decades.”
“Yeah, all right, smartass,” Val grumbled as he poked at a stack of documents. “I’ll ask Frank. Did you have to say decades?”
Saint held back a smile. “Well, I mean, you have known him for decades.”
“I’ve known him for over twenty years, okay.”
“Yeah, that’s over two decades.” Saint waggled two fingers at him. “Tell me something. Do you still think the eighties was twenty years ago?”
Val laughed. “Kiss my ass.”
Saint made kissing noises, making Val shake his head. “Also, you know you can file most of this stuff online, right?”
“You know I don’t need any of your millennial crap, right?”
“Okay, Boomer.”
“Fuck you,” Val said through a laugh. “I’m not a boomer.”
“Oh, shit. That’s right. You’re Gen X.” Saint put a hand to his chest. “Sorry. In my defense, the rest of us kind of forget about you guys.”
“Because you know we will fuck your shit up.”
“What? Please.” Getting a rise out of Val was just too easy and too much fun.
“If I took your phone away right now, you would not survive.” Val left the office, and Saint followed him.
“Judgmental much? Also, I was a Navy SEAL. Surviving is what I do. I can be naked in the woods with nothing but a toothpick and survive. Can you?”
“I survived playgrounds in the eighties, so I’m pretty confident I can.”
Saint laughed. “Really?”
“You have no idea how many injuries I sustained from playgrounds as a kid. I lost the majority of my baby teeth on playgrounds. When I was seven, I fell off the top of a metal jungle gym onto hard, solid ground, and my dad told me to walk it off. It wasn’t until my arm had swollen to twice its size that my parents realized I’d broken my arm.
Don’t even get me started on the merry-go-round and the metal slides in the summer. ”
Saint blinked at him. “I forgot how terrifying the eighties were.”
“We had great music, though.”
“If you say so.”
Val turned, eyes narrowed at him. “Mock the eighties all you want, but you say one word about my music and things are gonna get ugly.”
“Is that so?” Saint calculated his chances of getting away from Val. They were pretty high. He eyed Val. “Bon Jovi’s overrated.”
Val gasped so long and hard that Saint couldn’t stop himself from laughing, then he took off, Val on his heels.
“You take that back, you little shit!”
“’Livin’ On a Prayer’ sucked,” Saint shouted as he turned and jogged backward.
“That’s it.” Val lunged at him, and with the manliest of screeches, Saint dodged him and took off again.
The only obstacles Saint could use were the palettes of stacked bricks, but they weren’t exactly much of an obstacle, and the rest was just one big, empty floor.
Running into the kitchen or bathroom area would ensure his immediate capture.
He managed to evade Val’s grip for several more minutes, all while insulting the man’s music.
Eventually, Saint was caught, pinned against the wall by Val, a hand on both sides of his head.
“I was kidding! I’m kidding! Of course, Bon Jovi is awesome. Everyone knows that.”
“Bon Jovi’s music was the soundtrack of my youth.”
Saint dropped his gaze to Val’s lips and quickly caught himself. He moved his eyes back up to Val’s. “You ever have a mullet?”
“No, I did not.”
“Suspect. Long hair?”
Pause.
“Maybe.”
“Have any pictures?”