Read Healing Love: Saints Protection & Investigation Online
Authors: Maryann Jordan
Tags: #Romance, #Fiction
Healing Love: Saints Protection & Investigation
Saints Protection & Investigations Series
By
Maryann Jordan
Healing Love (Saints Protection & Investigation Series)
Copyright © 2016 Maryann Jordan
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, then you are reading an illegal pirated copy. If you would be concerned about working for no pay, then please respect the author’s work! Make sure that you are only reading a copy that has been officially released by the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design by: Andrea Michelle, Artistry in Design
Editor: Shannon Brandee Eversoll
Format: Paul Salvette, BB eBooks
ISBN: 978-0-9968010-3-4
For each book, I think long and hard about the dedication. This one is simple and based on what is going on in my life right now as I type. It is to my husband, Michael. He has not only supported me when writing was just a pipe dream, but throughout the process. He never acted like this was a ridiculous hobby, waste of time, or financial loss. He has worked tirelessly beside me to make sure that I am enjoying what I am doing. So for the past thirty-four years of our marriage…thank you.
Prologue
H
iding behind the
dumpster in the back alley, the dark night shrouding him in shadows, Cam Perez could feel his heart pound. A slow smile crossed his youthful face as he watched his friends slither out of the back of the small neighborhood store, a bag in their hands. Knowing the sack was filled with cash, he remembered his job and glanced up and down the alleyway to see that no one was around.
At thirteen, he was bigger than most of the guys he hung with…and knew that was probably why they wanted him. Watching carefully, he saw activity at the end of the street and his eyes stayed on the movement, ready to alert his friends if necessary.
This was not the first night spent hunkered down in an alley. In fact, Cam was becoming known as the gang’s best lookout. He was not a full-fledged member, but was on his way. He knew if he kept proving himself he would be taken in within the year.
If I can keep my parents out of my business.
My parents.
Thinking of them caused his mind to wander away from his task. Sighing quietly, he imagined them asleep in their beds.
At least, I hope they’re asleep.
Rubbing his hand over his face, he knew that was a false hope. The reality was they knew he was out of the house and were anxiously awaiting his safe arrival home.
Mom’s undoubtedly on her knees praying right now.
The thought of his mother praying for his wayward soul reminded him of the story of his parents’ romance. He had heard it so many times, the tale resonated in him as his own. And in some ways, it was his story as well.
Cam, the oldest of four children, had been born in a small row house in El Paso, Texas. His father, Henrico, unusually tall and strong, had grown up crossing the border from Mexico illegally for years in order to work for higher wages. Building houses had given his father the money to send back to Cam’s grandparents.
Henrico had the honor of working on a church on the outskirts of El Paso. It was a new, modern building and he took great pride in the part he played in the large construction. A trailer was on the property, serving as the church office and Henrico began to notice a beautiful, young woman each morning delivering coffees and small, white pastry bags to the office. She wore a uniform, but he was never close enough to discern where she came from.
One morning, walking around the corner of the building where the office was, he ran into her, spilling the coffees all down the front of her. She gasped, jumping back to keep from being burned. Her pink dress and its white apron, embroidered with Nellie’s Bakery on the front, was now covered in the tan stain of coffee.
Mortified, Henrico immediately jerked the towel from around his neck and began to pat her dry, apologizing, as she batted his hands away.
“Stop!” she cried in mortification.
Not knowing what to do, he watched her hustle away, coffee still dripping down her legs.
Turning back to his job, he endured the jeers of his co-workers for the first impression he must have made on the beautiful woman. Determined to make amends, he spent the rest of the day wondering how to do so.
The next morning, he waited outside the trailer once she had disappeared inside with her delivery. A few minutes later as she made her way down the stairs he approached her, holding out one perfect rose. Her steps faltered as she saw him, her gaze bouncing between the flower and the handsome man holding it.
Offering her his sincerest apology, Henrico held his breath as he awaited her response. She did not make him wait long. Her lips curved into a smile that lit up his world. And from that moment on, he knew he had found the one. Pursuing her became his life’s mission, as much as working to send money home. But Henrico was up to the task and six months later, they were married.
Marrying Bonita and then becoming a U.S. citizen was the highlight of his life up to that point. Becoming a father to his son, Cam, a year later surpassed all of his dreams.
Cam had listened
to his father talk of hard work, dedication, and falling for
the one
for the past thirteen years. Shaking his head in disgust, he knew his father had no idea how easy money could be made…if willing to get with one of the many gangs.
Just then a police siren pierced the silent night and he jerked as the flashing lights at the end of the street came into view. Shouting to each other, the three friends rushed to the other end of the alley and split up, according to their plan. Cam was smart, having already located a place to hide. His friends…not so smart. They continued running down the street, still clutching the bag. Within a minute, the cops arrested them, hauling them away in handcuffs. Cam stayed hidden…and silent. As the scene unfolded, he waited patiently, his heart pounding.
Dios!
Fuck!
As soon as the cops drove the duo away, he slipped from his hiding place and headed home. Hoping to stay hidden once there, he was out of luck. As he crawled through his bedroom window the bright overhead light illuminated the dark room as his parents stood at the door. Holding their gazes, he would have preferred their anger. Instead, his mother’s face was ravaged with tears and his father’s expression held disappointment.
One week later the family moved to Virginia. His parents hoped and prayed that moving in with some of Bonita’s relatives in a county outside of Richland, would keep their oldest son from making the same mistakes he was making in Texas.
But he quickly shunned working on the weekends with his father as a carpenter. Instead, he found a new set of friends to hang with.
Five years later
Cam celebrated his
eighteenth birthday getting drunk, stoned, and screwing willing girls. By now, he was huge. Tall, broad shouldered, and muscular. He loved working out and seeing the results. A natural handsomeness did not hurt either and becoming a pussy-magnet? Icing on the cake.
He had joined a local gang, not nationally known but then, that had never appealed to him. He preferred hanging with his friends, making money on the side with drugs and had discovered a knack for gambling. He had friends, money, status, time to work out, time to make bets on pool, and more than enough time and opportunity to bang whatever pussy hung around their clubhouse.
Kissing his mother goodbye one day, he found her clinging to him a little longer than normal.
“Gotta go, ma,” he said, trying to pull away. He loved and respected his parents and watched out for his younger siblings, but he was determined to go his own way.
“Christmas is coming,” his mother said, softly.
Smiling, he knew with his money from drugs and gambling he could afford many presents for the family. “I know. I got you covered,” he said boastfully.
Hurt passed through her eyes, but she stood firm. “I only want one thing for Christmas, son. I want you to go see Father Martinez today.”
“Ma,” Cam started, but halted at the tortured look on his mother’s face. Sighing deeply, he nodded. “Okay, ma. I’ll go. But,” he leaned way back to peer into her eyes, “it’s not gonna keep me from my friends.”
“Friends? Bah!” his mother spit out. She was silent for a moment, then her chin quivered as her gaze sought his once more. “You think my heart breaks now for you and these so-called friends? You go to jail, it’ll kill your father…and me as well.”
That afternoon, Cam walked into the neighborhood church, the cool dim interior a welcome respite from the muggy Virginia summer. As his eyes adjusted, he saw the elderly priest coming from one of the side doors.
“Camillo!” Father Martinez called out. “Your mother said she hoped you would come.”
Cam walked toward the priest, noticing how much older and smaller the man appeared than the last time he saw him. Cam towered over him and while many people were fearful of the large, rough-looking young man, the priest just smiled up at him.
“Come, sit. You’ve grown so tall, my neck will hurt looking so far up.”
Cam sat, impatiently waiting for the older man to join him.
The sooner we get started, the sooner I can get outta here.
The priest sat, his gaze on his hands folded in his lap. The quiet of the chapel felt eerie to Cam. Months had passed since he had come to Mass with his parents. The silence was deafening. Unable to stand the quiet any longer, Cam blurted out, “You wanted to see me, Father?”
The priest lifted his head and pierced Cam with his gaze. With a small smile, he shook his head, saying, “No, son. But I think you have need of me.”
A frown crossed Cam’s face as he cocked his head to the side. “I don’t understand—”
“Do you know who you were named for?” Father Martinez interrupted.
“Me?” Cam asked incredulously. He searched his mind quickly, trying to remember the Saints he learned about as a child. He had always hated his name. Camillo.
Jesus, they had to name me after some dumb-ass Saint’s name.
“Camillo,” he stated. “A great name for a great man.”
Cam shifted in his seat. Listening to a long-winded priest was the last thing he wanted to be doing. He fought the desire to jump up and run out of the church, but his upbringing would not allow him to be rude to Father Martinez. So he made himself a little more comfortable on the hard, wooden pew, and turned to face the older man.
“Saint Camillus,” Father Martinez. “He lived in the 1500’s. His father was a soldier and he inherited his father’s temper. His mother was older and unable to control her son.”
At this, Cam’s eyebrows raised. He was sure that he had never heard this story of his namesake.
Ma left this part out. So I was named after a hellraiser!
“He was exceptionally tall for his age,” Father Martinez chuckled as he gazed at Cam. “He actually became a soldier with his father when he was only sixteen years old.”
“Sixteen?” Cam asked. “That’s two years younger than me right now.”
“Oh, yes. Back then, a man was considered a man by thirteen. None of this spending years wondering who we are and what we’re going to do. He was a man and was expected to do a man’s job.”
Once again, Cam squirmed under the scrutiny of Father Martinez, wondering how much he knew about Cam’s nefarious activities.
“He ended up as a laborer at a friary with a leg injury, and in spite of his aggressiveness and excessive gambling, the friar continually worked to bring out Camillus’ better nature.”
