Saved and SAINTified (18 page)

“So, you’re S
aint … I’ve heard a great deal about you.”

“I know. I’ve heard about you, too.”

“Lawrence thinks highly of you. Me? I’m not so sure.”

“What is your concern?”

“You have an obscene amount of power, and have totally no fucking clue as to what you’re capable of doing … seems like a waste.”

S
aint grinned. “Oh really? Says who?”

There was
continued silence as they slowly glided past one another, like key performers in a carefully orchestrated dance.

“I know you could destroy me right now.”

“And why would I want to do that, Jagger?” Saint felt his pulse accelerating.

“Because you don’t like what I’m saying.”

“My ego is not that fragile.” Saint grinned.

“Uh,”
Lawrence chimed in with his telepathic waves. “If I may interject here…”

Both men turned to him, their brows furrowed and teeth showing as if frozen in mid-dog fight.
Lawrence quickly turned away and had a seat at the table.

“So
, I understand you have a mole.” Jagger said verbally, clearing his throat as he looked up into Saint’s eyes. He seemed unmoved by the slight color change from white to a light blue. Saint knew that he knew what that meant—it was a subtle warning:
you’re on thin ice.

“Yes, there is a mole. Someone is here
, that shouldn’t be. There is a shift in energy, and they are masking themselves somehow.”

“Angel
Child?”

“No.”

“Well then, this should be easy.” Jagger brushed past Saint’s shoulder and made his way to the table, sitting alongside Lawrence.

S
aint sat across from them and picked up a mechanical pencil. He drummed it on the table while the silence accrued. His eyes, now mere slits, fixated on Jagger. Jagger shot the look back; the battle continued.

S
aint cupped his chin and leaned forward. “Why the fuck are you here, Jagger? What? To see a freak show? This isn’t a mothafuckin’ circus. This is my goddamn life, my mission.”

“I needed to see you for myself…”
Jagger grunted.

“What? You wanted to see if
Lawrence here was right, to see if I was what he said I was? Okay, now you’ve seen me.” he threw the pencil haphazardly onto the table. “You’re not jealous, that much I’ve figured out, but you are harboring resentment. What the fuck is your problem? Let’s just get this all out on the goddamn table.” Saint leaned back in his chair, swiveling it ever-so-gently as he waited.

“Saint, is it okay if I call you that?”
Jagger tempered his energy.

“…Yes.”

“Saint, it’s not really resentment. You’ve just fucked up my whole image of someone like you. All this time, I was told that the rare ones like you would be a certain way. You fit none of that criterion and it’s just messing with my head—you come across as naïve, energy wise anyway. It’s different talking to you on the phone; I couldn’t tap in the same way I can now. Eye to eye  ...  wow, you really are clueless.”

“I am to some degree, I’ll admit that. Honestly, if it weren’t for
Lawrence here, I’d be in a whirlwind of trouble.”

Lawrence
smiled then looked contemplatively down at his folded hands.

“You definitely have a lot of dynamism. I can see the draw, the pull. As I sit here reading you, and thank you for allowing me to
.”

S
aint nodded.

“You just seem like…”

“A regular person.”

“Yes!”
Jagger shook his head in disbelief. “It’s my fault truly, and I apologize for the altercation we just had. … I just, I dunno.” He rubbed his forehead and leaned back in the black leather office chair, still keeping his eye on Saint.

“Why do you sound like you’re from
Jersey? I thought you and Lawrence were from Colorado and you live in Utah now?”

“Oh
.” Jagger grinned. “I am from New Jersey, Newark to be exact. I moved to Colorado when I was about ten. Lawrence and my dad grew up together so it was natural for us to become friends as well. I was going to move back to Jersey, but … my ex-wife’s family was in Utah so that’s how I ended up there. She wanted to be closer to them. I go often though. I really like it there; Jersey will always feel more like home.”

S
aint nodded. “I know the feeling. Okay, so we’re both east coast men … good to know.”

“Yeah, I know you grew up in the
Bronx in the late 70s and early 80s, right?”

“Yeah.”

“My Uncle had a beat there; he was a cop at Fort Apache.”

“No shit?” Saint smiled, now more engrossed in the conversation.

“He told me some wild stories. I got my desire to be a cop from him. He told me that was the scariest beat he ever had. It was rough there, man. He said it was like the fuckin’ apocalypse. Massive crime, poverty, assault, gangs and drugs.”

“Yeah
, it was bad but you know, Jagger, if you never see anything different, then you don’t always realize how bad you have it until you see something else. You can’t miss what you never had.”

He grinned as he recalled telling Xenia just that the other day after she’d denied him her ‘cupcakes’...

“My parents knew, but I didn’t because I was conceived and born in that borough. I didn’t understand that the entire world wasn’t like that. My parents were hard working people, but money was tight.” Saint shrugged. “So they stayed because we had no other place to go.”

“That’s the truth. In my police work,
right after I got out the military, we studied some of the street gangs and that is what my uncle’s focus was on. The fucking arsons—the landlords burning down their own fuckin’ buildings to get money, I just couldn’t believe it. I know it’s not like that anymore, but it blows my mind to see people who grew up there, knowing they survived it.”

“It was horrible, but I didn’t know how atrocious it was until we moved to
Brooklyn. Brooklyn at that time was challenging too, but nothing like the South Bronx. I want to make sure my sons never have to experience anything like that. It was traumatic.” There was a brief pause. “Anyway, back to the business at hand. So, what are your ideas about this mole situation?” Saint clasped his hands together as he continued to study Jagger.

Jagger
slowly leaned forward. Saint observed as a slight smile—the first he’d seen on the man—emerged on Jagger’s angular face. The man rubbed the thick, dark stubble on his hard jawline, traced the side of his long, thin Romanesque nose with his index finger and laughed. “I think you know what I’m capable of, Saint. I seek, find and annihilate. We discussed this on the phone. You already know. That is what I do.”

“Yes, I picked up on it and it is rather unsettling yet I suppose,
it’s admirable that you enjoy it so much.”

“I like crushing evil and wrong doing.”

“So it’s about morality?”

“It’s about right and wrong. I don’t see shades of gray.”

“Not everything is so clean cut.”

“Most things are…”

More silence. Lawrence cleared his throat and moved around in his chair, showing obvious agitation.

“What’s wrong,
Lawrence?” Saint asked, knowing full well what was wrong, but just wanting to take a little dig at his buddy.

Lawrence
looked at him and grimaced. Saint could almost feel the heat rising off of his body.

“I wish you two would settle this pissing contest. You’ve been sitting here playing nice but it’s all an act.
I know about the phone calls—that was bad enough. Stop it. I’ve got shit to do!” he blurted.

S
aint laughed loudly and rubbed his chest, taken aback by Lawrence’s statement.

“Quiet and polite
Lawrence, is that you?” He laughed again, leaning further back in his chair.

Lawrence
lifted his middle finger and smiled. “Come on, guys. What gives? I thought we were past this.”

“Well
, tell your buddy that, Lawrence,” Saint said angrily as he swiftly rose from his chair, almost tipping it over. His voice bounced off the walls, giving the room irate life. “You want to play chess with me, Jagger?” Saint smiled a mirthless smile as he sunk his teeth into his bottom lip and leaned over the conference room table, his head cocked to the right. The shine picked up Saint’s tinted reflection in the deep, dark wood—glossy and exposed like the exploding star that he was right now.

“I don’t play games
.”

“Sure you do,
Jagger.” Saint shoved his hands in his pockets and paced the room. “Now, you came in here, ruffled your own feathers and threw mad energy at me. You gave me an invitation to fight. You thought you could take me because I don’t know completely what I’m doing yet, though you admitted I could kill you, take you down if I wished. You like to fuck people up, it’s a past time for you and there would be nothing more satisfying to you right now than drowning an angel love child with my level of abilities … but it’s not going to happen, Jagger boy … not today, not
ever
…”

Jagger
clicked his tongue against his teeth. He crossed his heavy arms across his barrel chest and seethed out in the open.

“Now, you and I could probably be really good friends, but there has to be some
level of trust. Despite the shit you just pulled, including the half assed apology, I still trust you. You just seem like a trustworthy mothafucka, plus, Lawrence is a good judge of character, even more so than I. I trust this man with a lot, a whole lot.” He shot Lawrence a look then turned back to his new foe. “I don’t give a shit if you don’t like me, but you
better
respect me.” Saint moved his face close to Jagger’s. The two men eyeballed one another, causing the tension in the room to triple.

“I do respect you.”
Jagger said, without blinking or flinching, his tone even and not a shred of fear in his voice.

“No, not really
, but you will soon enough. You have the ability to get quickly through people’s tactics. I need you to do just that so we can narrow this down. Take all the time that you need … but not too long. I will introduce you as a new Rainbeau Knight, saying you went through private training with Lawrence and me. Then, you can work from the inside and find out who the hell is here that isn’t supposed to be.”

“You could do the same thing but you’re scattered right now.” The natural gruffness of
Jagger’s voice coated the prickly words.

“Yes, I’m preoccupied.”

“So, I read your email again.” Jagger removed a folded piece of paper from his jeans pocket. “This salary is very generous. Thank you for being fair. Also, thank you for the rental home as well.”

“Why
, of course. I need you to be comfortable. There is also a rent to purchase clause, you know, in case you may want to stay here. There is one problem however…”

“What is that?”

“You’re divorced.”

“So.”

“So, people will want answers. Look at the line of business I’m in. I’ve already dug deeper into your thoughts, Jagger. We are cut more from the same cloth than I ever imagined, at least the
old
me, that is...”

Jagger
’s face reddened. Lawrence looked at both of the men in bewilderment.

S
aint returned to his seat, crossed his legs, and rubbed his finger along his chin. “Oh come on, Jagger!” he taunted. “We’re all adults here! Why don’t you tell Lawrence here the other perk you are most looking forward to, hmmm?”

Jagger
grinded his teeth as his muscles clenched. Saint read it clear,

He has no idea how I got that deep
; he had it hidden so well. Took me seven minutes, but I found his treasure trove. I get better and better at this shit every fuckin’ day. Naïve my ass…

“You are unbelievable. None of that has anything to do with this. Let’s just get to work, please. Give me all of the Rainbeau Knights
’ profiles and—”

“Oh no,
Jag! You don’t get off that easy. I told you at the beginning of this shit.” Saint stabbed the table with his finger as he made his point. “That we were going to get all of this out on the table. If you are going to be working for me, then we have to be able to get along. There has to be trust and respect. You will be allowed to see me—ask Lawrence, I never hid shit from him once we developed our friendship. I expect open and honest communication. Don’t make me hunt shit down inside of you, and then have to put your ass on blast!”

Jagger
closed his eyes and rubbed his temple.

“Lawrence,
Jagger here has never made love to a black woman, but has always been curious. The sex … enticing sex … yes, I saw it, Jagger. You have quite the collection of interracial porn! You…”

“Alright stop, that’s enough!”
Jagger barked gruffly.