Shattered Pieces (Undercover Elite Book 1)

by Steele, Suzanne

  “I didn’t seriously want a car.”

  “You need one and it needs to be all terrain.”

  When I look up again, I see Mr. Taggart heading in our direction and his eyes are glued on me. My heart is beating so fast that it feels like I can hear the blood rushing through my eardrums.

  “What can I help you with today?” He reaches out to shake hands with Cash.

  “Well, my wife is interested in this black Hummer and we’d like it with all the bells and whistles. I was referred to you by a gentleman in Mexico, a Jorge Sanchez, before his tragic demise.”

  “Yes, I heard about that and though it was tragic, it was, in a sense, well deserved. He crossed the wrong people.”

  Steven did exactly as Cash predicted when he mentioned Jorge. Mentioning a major Mexican drug dealer was a definitive way of letting him know that we aren’t just there for a car.

  “I’m sorry,” he looks at me as if he’s confused, “you look so familiar.”

  “She gets that a lot,” Cash answers for me and I find myself feeling relieved he did. My tongue suddenly feels tied and my stomach is in knots.

  We spend some time looking over the car and I actually start to get excited when he hands us the keys for a test drive.

  “Are you going to be able to drive this thing, girl?” Cash teases me as we make our way out of the dealership parking lot.

  “I’ve driven in third world countries with you. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  We all pile in the car with Steven Taggart in the backseat. I refrain from looking at him in the rearview mirror and only use it for driving purposes. As much as I try to avoid making eye contact with him, I can feel the weight of his stare. He’s looking at me, studying my every move, and it is beginning to make me very nervous. I’m playing a very dangerous game with a very dangerous man.

  A chill courses through me as I glance in the rearview mirror and see him coldly eyeing me. His face is set in stone and he looks like he has every intention of killing me at the first opportunity. What the fuck was I thinking when I agreed to this? How could I have deceived myself into believing I could fool him? I look too much like my sister to do that. I purposely made myself look like her just to fuck with his head and now it’s backfiring on me.

  Getting through the test drive is hard enough but I still have to make it through the paperwork. It is like a bad dream—one where everyone is avoiding the elephant in the room and I am the elephant. Thank God I wasn’t stupid enough to try and do this on my own. If I had come here without Cash, I think I’d be having a panic attack by now. I fill out the paperwork, closing the deal in a mindless fog. I need to talk to Cash. I need for him to reassure me that this is just my imagination in overdrive. I need him to tell me that he will kill Steven Taggart before he ever allows him to kill me like he did my sister. I need to get the fuck out of this car dealership before I lose it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cash

  I push her long, lean body and pin her against the wall as soon as we enter my house. Though it looks like a mansion, it is more like a compound in the way it’s designed. It’s a veritable fortress to keep the ugly out.

  “He knows who you are,” I growl in her ear as I chew up and down her neck.

  “Tell me you’ll protect me,” she moans as if she’s more interested in the heat of the moment than the fear of knowing a killer has her identity.

  “Get that fucking wig off!” I jerk it off, not giving her a chance to obey me. “Do you think I’m going to allow you to believe I want to fuck someone other than you? It is never going to happen.”

  I bend down and wiggle her pencil skirt up, burying my face in her core. My fingers rip at her tiny G-string and she spreads her legs as it falls to the side under my assault. Her fingers weave through my hair. “Don’t fucking touch me until I tell you to,” I growl as I look up at her like I’ll wear her ass out if she disobeys.

  Her palms slam against the wall in instant obedience to my mandate. I slip my tongue through her silky folds.

  “Fuck, it’s so hard not to touch you.”

  “That’s precisely why I instructed you not to.”

  My lips pull at her clit, coaxing it from its hiding place.

  “I want you to come, baby girl.”

  My tongue swirls around the pearl at her core as my lips suck and I add just the right amount of pressure to send her over the edge.

  I jerk her from the wall and bend her over the end of the couch, fisting her hair in my hand. My cock is so hard it hurts as I tug at my zipper with my free hand, finally allowing it to spring free.

  “Fucking mine!” I growl as I drive my cock balls deep into her. I know I’m hurting her. I want to hurt her. I want to dominate her. I want to fuck her like I hate her and I am. She cries out and comes all over my cock. The pulsing of her core sends me right over the edge with her.

  I walk around the couch with her and pull her down on my chest, stroking her hair as I comfort her. “I’ll kill him before I ever let him get his hands on you. I spent too long getting you so there is no way I’m going to lose you now. You’re mine and I’ll kill to keep you.”

  I know this line of work is new to her. She’s seen all of the ugly that the streets and strip clubs have to offer, but looking death in the face as you pull the trigger is something she’s never had to do. The threats in my line of work have to be eliminated by either killing them, or having them put in prison. Situations in the streets are different because, once you escape from the threat, you’re safe. In my line of work, the threat is imminent and constant and until that threat is dealt with, your life remains in danger. She now has a target on her back and if she thought I was keeping a close eye on her before, she hasn’t seen anything yet. Now that Steven has her in his sights, I’ll be watching her like a hawk.

  Johnnie

  I don’t know how long I lie in his arms, trying to hide the fact that I’m trembling. The man who killed my sister knows who I am and now he’s going to kill me too. I shudder as I try to push the thought away.

  “Are you cold?” Cash asks me, rubbing his large hand over my arm.

  “No,” I lie about the icy fear now rippling up my spine at the thought of my sister’s killer and what she must have endured by his hand. Was it a quick death or had it been agonizingly slow and painful? I don’t realize a tear is flowing down my cheek until he starts speaking again.

  “Hey, hey, hey, do you think I’m going to let that bastard get near you?”

  “I don’t know. It isn’t just that. Seeing him just stirs up a lot of emotions I thought were buried.”

  “Baby, that stuff doesn’t go away. Pain like that is too deep. It scars over but it never goes away.”

  “Cash, if you could have seen the way he was looking at me, you’d understand. It was cold, calculating, and heartless.”

  He lifts my chin and his face has the look of a snarling, feral animal. “Do you honestly believe that I’m going to let him get to you after I kidnapped you to save you from yourself?”

  “He’s dangerous, Cash.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m fucking dangerous too. Grr,” he growls, kidding with me. I can’t help but burst out laughing.

  Steven Taggart might be a killer but Undercover Elite is an organization that is trained to deal with his type and I couldn’t be in better hands.

  Rhonda

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk… you have been a very naughty girl.”

  “Leave her out of this, Steven, please.” I hate that my voice comes out so weak. It’s as if I’m begging him to have mercy on me. It isn’t me I’m begging for, though. It’s my baby sister. It’s an ingrained behavior—protecting her—and one I can’t avoid. I’ve been doing it my whole life, looking out for my baby sister from the day she was born. There were five years difference in age between us and I watched over her from the day my mother brought her home from the hospital.

  Oh, there were various reasons I had to watch over her, all of them very good. There was my
mother’s alcoholism and then there were the men she brought in and out of our lives. They had proven to be even more dangerous than having a violent drunk for a mother. The bruises from the beatings we suffered, whenever she was in an alcohol induced rage, healed. The scars I carry from what the men put me through, and would have put Johnnie through if I hadn’t protected her, never healed. I’m a living testimony to that.

  My head jerks back so quickly when he roughly yanks a handful of my hair that it hits the top of the chair where I’m sitting. He forces me to look up at him from where he stands behind me.

  “Trouble just seems to follow you. Doesn’t it, girl?”

  I can’t stop the chuckle that comes out as I speak, “You did this. You killed a woman to stage my death.”

  “I beg to differ. Colombian drug lords killed that girl. I just capitalized on it and made it look like it was you. You forced my hand when you threatened to leave me. I love you too much to give you that option, especially with all the information you have about my, shall we say, activities. You’ve put me in a bit of a bind, Rhonda. It seems your little sister has hooked up with a very powerful man.”

  I jerk away from his grip and turn, eyeing him in anger. “Who?” I can’t hide the desperation in my voice. I have to know if she’s safe.

  “I’m not going to bother you with trivial details, darling.” His voice drips with sarcasm as he continues to speak, “Let’s just say that you have Talia to think about and I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to put you in a situation where you never get to see our daughter again, would you?”

  “Mommy, mommy, look at what I drew in preschool today.”

  As if on cue, my daughter runs into the room, solidifying his veiled threats. That’s how he operates; there’s always a menacing undertone to his speech.

  I grab my daughter, set her on my lap, and take the picture from her hands. “It’s beautiful, baby.”

  “I drew it for you, mommy.”

  “Give daddy a kiss.” He leers at me as he speaks to our daughter.

  She jumps from my lap and into his arms. He pulls her against him and pets her dishwater blonde hair, eyeing me with a look that says it all. He holds all the power and I will never be free from him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Cash

  “You have stirred up a hornet’s nest, my brother.” Hunter jokes with me over the phone as I sit at my desk and listen over the speakerphone.

  “Mr. Steven Taggart has been all up in your business.”

  “As long as he stays the fuck away from my woman, I really don’t care what he does. I want you to do me a favor though. I want the hospital records on the death of Johnnie’s sister.”

  “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

  “I’m going to keep it to myself for now. It’s just a gut feeling.”

  “I know how you think and you aren’t hiding anything from me. You think I’ll come to the same conclusion if your gut’s right and you’re keeping me in the dark because you don’t want my perception skewed.”

  “You do know how I think. I want the nurses who were on duty more so than I need the doctor’s names. You know how it is. It’s easier to get Intel from them.”

  “Alright, I’m on it. I’ll get back with you as soon as I track ‘em down.”

  I hang up the phone and let my mind wander. I’m not feeling settled with this case. There are too many unanswered questions. Johnnie never saw her sister’s body. Steven had the body cremated and I’m certain he did so to cover up information he didn’t want people knowing.

  The son of a bitch brought her a shoebox containing Rhonda’s personal items. Who does that? Normally, family members of the deceased go through the belongings together to decide who gets what. Many times, they do so more for sentimental reasons than monetary ones and it’s a time for remembrance and grieving. I understand that she didn’t have a normal family unit, but a shoebox? I just don’t get that concept.

  “Hey, I was wondering where you were.” I look up to see her entering my office.

  “Go get me that shoebox Taggart gave you.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Just go get it please.” I’m not going to answer too many questions right now and give her false hope. I don’t want to subject her to that but I do want to confirm that it was her sister’s body that was cremated. In my line of work, cremation always raises a red flag.

  I wait as she goes to retrieve the only pieces of her sister’s life she has in her possession. She sets it down on the desk in front of me and I can already see the tears welling up in her eyes.

  I carefully open the lid, purposely showing reverence with items that wouldn’t mean anything to someone else, but mean the world to her.

  It’s mostly trinkets. There’s a necklace that says Sister on a thin gold chain, dried flowers, and wedding pictures of her and Steven. I am certain he put those in there to send a message.

  “The dried flowers are from her wedding. I know it’s stupid but I can’t get rid of them.”

  “I don’t think it’s stupid.”

  “This is what I’m looking for,” I state as I grab a white piece of paper. It’s her death certificate and it’s creased from years of being folded. I gently unfold it and read its contents. Information jumps out at me as I read her name, the doctor on duty who made the declaration, and the biggie—cause of death. Hers is listed as a self-induced gunshot wound. The funny thing about suicide and women is the fact that most women aren’t going to shoot themselves in the head, especially not a woman who looked like Rhonda. Most women will take a handful of pills before they’ll take a gun, stick it to their heads, and blow their brains out.

  This guy is hiding something and cremating her body is the first clue for me. He was in too big of a hurry to get rid of that body. Another thing I don’t like about it is that her death happened while they were on vacation in the Bahamas. I just can’t imagine Rhonda choosing her family vacation as a time to end it all. Everything about this case stinks and that includes Steven Taggart. This guy is as shady as they come and I’m not buying any of his bullshit.

  I’m not going to tell Johnnie what I’m thinking, not yet at least. The last thing I need is her nosing around in this guy’s business. He’s already on high alert from seeing her at the car dealership. What he doesn’t know is that I’m on to him. I am convinced that Johnnie’s sister is still alive. Now, I just need to find out what he has on Rhonda that is keeping her from contacting the baby sister she loved and adored. You don’t go from being as overprotective as Rhonda was of Johnnie, to just cutting contact. If she’s still alive, this guy has something on her and I have every intention of finding out just what it is.

  Chapter Twenty

  Rhonda

  I smile at my daughter as I address her nanny, “Make sure you put sunscreen on her and put on her floaties. She is convinced she knows how to swim and she’ll try to talk you out of it but don’t let her.”

  “I can swim, mommy,” Talia cocks her head and eyes me as if I should already be well aware of that fact.

  “I know you can, sweetie, but humor mommy.”

  “Okay,” she replies in her most grown-up, big girl voice.

  “I love you to the moon and back.”

  “I love you to the moon and back too, mommy. Eskimo kisses,” she giggles as she rubs the tip of her nose against the tip of mine. Everything I do, and have done, has been for this little girl on my lap. She is my world and I will do anything to keep her safe from her father.

  Finally, after four years of being held against my will, I am being given the chance to escape with the life of my daughter and me intact. If I can do it now, while she is young enough to not fully understand the lifestyle of organized crime that her father is involved in, it will be so much better. As much as I hate her father, I have no desire to share that hatred with my daughter. I don’t want her to have to deal with the horror of knowing what a monster he is. The only good thing that’s come out of my marr
iage to Steven is my daughter, Talia.

  Up until now, I have been at my husband’s mercy but, as fate would have it, my little sister is in the picture now. I need to find out more about her and, more than that, I need to find out what has my husband so worried. Steven isn’t in the habit of getting rattled by other people’s power; he has plenty of his own. I have personally witnessed him deal with some of the most dangerous men in the drug trafficking business. He isn’t scared of people; they are scared of him.

  Whoever my little sister is dealing with has him worried and if they are powerful enough to have him worried, then they might be powerful enough to get my daughter and me away from my crazy ass husband.

  I go to the bedroom door and listen, assuring no one would intercept me in what I’m about to do. My husband’s goons must be with him today. Yeah, he’s either scared or on guard against somebody and I have every intention of finding out who. Normally, he has one of his oversized buffoons here to monitor my every move. If I am going to get into his office without being detected, today is the day.

  I ease my way down the hallway and enter the necessary code to gain access to my husband’s office. There’s so much the man doesn’t know about me. The bastard has made the mistake of underestimating me and has no idea that there isn’t a single locked door in this prison of a house that I can’t open. I have spied and memorized every code. Just the rebellion of knowing that I have been gaining Intel on him for years without his knowledge makes me feel better. I resent the fact that he’s forced me to stay with him and I damn sure resent the fact that he’s been using my daughter to do it.

  I quietly shut the door and begin the process of pilfering through his desk drawers. The first thing I’m after is one of the many burner phones he keeps on hand for his illegal activities. I grab one and have to resist the temptation to get two of them in case he counts them. If he notices one missing, he might think he miscounted or used one more than he thought, but two would raise too much suspicion. I slip it in the back pocket of my jeans and look around at the small notes left on his desk. It doesn’t take but a few moments for me to find one with my sister’s name on it and, written next to it, the name of a man. I grab a pen and tear a piece of paper off a notepad. I purposely don’t write on the notepad so there won’t be an imprint. I write down the name, Cash Kensington, and two words that piqued my interest, Undercover Elite.