Pieces Of Heaven: Pieces Of Heaven (Heaven & Hell Book 2)

by Natasha Madison

  “Shower sex is even better than morning sex.”

  “Is that so?” I’ve never had shower sex. I’ve always rushed through my morning shower, doing my thing, and getting out. When the water is warm enough for him, he steps into the tub and holds his hand out to me.

  “Let me show you.”

  I look at him, this naked god, holding out his hand, wanting to show me the goodness of shower sex. I almost blurt out that maybe it isn’t a good idea, but my good sense takes over, and I walk over to the shower, take his hand, and let him give me my lesson.

  An hour later, the hot water has turned frigid, I’ve had more orgasms than I can count on one hand, and I can agree as I walk out of the bathroom on wobbly legs that shower sex is so much fucking better than morning sex.

  “I need a power nap or I won’t last tonight,” I tell him, heading over to my bed and throwing myself into the middle of it.

  “I thought you had to help Phyllis?” he says from his position standing beside the bed where he is still naked.

  “Wake me in an hour, please.” I turn my head, throw the cover over myself, and close my eyes. I fall asleep with a smile on my face and a well used vagina.

  I take my one-hour power nap, waking up semi-refreshed but still sore. I look around for Mick, finding him dressed and on the couch watching television.

  “You don’t have cable?” he asks.

  “Nope, got bigger things to worry about than an extra forty-dollar cable bill each month. Besides, we have Netflix, and you don’t need cable when you have Netflix,” I tell him, gathering my shoes from the front closet. “Will you be okay here or did you want to leave at the same time?”

  He gets up, coming to the door to put his shoes on. “I’ll drop you off, go to the gym, and then swing by to pick you up after. We can eat at the diner.”

  “Okay.” I follow him down to his car and get in while I do a quick scan to make sure my car is still there and that no one has vandalized it. “I have to move my car tonight so no one thinks I abandoned it.”

  He doesn’t say much on the ride to Phyllis’s, but then neither do I. Once we get there, I unbuckle my seat belt and go to open the door when I’m pulled back to him. “Last night was everything,” he tells me in a whisper, “everything.” He kisses me on my cheek, then my nose, then my other cheek, and then finally on my lips. Soft, delicate kisses. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” He rubs his thumbs on his side chin.

  “Okay.”

  I get out of the car, closing the door, and then start walking into the diner, but turn around and go back to the car where I knock on the window. He lowers the window, and I lean down to look into the car at him. “Besides giving birth to my daughter, it was one of the best nights of my life, too.”

  With that, I leave him, turning around and walking into the diner where Phyllis is standing behind the counter with a coffee in her hand. One look at her and I see that she is snickering.

  “Walk of shame or walk of a new woman, which one is it?” she asks, taking a drink of her coffee.

  “No shame in walking out with that man. I can tell you that for sure.”

  I shake my head and head into the back where I put away my purse, put on my apron, and start my routine. A routine that I started just a couple of days ago, but it’s a routine that I’m finally proud of.

  Chapter Twenty

  Mick

  I open my eyes for the second day in a row and look over at Marissa, who is still sleeping. Fuck, I can’t believe that this woman has been put into my life. She’s a fucking angel. And the fucking sex, I’ve never had sex like that in my life.

  The replay of the sex we had last night in my head is interrupted by my phone buzzing on the nightstand. It’s Chris, the new recruit, fresh out of boot camp.

  “Hello,” I whisper, trying not to wake Marissa.

  “Hey, Mick, I didn’t know if I should call you or Jackson. Some girl came in late last night, early this morning. I think you should hear her story.”

  As he continues to relay her story to me, the hair stands up on the back of my neck. I don’t waste any more time and tell him, “I’ll be there in ten. Don’t let her leave. Don’t let anyone else get in there with her.” I click end and call Jackson. It rings twice before he picks up.

  “Hello.”

  “We got a lead,” I say to him as I move around to get my clothes and get dressed. “Some girl came into the precinct last night, spinning a tale about meeting a guy and being creeped out by him.”

  “Okay. You think it’s connected?” he asks while I hear rushing on his end as well.

  “Not only do I think it’s connected, but I also think he’s the guy. She kept saying he tried pushing her to take a pill to relax. When she fought him on it, he got pissed off and started yelling at her.” I look over at Marissa, who is now sitting up with wide eyes.

  “Where was this?” he asks almost in a whisper, afraid of my answer.

  “At the fucking mall. It must be their playground. Scan the area, pick out a girl, and then approach her.” I look at Marissa and see one tear roll down her cheek.

  “Getting in the car in five. Meet you there,” he says, and I disconnect and look over at her.

  “Babe, we might have something. I can’t get into it now because time is of the essence. I need you to trust me to handle it. I promise, if it’s something, I will let you know.” I want to reach out and hold her, but there isn’t time.

  She nods her head in agreement. “Be safe.” I hear her saying as I rush out the door to head to the precinct, praying that this is the break we need.

  I get into the precinct before Jackson does, so I grab the file and start reading the notes. Jackson comes in a couple of minutes later and leans over my shoulder to read it, too. “What have you got?”

  “Same MO as Lori. I fucking smell this shit. I feel this in my gut,” I tell him, shaking my head. It was right in front of us the whole time.

  “Where is the girl?” he asks, looking around.

  “Room one. Her parents are on their way,” Roger, the desk sergeant, tells us as he walks into the office followed by Chris. I give him chin up.

  “What’s her story?” I ask him.

  “Maya, sixteen, pissed at the world, hangs at the mall with her friends, bitches about her parents, bitches about school, bitches about other people breathing from what I could tell. Guy approached her when her friends left. Started flirting with her. Clean-cut guy, maybe seventeen or eighteen tops. Kept talking about his friends having a party and how he wanted her to go. Something about him was off, she said.”

  “Finally, bastard got sloppy.” I cross my arms over my chest.

  Jackson looks over at me, watching Roger walk out. “You okay to do this?” he asks me, knowing I’m emotionally involved even if I want to deny it. I haven’t told him that things with Marissa have progressed.

  “What the fuck are you asking me, Jack?” I use his nickname to let him know not to fuck with me right now.

  “I’m asking you right now if you are okay to do this.”

  “I’m getting her back. You can do it with me or you can watch. Either way, you let me know what you are going to do.”

  He nods his head, letting me know, without words, that he has my back.

  “Okay, man. Let’s get what we need so we can bring her home,” Jackson says, following me into the room.

  I enter the room and immediately take in the hot pink-tipped, blonde-headed girl. Her brown eyes are bloodshot and puffy from crying. She has a blanket wrapped around her, and she’s rocking back and forth. Her adrenaline is finally crashing.

  Jackson sits down across from her. “Hey, Maya. I’m Jackson. This is Mick. I know someone was in here earlier asking you questions. Mind if we go over a couple of things?” he asks.

  She nods her head yes.

  “Can you tell me this guy’s name?” he asks her.

  “Called himself Ryan,” she whispers.

  “What did he look like? An
y scars? Tattoos? Anything special about his appearance?”

  “He had brown hair, brown eyes, shaved sides and longer on top. He was wearing cargo shorts and a plain white T-shirt.” She closes her eyes like she is trying to picture him. “Oh, and he had a tattoo.” She opens her eyes. “I just remembered. It was a diamond with the word Peace under it on the inside of his right wrist. I remember it now. I saw it when he grabbed my wrist and squeezed me.”

  Jackson looks over at me, and I turn and walk out of the room, going to the computer to run the tattoo she described through our databases.

  It takes a few minutes for the computer to do its thing. It finally spits out a name and address. I barely restrain myself from my fist pumping, because I know better than anyone not to celebrate till we have a successful identification. I pick up the phone and call down to send a patrol car out to pick him up.

  Right before I return to the room, Chris stops me. “Maya’s parents just came in.” I nod and head to the waiting room.

  “Hi there, I’m Detective Moro. My partner, Detective Fletcher, is in with Maya right now asking her some routine questions. I’ll take you to her. I’m sure you’re both anxious to see her.”

  The mother lets out a quiet sob while her husband wraps an arm around her shoulders to steady her. I hear him whispering to her that everything’s fine, that she’s okay.

  I walk them to the room, knocking before entering. I don’t say anything as Maya’s parents both rush over and hug her. I tilt my head toward the door to indicate to Jackson to follow me out.

  We step into the hall to give them some privacy. He looks at me, waiting to hear what I’ve learned. “What did you find?”

  “Name’s Ryan King. Calls himself Diamond Boy. We have an address, and an undercover is heading there now to see if we can pick him up.”

  “So we wait?” he asks.

  “We wait.” I walk to my desk as Jackson sits in front of his computer to see what else he can find on Ryan King. Nothing pops up that I haven’t already seen. Normal blue-collar family, the kid’s got a couple of misdemeanors, but as a minor, they’ll be sealed as soon as he turns eighteen, which is in three days.

  The phone on my desk rings, and I pick it up. Chris lets me know that they got him. Hanging up the phone, I smile at Jackson, feeling the familiar surge of adrenaline when a case starts coming together. “We got him.”

  Jackson nods at me and begins getting ready for when they bring in Ryan King. It takes about twenty minutes to bring him in and install him in a room on the other side of the building so Maya won’t see him.

  When Jackson looks over at me, I’m practically bouncing on the balls of my feet like a boxer getting ready to enter the ring. This kid is going to lead me to Lori, I just know it.

  “I think it’s safe to say I’m going to be the one doing the talking. You should sit back and listen. Yeah?” Jackson tells me, opening the door, and coming face to face with our first real lead in these cases.

  He sits there in baggy sweats, tight T-shirt, and one of those stupid flat-billed baseball hats with diamond logos all around it. He looks like the punk that he is.

  “Hey, Ryan, thanks for coming in.” Jackson will start easy with him.

  “Well, I didn’t really have a choice since they cuffed me, put me in a car, and brought me here.” Jackson sits back in his chair and throws the pen on the table. It’s the first sign that this kid is pushing him to his limits and we’ve only been in here for five seconds.

  “All right then, let’s cut the bullshit. Where were you yesterday afternoon?”

  “Out and about,” he answers with a smirk.

  “You go to the mall yesterday?” His voice is calm and I wait for him to dig his own hole.

  “Yesterday? I don’t really know. Maybe I should check my calendar.” Such a wise-ass. I can feel my blood pressure ticking up.

  “No need to check your calendar. You see, we have video.” It’s a stretch. We haven’t seen the video yet, and we have no idea what’s on it, but Ryan’s expression immediately changes.

  His smirk gone, the vein in his neck starting to pulse faster.

  “What video?” His face pales as he asks the question.

  “Come on, Ryan, smart guy like you? You have to know there are cameras all over that mall. It’s all going to be there, my man.”

  He swallows, his leg starting to bounce. “I was told they weren’t working,” he mutters.

  We fucking got him.

  “Who told you that? Dude, you got played. It’s all there. Gotta say”—he shakes his head at him—“you had us going there for a bit, but it was only a matter of time.”

  “I didn’t do anything.” He pushes himself forward, placing his hands on the table.

  “See, Ryan, that’s where you’re wrong,” he tells him and when he doesn’t say anything further, he continues. “I gave you a chance to tell us your side of the story, but you think you’re smarter than us.” He leans back into his chair while I lean against the wall with one foot folded over the other.

  “I did nothing wrong.” He looks at both of us, trying to convince us.

  “That isn’t what the video shows. You know it.” Jackson points to me. “We know it.”

  “Listen, I don’t know what you have, but I did nothing wrong.”

  “You baited them.” Short and sweet. “The video shows you even slipped them something.”

  “That’s bullshit! I didn’t give them shit till after we left!” And just like that, he buried himself. He knows it now just like I know it.

  “Really? Then it’s my mistake. You drugged them after you left, took them to wherever it is you took them, and now you are going to go down for drug possession, kidnapping, assaulting, and I gotta be honest with you, Ryan, no one in jail likes someone who drugs helpless women. Let alone sex offenders. They get the worst treatment in jail.”

  “I didn’t kidnap anyone. They came with me willingly.”

  “Where are they then?” Jackson asks him. “Give me a location.”

  “I...I...”

  This is when Jackson snaps. “You what? Did you kill them?” He raises his voice.

  He just shakes his head no.

  “You drugged them, lured them out, raped them, and then killed them.” His voice gets louder. “Then you disposed of their bodies. Where are they?” He slams his hand on the table, making him jump. “Pretty boy like you in prison, going to be rough keeping the boys at bay. Tell me what you did with them. TELL ME!”

  “I get paid to find the girls and drop them off. That’s it!”

  “Who pays you?”

  “No clue. Calls himself Chucky, like the Chucky doll. I bring them to him. He pays me ten grand per girl.”

  “How many?” Jackson asks him, and I hope to fuck he doesn’t clam up now.

  “Three so far.” He looks at us. “I wanted to stop, but he wouldn’t let me. He kept calling, said he’d dump them off at the cops and all they’d have was my name.”

  “Where did you drop them off?”

  “Some cheap motel off the interstate. I walked them in pretending we were going to a party, and then once we were inside, I just left. He had his guy waiting for them there.”

  “So you brought those three innocent girls to the devil’s doorstep.”

  “I did nothing wrong.”

  That’s the final straw before I fucking snap. “You lured three young girls away from their families through the use of an illegal substance. You then brought them to someone who rapes and probably beats them, while you walked away with thirty grand. And you think you didn’t do anything wrong here, Ryan? If any of those girls are dead, you will be charged with accessory to murder.”

  I lean over the table, looking him in the eye, and say, “And you better fucking believe I’ll be the one to put you in there. I’ll lead you in there like you led them in there. How is that?” I have to reel in my anger before I reach over this table and grab this punk by his neck.

  He doesn’t get
to answer before Jackson’s cell phone rings.

  Getting up, he answers the phone. “Hello?” I don’t hear who is on the other end but by the look on his face, I know it’s not good news. I don’t even have time to ask what is going on before he storms out of the interrogation room, heading for his keys.

  “Mick,” he yells for me, and I’m out of the room, slamming the door shut behind me.

  “Silent alarm was just triggered at Bella’s. Someone is on the scene, but I’m waiting for an update from Brian.” He puts him on speakerphone so I can hear.

  “Jackson, where are you?” His voice is tight. It’s curt and angry.

  “Give it to me.”

  “They have an ambulance going there now. Brenda has been beaten pretty badly. Lilah was the one who ran and hit the alarm.”

  “Where the fuck is Bella?”

  “Jackson.” He exhales a deep breath. “She’s nowhere to be found.” And just like that, his phone flies across the room, his knees buckle, and he almost falls down.

  “We will fucking get her back.” I grab him by the shirt, shaking him, trying to get him out of the haze that he is in. “You need to snap the fuck out of it and help me find your woman. You need to lock your shit down and fucking focus here, Jackson.”

  We both know who took her. Now we just have to find him before Jackson kills him himself.

  I do the driving, and we make it to his house in record time. By the time we get there, two cop cars, their lights still flashing, are already parked at the curb along with an ambulance.

  I run inside right behind Jackson, taking in the sight before me. It’s like a scene out of a fucking horror movie. The EMTs are working on Brenda, their neighbor, who is lying lifelessly in a puddle of her own blood.

  I scan the room, looking for anything that seems to be out of place, a broken window, busted door, something, but nothing seems to be out of place. I see no signs of a struggle. I continue scanning the room, stopping when I notice that Lilah has seen that Jackson arrived. She immediately jumps off the police officer’s lap and runs right to Jackson, crying.