Shattered (Guardian Series Book 1)

by Shawna K. Rockey

  Pop, Pop, Pop. I hear the gunshot ring out before I see it through the monitors, my heart beat suspended in time. Anger does not describe the fury raging through me, at this moment. I stand on the other side of the world, utterly helpless, scared for her, scared for me and absolutely ready to bring hell down on Arman.

  “Get them on the fucking line now,” I yell.

  “I don’t care who notifies the authorities but someone needs to. Black Lancer. PA plates SKR-5789. Heading west on Annville Road. Shots fired.” I shout, with anger in my voice.

  Within a second, I hear Matt on the phone with authorities reporting the situation, the coordinates and the vehicle plates.

  Out of pure fear, I hear Jimmy order, “Get down. Get the fuck down, Jaycee.”

  I shake my head in disbelief. This can’t be happening! My worst fear is unfolding before my eyes and I have no control to stop it or to protect her.

  Even though I feel like a volcano ready to erupt and spew hot lava killing everyone around me, I remain calm on the outside, as I navigate Jaycee through the streets of Ridge Landing.

  I hear her resolve diminishing, so I offer her the only words of encouragement that comes to mind in a crisis like this.

  “No, don’t do that.” I softly say, with concern teetering in the forefront of my spoken words. “You are the strongest woman I know. Think of this as a game, one that you want to win right? You need to stay ten steps ahead of the enemy.”

  Complete silence engulfs headquarters, not one rattle can be heard except for the loud crashing sound echoing through the speakers. We stand by and bear witness to the commotion on the screen before our eyes. Jaycee hasn’t uttered a single word or expressed an ounce of pain through the speaker until the car settles.

  We stand, motionless, as we watch the men approach the car with their guns drawn, raining fire on the wreckage.

  I yell for Jaycee. When she doesn’t respond, I yell even louder.

  Pop,Pop.

  “Augh,” She lets out a blood curdling scream.

  Pop, Pop.

  The police arrive on scene and immediately return fire. Their pistols are no match for the assault rifles those bastards are carrying. An officer sneaks up behind the black Audi and shoots the unsuspecting tall man. The tall man falls forward and face plants himself on the concrete below. He’s not moving; which I can only assume he’s dead. Good!

  The second, shorty stubby man unloads more gunfire until his magazine is empty. A policeman attacks the man from behind, wrestles him to ground while other officers race over to assist him.

  As the police secure the second man, I see a team of paramedics sprint over to Jaycee’s car. The lead paramedic assess the situation and radios the dispatcher.

  “We have an unresponsive female involved in a motor vehicle accident at the corner of Park Ave and Pike Alley,” The male paramedic reports. “She is the only occupant of the vehicle. The woman is secured in her seatbelt while the car is resting on its roof. We need the fire department to perform a rescue extraction with the jaws of life. There is a moderate amount of bleeding from lacerations to the head and neck. Unknown if there are other injuries. Request a medical helicopter and notify Sandbridge trauma center, immediately.”

  “Jimmy, I need you to call your father and tell him what’s happening,” I whisper, with agony in my voice.

  Jimmy uses the phone connected to the speakers in the room. “Dad, I don’t have long, but I need you to know that there has been an accident,” Jimmy explains, his words laced with sorrow.

  “Are you okay?” Glenn asks with concern. “I’m at Walmart waiting for your sister. There are men following her.”

  Jimmy looks up towards the ceiling, closes his eyes and sighs.

  “They got her dad.” He says, barley keeping his composure in front of the others. “I can’t explain right now, but there has been a terrible accident. They need to extract her from the car and then she’ll be sent by life flight to Sandbridge Trauma center.”

  “Tell me, where she is now,” Glenn demands.

  “She’s at the corner of Park Ave and Pike Alley. But dad, you need to know that she’s unresponsive,” Jimmy says, water pooling in his eyes.

  There is an audible gasp broadcasted from the speakers anchored around the room.

  “I’m two blocks away,” Glenn states. “I can not let her go through this alone. She’s my baby.”

  My heart breaks hearing Glenn call her his baby, because she’s also mine. I need to separate my emotions and try to keep Glenn from falling apart right now.

  “Glenn, this is Jaxon.” I say, with urgency in my voice. “The police killed one and captured the other. You need to make sure they don’t release him. I want as much information on him as you can get from the police. You need to go to her now. We will check in as soon as we can.”

  Glenn doesn’t respond, he quietly disconnects the call.

  Within a few minutes, we see the fire department pull up to the scene and assess the situation. I observe a few of the men obtain the large metal cutters from the trailer and walk back to the car. We watch Glenn approach the wreckage, only to collapse to his knees and cover his face with both hands. We can’t view the wreckage or see what Glenn sees. We can only see out of the car’s rearview camera, but the sight before us is gut-wrenching. To watch a grown man fall to his knees at the scene before him is a horrific sight to see. I know how I am feeling at this moment…I can only imagine how Glenn is feeling himself.

  I stand in the center of the room. My hands are clutching the back of the chair. Flashbacks of the gunshots, of her cries for help, trying to escape their wrath, witnessing the crash, learning she’s unresponsive, and then seeing Glenn fall to his knees was all it took. I let out an animalistic growl and whipped the wooden chair across the room as hard as I can. The chair splits into a dozen pieces which was not enough to sustain the beast inside, so I reach for my next object to pulverize and R.J. comes over and places a hand on my shoulder.

  “Boss, you can’t do this,” R.J. says calmly as he tries to bring me back to reality. “This isn’t going to help her right now.”

  I feel all my emotions circling in my mind and I know I’m about to lose control.

  “I want to know everything,” I demand. “I want to know who they are and why they were after her. I want the video sent to the police as evidence so that piece of shit doesn’t see daylight again. I want access to the Trauma centers’ servers so we can keep tabs on her condition.”

  The rage continue to boils inside of me.

  “And I want to know where the fuck Arman is,” I yell.

  I storm out of headquarters and head to the bunkroom. Once inside, I also fall to my knees. The anger and pain are too much for me to carry.

  “God, please save her. She doesn’t deserve this. Please let her be ok,” I plead, tears flowing freely down my checks, creating watermarks on my shirt.

  I’m a leader of men and women, I’m expected to remain strong when faced with adversity but I’m not made of stone. For the first time since my parents died, I sob and weep bitter tears.

  I regain my composure and return to headquarters, with more fire in my veins to get this mission completed.

  “What do you have for me?” I command, as I enter the room.

  “Jaycee just landed at the trauma center,” Jimmy reported. “Her condition is still unknown.”

  “The two men who followed her are linked to Arman through a terrorist group on the dark web called Red arrow,” R.J. announced. “They have cells in ten states. The cell geographically closest to Jaycee is the group in New York, which is where we suspect they were from. There were two trackers found on Jaycee’s car. The first tracker is the one you placed. The second tracker was placed an hour before the crash occurred, while she was at a farmers market. The authorities in all the affected states have been made aware of the cells and agreed to have detectives trail them for a while.”

  “What we cannot determine is how they knew her or
why they were after her,” Erica added.

  I look over to R.J.

  “Are you sure the telecommunication connections are secure?”

  “I’ve triple checked them. I routed all the lines to a non-disclosed server in the Caribbean, just to allow time for additional scanning time so a hacking attempt can be detected,” R.J. explains.

  “What did the field map research conclude,” I ask the team. “Are there underground bunkers that we are not aware of? Is there an indicator on the map anywhere that can provide proof of a mountain side bunker?”

  My eyes roam over the room we are in as I try to make sense of the information. The only conclusion is they know we’re here and they know who we are. But how? The first call I made was when the air strike missile was released. Three days later he was able to a secure a cell in the states to target Jaycee. He knows we’re here. Our position is compromised. We need to get out of here immediately.

  I walk over to the chalk board on the wall and begin to write my suspicions.

  Post is compromised. Pack what we can. Leave the rest. Do not speak. Act immediately.

  One of our TV monitors begins to blink with snowy white lines before the screen returns to normal. “Emergency Announcement from Iranian Air,” a male broadcaster’s voice bellows through the monitor.

  “What the hell is this,” I inquire, incredulously.

  Right before our eyes, on the news announcement, stands Arman Shah. He’s dressed in full length black pants and a wool cloth wrapped around his head. His eyes have an evil glare to them, void of any human regard.

  “You Americans think you’re so smart,” Arman sneers. “I knew you were here before you laid your heads to rest the first night in my village. You will find your American soldier friend Kenan hanging in the middle of town square. His ears and tongue were removed prior to his demise. He wasn’t willing to cooperate for me so hear no evil and speak no evil. Very fitting, don’t you think? Think of it as a parting gift.”

  Arman looks around the flat, dirt ground he is standing on and continues.

  “Your bunker is a known landmark in our village for the past 30 years. Do you really think we weren’t aware of its location?” He sneers.

  Arman waves his hand in thin air.

  “Enough formalities, let’s get down to business,” Arman says. “You have exactly one hour to leave my village before a missile lands directly on top of you. If you do not comply with my orders, not only will you burn alive from the missile attack, but a very pretty American girl will soon be blessed with my presence. If I’m not mistaken, wasn’t she recently in a horrendous car accident? What a terrible shame, I would hate anything bad to happen to her.”

  The cameraman zooms in and focuses closely on Arman’s face. “One hour,” he states, with eyes of the devil peering into the camera screen.

  No words were spoken as the team and I quickly dismantle the computers, memory boards, and servers, smashing them to smithereens, so none of our information could ever be detected. We get dressed in our gear, loaded with grenades and homemade bombs. Our rifles are draped over our shoulders and we move out. I place a bomb in headquarters, in the bunker, and in the waste room. When the last soldier slips out of the passage behind the wooden crates in the marketplace, I throw a grenade down the passage and we run for cover.

  We trudge along the mountain side passing the center of the village where we stop to honor our friend, Kenan. He gave his life protecting us and for that we are eternally grateful. His actions were selfless and I will make sure his family knows how courageous he was. I disarm myself and lay down my gear. I will not leave a fallen soldier behind. I walk to the center of town and cut him down from the hanging post. I lift him up from the ground and place him over my shoulders. Kenan was a tiny but muscular man. He stood no more than 5’6 and weighed approximately 200 lbs. I approach the team again with sweat on my brow. The men disperse my gear amongst themselves and we walk the next four hours to where the helicopter is stored.

  Once we approach the helicopter, I radio in to the commander to inform him of the current situation. He advises us to go to the American Military base in Turkey.

  Jaycee

  Present

  I lay completely motionless. My body aches in areas that I didn’t even realize had nerve endings. I have the worst headache in the world. I try to open my eyes but they won’t respond to my commands. Why won’t my eyes open? Where am I? I only hear a beeping sound.

  Beep, beep.

  My mind starts to drift away.

  “Wyatt, please understand I want to wait until I’m married. My mother reminds me every chance she gets how special sex is between two people,” I explain.

  “But Jaycee, I want us to have a future together. That’s why I want to be with you. I can’t picture my life with anybody else,” he responds.

  Wyatt grabs my hand and leads me to his bedroom. His bedroom is spacious with a large bathroom attached. He has a queen size bed dressed in a dark blue quilt. His trophies are neatly placed on his shelves and dresser tops. He has pictures of his friends and various action photos of him playing soccer. His walls are painted a faint blue color with a light oak trim that stretches on the base of his floor and around his doorways.

  “I’m not sure I’m ready for this. I’m only sixteen,” I say, hesitantly.

  “Everybody is doing it, Jaycee. Besides, it’s extra special for you because we’ve been together for two years now and we have a lifetime to go,” he says, reassuringly.

  I nod in agreement. I close my eyes and battle the internal war trying to decide if this is right or wrong. I slip of my flip-flops and sit at the edge of his bed. I guess this is it.

  Wyatt steps closer to me and motions for me to stand. He bends down and grabs the bottom of my dress and slips it over my head and throws it on the floor.

  “You’re hot,” Wyatt says. He leans in and starts kissing me. The kiss is rushed and sloppy.

  He practically rips my underwear off, in excitement. And with an equal amount of enthusiasm, he disrobes himself. I’m left with my bra still holding back the innocence I know I am about to lose.

  He reaches over to the stand beside the bed and pulls a condom from the top drawer. The clock sitting on the stand says 2:28 p.m.

  My eyes roam over his body in curiosity. I’m familiar with what the inside of a penis looks like, because of the anatomy pictures in health class, but this is the first I’m seeing an actual one. It’s very odd looking.

  He rolls the condom on and gently pushes me backwards on the bed.

  “It’ll pinch for a minute, but then it will feel good,” he said.

  He didn’t even wait for my reply. He lunges himself forward into my sacred garden then pushes harder as he broaches my virginal barrier.

  I let out a painful yelp.

  “Wait! Stop! It hurts,” I say as I push back on his shoulders.

  He momentarily stills in place. “It’s over Jaycee. It won’t hurt anymore,” he leans down and kisses my forehead and starts his movements again until he lets out a boyish groan and stops.

  Seconds later he pulls out, removes his condom and tosses it in the can beside the bed.

  I watch his movements and notice the clock reads 2:31pm. Three minutes! All that hype and it look less than three minutes. Sex wasn’t at all like my mother described. I didn’t experience any pleasure or strong emotions the way she said I would. I didn’t feel anything but pain. At that moment, I knew I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life.

  A week later he ghosted me and started dating someone new. I didn’t hear from him for two months and from that moment on the vicious cycle of rejection began; not only from Wyatt, but other insignificant boyfriends in between.

  “Jaycee, it’s Dad. Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can hear me. Please, baby girl squeeze my hand,” I can hear my dad. It sounds like he is crying.

  I can feel the pressure in the palm of my hand, my fingers weighted down in place. But I am unable to sque
eze. My mind tells my hand to squeeze, but my hand does not cooperate.

  “You’ve been in a car accident. I need you to wake up. I can’t lose you too, Jaycee. Please wake up,” Dad begs.

  That’s why my body feels like a ragged doll. I was in a car accident? I try searching my memory, but I don’t remember a car accident.

  “Hello,” I hear my dad say to someone else.

  “She is in stable condition.” I hear my dad say. “She sustained a gunshot wound to her lower left calf. It was a small graze, but the surgeons had to go in and remove the bullet fragments and glass shards. She also suffered four fractured ribs along with lacerations to her head and neck. She has mild swelling on her brain, but they have her on prednisone and anti-inflammatory medication to reduce the inflammation and swelling. The doctors suspect she will be in a coma anywhere between a few hours to several days. Right now, it’s a waiting game. Clinically, the doctors say she should be fine.”

  Who is he talking to? I wish I could open my eyes but my head hurts so bad.

  “When will you and Jaxon be home,” I hear dad ask. “ I see.”

  Jaxon. I know Jaxon. I love Jaxon. A sudden pain shoots to my head. I want Jaxon. The beeping sound is getting louder.

  “Hold on for a minute. Her heart rate is increasing and her machine is beeping really loud. There it’s returning to normal,” I hear dad explain.

  Jaxon. I really wish he was here. I can’t feel him but my heart longs for him. My body is in a constant state of lucidness, always searching for him. I pull him from a buried memory.

  “You brought me to Germany in the middle of Oktoberfest. I completely forgot that this was a thing. This is so awesome. I really enjoyed the Bavarian food vendors. I loved how almost all the foods were cooked and marinated in beer. My favorite was the schnitzel with beer stein noodles and huluski with dark beer-marinated chicken topped with a splash of rosemary and chives.”

  I turned, and slowly sauntered my way towards him, my eyes filled with lust and my lips turned upward, smiling. “You really are the best, most handsome boyfriend ever,” I said as I jumped on his lap while he sat on the king size bed in the hotel room. I straddled his waist and heatedly started kissing him. He lifts my skirt up to my hips and slips his one hand underneath, igniting my flame. I lifted myself on my knees just high enough to undo his pants and pull him free. He pushes my panties to the side and enters me in one quick movement. I gasp at the sudden intrusion while he hungrily accepts my cry in his mouth. We spend the next hour, moving in sync, swallowing each other’s moans until we are both sated.