Shattered Pieces (Undercover Elite Book 1) (6 page)

Cash

I quickly shower and throw on a pair of jogging pants. I want to get back to her story. I need to get in her head so, once again, I begin reading her private journals.

My eyes peered through the dirty window of the public school bus as it pulled into the parking lot.
The imposing, dirty edifice that loomed before me would be my school for the next year.
I had literally been thrown into what the government termed “Bussing” and it would forever alter not only my future, but my psyche as well.
The one thing I had going for me was that I was a survivor. I always have been. The circumstances of my life have seen to that, even from a very young age.
I learned early on that there would always be fear and that I would have to learn to do it afraid. Whatever the task at hand was, I would have to forge on and do it afraid.
The noise jarred me from my thoughts as I was shuffled through a herd of loud jeers and taunts. “You are going to get it the last day of school and every day in between!” These were not empty threats. They were promises of impending judgment for crossing territorial lines.
My days would not be spent studying or learning. They would be spent surviving, literally surviving.
This was just the beginning of a year that would be spent avoiding guns, knives, fights, and verbal abuse.
The proverbial “School of hard knocks” was now my new reality and I would carry the lessons throughout my life.
The things and the people I saw here would stay etched in my memory and I would use the lessons I learned to make a difference for years to come…
It didn’t take long for me to learn the ropes.
Things like being in class by the time the bell rang were now a necessary behavior for survival. I had no thoughts of obtaining brownie points with my teachers; that was irrelevant. Now it was about my day-to-day existence and not getting hurt. The thought of good behavior, or being the teacher’s pet, never entered my mind.
Even the teachers feared the students. Why wouldn’t I?!?
Things like getting caught in the halls, or worse yet, in a stairwell, now held threats of physical or sexual assault.
Missing the bus due to daydreaming was no longer an option.
It could literally cost me my life in this neighborhood.
Each day was the same routine of running through the hallway while juggling an armload of books in order to make it out to the bus on time.
You see... I not only had to be on time for one bus, but now two.
The first bus leaving the school would usher me back into safer neighborhoods and then a second bus had to be caught to take me home.
The four walls of our home, in the safe, suburban neighborhood could not protect me from the effects of what my eyes were seeing and what my ears were hearing on a daily basis.
If I was going to survive, then I was going to have to make friends and those friends came in a most unexpected way.
I had sauntered into the bathroom and walked right into a pack of girls who were bullying a fellow student.
Today is no different than my school days. The insults of choice remain the same for girls: hair and clothing, of course.
“Look at her hair! What are you doing to make it look like a rat’s nest?” they taunted and jeered.
I, in my ignorance, joined them to try and establish some sort of pecking order in the crazy mob.
I remember when, once they were gone, she looked at me and asked, “Why are you doing that? You don’t even know me. You are just trying to fit in like I am. We’re no different. You and I—we’re the same.”
She went by ‘Dee’ as a nickname and from that day on, we became best friends.
It would help us to navigate our way through the next three years of hell.
It was a hell we would have to endure for the sake of the education we were not really receiving.
I finally just quit school in order to avoid the stress of it all.
We were inseparable and as the years went on, we adapted.
We learned a different culture and a different language as far as communication with our peers. We learned a different way to dress and do our hair. We learned to eat different foods.
We learned an overall different way of living.
Ironically enough, those years of hell cultured me.
Life has a way of making its path known and I would need the gift of being a chameleon and being able to adapt to different cultures, people, languages, and worlds.
Those years of being immersed into an unknown world have served me well.
From Prince to pauper, from Princess to servant, I am able to relate to all different types of people.
From the inner city to the rural country, from the USA to the jungles of Guatemala, I have adapted and, yes, I have literally been there and done that.
There is no culture I do not feel comfortable in and I credit it to being thrown out of my element and being forced to adapt to the unknown time after time…
Though Dee was my friend, I had another friend that held a much bigger piece of my heart—books.
I would find myself wrapped in the pages of a book, being soothed by its words until I finally had to reluctantly dog ear its pages due to some responsibility demanding my attention.
I can remember sitting, huddled in the hallway next to the bookshelves encased in glass, staring reverently at the treasured sets of encyclopedias.
Hours upon hours, I would sit and read, letting the words and literature soothe me. Its soothing balm would be something that I would pass on to others in the form of my storytelling.
I don’t quite remember when it happened but one day my fingers touched the keyboard of a computer and they have not ceased.
I literally felt the life pouring out of me and onto that computer screen.
The grammar police, the naysayers, the critics, and the book reviewers could not be heard because my imagination had been given an outlet. I had found a way to tell my story and tell my story, I would.
You see… that is what I do. I weave a tale, I tell a story, and I pull my reader into my world. They see, feel, and understand the story being told to them and then they connect. The ‘ah ha’ moment grips them. It’s the moment that says, “I am understood…”

The journals confirm what I already know. She has an innate love of literature. This will actually speed up her training process. I am bonding with her as I read and I’m learning what motivates her.

It also reveals that she has the ability to be a chameleon. In my line of work, that can mean the difference between life and death. She‘s learned from an early age how to deal with not only emotional adversity, but physical discomfort as well. Things like pain, hunger, and withstanding the elements are all part her new job. Unlike many trainees, she is already trained in many of those areas; her hard life has seen to that. I have every intention of utilizing her personality traits for the good of the operation.

I set the computer off to the side and make my way to her room. I suddenly have this inexplicable need to see her and want to peek in on her while she’s sleeping. Her eyes flutter open as she wakes. I wonder if she can feel the presence of someone in her room. If so, it’s a good sign.

“I can’t sleep,” my voice comes out raspy, thick with the lust I’m feeling for her. I pull down my jogging pants and straddle her, pulling her clothing off in the process. She looks at me like she is studying me in the dim light the moon provides for us. She’ll have her hands full; I’m not an easy man to figure out. I’ve spent years learning how to hide my emotions.

“No matter what happens, you need to remember I’m dedicated to you and only you.” She nods her head and bites at her bottom lip. I grip her hips and lift her up, hooking her legs under my arms. “I want you to remember my dedication towards you and keep it mind because, right now, I’m going to fuck you like I hate you.”

I plunge my cock into her, purposely trying to hurt her to make my point. Her hands attempt to push against my chest, as if she is trying to get away from my assault, but her hips betray her true motives as she raises them to meet my thrusts.

“Oh fuck, baby girl, you feel so damn good. You’re made for me, made for this line of work. We’re going to be so good together. We
are
so good together.”

My thrusts become more insistent as her pussy locks down around me, pulling an orgasm from my body as she climaxes. I collapse onto her, using my hands to prevent my full body weight from crushing her. I soothe her, running my hands through her long, blonde hair. I have never slept with a woman after sex before but I will sleep in here tonight because she is so much more than just a random fuck to me. She is my partner.

Johnnie

Once again, I wake up to Cash sitting in the chair and watching me sleep as he rubs his thumb over his full bottom lip. I watch him back, completely mesmerized until he chuckles, pulling me from my thoughts.

“As much as I would love to subject myself to your scrutiny, we have a job and I need to go over the details with you.”

I jump from the bed, excited at the thought, and grab a pair of underwear from the dresser. If he keeps ripping them off of me the way he does, it’s going to cost him a fortune replacing them for me.

I go through my morning ritual and hurry back out to where he’s sitting. This morning, he has a woman serving us and I can’t help but wonder if it’s on purpose. I wait until she leaves before I speak, looking at him over the rim of my coffee cup.

“I hope you didn’t fire the poor waiter you reprimanded for no reason.”

“When it comes to you, I’ll not tolerate anyone else becoming intrigued with you.”

“There’s no need to worry; I don’t bond.”

“Oh, you’ll be bonded with me before it’s over. It’s time to discuss business. We have a job coming up. There’s a black market baby ring we need to take down in Guatemala. You need to eat breakfast and then meet me in the gym to work out. After that, you’ll start with your Spanish studies.”

“I already speak Spanish.”

“You’re rusty.”

“How do you know?”

“I know everything. Now, do as I asked and we’ll go over the details of the operation later over dinner.”

“Did you fire the waiter?” I ask as he makes his way to the door.

“No, I did not.”

The beeping of the door tells me that he still doesn’t trust me to not run away or escape. I jump up to put on workout clothes and then walk over to the small table where my breakfast was prepared for me while I was out of the room. I’m excited to get started. I can’t remember the last time I was this excited about anything.