Shattered Pieces (Undercover Elite Book 1) (4 page)

Cash

Things are going quite well. I hadn’t counted on her training beginning so quickly but since her outburst opened the door to her first discipline session, I jumped on it.

The sooner I’m able to train her to be a sexually submissive woman, the sooner I can begin her training for
Undercover Elite.
She’ll be the first and only woman to ever work with the organization. It will be interesting to watch her infiltrate the enemy using her feminine wiles. Of course, I’ll never allow her to service any man other than myself. She is now property—my property.

I decide to take a moment and read over more of her journal. The sooner I am familiar with what makes her tick, the sooner I will be able to train her in things like hand-to-hand combat, interrogation, and arms. I move the mouse around, bring her journal back up, and begin to read.

“You stay in this room until you learn how to tie those shoelaces,” the large, terrifying man screamed down at me.

As soon as the coast was clear, my best friend showed up. She’s my hero and my sister who was born five years prior to my birth. They say that five years is a great age difference in siblings, though I am sure that family planning was not part of my birth mother’s thinking. She all but confirmed that knowledge to me when she casually informed me that I was the byproduct of rape. She spoke as if we were discussing the weather or taking the trash out. Not once did she take into consideration that she was adding another wound to my psyche, one that would leave a brutal scar… one that would never heal. It seems that she had separated from my birth father and he forced himself on her after their break-up. She made sure to point out that I was born the year birth control came out. I couldn’t help but hear her veiled message, “I wish that you had never been born.”

“When is Mommy coming back?” I whined with wide innocent eyes, looking up at my hero.

“Mommy isn’t coming back but I’m here and I will never leave you.”

Rhonda yelled out to the man who had mandated the order to tie my shoes, “She did it and we are going outside now.”

She grabbed my hand and we scurried out the door together, giving him no time to refuse us.

The bright Puerto Rican sun caressed my young face. I loved it here.
It was a great place to grow up, other than the fact that the roaches never died because of the climate.

Once again, I was free to roam and play on the naval base where my family and I were housed. I looked at my hero, Rhonda. No matter what, she was always there when I needed help.
She had taken on the role of mother, as many older siblings do in the case of dysfunctional homes.

From my earliest childhood memories, I can remember having to step over my mother’s drunken body to get to the TV.
Meals were not cooked, but a refrigerator was kept on the screened-in porch and when we got hungry, we went there to retrieve food.

My days were spent running the streets of Puerto Rico from sun up, until sun down.
Nothing but the grace of God kept me safe as I wandered and roamed, alone with no supervision.

This day, Rhonda and I had made our way to the rodeo.
A man, of Puerto Rican descent, had placed Rhonda and another child on the horse and he finished up by placing me on the horse’s lower neck.
I listened in embarrassment as the men in cowboy hats with brown skin laughed when the horse lowered his head and I slid down the front, landing on my bottom.

“It’s okay, chiquitita, we will get you back up there.”
Once again, he placed my small frame back on the horse and then stated, “Now, this is for you and your sister. I only have one candy bar so one of you gets the candy and the other can have this money.”

Rhonda was behind me yelling, “One of those is mine!”

“No, they are both mine,” I stated as I ate the candy bar as fast as my small mouth was able.

Later that day, as I lied down for a nap, I placed the coins in my mouth, unaware of what would befall me.
The next thing I knew, there was a woman standing on a stool, violently shaking me to dislodge the money that was quickly cutting off my air supply.
That is the first memory that I have of the woman that was soon to become a prominent part of my life.
Her name was Thelma and she was the woman that had adopted my birth mother. Now, she was here to rescue Rhonda and me from the pedophile that had been molesting my sister.

Yes, this latest man that my mother had subjected us to had been violating my sister. Tragically, the mark that was left on her psyche was one that she would carry with her until her early death at the age of 21…

I look up, horrified at what I just read in my trainee’s journal. I had no idea. I was aware that she had faced daunting circumstances in her life, but I had no idea as to the sheer depth of pain she’d suffered. One thing I am certain of is this kind of pain goes deep. The death of her sister—the only person to provide her any kind of nurturing in her young life—had to have been devastating.

My purpose in getting this journal was so that she would bond with me and become a loyal member of
Undercover Elite.
I hadn’t anticipated it causing me to bond to her. That’s exactly what it is doing… Her pain is becoming my pain.

Johnnie

It takes me a moment to gather my wits as I wake up from my nap. Images of what happened before I went to sleep flood my memory and I can feel my face flushing red in embarrassment. I find myself being grateful that Cash is not in the room to see it.

I have no idea why this man, who looks like he walked off the pages of GQ and Forbes put together, is so obsessed with me. I want answers and I have every intention of getting them tonight over dinner. The man seems to know a hell of a lot more about me than I do him and I plan on rectifying that situation.

I reach over to grab the box left on the king size bed. I didn’t open it before I fell asleep and I’m curious about its contents. I pull the ribbon and watch it fall, taking the top off and lifting it to reveal its contents. I reach down and lift up a stunning, black, sequined evening dress with matching shoes. Out of curiosity, I check the sizes and I’m shocked to see it is the correct size eight dress and size ten shoes. I have no idea how this man has managed to acquire all the details about me that he has. He’s clearly done his homework.

I’m hoping he can give me some answers that will put my mind at ease. It would help to know where he works and why he is so obsessed with having me in his home. As much as I hate to admit it, there is an element of truth behind his statement that I’m my own worst enemy. If he is so concerned, maybe he can offer me a way out of the hell that has become my life.

I make my way into the bathroom and look around, making certain he has provided all the items I need to get ready for tonight. True to his nature, he has. Everything I need, in every brand I use, is here and set up for me. I can’t put my finger on the whys of it yet but, for some reason, his in-depth knowledge of my preferences doesn’t give me the creeps. Instead, it flatters me. He is not just the first man who has taken this much of an interest in me, he’s first person… ever. Other than my deceased sister, Rhonda, no one knows me like this stranger with whom I’m apparently now living.

I lean back to allow the water to pour over my hair and squeeze shampoo into my hand to begin the task of lathering it up. It feels good to be getting clean and I find myself hoping that the beautiful gown fits. Who am I kidding? I have no doubt that it will. Everything the man does is perfectly precise. I hum as I continue showering, anxious for tonight and hopeful that I’ll finally get some answers.

Cash

Looking at the monitor as she undresses, I am immediately thankful I had the whole mansion rigged with cameras so I could watch her every move. Watching her lather herself up in the shower, I feel my cock stir. It has always been this way with her. Just the sight of her makes me want to throw her down on the nearest flat surface and fuck her senseless. I can’t ever remember a woman having this kind of effect on me and it seems the more I read in her journal, the more intrigued I become. I believe that’s part of what pulls me towards her—the fact that she intrigues me. Any other woman has been nothing more than a mere fuck. I didn’t care to get to know them. I decide to use the time she is getting ready to read more of her journal. It draws me in the same way a good novel calls your name when you are in the midst of your daily chores. I begin to read.

The plane ride back to the place that would be my new home was one filled with confusion. I watched as my sister’s body, racked with nausea, convulsed and rejected the lunch that she had just eaten.
It was evident that the plane ride was not agreeing with her.

I watched with interest as my “new mother” cared for Rhonda, escorting her from the bathroom and back to her seat on the plane. I couldn’t ever remember a time anyone had ever nurtured Rhonda or me like this.

My new home was one filled with rules and structure and, needless to say, I didn’t like it one bit.
I had been left to my own devices for the first six years of my life and the new routine was not sitting well with me at all.
‘Mom,’ as I rightfully called my new guardian, had corrected me about something and I ran down to the basement, which housed a coal bin.

I took my beloved teddy bear, Tom Tom, the only security blanket that I had ever known, and tore him apart. I watched as the stuffing floated down into a pile at my feet.
I knew I would be sorry but that was the day that I learned how to say, “I don’t care!”
It would become a phrase that I used to deal with the many losses that I would suffer in life.
I would continually say it, over and over, until I believed it.

I stood there, looking at the pile of rubbish that just moments before had been my beloved Tom Tom and thought, “I wish I hadn’t done that.”
I then followed it up with, “I don’t care!”
Already, at the tender age of six, I was angry—very, very, very angry!