Shattered Pieces (Undercover Elite Book 1)(38)
Each profile shows the guys in a more personal light and it is easy to see how they all got their names, though they did reveal why in a small write-up. Cash is a blueblood, Hunter is known for being able to track anyone down, and Thorn is known for being the kind of man who just tells it like it is. ‘Prickly’ is the word used to describe him. Harley, well, he is known for riding a Harley and has a lot of biker connections. Axle is a car buff. He restores cars and has a reputation for being able to take them apart and put them back together again. Sniper was a sniper in the military and earned his nickname there.
The guys share a couple of common traits. They are all large and buff like they work out a lot, they are all good looking in their own way, and they all have the credentials to back up being able to work for an organization like Undercover Elite. I know enough to know that these guys are mercenaries. Their motto is, When no one else wants the job, we dare to get the job done.
I can’t help but wonder how my sister met these guys. They are elite in every sense of the word. It’s clear they don’t let just anyone into their inner circle.
I click on the contact button before I can change my mind and write out an e-mail to Cash:
My name is Rhonda Bayne and I believe you have ties to my little sister, Johnnie Bayne.
My husband’s name is Steven Taggart and he is involved in organized crime. He faked my death four years ago and I am now being held against my will, along with my four year old daughter.
I believe our lives are in danger. My husband lost a large amount of drugs he was transporting for the Colombian Cartel. They have given him three days to come up with their money or they are going to take matters into their own hands. I fear my daughter and I getting caught in the crossfire.
I leave the address to where I’m being held against my will and hit send before I can change my mind. I then grab the burner phone in my office drawer and call the number listed to leave the same message. Now, all I can do is wait. This guy, Cash, will do one of two things: help me, or write me off as a crazy person…
Chapter Twenty Four
Cash
I sit and twirl a pen between my fingers as I listen to what the nurse on duty has to say about Rhonda’s case.
“I never trusted that guy. Call it female intuition, or whatever you want, but there was more to that girl’s death than suicide.”
I know when to just listen. I don’t want to goad her into telling me what I want to hear so I continue listening, mostly silent but asking questions intermittently when appropriate. I want to be able to tell the woman I love that her sister is alive but I need proof. It’s a matter of asking the right questions.
“What do you mean? What did you feel uneasy about?” I ask her.
“Well, he never would, or I should say, could give valid proof of the dead woman’s identity. I even went so far as to get a DNA sample and send it off to a cop I was dating but they can’t really identify someone who isn’t already in their system.”
“Did you ever come right out and ask Steven?”
“Anytime I asked for any kind of verification, he avoided the question with responses like, ‘I think I know who my wife is’ or ‘I, of all people, would know her identity.’ He had this way of talking down to you to make you shut up. It’s like he would purposely embarrass you and make you feel like you were crazy for even thinking it, much less having the audacity to ask. I recognize it because doctors do it to us all the time. It’s their way of maintaining control and protecting their egos. That’s another thing… that guy was egotistical. I never did like him and I most certainly didn’t trust him. She died the next day and he had the body cremated. I came into work and the woman was gone. After that, I was forced to just let it go and hope my gut feeling was wrong.”
I leave my name and number with the nurse and thank the woman for her help. She’s confirming what I believe to be true but I still have no proof.
I open up the browser to check my e-mails but feel my phone vibrate at the same time so I grab it first. It’s a voicemail and the message I hear shocks me. It may be the proof I’ve been waiting for. If Johnnie recognizes the voice on the other end of that line, then I will have everything I need to go and rescue her sister.
Now there’s a sense of urgency to this case—a four year old little girl urgency. I can’t help but also feel a slight panic at the thought of putting Johnnie in a situation where she might revert deeper into herself. I’m walking a tightrope right now and I’m feeling it even more so than usual because my own emotions are involved. I breathe in deeply to prepare myself and reach over to push the button on the intercom, calling her into my office. This is something I have to do. I will never forgive myself if I knew I had the chance to rescue them and I didn’t do everything in my power to see them safe. Johnnie won’t forgive me either. After all I have been through to get her, there is no way in hell I am going to let a situation like this build resentment between us. If I can’t save Johnnie’s sister, I stand a chance of losing her. There is no way I am going to allow that to happen after all I have been through to ease my way into her life.