Shattered Pieces (Undercover Elite Book 1)(4)

Chapter Two


Johnnie

I make my way up to the bar and lean over so the bartender can hear me over the loud music. “A Bloody Mary, please.”

He holds up a finger, signifying he’ll be right with me. I cut my eyes over to the guy who wasted no time wedging himself into the seat next to where I’m standing. This is so frustrating. The whole purpose of coming to a gay bar is so that I can get away from being hit on by men. I couldn’t be happier when one of the gays squeezes between us and starts talking to me.

“Oh, he’s here again, girl. He’s right over there, in that dark corner, and he hasn’t taken his eyes off you.”

I grab the drink that the bartender set down in front of me and raise it in his direction as if I’m toasting him. His only reaction is to crook his finger in my direction, a silent command for me to join him.

“Girl, why don’t you go ahead and let that beautiful man rescue you.”

“Because I’m not looking for a knight in shining armor.”

“That’s no knight in shining armor. That’s a dark knight if I’ve ever seen one,” I hear him say as I walk in my stalker’s direction.

“Following me again?” I ask in a snarky tone. His only response is to pull me into his suited body. I can feel him purposely pressing his hard cock into me. He reaches down, takes my free hand, and runs it over his tailored pants as he speaks.

“No more following, Johnnie. Tonight, I make you mine.”

“You can’t just tell me where to go and what to do.”

I pull back to eye the man who has been following me for the last six months of my life. There is something different about him. Danger permeates the air surrounding the man standing before me. As always, he is dressed impeccably tonight. He’s wearing a black, designer suit with a crisp, white shirt, complete with what looks like very expensive cufflinks, and he’s paired it with a black, grey, and red silk tie. I find myself looking down to see what shoes he’s wearing and, as usual, they are Italian and polished to a perfect gloss. His long, layered, coal black hair complements his black eyes that are now boring into me with a gaze that challenges me not to go with him.

Most women would die to have a man of his caliber pursuing them, but me? Well, I’m not interested in a relationship with anyone… at all.

“Cash, I’m flattered. I really am, but I have no desire to be saved by you or anyone else.”

“Very well, you’ve given me no choice.”

I feel the prick of a needle and, after only a few seconds, I start to feel whatever was in it take effect. He wraps one arm around my waist and starts to lead me out. My body presses up against his as he holds me up, using the strength of just one of his arms.

Music reverberates in my ears as I see my friend wave goodbye and wink as if I’m leaving with this stranger of my own volition. Whatever he gave me has me in a state of compliant euphoria as he leads me out to a limousine with a driver who appears to have been waiting out front for us.

Any fight I would normally have about being taken against my will has been completely subdued under the effects of the drug.

I lean against him as he holds me in his arms and the last lucid thought I can remember having is how good he smells. I spend the ride back to his mansion napping fitfully as he sooths me, rubbing my hair and speaking in soft tones.

“Such a good girl,” he croons. It is the last thing I remember hearing before my eyes grow too heavy and I give way to unconsciousness.



Cash

I stand in the corner of the darkened bar, watching the object of my affection. I knew, from the very first day I laid eyes on her, that she was perfect for what I have in mind. She’s perfect because she has no past, no present, and no future.

My eyes scan over her and, as usual, she looks stunning. She’s wearing a teal dress tonight and though it’s sexy, it’s also classy. Her long, blonde hair falls in ringlets down her back and look like they were made with a large barrel curling iron. Most men wouldn’t even know what a large barrel curling iron is, but my life depends on noting details. Her make-up is done tastefully and her blood red lips make me envision her body at my mercy.

My blood boils as I watch a man approach her but as is the norm for her, she ignores him. If I didn’t know any better, I would think she was a virgin or gay, but the access I have to her medical records show that she isn’t either of those; she’s just, by choice, sexually inactive. I’m certain her upbringing has something to do with her inability to bond. The professionals call it Reactive Attachment Disorder, or RAD for short. I have spent a lot of time studying it since I first began stalking her.