“Hey, hey, are you okay? You’re not having that baby, are you?” I am half joking when I ask but I’m scared that’s exactly what is happening.
The sound of a lock being turned makes me look over in the direction of the door. The man who enters is the same one who deceived me into believing he was a harmless drunk earlier.
I watch in horror as he makes his way over and kicks me. His eyes rake over my body as if he’s undressing me and I’m horrified when I see him rubbing his hand over his hardened cock.
“Get the fuck away from me!”
“Maybe I fuck my first American girl today,” he growls, eyeing me as if he’s already sticking his nasty dick in me.
“He’ll kill you, motherfucker. He is going to find me and when he does, he’s going to kill you.” I’m so busy screaming at the dirt bag who beat me up to bring me here that I don’t even notice the suited man standing in the doorway.
“Leave the feisty little American alone,” he directs the man and then asks him to leave. The man huffs and then walks away, acting as if he’s disappointed that the opportunity to accost me is interrupted.
“She needs help,” I speak in the direction of the man who is clearly the brains of this black market baby scam.
“I don’t give a fuck if she dies in a puddle of her own blood as long as that baby lives.” His nonchalant attitude as he speaks of the woman’s death gives me chills. This man is the embodiment of calm before the storm. “Her receiving the help she needs is contingent upon you telling me who sent you.”
“I’m not telling you a damn thing.”
He ignores the anger I exhibit and continues talking. “Were you hired by a private organization or sent by the American authorities?”
“What the fuck gives you the impression I’ll tell you anything? I think my manners and any hope for my cooperation went out the window when you had your thug beat me up and bring me here against my will.”
He lunges in my direction, faster than my mind can process his movement. His fingers roughly dig into my scalp, pulling at the roots of my hair, and I wince in pain. A sadistic look of pleasure passes over his face at the sight of my discomfort.
“I don’t give a fuck how you were brought here; manners are of the utmost importance to me and you would do well to remember that when speaking to me.”
“Manners? Are you fucking kidding me? Let me out of these chains and we’ll talk about manners.”
The woman in the corner is now writhing in pain and I am convinced she is going to have her baby whether I’m prepared or not. “She needs help.”
“Tell me what I want to know and I’ll get her the help she needs.”
“I’m not telling you shit!”
I watch in disbelief as he stands and brushes the imaginary dirt from his suit pants. “Very well, her blood is on your hands.”
As if prophetically confirming his statement, I look over and see blood seeping through the tattered dress she’s wearing. This is not good. That amount of blood means one of two things. Either she is giving birth or she is starting to hemorrhage. Neither one of those options are good in these conditions. I need Cash to find me. I find myself suddenly being very glad I didn’t resist that tracking device; it will ensure that he finds me. It’s only a matter of time.
Chapter Fourteen
Cash
I jerk my desk drawer open and grab one of my burner phones. I’m going to need help getting her out of wherever it is she’s being held. Hunter will only be a click away from finding the information I need. He gives a whole new meaning to the word hacker. He answers on the first ring.
“I was just getting ready to call you. I’m already on it, bro. As soon as she went out of range, I started working on it. She is at the residence of Marco DeMeo. He’s a local bigwig that manufactures trucking tires, of all things, and she’s being held at one of his warehouses. We are going to need to wait until the sun goes down to infiltrate the place without being seen though. It doesn’t look like it’s going to be hard to get in, just a couple of security cameras and some goons watching over the property. Sniper is already here with me and I’m thinking the three of us should be able to have her out of there by tonight.”
“Damn it! I don’t want to wait until the sun goes down, bro.”
“We’ve got no choice if we’re going to get in there without being seen.”
I hang up the phone. I’m going to have to do one of the hardest things I have ever been faced with—wait. It is one thing to wait to rescue a client but waiting is a whole different issue when it’s the woman you love. Months of bonding occurred as I watched her. She was like vapor, seeping into my world unnoticed, and she has completely infiltrated me.
Any man who works Intel has, at one time or another, bonded with a mark. It’s an odd process that kind of sneaks up on you before you even realize it has happened. You’re looking through the sight of a gun, or a set of high-powered binoculars, watching her night after night. Then one night, while your waiting and anticipating her coming home, your cock stirs when you think about watching her undress. You’ve watched her disrobe, night after night, and now you find yourself looking forward to it. You kick yourself for turning into a mesmerized voyeur but it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve fallen for a stranger who doesn’t even know you exist.
You wait and wait. You begin to get antsy when she’s late and then you begin to get irritated when she’s even later. You continue waiting and each minute feels like hours. Finally, when she makes her way through the door, the weight of worry lifts off your shoulders and you know that you’ve gotten attached to a woman you, technically, don’t even know. Still, you feel like you know her intimately because she’s part of your life now.
Over time, you try and convince yourself that you don’t care but you can’t deny the jealousy burning you like a hot poker, stabbing into your gut when you think of her walking through that door with another man. No matter how much you try and deny it, deep down inside you know you’ve fallen for your mark and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it. Just the thought of her bringing another man home and being forced to watch makes your blood boil. You cringe at the thought of another man’s hands being on the stranger you’ve claimed. In my case, I was glad when I found out she couldn’t bond and wasn’t having sex because of it.
You begin to think about them at odd hours of the day, hours you are supposed to be fulfilling other responsibilities. Your mind is plagued with your mark. You begin to think of ways to accidently run into them or ways you can meet them and insert yourself into their lives without them knowing you have been watching them.
You’ve watched them sleep, eat, and bathe. You’ve watched them sing and talk to themselves. You’ve watched as they did things they would be utterly embarrassed to do in front of anyone but themselves. A smile crossed your face as you watched them reveal their innermost thoughts, ideas, and feelings without knowing they were being watched. You have done the unthinkable. You have fallen in love with a complete stranger. The odd thing about it is that they aren’t strangers anymore because you’ve seen them at their best, their worst, and their most vulnerable. Now, you have no choice but to inject yourself into their lives because your heart won’t have it any other way.
The woman, who has captivated me from the first time I laid eyes on her, needs me and I will move heaven and earth to save her. I sent her on this job and I will damn sure protect her.
I don’t like the way I’m feeling right now. I hate the worry, thinking something bad might be happening to her. The thought of some son a bitch touching her almost sends me into a panic. I hate that I am so out of control because my emotions are involved. I can’t separate myself like I do with normal jobs.
My head is a freeway of chaotic thoughts and I’m not used to being in this state of mind. This is one of the reasons the guys and I argued about accepting a woman on the team. We dissected the reasons why having a female team member would be beneficial, but we also went ove
r the drawbacks. We all know it’s in our nature to protect women; it’s just how we’re wired. Add the emotion of being in love, and it’s total torment. Yeah, waiting is one of the hardest things in the world to have to do when you are this emotionally invested. I can’t help it. I watched her for half a year and my heart is as connected to her as if we had actually been together for that whole six months. I don’t give a fuck if she isn’t capable of falling in love. I have enough for both of us.
God help that son of a bitch who is holding her right now. If anything happens to that girl… Already, I can’t imagine my life without her being in it. I can’t imagine not being there to save her from herself. I can’t imagine not watching her and dissecting every aspect of her schedule. I push the thoughts from my head. I am going to rescue her tonight and I will kill any motherfucker who gets in my way.
Johnnie
By now the woman’s moans have become screams of agony and the amount of blood confirms my worst fear; she’s hemorrhaging. Her gown is soaked with the evidence and I desperately try to push away feelings of guilt. I reach over as far as the chain permits to pull her by her ankles in my direction.
I scream out to anyone who might be outside the door.
“I’ll tell you what you want to know.” Why hadn’t I lied and given him some kind of information when he threatened me with her wellbeing? Her screams cut through the blanket of guilt smothering me.
“I’ve got to push.”
“No! You can’t! It will make the bleeding worse and you’ve already lost too much blood.” I don’t know how I instinctively know she shouldn’t push but it doesn’t matter because she did anyway. I can see the baby’s head crowning and I know I’m about to deliver this baby whether I’m ready or not.
Though the sight of blood and guts doesn’t bother me, the thought of being responsible for a mother and child’s welfare does. I have to do this right but, already, everything is going so very wrong. The memory of what the man said earlier, about not caring if she dies in a puddle of her own blood, haunts me.
I have no idea where I’m being held or if there is even anyone else in the building right now. Clearly, if someone is here and they are cold-hearted enough to listen to her blood curdling screams without helping, then the man wasn’t bluffing when he said he didn’t care about her demise. I knew enough from growing up in the streets that people could be cold-blooded and, growing up overseas, I learned that in this part of the world, lives are bought and sold cheaply.
If this woman is going to have any hope of delivering this baby safely, it is going to be by my hand because these unfeeling bastards don’t give a shit. I have no medical training and I am going on nothing but gut instinct, but I have every intention of giving this mother and child my all. I might not have much going for me in the medical training department, but I am going to give it my best shot anyway. I feel an allegiance to these two. I push away all my insecurities and focus on the task at hand. I, at least, know enough to watch for the umbilical cord and hope like heck the kid is turned in the right direction. It’s a start.
Her screams interrupt my mental checklist.
“I’ve got to push.”
“You’re bleeding too much.” I keep my voice low, barely above a whisper, and try to project serenity. Regardless of how chaotic things are right now, she needs to know that she isn’t alone.
I can see the baby’s head crowning and then the shoulders. I make certain that the cord isn’t choking him and resist the urge to pull at his shoulders as they come into view. I figure mother nature knows a hell of a lot more about birthing babies than I do. I know, instinctively, that it isn’t a good sign that he’s not crying. I have no idea if it’s a myth to pop them on the butt to get them breathing but, at this point, I’m willing to try anything. When I get no response, I gently squeeze his little cheeks open and do a sweep inside his mouth to see if his airway is obstructed. When that doesn’t work, I try breathing into his little mouth and applying gentle compressions on his chest, right at the V of his ribs.
The baby was born dead and no amount of CPR is going to change that. The mother’s head bobs and she weakly reaches for her child. I place the baby in her arms and make no effort to inform her that he’s stillborn. She’s dying and I’m not going to take away the joy she’ll receive from holding her baby in her arms. They will leave this life together and be reunited in a place much better than this cold cell they were forced to endure.
I slump down in the corner and sob. I had done everything that I could do to save them and it still wasn’t enough. No matter how many cold, uncaring people I was subjected to in my life, I just couldn’t wrap my brain around their inability to have compassion for their fellow man.
How fucking ironic was it that I couldn’t bond with people and my heart was breaking for these two. I hurt so deeply right now that I knew if I had a gun, I’d blow the man’s brains out who was responsible for this. I’d kill him and his whole crew. How many other women and children have died because of this black market baby scam?
In that moment, I make up my mind that I will take Undercover Elite seriously. I will fight for those who have no voice. I won’t spend my life being selfish and just living for me. I changed after seeing death so up close and personal. I make a decision that rather than allowing the horrid atrocity of it all to break me, I would let it mold me into a better woman. Regardless of how fucked-up I am, I have two things the people I have been subjected to up until this point in my life don’t have: heart and compassion.
Cash
We pull up in the Jeep and park it in the brush, leaving Sniper hidden in a wooded area with an M24 sniper rifle. He’ll have no problem picking off anyone who might make the fatal mistake of pulling up while we go in and get Johnnie. Waiting for the sun to go down seemed like it took an eternity and I’m not waiting anymore. If anything has happened to her, I’m going to be out for blood. Hell, I’m out for blood anyway.
We ease up to the entrance at the warehouse and I’m relieved to see there isn’t much security here. Like Hunter said, there’s just a couple of shoddy cameras. It’s evident they don’t think anyone is coming to rescue the women. In this part of the world, lives are bought and sold cheaply and no one cares if babies are part of the equation.
The security on the door is nothing more than a simple chain and a lock that could’ve been bought in any hardware store. The bolt cutters cut through it with ease.
I resist the urge to run through the building kamikaze style, straight to my new female partner who has taken a pretty intense hit for her first job. As much as I hate what she has gone through in getting captured, her reaction will tell me if she is cut out for this type of work. You have be a certain temperament to do what Undercover Elite does.
We cautiously make our way through corridors, using training similar to what police officers or military use. We position our firearms out in front of us as we make our way around corners and then say, clear. Various hand signals are used to cut down on verbal exchanges. I doubt there is anyone here but we know how unpredictable search and rescue missions can be. Taking anything for granted in our line of work can mean someone paying with his or her life.
We clear hallways and corners, going through meticulous procedure rather than risking errors by rushing. Everything in me wants to hurry up and get to her but I make myself apply my training. Finally, one of the corridors leads us to a steel door. I pull the large lock through the rusted hasp that houses it and swing the door open to reveal my woman. She’s sitting, huddled in the corner with her knees pulled up against her chest, rocking back and forth.
As soon as I look across the room, I understand why she’s in a state of shock. The sight of the dead woman, holding her stillborn baby in a puddle of blood, makes me cringe. I hate the man who has put her in the position of having to witness not just the death of one human being, but two.
I am familiar with the horror of war and death but she isn’t. Much like any other job, this one hasn�
�t gone as expected. I scoop her up in my arms and listen as she whimpers. “She died… I tried so hard, but she died.”
We quickly backtrack through the corridors, in a rush to get back to the Jeep. Sniper makes his way out of the woods and joins us shortly after we get there. We will be flying out tonight. I have already notified one of my contacts, Ricardo Ramirez, about the black market baby ring. He’s a high-ranking Colombian official and he will do the rest. After I give him the details that Hunter was able to get off of Johnnie’s tracker, Ricardo will have this shut down in no time. Our job here is done. Now, I just need to convince the woman I love that the death of that mother and child wasn’t her fault.
Johnnie
I don’t even remember the plane ride home. Any sleeping I managed to do was interrupted by nightmares—vivid images of a mother holding her dead child in a sea of blood. Cash’s voice cuts through my thoughts each time they wake me up, trying to reassure and soothe me. He cradled me in his arms while onboard, carried me from the plane when we landed, and held me the whole ride home. I don’t even remember entering the mansion when we finally did arrive.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Yes… it was. He told me that if I would reveal who sent me, he would get her medical treatment.” I tell him one of the times he tries to reassure me.
“You did what you were trained to do. You know they’ll say or do anything to get the Intel they want. The baby was born dead. He was stillborn, Johnnie.”
I toss around whether he’s telling me the truth or not as I watch him make his way over to where I’m sitting on the bed. He scoops me up in his arms and carries me to the bathroom. He sits on the toilet and pets my hair as I cry. I can hear the water running in the large Jacuzzi and the bath salts he’s pouring waft the soothing scent of lavender in my direction. He gently undresses me and then removes his own clothing before reclining his large frame behind me in the more than ample sized tub.
Shattered Pieces (Undercover Elite Book 1) Page 7
