Page 2 of Shattered

It hadn’t always been that way. When Dad lost his high-paying job due to cutbacks, the wheels came off of our carefully constructed bus and we crash-landed into hell. Where others would have clawed their way through life, doing whatever they could in order to survive, my parents clawed their way to the bottom of a bottle of the cheapest liquor they could afford. When the booze didn’t drown their sorrows any longer, they added drugs to the mix. That’s when their anger turned physical.

Shaking my head to dislodge the memories, I reached out, twisting the knob while simultaneously slamming my shoulder against the door. The wood swelled this time of year from the humidity, and the only way to get it open was with brute force. The lights were off when I stepped inside; not surprising given how early it was, but something wasn’t right. Thankfully, I’d paid the electric bill with my check from the grocery store last week. I flipped the switch next to the kitchen and nearly fell over at the sight in front of me. If I believed we had anything of value, I may have thought we were robbed. Our shitty sofa was missing out of the living room and the kitchen cabinets were thrown open; their contents empty or on the floor. The place was completely trashed.

As I was about to check the rest of the house, a manila envelope on the counter caught my attention. Picking it up, I saw my name in my father’s chicken-scratch handwriting on the front. When I pulled the papers out, a whoosh of air left my lungs. For years, I’d prayed they’d disappear; to one day wake up and not have to cower at their abuse. Never did I actually think it would happen.

My hands shook while I quickly scanned through the documents; Jett’s birth certificate, Social Security card, and a notarized letter appointing guardianship of my brother to me. Of all the emotions I’d expected to have at the revelation, rage wasn’t one of them. Yet, when I reached the final page and read the motherfucking Post-it note with the words, “He’s your problem now,” on it, I saw red.

Those goddamn cowards!

The front door flew open, banging against the back wall as Jett strolled in. At twelve years old, he already towered over my five-foot-three frame, taking after our piece of shit father in height. He didn’t get far when he noticed both me and the destruction.

“What the hell, Jade?”

“Language,” I scolded, even though I couldn’t blame him for the outburst. “They’re gone.”

Walking to his side, I pocketed the sticky note prior to handing him the stack of papers. Even though I’d spent every waking moment of the last twelve years protecting him from their physical abuse, he was well acquainted with their cruel words. Still, he didn’t need the guilt that would inevitably come if he saw the yellow four-by-four note. He was not a problem; never had been. He was my whole world.

“What are we gonna do now?” He looked at me with a weariness in his deep-brown eyes, which cut me to the core.

Drawing him into my arms, I responded the way I always did, “I’ll figure it out. I’ve got you.”

1I SEE YOU

Koen

Fuck my life.What the hell had I gotten myself into? This kid wasnotmy responsibility, yet I couldn’t help but sympathize with his plight. I was the youngest in a family of two boys and one girl. My sister, Willow, was the oldest, and she took the term overprotective to a whole new level. Even though there was only a year separating each of us, if someone messed with me or Riley, she was right in the mix, ready to throw punches. To this day, by her attitude alone, you’d think she was Amazonian-tall instead of barely tapping out at five two. It took everything Riley and I had in high school to keep her ass out of detention and get her to understand it was our job to do the protecting. A little barbaric thinking? Maybe. But it was the way our dad taught us to be. God rest his soul.

So when I said I got where Jett was coming from, I meant it. I saw a little bit of myself in him, which, quite frankly, scared the shit out of me. But there was something about both him and his sister which made me want to get closer, to learn about their past, and to be a part of theirfuture. If only I could convince my Angel to tuck away her devil’s horns for five seconds.

Speaking of…my cell dinged with an incoming text from Jade.

Jade: Jett didn’t come home from school. Is he with you?

Me: No. Do you want me to see if I can find him?

Jade: Yes, please.

Me: Anything for you, Angel.

Jade: Stop calling me that.

Maybe I should change her nickname to Prickly Pear instead. Nah, she was undeniably angelic, even when she was being difficult.

After my father was killed in the line of duty when I was fifteen, there wasn’t any doubt my life’s calling would involve law enforcement. He was a good man, a great father, and a damn fine detective, who was taken from us too soon all because he was closing in on a lowlife drug dealer. For as long as I live, I’ll never forget the sound of my mother’s heart-wrenching wails the day we put him in the ground. Her anguish sealed my fate. There was no way I wanted to set myself up for that kind of pain.

Riley didn’t have the same qualms as me, considering he was engaged to his high school sweetheart. He followed our father’s footsteps to the letter; remaining in San Francisco and busting his ass while clawing his way to the top of theladder, becoming the youngest captain the narcotics division had ever had.

Willow, as far as I knew, didn’t play the field nor did she have any serious relationships. She buried herself in her studies and after she graduated from college with a degree in psychology, she joined a well-known established practice as their newest grief counselor. In her spare time, she also volunteered with the SFPD; lending her ear and expertise to any officers who were struggling. I worried about her the most.

As soon as I graduated from the FBI academy in Quantico three years ago, I was assigned to a satellite office in the small town of Huntington, West Virginia, with the best damn team on the planet. Keaton Clarke, Noah Anderson, and Alaina “Lanie” Biggs were not only fantastic agents, the four of us couldn’t have been tighter unless we shared DNA. Nelson Travers—tech guru and hacker extraordinaire—and his wife, Sammy, who was the administrative assistant, were also close with our group, though we didn’t often hang out with them after hours.

Rounding out our crew was Duncan Palmer, our immediate supervisor, and Waverly Mitchell, the resident agent in charge of all our craziness. The two of them acted more like a parental unit, which was why I’d nicknamed them Mom and Dad.

Up until a few weeks ago, I was content with meaningless flirting and the occasional short-term relationship. There were no expectations to meet, no feelings which would eventually get hurt. It was perfect, or so I thought. Then, life as I knew it came to a screeching halt when my team and I walked into Over Easy, a local diner where Keaton’s girl, Henley Graves, worked. We’d gone there to finally meet thewoman who’d captured my broody friend's attention when my gaze landed upon the dark-haired beauty. Jade Trumble was vigorously wiping up a spill from the floor, while simultaneously shooting daggers from her chocolate-brown eyes at some asshole who was spouting off to another brunette. It wasn't until Keaton jumped in the mix did we discover Henley was the focus of the man’s nastiness.

Things went from zero to sixty shortly after that, which led me to ignore the sharp tug I felt deep in my chest, figuring it was better for everyone to keep my distance. And it worked until a few days later when she was injured during a vicious attack, alongside Henley. I called her my Angel that night as the resolve I’d held on to by a thread began to crumble into a billion shards of endless possibilities.

Closing the lid to my laptop, I stood from the workspace I shared with Lanie, stretching my arms over my head to release the tightness in my back from sitting on my ass most of the day. The office was relatively quiet, considering the chaos we’d endured two weeks ago.

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