Pieces Of Heaven: Pieces Of Heaven (Heaven & Hell Book 2) Read online

  Table of Contents

  PIECES OF HEAVEN

  Copyright

  To every one who fell in love and had to fight for it!

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Epilogue

  Other titles from Natasha Madison

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Pieces of Heaven ©2017 Natasha Madison

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of the material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted n any form or by any means, electronica or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, alive or dead, is coincidental and not indented by the author.

  LICENSE NOTICE. THIS BOOK IS LICENSED FOR YOUR PERSON ENJOYMENT ONLY. THIS BOOK MAY NOT BE RESOLD OR GIVEN AWAY T OTHER PEOPLE. IF YOU WISH TO SHARE THIS BOOK WITH ANOTHER PERSON, PLEASE PURCHASE AN ADDITIONAL COPY FOR EACH PERSON YOU SHARE IT WITH. THANK YOU FOR RESPECTING THE HARD WORK OF THIS AUTHOR.

  DISCLAIMER.

  This is a work of adult fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The author does not endorse or condone any behavior enclosed within. The subject matter is not appropriate for minors. This novel contains profanity and explicit sexual situations.

  Cover Design: Melissa Gill

  Book formatting: CP Smith

  Editing done by Emily A. Lawrence

  Proofing Julie Deaton

  DEDICATION

  To every one who fell in love and had to fight for it!

  Prologue

  Mick

  I’m sitting here on a stool in this old, run-down, dead bar called Molly’s. The smell of stale cigarettes lingers on the walls, having soaked in over the years, way before they were banned.

  I swirl the brown liquid in my glass, thinking about how I got here, how much I could fuck up, even my own life.

  The stool next to me moves, scraping across the floor, but I don’t take my eyes off the glass.

  I don’t have to turn around to see who is sitting next to me. I know Fred, the bartender, called him. It’s what he always does when he thinks I’ve gone over the edge.

  I think this is my worst bender yet, and trust me, I’ve had a lot of fucking benders. How could I not?

  I’ve been here for the past five days, each day coming in at around noon, not leaving till past midnight. A couple of times I even passed out on his dirty, old couch in the office, waking in a puddle of drool with cat hair on my tongue.

  Just another phase, they thought. Just another bad time. If only they fucking knew.

  “So,” I hear Jackson talk. “How long is it going to last this time?” This is not our first rodeo. Jackson is the only one who has been there for me over the years.

  I shrug my shoulders, not even sure of the answer myself.

  “Is it Marissa? Is it Lori?” Just the mention of their names is like a stab to the heart. The pain is so unbearable I grab the glass and drink the amber liquid, hoping the burn will overpower the pain.

  “Gone,” is all I say, all I can muster up.

  “Gone where? Bella just spoke with her,” Jackson says.

  “Sandie’s pregnant.” The thought alone makes the liquid I just swallowed down begin to climb back up.

  The shocked look on Jackson’s face mimics mine when she told me.

  “Had heaven in my hands and I let it go. Fucked it up. Now I’m living in hell.”

  With that, I close my eyes, remembering the day I actually touched heaven.

  Chapter One

  Mick

  The alarm is blazing somewhere, but my hand can’t seem to find the button to turn off the horrid sound.

  Fuck, my head is pounding, my tongue is dry, and my stomach is rumbling. I peer one eye open. I’m never fucking drinking again.

  I reach out only to touch a naked leg. What follows next is a moan that I don’t think I’ve heard before.

  I raise my head to take in the room. Lavender walls with white trimming greet me. Definitely not my fucking house. The floral duvet is the second sign that I’m not in Kansas anymore. Turning to peer at the naked body next to me, I throw my head back, cursing all the saints above.

  I knew going out to shoot pool with the boys wouldn’t end well. The fact that I got my ass handed to me by Thomas was the first sign to go home.

  The blonde who came slinking up to me when I tried to sink the eight ball was the second sign.

  The blowjob she gave me in the bathroom twenty minutes later was the fucking flashing billboard saying abort mission.

  Continuing the party at her house wasn’t a good idea. Fucking her on every single surface was an even worse one.

  Getting up, I try not to make a sound to wake her. Searching around the room, I don’t see any of my clothes, but it’s no surprise because she undressed me at the door. Tiptoeing out of the room, my cock lets me know he’s not on board with this plan.

  Once I step foot into the living room, it looks like a tornado has passed through it. A bottle of tequila is empty on the floor. Body shots are what she called it. The couch cushions are scattered everywhere.

  I find my boxers under a cushion along with a shoe, and then I scan the rest of the room and find my shirt hanging on the lamp in the corner. Snagging it off the lamp roughly as it teeters on the table, I manage to grab it right before it crashes to the floor.

  “If you’re looking for your jeans, they are in the kitchen near the fridge.”

  I turn to see the blonde leaning against the doorframe, naked in all her glory, her fake tits rimmed with fingertip bruises from the assault I gave them last night.

  “Oh, um.” It’s all I can say while I use my shirt to cover my junk. I mean, I know she’s been intimately introduced to him.

  “No need to cover up. I got my fill last night. Just close the door on
your way out.” Turning to step into the bathroom, she closes the door, effectively dismissing me.

  I make my way into the kitchen, snatching up the rest of my clothes before hightailing it out of there.

  My car is parked right at the curb, so at least I’m not running around looking for it.

  I head home and park in the driveway. Before I can even turn off the ignition, I see a car pull in right behind me. Sandie.

  I take a deep breath. This is going to be another episode my neighbors probably don’t want to see.

  The car door is ripped open and lo and behold Sandie is there, filling the space with her scent of flowers. I used to love that fucking smell. Now I can’t stand to even look at flowers.

  “Did you fuck another woman last night, Mick?”

  I stare at her. Her blond hair is perfectly coiffed, and it’s just barely 8 a.m. Her makeup is also tasteful and perfect. Just like she thinks she is, but I know better.

  “You are asking me that question when you sleep next to another man, day in and day out.” I push her away from the door, trudging inside my house.

  She says nothing to me while she follows me in, slamming the door after her.

  “You know I don’t fuck him.” She still follows me while I approach the coffee machine, slipping the Keurig cups into place to wait for the smell of coffee to fill my senses.

  “No. What I know is that nine years later, you’re still taking his cock and mine. Sweet deal you got there, babe.” I sneer while I take a sip of the coffee that has just finished brewing.

  She walks up to me, rubbing her hands up my shirt, wrapping them around my neck. “You know you’re the only one I love.” She kisses my neck, the sensation making my cock stir to life. Bastard has a mind of its own when it comes to her. “You know I’m just organizing things so I can finally leave him.” Her hand palms my cock that is straining to come out.

  “I’ve been listening to your excuses to leave him for the last seven years.” And before I say anything else, she pops the button of my jeans open and drops to her knees.

  Taking my cock out, she draws me into her mouth. I have to give it to her. The woman knows how to suck a cock. She’s like a fucking Hoover.

  I know what mood she’s in. She hates when I fuck other women. She gets territorial. She wants my thoughts on her and only her, so she’s erasing thoughts of the last woman and replacing them with thoughts of her.

  I know she’s going to want it rough, too, and I’m pissed enough to give it to her exactly how she wants it. I’m one of Pavlov’s damn dogs when it comes to her, and she fucking knows it.

  I place my coffee down, grabbing her head in both my hands, pulling her hair.

  I fuck her mouth, not stopping when she starts to gag. She loves this shit. She’s already got her skirt up and is working on herself.

  That is the thing with Sandie. She keeps coming back for more because with me she can be the dirty girl she wants to be. With me, she can be fucking filthy, and those are things she just can’t be or do at home.

  With me, she knows I won’t turn her away. But tomorrow…well, maybe tomorrow I’ll try. .

  Chapter Two

  Mick

  My eyes roam the ceiling in my room before slowly closing. I hear Sandie get off the bed and start running around the room.

  “I’m going to be so late picking up Jason Jr.,” she says while trying to shimmy her panties up.

  I rise up on my elbows to watch her. The years have been good to her. Even after having Jason Jr., her body is tight just like when we were in high school.

  “I guess this was a fuck visit?”

  Her head snaps up. “I need to make sure everything will be okay with Jason Jr. when I finally leave Jason.” She climbs on the bed to straddle my waist.

  “It’s been seven years. How much more do you need?”

  “You know I can’t just leave, baby. I have no money. Everything is in Jason’s name.”

  “I told you I would take care of you.” I put her hair behind her ears.

  “You know we have to be careful.” She kisses me on the lips, my hand snaking around her waist.

  “Whatever, Sandie.” I push her off me. I was the stupid idiot who fell back into bed with her the minute I laid eyes on her almost one year after she gave birth and married Jason.

  “Close the door on the way out. It’s been fun,” I tell her while I shut the bathroom door, locking it, and then finally wash off last night and today.

  I step out of the shower and wipe the fog off the mirror with my hand. My eyes are still bloodshot. My mouth still tastes like ass, no matter how long I stand here brushing. I lean down to rinse out my mouth. As I wipe my mouth off, I look at myself again, and I wonder how the fuck I got to this place.

  It all started when we were fifteen years old after I transferred from the public school to the private one.

  I didn’t have any money. Shit, my mother was a stripper, and we lived in the projects. We barely had food in the fridge, but I had a natural talent throwing that football. So they gave me a scholarship.

  The first day I walked into homeroom, my eyes landed on hers. She was the ultimate pinup girl, with blond hair, a nice rack, a mouth that was made to suck cock, and a juicy ass. It took two days to find out who she was.

  Head cheerleader, Sandie, dating the other quarterback on the team. I laughed at the irony.

  Every single time she tried to corner me, I walked away from her leering looks and pretended I didn’t see her. She kept waiting for me after practice, and I kept leaving out the back door just to avoid her.

  I wasn’t second string to anyone. Until she cornered me in the locker room one day when I left the field to go grab something I had forgotten.

  That was the first time she gave me head, and I didn’t give a shit if people found out. I wasn’t wrong about those lips.

  From then, we started sneaking around. She always said she was forced to date Jason. Their parents were country club friends. She had no choice. It was just for show.

  So during the day she would hold his hand, but at night, she would come over and fuck me.

  It was a good thing my mother worked nights. It went on for two years, and every single time I would tell her we were done, she would come over that night and profess her love for me. I hate to admit it, but she got under my skin. I loved her, too.

  Until that one day, she came over with tears streaming down her face.

  “I’m pregnant.” Those two words changed my life. It changed hers.

  “It’s okay. I can get a job, and we can finally be together.” It didn’t even dawn on me that we always, always wore condoms.

  I didn’t even pick up the fact she was fidgeting with her hands. “It’s Jason’s, Mick.”

  I jumped away from her, starting to pace around my small, two-bedroom apartment. “What do you mean, it’s Jason’s? You said you were never with him!”

  “It was one time, that night we got into that stupid fight because of Jenny. I thought you were going to date her. I went home. He was there. One thing led to another.” She looked up at me. The beautiful face of the girl I thought I would wake up to every morning, the beautiful face of the girl I thought would have my kids, the beautiful face of the girl who made me feel like I was worth something. The beautiful face of a liar.

  “Please, Mick, don’t hate me,” she whispered.

  I had never hated anyone more than I hated her in that moment. Sitting on my mother’s ratty, flowered couch where we first made love, I vowed, right then and there, to never ever give my heart away again. To anyone.

  I went on to training camp, did my own thing. I thought of her from time to time. One night while out at a bar, I saw her. Our eyes met across the room. She walked right up to me, and we started talking. It was like no time had passed. We caught up on life, and soon she was touching me any chance she got.

  Now, here we are seven years later, and I’m still just her fucking toy.

  I’m the man who w
ants to believe her empty promises. I’m the man who wants the girl to finally pick him, and I’m the man who wants to believe that love conquers all. What the fuck is wrong with me?

  Chapter Three

  Mick

  I spend the good part of the morning in the gym near the precinct. Nothing makes me feel better than beating the shit out of a punching bag. Eminem blasts in my headphones, while the sweat pours off me, my muscles nearly seizing up every time my jab strikes the bag.

  By the time I shower, get dressed, and head into work, my mood has changed from frustrated to semi-irritated. I start thinking of the caseload that we just got so my mind isn’t on Sandie.

  I jog up the steps to my office, and I’m greeted by my partner, Jackson. His broody mood is bouncing off the walls. I sit down at my desk, which is right in front of his.

  “Good morning, sunshine!” I lean back into my chair, waiting for his eyes to come to mine. When he doesn’t say anything but just grunts, I know it’s going to be a great day.

  “I thought Kendall came over last night? Yet here you are ready to blow up?”

  He glances at me. We’ve been partners since the beginning. We entered the academy at the same time, both of us with chips on our shoulders, both hoping to change the world. I’m trying to get scum off the street, and he’s making sure every runaway is found.

  “Shut the fuck up, Mick, not today.” He looks down at the file in front of him. Another runaway kid who seemingly disappeared into thin air. I hate everything about this case.

  He lifts his gaze, pinning it on me. He doesn’t need to say anything. I already know what he’s thinking.

  “I met my neighbor this morning,” he tells me while I squeeze my stress ball in my hand. “She had bruises on her arm, a couple faded ones on her face.” He closes the file in front him, tossing it on my desk.

  I open the folder to see the picture of the latest runaway.

  “So now what?” I ask him, but I know the answer even before he tries to answer.

  “She’s running from something. I don’t know what or who, but there was real fear in her eyes. There was the kind of pain that breaks a person,” he tells me while he starts typing into the database.