Fate's Unseen Shadow (Cager Series Book 1), page 1
FATE’S UNSEEN SHADOW
CAGER SERIES: BOOK ONE
PALMER JONES
Copyright © 2024 by PALMER JONES
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, 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.
Edited by: Dayna Reidenouer, HEA Author Services
First Edition
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Also by
1
“It’s been four weeks, and still no sight of the owner of Cassin Systems, billionaire Elizabeth Cassin. If you remember our last report, she is wanted in connection to the murder of her stepbrother, Theodore Williams, CEO of Cassin Systems. Authorities believe she is still in the United States. They offer a $100,000 reward for any tips leading to her capture.”
Damon Vargas paused the video, his screen filled with the picture of Elizabeth Cassin. Not much in the news these days surprised him…but that sure as hell had.
He rubbed the back of his neck, studying the picture. He’d spoken with her exactly twice in his life. The first had taken place about two months ago. She’d requested his help with a suspected stalker. During their brief conversation, she’d admitted the police never found any evidence of her being stalked. But it didn’t matter, since those weren’t the type of cases he and his colleagues accepted.
The second time had been a month ago.
That conversation still haunted him. She’d said she thought the same man stalking her had also been watching her stepbrother, Theodore Williams, and was the real murderer. And for a second time, he’d turned her down. Solving adults’ murders wasn’t where they spent their resources. He’d advised her to go to the police.
And now she had disappeared.
Was she already dead?
Damon shook his head, grabbed his keys, and left his apartment. He hated the situation. But after solving that case of the eight-year-old little girl made the national news four months ago, they’d set up a website to give the public a way to contact them. They never expected to be flooded with thousands of pleas for help. But the choice of who they took on as a client was an easy one.
Kids.
That was their focus. Children who were kidnapped or had run away.
Billionaire Elizabeth Cassin and her potential stalker weren’t a priority when the day she called an eight-year-old girl had been abducted while walking home from school.
His phone rang as he slid onto his black leather seat. “Headed out now,” he answered.
Xavier Kennedy lightly laughed. “Glad I caught you before you drove out here. They canceled. I’m driving back now. I’ll relist the property on our website once I get home.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised when they offered to pay us cash each month for rent.” Damon changed direction. “I’m headed to Cager to work.” And hopefully drown out the guilt from declining to help Ms. Cassin. “Call me if you need me. Otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
“Unless something else pops up.”
“Let’s hope not. It’s been a busy May already.” They’d tracked down six kids in the past three weeks. All were still alive, a few physically injured, and all mentally scarred for life.
He turned on the radio, already set to the news station.
“As the search for Elizabeth Cassin enters its fifth week—”
He turned it off.
“Shit,” he muttered, dropping his head back against the headrest. Five weeks? The odds of her being alive were slim, and that guilt would linger in his conscience.
2
“That total comes to $6.66.”
Perfect. The last year of her life summarized by the worst number possible. Even better, no matter how hard she stared at the five-dollar bill in her wallet, it wouldn’t morph into something more.
“Please take off the water,” Ella Cassin said, too exhausted to be embarrassed after the month from hell. Maybe Satan had personally orchestrated this entire shitshow.
Her stomach rumbled loudly, and the young cashier frowned. He pulled his wallet out and laid down two more dollars. “You look like you need something stronger than water, but I’ll cover you.”
Hating the charity, Ella passed him the five. “Thank you.” She made a mental note to send the cashier something nice when she had access to her bank account again. Exasperated, she shook her head and kept to the shadows alongside the drug store before darting to her car. The idea that this temporary situation would be over soon had motivated her to keep moving forward. But now, without a penny in her purse, she’d hit the end. The term “temporary” had started to lose its meaning.
Things would be different if Damon Vargas had helped her the first two times she’d requested it. Teddy might still be alive, and she wouldn’t be living on protein bars while hiding from the police. Although neither of those were really his fault. She’d reached out to a few other agencies, and they’d told her the same thing: go to the police. Look where that got her. Homeless and penniless in a matter of four weeks. Or was it five now?
A small, pitiful laugh escaped as she sat down in her luxury sedan. It had cost over six figures, and driving these days felt a little ridiculous. Selling the car had occurred to her, but then she’d lose her transportation and her bedroom. But if her next plan didn’t work, she’d sell the car and her jewelry and then regroup. She was pragmatic enough to realize that “things” didn’t hold the memories, but her watch, necklace, and earrings were the last pieces her father had given her before he died and the only things of worth she’d had on her when she’d run away.
But, for now, being out of money meant she was out of options. Waiting for the police to try to find the real killer seemed hopeless at this point. And if Mr. Vargas wouldn’t take her case over the phone, maybe he would in person.
He was the only one she trusted at this point. He helped find runaway children free of charge. That must mean he’s a good man. Or at least she hoped it did.
Ella pulled out the cheap red lipstick. It was a strange purchase when she was down to her last dollar, but it was necessary. With her picture on the front page of every news company, she had to disguise herself.
Leaning toward the car’s center, her reflection in the rearview mirror made her pause. She’d chopped off her long brown hair. Now it sat above her shoulders, bleached blond. Between the hair and the red lips, no one would recognize her.
“Elizabeth Cassin” had died the same day as Teddy did.
Ella ate the protein bar she’d bought for lunch as she drove across town. She had a plan. Once she’d arrived in Charleston, South Carolina, to confront Mr. Vargas, willing to beg him for help, she’d discovered he owned a bar. It sat on the backside of Charleston, four hours away from where she’d disappeared. If he wouldn’t help her with her case, maybe he’d give her a job to wait it out until the police got their heads out of their asses and started searching for the real killer.
Before the killer found her.
It wasn’t the best plan in the world, but it should get her some immediate cash if the person hiring at Mr. Vargas’s bar didn’t ask too many questions.
Ella pulled into the bar’s parking lot, which was empty except for a black sports car parked to one side. She’d hoped to catch the manager during the day and convince them to give her a chance behind the bar. Then, when Mr. Vargas happened to come to his bar, she’d beg for help.
With a deep breath, she walked across the parking lot. Gravel crunched under her sneakers, and she had the odd urge to kick a stone as hard as possible. Her stomach rumbled again, despite the protein bar.
Her jeans were her own, now a little baggy and sitting low on her hips. The T-shirt was plain black, which she’d picked up at a thrift store yesterday for three dollars, along with a slightly used bra. The lack of food for a month had resulted in unplanned weight loss. And without her next meal in sight, it would get worse.
The bar was a long cinderblock building with a porch that ran the length of it. Signs posted along the front of the porch read, “Motorcycle Parking Only.” She stepped up the wooden steps, glad the place looked clean, and strolled with confidence through the front door.
As the air-conditioning hit her so did a new emo
tion: doubt.
Doubt didn’t belong in her vocabulary. Her father had molded her into a woman who didn’t accept anything less than what she wanted from any business transaction. That’s all this was, and she’d get what she wanted. A job and help.
A male voice shouted, “We’re closed!”
She jumped at the intrusion into her thoughts.
Pulling her shoulders back, Ella moved farther into the dim atmosphere. It smelled faintly of cleaning chemicals. Better than what her imagination had conjured up over the past twenty-four hours about a bar on this side of town.
“I know,” she replied, before clearing her throat and speaking with authority. “I need to speak with the manager.” She lifted her chin, pretending to belong in a bar like this and pushing back that doubt. Walking into boardrooms and making million-dollar deals had never caused an ounce of self-doubt before. And ever since her father had died, it was like he stood beside her in every deal she made or negotiation she won. A familiar presence, right behind her, reminding her who she was: his daughter, owner of Cassin Systems.
But she couldn’t feel her father right now.
She swallowed over the lump in her throat. Right now, she was alone.
Ella hooked her thumbs in the loops on her jeans and kept advancing into the building. “I’m here to apply for the bartender position.” She searched the room, spotting one solitary man typing on a laptop. He sat in an oversized semicircle booth, the only one in the bar, with a direct line of sight to the front door.
Her body hesitated on its own, but she forced it to take another step. As she drew closer, the man glanced up from his laptop before lifting his head fully.
His eyes skittered down to her feet and then back up. “Hi.”
Ella smiled to cover up the worry she’d dressed wrong. “Hi. Are you the manager?”
“Yes.” He leaned back and shut the top of his laptop, resting his hands on it. “You’re here for the job? What kind of experience do you have?”
And here’s where she decided to stick with the truth. “None.”
“None.”
She shook her head.
A small smile appeared on his lips, and it suddenly hit her.
This might be the single most attractive man she’d ever come face-to-face with in her thirty-one years. After flying all over the world, working with wealthy businessmen, and meeting men here and there at a bar or restaurant, she realized that none of them stacked up against this guy.
His neat brown hair seamlessly merged with a full, short-trimmed beard. His brown eyes, framed by dark lashes, reflected an unexpected intensity when studying her this way. However, her gaze faltered, and her mouth ran dry as she took in his strong neck, broad shoulders, and slightly tanned, muscular forearms.
Ella ran a hand through her hair and pretended to look around the bar to do something other than stare. It was official. She needed some real damn food if she was seriously attracted to anyone with the shitstorm happening in her life.
“No experience, huh? Well, everyone starts somewhere. What have you done for work in the past?”
“I worked in my father’s business until he died. Mostly financial type of stuff.” That was close to the truth. “I wanted to do something different. I’m a fast learner.”
He studied her silently until she wanted to squirm. But she remained still, returning his stare with an unflinching gaze. She’d played this game with men who’d tried to intimidate her into caving or giving more up than she’d planned for business deals. More than money was at stake, though. And hot guy or not, he was still another human, and this was nothing more than another business deal.
“Let me try tonight.” She slid her hands into her back pockets, trying to appear casual and confident. “I promise I can do this.”
He smirked. “I like confidence, but I can’t let you start tonight. Cager isn’t open until tomorrow.”
Shit. There went eating for the next day.
After opening the laptop, he held out his hand. “But you can start tomorrow. I’ll just need your driver’s license.”
Expecting this question, Ella faked a grimace and replied, “I lost my license. A replacement is in the mail.”
His hand remained frozen in the air, his eyes hardening as he regarded her. “Lost your license?”
“Yes. It must have fallen out somewhere. But I can get you a copy of the new one as soon as it arrives.” And maybe by then, she’d meet Mr. Vargas and he’d help her.
With a slight nod, he dropped his hand. “Right. Well, it was good for you to come in, but I’m afraid I can’t provide you the job without a driver’s license.”
“Please.” Her voice cracked, and she covered it with a cough. “Please. I, uh, I need this job.” She hated pleading with anyone, but she was damn near ready to give up, and that meant possibly going to prison or worse…death. Because in her heart, she knew, with absolute certainty, that Teddy’s killer was after her, too.
“Why?”
“I just…I can’t tell you that.” God, this was falling apart. “I wish I could say trust me that I’m a good person, but I know you won’t.”
“You’re right. That’s a pretty big ask to put someone behind the bar and trust them with money while they can’t explain why they conveniently lost their driver’s license.”
Her face heated, and she subtly shook her head and took two deep breaths. No way in hell she’d let herself faint or cry. “I’m in a situation, and I can’t give you my driver’s license.”
He flicked his eyes past her toward the door. “What kind of situation?”
This wasn’t going to work. She’d find another way to talk to Mr. Vargas. “Never mind.” She spun around and power walked toward the door. This was a bust. Maybe she’d have better luck with the other bar she’d seen a few miles away. It looked a little sleazy, but she had to eat. She’d get a job and then approach Damon Vargas.
“Wait!”
She heard him move but didn’t stop at his command. “I’ll try somewhere else. I saw a few other bars—”
“No.” He grabbed onto her elbow, keeping her from stepping outside Cager. “I can promise you don’t want to walk into those other bars looking this vulnerable.”
She lifted her chin, insulted. “I’m not vulnerable.”
He softened his expression. “You look like you’re about to shatter.” The man searched her face for a moment, somber. “Your eyes are pretty, but they give you away.” He released her elbow and continued before she could process how he’d looked at her. “I cannot imagine what kind of situation someone like you found themselves in, where they must hide their real identity.”
“That makes two of us. When I was younger, I imagined being the first woman president.” She looked around Cager. “Not betting on a stranger to trust me so I can eat a meal.”
“I’ll be happy to buy you that meal.” He held out his hand. “I’m Damon Vargas.”
She froze. It was either the best luck or the worst luck. “I thought you said you were the manager.”
“I am.” He smirked. “I happen to be one of the owners as well.”
Shaking his hand, she tried to relax. Did she ask him right now? Just blurt it out?
With a huff, she chickened out. “I’m Ella.”
“Ella? Is that your real name?”
“Nope.” It was a nickname her grandmother had used a long time ago. No one would recognize it, though.
Damon nodded. “You look like an Ella, so that’s a good choice. And I don’t mind keeping you off the books, but I need to know why.”
“You already know why.”
That caused his lips to pull down. “I do?”
“Sort of.”
He set his hands on his hips. “I don’t understand.”
Ella started to fidget, her mind racing with the next path to take.
“Breathe,” he whispered, his hand covering hers where it was fisted by her side. “I’m sure this is hard to believe, but I promise you’re safe here. You wanted me to trust you. I’m asking you to trust me. Who are you?”
She closed her eyes, forcing herself to do it. “I hope I don’t regret this.” After exhaling, she turned on her heel and strode outside. “I think my driver’s license will answer your questions. It’s in my car.”
