Taker - A Single Dad's New Baby Romance (Criminal Passions Book 4)

by Layla Valentine

  “Then what is it?”

  He tapped the top of the beer can and looked away, as if trying to figure out where to begin. “There was an…incident last Friday.”

  “What kind of ‘incident’?” Marshall loved speaking in euphemisms—one of the many reasons why he was so good at being a crooked cop. Hell, saying he spoke in euphemisms was a euphemism in itself. The man was a snake, through and through.

  “One of our shipment deals went bad. Nothing got too out of control, but things were said much too openly, and a civilian heard what went down.”

  “A civilian?”

  “Some woman. She heard our boys talk about shipping weapons, and most importantly, she was close enough to see faces.”

  “Sounds like sloppy work.”

  He scoffed. “You’re telling me. Like I said, good employees are hard to come by. Anyway, it’s too dangerous to let a woman like her run around knowing what she does. Maybe she’ll keep it to herself, maybe she won’t. But I’m not about to take that chance.”

  “Then what do you want me to do?”

  He opened up the bag he’d brought with him, some fancy Italian leather thing. Then he took out a tablet and did some swiping. He stopped, raising his eyebrows as if impressed. “This is her.”

  He handed me the tablet, and I saw right away why he was impressed.

  The woman on the screen was beautiful—no other way to put it. The picture had been taken from a distance, as if she’d been spied on from across a street.

  Whoever she was, she had ink-dark hair with green eyes brilliant enough to be seen from a distance. She was tall and slender, with curves in all the right places. She wore a white blouse with black slacks, and when I spotted what was in her hand—a rolled-up apron—I realized why.

  “She’s a waitress,” I said, doing my best not to ogle her image on the screen.

  “Correct,” said Marshall with a nod. “Works over at the Chesterton.”

  “You know where she works? Then why do you need me?”

  “Because what I have in mind for her is going to take some…finesse.”

  “Go on.”

  “I’m not going to hurt her, Tate. Not that I’d be the one actually doing it, but I digress. I want to make things easy for her, buy her off.”

  I said nothing, waiting for him to explain the plan.

  “No sense in making this any messier than it needs to be. The plan is to have her picked up, bring her to me, and I’ll explain that she saw something she wasn’t supposed. Then I’ll offer her a nice, fat envelope of cash to smooth things over. I’ll let her know that going to the cops won’t be an option, if you get what I’m saying, but I’m thinking a little money to shut her up instead of having to deal with disposing of a civilian body is the right call.”

  “Then have one of your guys pick her up. What do you need me for?”

  “Because, Tate, I don’t want to inflate your ego here, but you’re a fine-looking gentleman. Most of the men on my payroll have faces only mothers could love, and are rough enough around the edges that if they speak to a civilian for more than a few sentences, their ‘potential criminal’ alarms start going off. Which means if I want to talk to her, I either have to get a few of my guys to toss her screaming into the back of a van, or I get a handsome, all-American-looking guy like yourself to woo her into coming with you.”

  “You want me to what, seduce her?”

  He laughed. “I mean, I wouldn’t have a problem with that. But no, I want you to use that charm of yours to first get her alone with you. Kidnap her somehow, and find some way to explain the situation without her freaking out and running to the nearest cop. Then, once she’s with you, I want you to soften her up, tell her what’s going on, and what I plan to offer her. That way once she’s seated across from me, it’s a simple matter of handing her the money and being done with it.”

  I shook my head. “This is insane.”

  “Is it? It sounds pretty straightforward to me. And fair, too. A pretty little waitress gets a nice little payoff, I clean up a loose end, and all’s good in the hood.”

  “And what about me? Say I agree to do this for you, then what? I go back to my life and wait for you to drop in a couple of months later with another favor?”

  Marshall shook his head and smiled. “That’s the best part—once you do this for me, I’ll consider your work with me officially over. I’ll dispose of the dirt I have on you, and as much as it’ll kill me, I’ll sever ties forever.”

  “You’re not bullshitting me, are you?”

  “Nope. And I’ll even throw in a little bonus.”

  “What kind of bonus?”

  “How’s that record of yours working out for you?” he asked. “You managed to skirt some major black marks, but I know you’ve still got a few blemishes on your record.”

  As much as I hated to admit it, he had my attention.

  He went on. “When you’re as high up as I am, you have certain privileges—connections. Like one Judge Carver. It’s as simple as this—you work for me, do this last job, and I ask him to expunge your record. You know what that means, right?”

  “Enlighten me.”

  He made a “poof” gesture with his fingers. “‘Expunged’ means gone. Your record will be totally clean. Not only will I be done with you, Tate, but you’ll also be able to finally start over clean and fresh, like you’ve always wanted. No more criminal record holding you back.”

  He got up and took one last swig of his beer.

  “Think about it,” he said, stepping past me and giving my shoulder a squeeze. “Call me by the end of the day. I’m sure you’ll make the right choice.”

  With that, he left.

  And all I could do was try to figure out my next step.

  Chapter 4

  Abbie

  I hadn’t left my apartment since Friday night. My bank account was getting emptier by the day, and my manager was losing his last shred of patience with my impromptu weekend off—but I didn’t care. After what I’d seen, I didn’t want to risk it.

  They were looking for me, I could feel it. I didn’t know much about crime, but it didn’t take a criminal to understand that if you had a witness, you dealt with them. I wasn’t sure if they’d seen me, but I’d seen them and had just barely gotten away.

  Monday night, Jamie texted me.

  “You’ve been MIA from work for the entire weekend. Tell me what’s going on.”

  I sighed. I knew Jamie well enough to get that when she wanted info on something, she didn’t let it go until she had it.

  I didn’t want to bring her into what had happened, but I had to say something. If anything, she needed to know I was safe.

  “Something happened.” I fired off the text despite knowing it was so cryptic it would only raise more questions.

  “What? What happened? Come on, Ab. Talk to me.”

  I sighed, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard as I tried to come up with a way to say it without saying it. Maybe I was being paranoid, but what if they could somehow read my texts?

  “Something bad. I can’t talk about it over the phone.”

  Her reply arrived almost as soon as I’d hit send.

  “??? Then come here and tell me. I want to make sure you’re all right.”

  I still didn’t want to leave the house, but at the same time, I hadn’t spoken to a single person since I’d rushed home Friday night. Having some company actually sounded pretty nice. Stewing in my apartment was certainly not doing anything good for my mental health.

  But I didn’t want to have her come here. Maybe they were watching me.

  “Come over,” read her next text. “Have a glass of wine with me and tell me what’s going on.”

  I shook my head, wishing I didn’t have to potentially bring anyone else into my situation.

  “Okay. I’ll be there in a little bit.”

  “Great, see you soon. And whatever it is, it’s going to be okay.”

  If only it were so simple. />
  I called a cab and slipped my phone back into my pocket, taking a quick shower before heading out. Right when I finished putting on my shoes, a text lit up my phone, letting me know my ride was here.

  My stomach tensed at the idea of stepping outside. I imagined those thugs waiting for me, sinister smirks on their faces as they leapt from the shadows to pounce, to kidnap me and do whatever horrible things they had in mind.

  But when I stepped into the cool night air, there was no one other than a few pedestrians on the other side of the street, none of them seeming like they were waiting for me.

  The cab was there, and I didn’t waste any time hurrying into the back. The driver repeated the destination address I’d given him, and soon we were off.

  Jamie’s place was only a short drive away, and as soon as we pulled to a stop in front of the building, I repeated the process, rushing in and shutting the door behind me.

  A sigh of relief whooshed out of my lungs as I realized I was safe. For now, at least. I hurried up to Jamie’s door and gave it a quick knock.

  She opened, the happy expression on her face turning into one of concern as she looked me up and down.

  “Ab!” she said, putting her hand on my shoulder and hurrying me into the apartment.

  Her place was, as always, calming and homey. Candles were lit here and there, the lighting low. And on the coffee table was a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

  “Here,” she said, leading me toward the couch and helping me down.

  She immediately poured two glasses, handing one to me. The sip calmed me right away, the first bit of relief I’d had since this whole thing started.

  “How are you?” Jamie asked.

  “I…I don’t know.”

  She turned her body to me and curled her legs beneath her. “Everyone at work’s worried about you—even Mark, believe it or not. You just vanished off the face of the earth.”

  I took a deep breath, trying to figure out where to begin. I realized there was nothing to do but go right into it.

  “The other night, when I left work…”

  “Yeah?” Her eyes were fixed in grave concern.

  “I took the long way home. And I kind of got up in my head, you know? I wasn’t watching where I was going. When I finally came to, I realized I was in Five Points.”

  She winced at the name—the neighborhood wasn’t exactly the safest area to be walking around alone at night.

  I went on before she could ask questions. “I took a shortcut to get back to a safer part of town. And when I was in this alley, I saw something…”

  It occurred to me to tell her the whole story, that I’d witnessed a man being killed right before my eyes. But as I told it all, I held back that detail. I didn’t like to lie, but it was too much. What if I was in some serious trouble with the men who’d done it? The last thing I wanted was to make Jamie a part of it.

  “What’d they do to him?” she asked when I reached that critical part of the story.

  “They beat him. Badly. I’ve never seen anything like it before. They just started…hitting him, and when he was down, they kept at it, kicking him while he begged them to stop.”

  The color drained from Jamie’s face, and I could only imagine her reaction if I were to tell her the truth.

  “Oh, my God.”

  “And they saw me. I know they did. I tried my best to stay hidden, but they saw me. And I saw them.”

  She nodded, getting it. “So you’re a witness.”

  “Right. I ran out of there as fast as I could, but I barely got away. And I’ve been hiding out in my apartment ever since.”

  “What about the cops?” she asked. “Have you tried to get in touch with them?”

  “I know I should. I’m just worried that doing anything will bring down more attention on me. Like, what if they make me do a lineup, or go to court, and my identity gets out? These guys seemed like they were in a gang. What if they come after me?”

  “I hear what you’re saying, but going to the police has got to be a better solution than hiding out in your apartment and hoping these guys don’t come after you.”

  I slumped back into the seat, feeling totally overwhelmed. “This is so insane,” I said. “I didn’t mean to do anything.”

  Jamie put her hand on my shoulder. “I know, Ab. And I’m here for you, okay? If you want to stay with me until this all blows over, you’d be more than welcome.”

  I perked up a bit at this suggestion, the idea that I didn’t have to be alone through all this.

  “And we can tell Mark what’s going on,” Jamie went on. “He can be kind of a dick, but I’m sure he’ll cut you some slack.”

  Her expression focused, then, as if she’d thought of something. “God, too bad we couldn’t just go to my parents’ cabin.”

  “Your parents have a cabin?”

  Jamie’s family was more than a little wealthy. They lived in Chicago, where she was from, both of them investment bankers. Jamie’s apartment, which was a hell of a lot nicer than mine, was paid for by them as far as I knew.

  “One of their many getaway places all over the country. It’s in the Black Hills in South Dakota, right near Mount Rushmore. It’s gorgeous, and they never use it.”

  A smile formed on my face. “That sounds kind of nice, actually.”

  “Maybe if we get this whole thing behind us, we can go there. I’m pretty sure it’s an open invitation.”

  “And they never use it?”

  “I’d be surprised if they’ve been there in the last year. But they’re still paying to keep it up and all that.” She stretched out, sitting back in the couch. “Does that sound good? Staying with me? Want to grab some things and come back here?”

  I smiled for the first time in a long while. “It does. But you promise you’re cool with it?”

  “Of course I am. That’s what friends are for, right? Come back, we’ll finish this wine, get some takeout, watch some bad TV. And in the morning, we can figure out what to do.”

  I pulled her into a tight hug. “Thanks, Jamie.”

  “You got it. Now hurry and get back here.”

  I took another sip of my wine, finishing off the glass. Maybe it was the booze, but when I was done, I felt ready.

  “Okay!” I said. “I’ll be back soon.”

  “See you then!”

  With that, I headed out of the apartment and was soon outside. It was only as I stepped out of the building that I realized I’d forgotten to call a cab. Jamie and I both lived downtown, and neither of us had cars—we didn’t need them with the public transportation and cabs on every block.

  I took out my phone and opened up the taxi app, but before I could type in my destination a voice called out to me.

  “Need a ride?”

  I glanced up and nearly stumbled backward at what I saw. Leaning against a nearby taxi, a sly grin on his face, was about the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen in my life.

  The first thing I noticed was his height. I was no expert, but he had to have been nearly six-and-a-half feet. His shoulders were broad, the muscles of his upper arms looking on the verge of breaking through the tight, white V-neck shirt he wore. His eyes were striking blues, his lips full and set among a wide, strong jaw. A pair of rugged jeans and black boots finished off his look.

  I’d never seen a man that attractive in my life. And all of a sudden, I didn’t know what to do with myself.

  “Um, what?” I asked. Not all that smooth, but the best I could do.

  He stuck his thumb to the car he leaned against, toward the illuminated “taxi” sign on the top.

  “Need a lift? You look like you’re headed somewhere.”

  I took a quick, deep breath and composed myself. “I am, actually.”

  “Then come on in. I’ll get you where you need to go.”

  Immediately, two conflicting feelings took hold of me. The first was awareness, that I needed to be careful of any stranger I met. But the other was calming, as if something
about the man told me I could trust him, that there wasn’t anything to worry about.

  The man nodded toward his car, a sleek black sedan, one more time. “Come on.” He followed this up with another disarming grin.

  And without thinking more of it, I climbed into the back of the car.

  “All right,” the guy said. “Where to?”

  “Thirty-five Woodbridge. Just a few minutes from here.”

  “Got it.”

  He pulled out onto the road.

  “Name’s Tate, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

  “Abbie,” I said. “Nice to meet you too.”

  Another smile from him. I was taken with the guy, no sense in pretending otherwise.

  But as we drove and he locked the doors, I looked around the cab. Right away I noticed that there were none of the typical things you’d find in a taxi, like a license hanging on the seat or a sticker identifying the company.

  My eyes went wide in fear.

  Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

  Chapter 5

  Tate

  I felt like the biggest piece of shit on earth. It was one thing to agree to what I was doing, but it was another to actually go through with it.

  And I could tell the second I locked the doors to the car Marshall had let me borrow that she knew something was wrong.

  “What’s happening?” Abbie asked, an anxious tinge to her tone.

  “We’re going to your place,” I lied.

  “No, we’re not. Why did you take that turn back there? We’re going in the wrong direction.”

  She didn’t wait for me to reply—her hands shot out to the handle and she pulled it hard. But the door was locked.

  “What’s going on?” she said. “Tell me.”

  Despite the circumstances, she was keeping it cool. Another person in that situation might’ve totally panicked, shouting and screaming. I’d seen it before—it wasn’t like this was my first kidnapping.

  But Abbie was different. She kept herself in check, her eyes fixed onto me.

  “Tell me now!”

  I debated bullshitting her some more. But there didn’t seem to be any point to it.