The TAKEN! Series - Books 5-8 (Taken! Box Set Book 2)
Page 1
THE TAKEN! SERIES – BOOKS 5-8
BY
REMINGTON KANE
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
THE TAKEN! SERIES - BOOKS 5-8
First edition. September 18, 2013.
Copyright © 2013 Remington Kane.
ISBN: 978-1498931328
Written by Remington Kane.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
TAKEN! - THE THIRTY-NINE | By | REMINGTON KANE
DEDICATION
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
TAKEN! - KIDNAPPING THE DEVIL | By | REMINGTON KANE
PRELUDE
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
HIT SQUAD | By | REMINGTON KANE
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
TAKEN! – MASQUERADE | By | REMINGTON KANE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
A PLEA
THE BOOKS OF REMINGTON KANE
LEARN ABOUT NEW RELEASES FROM | REMINGTON KANE
Further Reading: The TAKEN! Series - Books 9-12
TAKEN! - THE THIRTY-NINE
By
REMINGTON KANE
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to all the fans of the TAKEN! Series.
Thank you!
CHAPTER 1
THE PAST
Jessica White made a left turn into the park and glided her car up the curving road that meandered through the greenery. Despite the curves and the lowered speed limit, the detour still cut a few minutes off her commute, and besides, she liked the scenery.
As she drove, the blond haired, blue-eyed teen sang along to the radio, while tapping her fingers atop the steering wheel.
It was mid-afternoon and she was on her way home from her part-time job as a cashier. On most days, the park was loaded with people, but it was raining, had been for most of the day, and the gray skies and wet grass had all but cleared the park of its joggers, playground participants, and strolling lovers.
As Jessica’s car climbed the hill, it began to shudder. The vibration alarmed her, but as the road leveled out at the top, the car once more settled into a smooth forward motion. However, as she made a right turn onto the lane that would take her from the park, the car gave a final quake and the engine died.
“Noooo,” Jessica moaned, as she coasted the car to rest on the side of the road.
After several attempts to restart the engine, she gave up and looked around.
Green fields stretched to either side, bordered by tall trees. The only person in sight was a hardcore runner, who she spotted in her rearview mirror, but the man was running quickly down the road she had just turned off, and he was out of sight in seconds.
As she was lamenting having to leave the car to walk home in the rain, a van appeared. It was an old vehicle, white, with rust beginning to show around its tarnished grill, but its engine barely made a sound and its wipers beat a steady rhythm, as its lights shone brightly.
A moment later, the van’s driver was standing outside his vehicle. To Jessica, it seemed as if one moment he was in the driver’s seat, and the next instant, standing outside.
He looked to be about her age, eighteen. He was tall, dressed in jeans and a black sweatshirt, with boots. Jessica also noticed one more thing about the boy—he was gorgeous.
After giving herself a quick look in the mirror, she got out of her car and walked towards him, smiling. As she gave the boy a closer look, she noticed his eyes.
Such unique eyes, she thought, even as she tried to dissect exactly what it was about them that made them so.
It wasn’t their color, they were hardly a rare shade, nor their shape, no, what made them unique was their intensity.
When she reached him, he asked her if she had broken down and she told him what had happened. As they spoke, she felt her heart beat faster as those intense eyes gazed at her from that perfect face.
When the boy suggested that he take a look at her car, she thanked him and began walking back to it. She had just begun turning her head to ask him his name when she felt the damp cloth cover her mouth and nose.
The odor of the cloth was noxious and she immediately had trouble breathing, even more so as she panicked and grew afraid while struggling in the boy’s grasp.
It was useless.
He held her easily and kept the cloth clamped over her face. As the day began to melt away, strangely, Jessica’s fear went with it, to be replaced by curiosity.
The boy, why would he do such a thing to her? And as the darkness claimed her, one more thought raced across her mind.
Was this the end?
Not only was it not the end, but she and her captor, a man who had planned her abduction, rape, and murder, would be together for the rest of their lives.
CHAPTER 2
THE PRESENT
Detroit, Michigan
Detective Cynthia McGraw stood at the wooden railing in the hallway outside the conference room and peered down to watch Dr. Jessica White sign in at the reception desk; standing beside Dr. White was her husband.
McGraw studied the handsome man with interest as he and the doctor received the badges that would allow them access to the building’s inner offices. The man was tall, as handsome as they come, and moved with the grace of a panther. She had only known one other man who moved with such feline sureness, and that man had been a career cat burglar, and also her father.
McGraw was black, five-foot-eight, and a shapely one-hundred and fifty pounds. She wore her hair straight, but short, and her smile, though rare, was one of her best features.
The elevator pinged and Dr. White and her husband walked off. As the couple grew closer, McGraw studied the doctor. Jes
sica White was blond, blue-eyed, and had an envious figure.
While McGraw knew that she was far from ugly, she also realized that the demands of her police work and the stress of being a single parent to two teen girls, well, let’s just say that she wasn’t getting any younger.
As the doctor grew closer, she thought about the psychiatrist’s reputation. “A miracle worker,” that was the consensus of Jessica White throughout Law Enforcement and the FBI, although, McGraw believed, it was often said grudgingly.
Jessica White smiled at her.
“Detective McGraw?”
“Yes, Dr. White, and thank you for coming,”
“You’re welcome, and the case sounds intriguing,”
The doctor then introduced her husband and as McGraw shook his hand, the man’s eyes took her in from top to bottom and she could detect a gleam of approval in his unblinking gaze.
“Tell me, Detective,” Jessica said. “Who was it that recommended us?”
“That would be me,” said a voice from inside the conference room,
Jessica walked inside the large room and found FBI Special Agent Edwin Stiles seated at a conference table with several men who were all wearing police uniforms of one rank or another. Stiles was white, mid-forties, with short, dark hair and a slender build.
“Special Agent Stiles? How nice to see you again, although I must say, I’m surprised that you would recommend us.”
Stiles got up from his seat and walked over to shake her hand.
“I was never much of one for this profiler business, Dr. White, but after working with you in Colorado, I became a believer. Thank you for coming.”
Jessica smiled graciously.
“You’re welcome.”
Introductions were made all around, and soon they were settled at the conference table and being brought up to speed on the case.
Five young women had been abducted in the last thirty-three days. All five women were African-American, beautiful, and professionals. One of the women was an architect, while three were lawyers and the remaining one a podiatrist. Their ages ranged from twenty-seven to thirty-one.
All of them worked in downtown Detroit and they all went missing after leaving work. The first of the bodies was discovered in a portable toilet at a construction site. Her cause of death was blunt trauma to the skull, trauma so severe that it obliterated the woman’s face.
In the intervening weeks, three more bodies had shown up, two were discovered in dumpsters, while the other was left in a pile of manure at a gardening center.
The choice of location for the disposal of the bodies told of the killer’s disdain for his victims and the viciousness of their wounds spoke of his rage.
Special Agent Stiles stood before the video screen and pointed at a photo of the latest victim.
“Deidra Webber, Ms. Webber disappeared five days ago on Wednesday, only three days after the last victim. Needless to say, the escalation of the abductions is frightening and we can only assume that whoever is doing this is becoming more brazen. Dr. White, do you have any initial thoughts to offer?”
“I find the victimology interesting. While it’s not uncommon for young minority women to be victims of serial killers, they’re rarely as educated and accomplished as the women being targeted here. Whoever is doing this feels threatened by such women and harbors a deep-seated hatred for them. I also believe that there’s a better than even chance that the killer is an African-American male.”
Jessica’s last statement raised eyebrows all around the room, and caused one man, Captain Dan Haggerty, to shake his head vehemently. Haggerty was white, early-fifties and bald, with piercing blue eyes. He was also Detective McGraw’s boss.
“Dr. White, why would you say that the man we’re looking for is black when it’s a well-known fact that most serial killers are middle-aged white males?”
“Actually, Captain, the percentage of minority serial killers has grown much in the last two decades, along with their female counterparts. In this instance, I believe that when you capture the killer, that you’ll not only find that he’s black, but that he also has homosexual tendencies that he’s fought against. Also, despite the escalation of occurrences, I don’t think that he’s becoming more brazen, but simply more efficient. I would also guess that these women were far from random and that their abductor may have a personal connection to each of them. Have you detected any links between all five victims?”
“That’s Detective McGraw’s department, Detective?” Stiles said, as he took his seat.
McGraw replaced him at the video screen.
“While each of the victims is connected to at least one other victim by tenuous circumstances, such as sharing the same dry cleaner, we’ve discovered no link that connects them all. We’re still looking however, and currently we’re going through the victims’ pasts, hoping to find a clue there.”
The meeting ended with plans to reconvene in the morning. As they rose from their seats, Agent Stiles walked over.
“Dr. White, I’d like to talk with you further, would you and your husband allow me to take you to dinner?”
Jessica looked surprised by the offer and nodded her agreement.
“Good,” Stiles said. “I’ll drop by your hotel at seven, all right?”
“That’s fine, and we’ll see you at seven.”
Stiles gestured over at McGraw, who was busy gathering up files.
“Cynthia, Detective McGraw, she’ll be joining us; she’s been on this killer’s trail ever since the first victim went missing.”
“That’s good; I’ll discuss the case with her while we eat. The more I learn about the victims the more complete picture I’ll have of their murderer.”
Stiles sent them a nod and then walked out.
Jessica looked up at her husband.
“Any thoughts?”
“Just that I agree with you, these victims were far from random. Once we determine what connects them, we’ll have our killer.”
“Do you think there’s a chance that the latest victim could still be alive?”
“No, unfortunately no,”
Jessica sighed. “I agree.”
CHAPTER 3
THE PAST
Jessica White awoke gradually, as the chemically induced sleep slowly released her back into the world.
She was lying down, and high up above her was a rusted metal ceiling that here and there showed the sky and let in the rain. As she went to move her right arm, she realized that it was tied with rope and lashed to a corner of the bed she was lying atop. In fact, all four of her limbs were splayed apart and bound to the bedposts.
She was in an old, abandoned factory and rain leaked in everywhere, despite the clean sheet she lay upon, the old mattress beneath her reeked of urine.
Naked, she was naked she realized, even as the memory returned of the damp cloth, of the panic and the fear.
As his shadow fell upon her, she looked up and found the boy staring down at her. His intense eyes were roaming over her body and, even amidst her rising terror, she felt a pang of embarrassment over being nude in front of a stranger.
When his eyes found hers, she stared into them, mesmerized. Despite the fear, the thought returned to her once again about how beautiful the boy was, beautiful and deadly.
As the fullness of her predicament hit her, she began to cry and beg for her life, and soon, she was writhing atop the bed in terror as she struggled to free herself, as all the while, the boy stared down silently at her.
Her terror threatened to morph into outright panic as she watched the boy reach over to a table and pick up a sharp knife, whose long blade gleamed even in the dismal light of the gray day.
As she opened her mouth to scream, she watched as the boy deftly cut her free, with movements both quick and sure.
She cowered there beneath him on the bed as she covered her breasts with her arms and closed her legs tightly, but when she looked up timidly while awaiting his touch, or worse yet, a piercing bl
ow from the knife, her eyes met his and she beheld the most amazing sight.
Shame!
The boy was ashamed at what he had done. The truth of it shone not only in his eyes but was also being broadcast by his expression, his posture, his very aura.
This fascinated her. She had been a student of human nature even as a child and always dreamed of becoming a psychiatrist like her father.
This boy was unlike anyone she had ever met.
In the next instant, he relinquished the knife and was handing her the clothing she had worn. Despite everything else, she marveled at him, at the way he moved with infinite grace, in an almost balletic fashion, and then of course there was that face, that beautiful, beautiful face.
The boy spoke to her.
“Get dressed and I’ll take you home, and then, and then... I’ll go have a talk with the police.”
After he walked away from the bed and turned his back to her, she dressed, and moments later, he tossed her a set of keys.
“Those are the keys to my van; it’s parked out back there.” he told her, while pointing at the other end of the long building. “When you get it, drive around to the front here and take the road to the right, it will take you out to the highway.”
Jessica looked down at the keys in her hand and then back at him. With something akin to reluctance, she began walking away.
After a dozen paces, she stopped and looked back at him.
“...Goodbye,”
“Goodbye, and, Jessica? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,”
She nodded her head in acknowledgement and then continued toward the van.
When she left the building, she had to watch where she walked. Although the rain had recently ended, it left behind puddles everywhere.
The door of the van was unlocked and she climbed inside and found her purse sitting on the dashboard. Then she had the van moving, easing it around scattered debris and potholes. As she turned left toward the front of the derelict building, she saw the promised road on the right.
A minute later, she parked in front of the building and tooted the horn.
The boy walked out the open overhead door and gazed at her, perplexed.
Jessica scooted over into the passenger seat and said two words.