The TAKEN! Series - Books 5-8 (Taken! Box Set Book 2)

by Remington Kane

  “What’s that?” Rothman said.

  “One of our kind is with them, and one sweet specimen he is too.”

  “One of us, a fed?”

  “I don’t know what he pretends to be, but he’s a predator. You know that I can spot them a mile away, I spotted you, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, you do have a knack for that. What’s he look like?”

  “Hell, he looked like a wet dream to me. I followed him and he went to that motel where they say your wife checked in, but it’s a trap, she’s not there, she’s actually at an FBI safe house near Blue Bass Lake.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I followed Dreamboat when he left the motel. He was in a van with a blonde, your wife, and several feds. I took pictures of them with a telephoto lens, where can I send them to you?”

  “Hold on,” Rothman said, and then snapped his fingers at Swan. “What’s your email address?”

  Swan told him what it was without hesitation and he relayed it to Belle.

  “I see you have a playmate, but why not ditch her and meet me somewhere?”

  “I still need her. I’ll cause less suspicion as half of a couple if I run into a cop, and, she might make a good distraction later on when I go for Claire.”

  “Yeah, good thinking, so what’s the plan?”

  “I’ll call you back in an hour. I need time to think.”

  “That’s fine; I’ve a playmate of my own to keep me occupied until then, but don’t forget to look at those pictures I sent you, especially the one of Dreamboat.”

  “I won’t, and hey, thanks again.”

  After ending the call, he instructed Swan to check her email. She did so, on her laptop, and found the attachment. Afterwards, she sent the photos to the printer.

  Rothman stared at the color photographs of his wife and her escorts and felt a pang of longing as he ran a finger over his wife’s face. When he came to a close-up shot of Jessica’s husband, he whistled softly.

  “Look at those eyes...”

  He held the photo out and showed it to Swan.

  “What do you see?”

  Swan hesitated, as if she wasn’t sure if the question was a trick.

  “I see a man’s face,” she said, at last.

  “Anything else?”

  She shrugged slightly. “He’s very handsome,”

  Rothman nodded, as he looked at the picture again.

  “Yes, and wolves are also beautiful,”

  CHAPTER 8

  Victoria Belle put away her phone after talking to Rothman.

  Belle was thirty-six, raven-haired, and endowed with a figure that women envied and men coveted. She had first met Rothman at her mother’s funeral, as Claire had told Jessica, and knew instantly that they were two of a kind.

  Belle may have only been eighteen, but she was as much a predator as Rothman was, and had already murdered numerous times. Her first victims had been a pair of sisters. The two girls had bullied Belle at the grade school she had attended before moving to Turtle Creek in her freshman year of high school.

  When she was fifteen, Belle snuck out of the house one night and stole her mother’s car, so that she could make the trip to the town she had previously lived in.

  It was just after two a.m. when Belle entered the girls’ home and found their bedroom. Sissy and Kelli Rodgers awoke to find a masked figure dressed in black. The figure was shooting at them with a large water pistol.

  Sissy Rodgers turned on her bedside lamp and gasped at the strange figure before her. That’s when Belle rolled up the ski mask to reveal her face.

  “Icky Vicky?” Kelli Rodgers whispered, and Victoria was so pleased that they still remembered her, even if it was in an unkind way. She had feared that they had forgotten her in the year since she’d moved away, and she so wanted them to know who was killing them, and why.

  “You cunts messed with the wrong bitch,” Belle said, and then lit a match. She chuckled as she watched the girls stare at the flame and then sniff at the blankets covering them.

  Sissy Rodgers shouted, “Gas!” and began to rise from beneath the covers. When her feet hit the floor beside her bed and she felt the wet carpet, she knew she was doomed.

  Vicky Belle dropped the match and was nearly fried herself, from the intense and immediate heat that resulted from the flames. As the sisters’ screams filled the night, Belle fled into the hall and down the stairs. She stopped on the landing and looked up as the girls’ parents flew towards the fiery bedroom. They didn’t see her; they were far too engrossed in the horror that was befalling their daughters.

  Belle made her way back out the basement window she had entered through and ran back to the car. She laughed often on the ride home, and for the first time in her life, she felt whole.

  Victoria Belle was a predator. She knew it, embraced it, and lived it twenty-four hours a day. Unlike Rothman and others of her kind, she never sought to blend in to society, to live life in a mask of normalcy. Her entire existence served only to feed her desire to kill, and her victims, both male and female numbered well over a hundred. She had never held a job, owned a car, or bought a house. The world was filled with the weak, and the weak and unwary provided everything she needed to live, and would always do so.

  She also possessed an uncanny ability to spot her own kind. When she came across a fellow predator, it was as if a light came on in a dark corner of her mind.

  With Rothman, the light had been bright, intense, and she marveled that others couldn’t sense his power. Rothman’s predatory nature was the strongest she had ever sensed, until today, when she spotted Jessica’s husband.

  Having only seen the man from a distance, she now craved to be in his presence, to find out exactly who and what he was. When she was through helping Rothman, she would track the man down and satisfy her curiosity about him.

  ***

  A low moan roused Belle from her thoughts and she stared over at the bed. The sound came from the young cameraman who had been with the reporter she murdered.

  The man had fully revived and was struggling against his bonds in futility. Belle had him naked and handcuffed spread eagle to the bedframe, much as Rothman had kept Swan.

  “What the fuck?” the man said, and then he saw Belle. “Who the hell are you? Where’s Sally Anne?”

  “Sally Anne is in the tub. She’s dead. I needed her ID.”

  “What? What? Dead? Jesus, what the fuck, who the hell are you?”

  Belle smiled.

  “Oh, I’ve had so many identities over the years that I sometimes forget, but you can call me Mistress.”

  She walked over to the bed and stared down at him. She had removed his clothing while he was recovering from her attack, and had also gone through his wallet.

  “Your name is Daryl Jones, correct?”

  The man nodded.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Daryl,” Belle said, as she reached down and gripped his penis. Daryl shivered from her touch and his breathing sped up.

  “Do you find me attractive, Daryl?”

  When Daryl didn’t answer, Belle raked the side of his leg with her nails, deep enough to draw blood.

  Daryl hissed at the pain.

  “You’re fucking crazy, lady, do you know that?”

  “I asked if you thought I was beautiful, answer me.”

  Daryl nodded.

  “Yeah, you’re hot, crazy as shit, but hot,”

  Belle began stroking his penis with one hand, as the other hand unzipped her dress. Despite the fear, uncertainty and discomfit, Daryl began to respond.

  “You know, I never met a man who didn’t get hard when I touched him. I once cut a man’s arms off and only a day later he was as stiff as they come, of course, it took a little extra persuasion on my part.”

  The dress fell to the floor. She was wearing a black lace bra that her sizable breasts looked ready to spill out of, along with a matching pair of thong panties.

  Belle felt Daryl’s penis go rigid in her hand
, and leaned over to ask him a question.

  “Are you ready for me, Daryl? I hope so, because I’m so ready for you.”

  “I’m ready,” Daryl whispered in a hoarse voice.

  Belle climbed onto the bed between Daryl’s spread legs. When she leaned over as if to kiss him, Daryl raised his head towards her, and when their mouths were just inches apart, Belle’s hand darted beneath the pillow and brought out the gag.

  She thrust the cloth past Daryl’s puckered lips until his mouth filled with it. Daryl grunted in protest, but it was too late. When he looked up at Belle with frightened eyes, she patted him on the chest.

  “Oh, poor baby, don’t worry, we’re still going to fuck.”

  Then her hand darted beneath the pillow once more and emerged with the metal dildo.

  It was a foot long, curved, and made of medical grade stainless steel, on each end of it was a bulbous knob two inches wide.

  Daryl Jones’ eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets at first sight of the instrument, and when Belle moved down the bed and aimed it between his spread legs, he struggled with such vigor against the cuffs that his wrists and ankles bled.

  Belle smiled at him.

  “This would go much easier for you if you relaxed.”

  Jones continued to thrash about as Belle took aim.

  She jammed the dildo at him several times before hitting her target, but once she did, Jones screamed into his gag and began to cry.

  Belle laughed.

  “And I bet you thought that only women could be raped,”

  ***

  Two hours later, Belle backed the stolen news van into Swan’s garage. When she emerged from the driver’s seat, Rothman greeted her with a warm embrace.

  “It’s good to see you again.”

  “Same here, Robert,” Belle said, before looking back at Swan, who was still naked, but now had a raincoat draped over her shoulders.

  Belle walked over and gripped Swan by the neck with her gloved hand.

  “Very pretty, but maybe we should talk where she can’t hear us, hmm?”

  “I’m way ahead of you,” Rothman said, as he handed Swan her MP3 player. “Here, stay put and listen to your music while we talk.”

  Swan stuck the ear buds in, turned the player on, and squeezed her eyes shut in pain, after Rothman turned the volume as high as it would go.

  “What’s the bitch’s name?” Belle said.

  “Mrs. Kaye Swan, Mr. Swan won’t be home for another hour.”

  “Why is she still alive? Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love again.”

  “Very funny, but no, she’s alive because she’s still useful. She’s going to act as a distraction for the feds.”

  “You have a plan?”

  “I do, and I’ll tell you all about it, but first we need to get out of here.”

  “What about the bitch, should we tie her up?”

  Rothman smiled, and then yanked the ear buds off Swan’s head.

  “There’s no need, she’s going to be a good girl, isn’t that right, Mrs. Swan?”

  Swan answered, “Yes sir,” in a small voice.

  “What did you threaten her with, her husband’s life?”

  “Yes, and I explained in great detail how I would end it if she disobeys me.”

  Belle looked Swan over and smiled.

  “You got a taste of that, didn’t you?”

  “I raped her if that’s what you’re asking, and I enjoyed every minute of it.”

  “I just got through having my own fun with the guy who used to drive this van.”

  “And did you kill him?”

  “Of course, and also the reporter, and they’ll both be missed, so we better not use this van for more than a day.”

  “We won’t need it that long, by this time tomorrow I’ll have Claire back.”

  Belle opened the door on the van and climbed in.

  “Tell me your plan while we drive.”

  ***

  At a restaurant situated between the decoy motel and the safe house, Brice, Dyer, and Sheriff Stevens, were having a meeting while enjoying an early dinner. Jessica and her husband had come along with Brice.

  The restaurant was an old hunting lodge that had been recently renovated. As you entered through its wide front doors, the sound of country music greeted you, along with the aroma of steaks.

  The bar was on the left side, near the kitchen and restrooms, while the middle of the room held the tables and on the right was a line of booths with leather seats, which were lighted by low wattage tiffany lamps hanging over them.

  The booths at each end were larger, with a semi-circular configuration, and Brice and his group settled in the one farthest back. At the rear of the place.

  Once they all had their drinks and placed their orders with the waiter, Brice began the meeting.

  “Okay, now that we’ve had a day to wade through this nightmare we know some things that we didn’t know before. The biggest news is that the bodies in the barrels aren’t Rothman’s only victims. We’ve unearthed seven more bodies on the property, and Dr. Ito, the chief forensics tech, he says that Rothman’s first victim had been dead for at least forty years.”

  “How’s the wife taking that news?” Dyer said. “The last I heard, she believed that her husband’s first victim was that teenager, Vicky Belle.”

  “It devastated her,” Jessica said. “She now knows that her husband has been murdering innocent people throughout their entire marriage, and that most of what she knew about the man was a lie.”

  “I still have no sympathy for her. In my book, she’s also to blame. Had she gone to the police and pressed charges after he tied her to that tree, he’d have gone to jail and his victims would still be alive.”

  “She knows that now, and it’s changed her. The sense of regret and disappointment she displayed earlier have now morphed into anger. She feels as if her entire life were a lie, and... I think she hates Rothman for deceiving her. Once he’s captured, I have no doubt that she’ll testify against him.”

  “That’s too little, too late, Doctor,” Dyer said. “Excuse my French, but the stupid bitch chose to marry a man who once tried to kill her. If I had my way I’d sentence her along with her husband.”

  Jessica said nothing to that, but simply looked down at the table.

  Brice took a file from his briefcase and handed it over to Dyer.

  “Rothman’s chamber of horrors was dusted for prints and came up with a very interesting result. Most of the prints on the torture devices don’t belong to Rothman, and in fact, given their size, Dr. Ito says that they belong to a small male, or... they could belong to a female.”

  “The wife?” Sheriff Stevens said.

  “No, none of her prints were recovered down there in the crypt, no, this is someone else.”

  “An accomplice, maybe even some sort of bizarre apprentice, hmm?”

  “Possibly, but whoever he or she is, their prints aren’t on file, however, the computer spate out matches from eleven different crime scenes in five different states.”

  “Going back how many years?” Dyer asked.

  “Nearly twenty, which is why juveniles were ruled out; Dr. Ito and his team recovered skin cells from some of the instruments’ handles, so once we get the DNA results back, maybe we’ll know if we’re dealing with a male or a female.”

  “It’s got to be a male, doesn’t it?” Sheriff Stevens said. “I mean, if it were a woman, Rothman probably would have killed her, right?”

  “I think you’re missing the point,” Jessica’s husband said, and everyone stared at him.

  “And what point would that be?” Dyer asked.

  “Male or female doesn’t matter, what matters is that this new person is the one who liked to torture the victims. That means that Rothman is the lesser of two evils, and that the greater evil is still out there somewhere, and still unknown.”

  ***

  At the safe house, Claire Rothman was inside her room, picking at the
food she’d been served by the agents guarding her. She was being kept under guard for her own safety she was told, and she knew it was true, but she still felt like a prisoner.

  She could hear the TV playing in the living room as well as the voices of the FBI agents who were watching her.

  She pushed the plate aside, as her appetite was non-existent. When Agent Brice returned from his meeting, she was going to ask to see Dr. White. She wanted to talk with Jessica again. The young doctor seemed to be the only one who showed her any sympathy, and she realized that it helped to talk with her.

  Claire began to cry, something she’d been doing all day, and wondered if she would ever lay eyes on her husband again.

  ***

  Outside, in the woods that bordered the property, Victoria Belle yanked Kaye Swan from the back seat of a stolen car and made her sit on the dirt road.

  Swan was still wearing the raincoat, beneath which, she was naked, and her hands were bound behind her by rope.

  Belle was wearing a camouflage jumpsuit with a pair of black sneakers, and as she escorted the barefoot Swan through the woods and towards the safe house, she whispered threats.

  “If you don’t do exactly what I say I’ll kill you, and then I’ll hunt down your family.”

  “I’ll be good,” Swan whispered back, while realizing that she was more afraid of this woman than she was of Rothman.

  They took their time and stopped frequently, as Belle listened for any stray sounds of movement. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, Belle removed a knife and pressed it to Swan’s throat.

  “Hold still if you don’t want to be cut.”

  Belle then skillfully used the sharp blade to slice the raincoat from Swan’s body and leave her naked, but with her wrists still bound. Afterwards, she pointed through the trees to their right.

  “Do you see that gray house? Once you get there, scream your head off and someone will rescue you.”

  Swan looked sheepishly at Belle.

  “You’re really letting me go?”

  “Yes, but don’t scream for help until you get there.”

  Swan nodded her head wildly and began walking away, her feet were bloody and painful from her barefoot trek through the woods, but she’d have walked on broken glass to be free again. When Belle made no move to follow her, Swan began running, once she cleared the woods and saw the back steps of the safe house, she began to call for help.