The TAKEN! Series - Books 13-16 (Taken! Box Set Book 4)

by Remington Kane

  “I couldn’t even chase down a purse snatcher in the condition I’m in, and when I walk on it to try to strengthen it, my foot seems to hurt more.”

  “I thought of something on the flight back, and I think it will be just the thing we both need.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “A swimming pool, swimming is an excellent exercise and it should enable you to work your foot without overtaxing it.”

  “It sounds good, but we haven’t used the pool in the back for years, it’ll need to be serviced and checked for leaks.”

  “I’ll call tomorrow.”

  “And see about getting access to the Numerical Task Force too,” he said, and Jessica saw a spark in his eyes that had been absent for too long.

  “You want to hunt him down, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do, dangerous or not.”

  Jessica kissed him on the lips.

  “Once you’re back in shape and feeling like yourself, there’s something I want you to do for me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’ll let you know then, all right?”

  He stared at her as curiosity lit his eyes.

  “All right,”

  Jessica stood, pulling him along by the hand.

  “Let’s go see our children.”

  They made their way up the stairs slowly because of his foot, but as they reached the top, he turned and spoke to her.

  “Earlier, when I said I wasn’t completely happy, that had nothing to do with you, you know?”

  She kissed him.

  “I know it now, and I understand your restlessness, but I think we can be happy and still live lives where we’re not facing danger, no?”

  He cocked his head as he considered the question.

  “Given our history, our temperaments, and who we are, I’m not sure that’s true, I’m really not.”

  Jessica knew that there was truth in that, but she wasn’t ready to acknowledge it, not such a short time after that truth had nearly ripped him away from her forever.

  She took him in her arms and hugged him tightly, while wanting never to let go.

  CHAPTER 22

  Numerical was in a movie theater parking lot, leaning back on the hood of a car. His vehicle was one of seven parked in a semicircle, and he was gazing about at six other men who were doing the same thing as he was.

  He was face to face with the apostles at last, or at least six of them, as the others either had been killed or were too cowardly to fight back against those who had done the slaying.

  He had contacted all of them one by one and filled them in on what he had discovered about the women that had organized to kill them. The apostle John traveled to Texas to help Numerical learn more about the women, and the two serial killers had later convinced the others to join them in eliminating the threat.

  Someone leaked what was going on to Prophet, as Numerical expected, and Prophet insisted that there was no conspiracy of women serial killer hunters, and that Numerical was likely luring them all into a trap.

  John and the others scoffed at that idea and asked Prophet what reason would Numerical have to harm them. It’s not as if there was a shortage of victims and he feared too much competition.

  Numerical warned that Prophet was the true threat, because he had evidence against each of them.

  In what Numerical termed a “Hissy fit,” Prophet ended communications, but not before telling the apostles that they could do what they wanted to do, but not to come crying to him when things went bad. In the end, six apostles joined with Numerical, while the remainder said they wanted nothing to do with his plan.

  It was fine with Numerical, because at one point, he thought that he would have to attack Cassandra and her friends alone.

  “PREY,” Numerical said, to the other men. “This old bitch, Dr. Elena Colt, she calls her organization, PREY. On the surface, it’s a non-violent program meant to empower and educate women, but there’s a deadlier underbelly where girls like Cassandra Carson are trained to kill men like us.”

  The apostle named John spoke up. He had a southern accent and his long blond hair was tied back in a ponytail. None of the men were wearing masks, there was no point to it since they had agreed to meet in person, and Numerical already knew who they were.

  Numerical noted that, to a man, there was something about their eyes.

  Two of the men had eyes like his own, deadened, and showing not a trace of emotion, but one of the other men, James, had an intense gaze that Numerical was certain the average person found disturbing, despite the sky blue color of his eyes.

  The eyes of the other three men were neither intense nor deadened, but there was an indefinable something askew there in those windows to the soul, and Numerical wondered if it was the eyes that gave them all away.

  The Girl With The Long Dark Hair, the one the media had taken a liking to, he was certain that she could spot his kind on sight as surely as he could, and he decided right then and there to always wear sunglasses when he was around strangers.

  “I didn’t believe it at first,” John said. “But it’s true, and those pictures we sent you tell the whole story. We spent weeks gathering intelligence on the place there in Dallas, and now we know that there are five girls inside, plus the old lady, Dr. Colt. Dr. Colt is the brains behind it, we waste her, waste everyone in the house, and whatever girls are still left that don’t live there will likely run and hide.”

  Numerical held up a hand and counted off on his fingers.

  “First, we cut the wires to the landline, second, we turn on the signal jammer and take out the cell phones, third, we disable the alarm system, and fourth, we pick the locks. We’ll be going in when they’re all asleep and then we’ll have the rest of the night to play our games.”

  The apostle named Andrew spoke next; he was a stout man in his forties with a Boston accent.

  “I’ve been saying for a year that this group was out there, but what about that long-haired bitch, is she in the house too?”

  “John and I haven’t seen her,” Numerical said. “But I’m tired of waiting for her to show, we attack tonight, and by tomorrow morning, those bitches will know the real meaning of the word, PREY.”

  ***

  Dr. Elena Colt saw the heading on an email message and smiled.

  CAN YOU SEE THEM TOO?

  The sender was named, Curious, but Elena would bet that if tracked to its source, the IP Address would mark the message as having been sent from a rented computer at an Internet cafe.

  Elena was sitting at a desk inside the office of the home Numerical had followed Cassandra to weeks earlier. The home was where she spent most of her time, and was used as an informal headquarters for the PREY girls, several of whom lived there full-time.

  Elena opened the message and saw that there was only a phone number, and when she called it, she heard a young female voice answer.

  “Dr. Colt?”

  “Yes, it’s me, and yes, I can see them too.”

  There was silence on the line for a few moments, but then the woman spoke again.

  “There’s so many of them, people think they’re rare, but they’re not, it’s why over a thousand people a day go missing.”

  “I understand how you feel. I’ve had the gift my whole life, and although predators aren’t rare, you are, I’ve met few people who could see what we do.”

  “They can see each other, or sense each other,”

  “Yes, I know, and I also understand why you do what you do, but if you continue the way you’re going, you’ll likely be caught and imprisoned someday.”

  “On TV, you said that you could help, is that true?”

  “Yes, but I need you to meet with me.”

  “How do I know it’s not a trap?”

  “I don’t know if I can answer that to your satisfaction, but I’m willing to meet you anywhere you say.”

  “I’ll think about it and call you back.”

  “Fair enough; but tell me dear, wh
at should I call you?”

  There was another pause, but shorter than the first one.

  “Violet, my name is Violet.”

  “And you can call me Elena, and I look forward to your next call.”

  “Goodbye Elena,”

  “Be safe, Violet.”

  The line went dead and Elena leaned back in her seat, confident that she would soon be in the presence of a kindred soul.

  ***

  Jessica wore a wide grin as she watched her husband speed through the water of their pool, which they had practically lived in since having it revitalize weeks earlier.

  She had lost nearly twenty pounds, partly due to the swimming, but her main weapon used in shedding weight was a strict adherence to a low-fat diet, which also supplied her with the energy she needed to swim.

  She watched her husband as he climbed out of the pool and walked towards her where she sat at the patio table.

  His limp was gone, and earlier, when he went for his first run in months, the pain in his foot had been little more than a dull ache. His strength, which was always far above the norm, was finally returning, along with his speed, and he too had altered his diet to aid in his recovery.

  After drying his hair, he took a seat at the table.

  “Where’s Maggie?”

  “She walked over to the Becks, to see her friend, Heather.”

  “I’ll be going there later too; Jack Beck wants to finish our chess game.”

  “You like him a lot, don’t you?”

  “Yes, and I always have, of my mother’s boyfriends, he was one of my favorites.”

  “How is your foot feeling?” Jessica asked, as she looked down at the scarred appendage, which Jeffrey Mitchell had nearly cleaved in two, seven months earlier.

  His chest and back also bore scars from his shooting. The area below his left collarbone, where two bullets made ragged exit holes, were now puckered marks of pink skin, and sat above the incision mark made during surgery by Dr. Anna Dewitt, as she saved his life.

  On his back, four separate and distinct indentations spoke of the wounds Circe Doyle’s bullets made as they entered his flesh. Plastic surgery was scheduled to beautify the scars on his chest and foot, but the marks would always remain to some degree and act as a daily reminder to him of his own vulnerability.

  He extended his leg and flexed his foot.

  “It’s good, even the slight pain I felt earlier after running is gone. Thank God you thought of this pool. It’s just the thing I needed.”

  “We both needed it, and I’m beginning to feel like my old self as well.”

  Amanda came around the corner pushing a baby carriage built for two, and the twins both smiled and held out their arms when they spotted their parents.

  They were both talking, saying “Mama” and “Dada,” and as Jessica picked up her daughter, he picked up his son, and then they both gave kisses to their smiling children.

  “They just woke up from their naps,” Amanda said.

  “We’ll take them inside and feed them,” Jessica said, before cooing words at her daughter, Emma.

  They moved inside, and after taking turns showering, while the other watched the twins, they moved into the kitchen to feed the children.

  “Where was Amanda headed to,” he asked.

  “The post office, Caliber Investigations called and said that they had forwarded more reports about Michael to our post office box. She says that they were contacted by three individuals who appear promising.”

  “Three?”

  “Yes, apparently people with a murky childhood such as your brother’s aren’t as rare as you’d think.”

  “In the end, only DNA will prove if we’ve found him,” he said.

  The children finished their meals and so they moved into the living room, when they placed them on the floor, the twins immediately crawled to the toys piled in a corner of the room.

  Jessica pointed to their son.

  “He’s so fast, and he’s already attempting to walk.”

  “He’s still too young for that, isn’t he?”

  “By a few months, on average, but Amanda says that you began walking when you were only a few weeks older than he is.”

  “I was probably just trying to run away from my father.”

  Jessica passed over a newspaper.

  “Did you see this story about Samantha’s grandfather?”

  He shook his head, no, and then scanned the article, which concerned a political coup d'état in an African nation, an African nation where Brendan Ryan, Samantha Ryan’s grandfather held interests in diamond mines.

  “It says that the diamond mines have been seized as property of the new government and that all claims of foreign ownership are voided.”

  “That’s where most of his fortune came from; it sounds like a huge setback for him.”

  “It does, but I doubt he’s in danger of starving anytime soon.”

  Amanda returned and they could tell by the look on her face that she had news.

  “What is it?” he said.

  She held up an old sweater that had been crocheted using red and blue yarn, the garment was ratty looking and had most of its buttons missing.

  “My mother made this. See the three white stitches sewn at the bottom there? That was her signature. A man named Michael Wheeler sent it, and I think... I think he might be your brother.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Dallas, Texas, 1:12 a.m.

  Numerical outwardly cursed the cowardice of one of the apostles, the one named Thomas, for not showing up as he agreed to, even as he inwardly marveled that Thomas was the only man to bow out.

  He had planned to attack PREY with as little as three other men if necessary, as he felt that John, Andrew, and Simon, were the only apostles he could rely on after having met them in the movie theater parking lot. The fact that he had five other men with him pleased him greatly and the cowardly Thomas could go to hell.

  Besides himself, there was John, Andrew, Simon, James, and also Philip, who, like Numerical, favored using a knife, although he also had a gun tucked in the front of his pants.

  “All right, Thomas is not going to show and so we’ll have fun without him,”

  One of the men pointed across the field at the PREY house. They were standing at the base of the hill that led up to the highway, and behind them was the sound of sparse traffic as the moonless night hid them from view.

  The man pointing at the house was named James, and he had a high voice, despite his large frame.

  “There’s a light burning on the ground floor, maybe someone’s still awake.”

  “It won’t matter, our guns have silencers and we’ll get inside and kill whoever it is before they can warn the others.”

  “So, we’re ready?” John said.

  “Let’s do it,” Numerical announced.

  They cut the phone lines and then activated the jammer that would block cell phone calls. With that done, the apostle, Philip, went to work on the alarm system. He had promised Numerical that he could disarm it, but after nearly fifteen minutes passed, he was still having trouble.

  “I’m sorry, but this is a complicated system with built-in redundancies. I’ve been able to kill the alarm, but the panic button is still working.”

  “That’s good enough,” Numerical said, while thinking that he could have done better. “We’ll just make certain that nobody gets near the keypad.”

  John picked the locks on the door and they went inside. The home was dark, save for the triangle of light that flowed from a room on the right side, just past the small foyer.

  Directly across from the foyer was a wide staircase, with the doorway of the living room on the left. Numerical and four other men moved towards the stairs as John went towards the lit doorway. All of them were silent, having had long practice at sneaking about in the dark.

  As the other men moved up the stairway, John pushed open the door on the right, and seated behind a desk in her robe and slippers was Dr. E
lena Colt.

  ***

  Elena had been doing paperwork, and was just thinking about going upstairs to sleep when she saw the blond man enter with the silenced gun and point it at her. She could see that he was a predator as easily as he could discern she was a woman, and she grew fearful for the women in her charge.

  There was a weapon in the bottom drawer of the desk, but she knew she’d never reach it before the man could kill her.

  “Who are you?”

  The man grinned at her, and in his eyes was mischief.

  “Me, I’m just one of six, and the other five are headed upstairs to kill those bitches of yours.”

  “Oh, God no,” Elena said, and the man’s smile disappeared, as he stepped closer and aimed at her face.

  “Go to hell, you old bag.”

  Elena closed her eyes, even as her mouth opened to scream, to wake the women upstairs and warn them of the danger, but, the scream died in her throat as two thunderous shots rang out. Elena’s eyes sprang open and she saw the blond man falling towards the floor with a chunk of his skull missing, and in the doorway stood a girl with long dark hair, holding a gun.

  “Violet?” Elena said, and the girl nodded once.

  Elena moved from behind the desk, scooped up John’s silenced weapon, and pleaded with Violet to give aid once more.

  “My girls, please help me save my girls.”

  ***

  Numerical had just opened the door of one of the rooms when Violet’s shots sounded off downstairs.

  Stunned by the noise, he stood in the doorway with his head turned, but jerked it back around when a light came on within the room. He turned back and saw Kelly, the small woman who looked like a teenager.

  He was nearly to the bed when her hand closed around the gun on the nightstand and he was just quick enough to slap it away. Afterwards, he raised his knife to stab her, but Kelly kicked out at him from under the blanket and made contact with his stomach.

  The kick was harder than he could have imagined the petite girl delivering, and it caused him to stumble backwards, and as he did so, Kelly flung herself to the floor, rolled by him, and ran out into the hallway, and seconds later, three more shots sounded from somewhere in the house.