The TAKEN! Series - Books 1-4 (Taken! Box Set)

by Remington Kane

  She got out of the car while still talking into her phone and closed the door with a bump from her hip. As she did so, he spied the jiggle of her breasts and the way her silky, raven hair tossed about her beautiful face and her oh, so delicate neck.

  The girl walked towards the side of the house and then disappeared into the backyard, and he surmised that she came and went through a rear entrance, probably one that opened onto a kitchen, or perhaps a porch.

  He looked about his surroundings. There was not a soul in sight on this quiet street, and he thought how easy it would be to drive around the block, return on foot, enter at the rear, and take the girl. So easy, but of course that would only happen after a period of surveillance.

  Once he knew the patterns of every resident of the house, their comings and goings, then, and only then, would he strike and with full confidence enter their home and make it his lair.

  Once he had the girl alone, he could gag her and tie her to a bed, then, he would slice her clothes from her body and... and then he could do whatever he desired.

  She would be his, to do with as he pleased,

  Totally at his mercy,

  Taken!

  His phone rang. He looked at the caller ID and answered it immediately.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, listen I meant to ask you to get cream cheese to go with the bagels, we’re all out.”

  “I remembered, and I’ll be home soon.”

  “Okay... hey, are you all right? You sound a little funny,”

  He hesitated.

  “I’m... we’ll talk over breakfast.”

  “Okay, but hurry home, I’m hungry.”

  “Me too.”

  “Bye,”

  “Goodbye Jessica,” he said.

  He stared at the girl’s house, and as he pulled away from the curb and headed home, he wondered if he was insane. He has wondered this about himself for most of his life.

  CHAPTER 6

  “You followed her home?” Jessica said.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged, but then he spoke.

  “I felt a compulsion, a need to know more about her.”

  “Why?”

  Another shrug,

  “What were you doing when I called you?” Jessica said.

  “I was looking about the neighborhood, assessing whether or not I’d been observed.”

  “Had anyone seen you?”

  “No.”

  “What were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking how easy it would be... how easy it would be to enter the house and, and do whatever I pleased.”

  “You wanted to rape her?”

  “No!”

  “But you were thinking of it, or rather planning it, the logistics of it, how you could enter the home unobserved, do whatever you wanted, and leave no trace of yourself behind?”

  “Yes.”

  “And if I hadn’t called you when I did, what then?”

  “Nothing, this was like all the other times, I may have given it more thought, but I would never act it out.”

  “You did with me.”

  “...Yes.”

  “But you didn’t follow through, you couldn’t. This impulse you have, these feelings that torture you, you’re stronger than they are, and they’ll never own you, never define you. You are a better man than that.”

  He said nothing for long moments as he looked down at the floor. They were sitting at the kitchen table, the cream cheese and bagels forgotten, as he confessed to her.

  In the quiet lapse of their conversation, the normal sounds of a home continued, the ticking of a clock, the hum of the refrigerator, and from above, the soft whooshing sounds of the ceiling fan.

  When he raised his eyes, Jessica spied the moistness threatening to tumble from them, and something else, it was pain, the pain that arose from self-awareness.

  “Why do you stay with me?” he said. “I’m obviously sick, twisted; you deserve better, someone normal.”

  Jessica grinned; next, she rose from her seat, moved closer, and sat upon his lap.

  “I stay with you because I love you more than life. I’ve always known who and what you are. Since you have no memory of being abused I can only guess at what causes you to have these impulses and feelings. I have a theory that it may be genetic, but that flies in the face of most research.”

  “Genetic? You think my father may have been a serial killer?”

  “Not necessarily, but it’s possible, maybe that’s why your mother never talked about him.”

  “Genetics? That sounds like an excuse, not a reason.”

  “Everyone is victimized or benefited by their genetics to some extent, that doesn’t excuse certain predilections, but only explains them.”

  “Why couldn’t my father have been a great baseball player? I’ve always liked baseball.”

  “My theory is just that, a theory; for all we know, your father could be quite average.”

  He sighed.

  “I wish I was normal.”

  Jessica laughed as she reached for the bag of bagels.

  “What’s funny?”

  “Take it from a psychiatrist; no one is normal.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Days later, they were in Jessica’s hometown.

  Her father, Dr. James White, was contributing to her book on criminal behavior by acting as a consultant and so they were mixing business with pleasure by spending a few days with the doctor.

  ***

  Dr. White smiled as he opened his door and let them in.

  “Hello, baby,” Dr. White said, as he kissed Jessica on the cheek.

  Afterward, the doctor walked over and shook his hand while giving him a genuine smile. It was an uncharacteristically warm greeting from his father-in-law, and he wondered what had precipitated it.

  “Hello young man, are you taking good care of my daughter?”

  “We take care of each other, sir.”

  “I wish I could say the same for her sister.”

  Jessica searched her father’s face.

  “Is something wrong with Gabby?”

  “I’ve made coffee; follow me into the kitchen and we’ll talk,”

  ***

  Over coffee and pastry, Dr. White filled Jessica in on her sister’s troubles.

  Jessica reached across the table and took her father’s hand.

  “Are you certain she’s being abused?”

  “Short of seeing it with my own eyes, yes. I tell you Jessie, if I was twenty years younger I’d find Jackson and give him a good thrashing.”

  “How bad is it, Daddy?”

  “She has a broken arm and can barely see out of one eye. She told the police that she fell down the stairs.”

  Jessica released her father’s hand and sat back.

  “Oh God, and she won’t leave him?”

  “No, she denies that he did it, and, she says that he loves her.”

  He looked back and forth at the father and daughter psychiatrists.

  “Help me to understand this, why would Gabby stay with him if he’s hurting her?”

  Jessica answered.

  “It’s a self-esteem issue. I would guess that she doesn’t feel worthy of him. Jackson Poole is a brilliant surgeon. Gabby is an R.N., Jackson probably belittles her because of the difference in their career status, and Gabby goes along with it and puts up with the abuse because she feels unworthy. There may also be the issue of fear of abandonment, Gabby was only three when our mom died; at that age, she might have taken Mom’s sudden absence in her life as a form of rejection, instead of understanding it for what it was.”

  “Please go see her Jessica,” Dr. White said. “Maybe you can talk some sense into her.”

  ***

  Gabby opened her apartment door and gave them a bright smile. Gabby was blonde and blue-eyed like her sister, and in fact, resembled Jessica greatly.

  “Hey guys, I didn’t know you were in town.”

  As they en
tered, Jessica grimaced at the cast on her sister’s left arm and the dark bruises surrounding her right eye. She took Gabby in her arms and hugged her, but released her a moment later when Gabby cried out in pain.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s my ribs; I hurt them in the fall.”

  “There was no fall Gabby,” he said. “Jackson hurt you.”

  Gabby shook her head vigorously.

  “No, I fell, Jackson didn’t hit me. I fell.”

  He placed an arm around her shoulders, as he kissed her on the top of her head.

  “I can’t stand the thought of anyone hurting you. Where does Jackson live?”

  “Why do you want to know that?”

  “Because I want to make certain that he never hurts you again.”

  “No!”

  The cry came from both Gabby and Jessica.

  “You can’t beat him into changing,” Jessica said. “And in reality, he’s not the one who needs to change, Gabby is. Until she realizes that she doesn’t deserve what’s happening to her, she’ll always go back to him, or another man like him.”

  “Don’t psychoanalyze me, Jessie, especially when I’m standing right in front of you.”

  “I’m sorry, but it’s true,” Jessica said, as she handed Gabby a card.

  “What’s this?”

  “That’s a friend of mine. She’s treated many victims of abuse. She can help you too.”

  Gabby let the card drop to the floor, as she spoke in a soft voice.

  “I don’t need help. Jackson and I will work things out.”

  Jessica brushed her sister’s hair back from her wounded face.

  “I love you, baby.”

  Gabby laid her head on her shoulder.

  “I love you too, Jessie.”

  And he stood there, seething, while wanting to hurt Jackson Poole as much as he’s ever wanted to harm anyone.

  CHAPTER 8

  They discussed Gabby and her situation as they rode back to her father’s house.

  “I could stop him without killing him, you know? In five minutes, I could make him feel more pain than he could ever imagine. That would make him stop seeing her.”

  “But don’t you see, he’s not the problem, Gabby is. Were he to break things off with her, she would find someone just like him. He’s an abuser, and in need of help himself, don’t get me wrong, but Gabby needs to work through this or it will just keep repeating.”

  “I understand what you’re saying, but it’s hard for me to do nothing. I love Gabby too.”

  After a few moments of silence, Jessica spoke, her voice filled with anger.

  “You’re not the only one who wants to kill him. If not for my training, my understanding of the psychology at play here, I would let you loose on him. It would please me a great deal to see him suffer.”

  Jessica began crying, while wiping away the tears as fast as they fell.

  “That son of a bitch hurt my little sister.”

  ***

  While Jessica discussed her book with her father, he walked outside and made a call.

  “Hello sir,”

  “Hello Carly, how are you?”

  “Quite well, sir, and you?”

  “I’m fine, but I need your help, it concerns a man named Jackson Poole... ”

  ***

  The following morning, Jackson Poole used his key and entered Gabriella White’s apartment. When Gabby greeted him, she was not alone. He saw that she was with her sister Jessica and her sister’s husband.

  Jackson Poole was thirty-three years old, still boyishly handsome and had an athletic build. He was a renowned cosmetic surgeon, and more than a few of his clients often appeared on the society pages or in lingerie ads.

  As he walked inside the apartment, he attempted to kiss Gabby, but she pushed him away with her good arm and then pointed at the coffee table.

  “Who are those women, Jackson?”

  Jackson walked over and stared down at a group of photos. The photos showed him in various hotel bedrooms with several different women. In every photo, he and the woman he was with were both naked, and judging by his outstretched arm, he had taken all of the pictures himself.

  “How did you get these? These were on my phone.”

  Jessica shared a look with her husband, as they once more admired the computer hacking skills of Ms. Carly Zhang.

  Gabby ignored Jackson’s question and repeated her own.

  “Who are those women?”

  “Their names don’t matter; besides, I haven’t seen any of them in over a year. These pictures are all old.”

  Gabby shook her head.

  “They’re not old. In a few of those photos I can see your watch, the one I gave you for your birthday.”

  Jackson spread his arms.

  “They meant nothing Gabby, baby, I love you.”

  “You don’t love me. You wouldn’t have been with them if you really loved me.”

  Gabby began crying as she pointed to a box near the door.

  “Those are your things. Leave the key on the table.”

  Jackson put his face less than an inch from hers.

  “I was with them because you don’t please me. They were all ten times the woman you are; you’re pathetic, you’re just fucking pathetic.”

  Gabby began crying so hard that she had trouble breathing. She stumbled over to the sofa and sat, then, she began rocking back and forth to the rhythm of her tears.

  He took a step towards Jackson and saw Jessica shake her head. With a sigh, he stepped back and remained simply an observer.

  Jackson kept berating Gabby.

  “You think that you can make it without me? I’m every woman’s dream, a rich, young doctor. I can replace you tomorrow. I should have dumped you months ago. You know what you should do? You should hang around truck stops, or better yet, seduce the garbage man the next time he comes by, he’s probably a better match for a piece of trash like you.”

  Jessica walked over and eased herself between them.

  “That’s enough!”

  Jackson ignored her and spoke to Gabby again.

  “Once I walk out that door I’m gone for good.”

  Gabby took a deep breath, before speaking one word.

  “Goodbye.”

  “You’re going to be sorry you said that bitch.”

  Jackson reached into his pocket and brought out a keychain. After finding the right one, he removed the key and threw it at Gabby, who flinched away as if he had thrown a punch. Afterward, Jackson spun around, grabbed the box from the floor, and slammed the door as he left.

  Jessica sat beside her sister on the sofa and Gabby cried in her arms until the tears ran dry. Once she composed herself, Gabby reached into her pocket and took out the card that Jessica had given her the day before.

  “This doctor, is she nice?”

  “Yes baby,”

  “Then hand me the phone,”

  CHAPTER 9

  12:43 a.m.

  Jackson used his key to gain entrance into the apartment, his second key, the one that Gabby knew nothing about.

  The apartment was dark, but he knew it well and navigated his way to the bedroom.

  She always slept with the door closed, and so he eased it open slowly, while being careful not to make any sounds that would wake her.

  Once the bedroom door was opened, he stood in the threshold and stared within. It was blackness, if not for his intimate knowledge of his surroundings he would not have known where the bed was.

  As he put on the thick leather gloves to protect his hands, he thought again about her defiance. She deserved more than a broken arm for humiliating him in front of other people, much more, and the way she dismissed him, telling him to leave.

  You don’t control this relationship, Gabby. I do!

  After easing the door shut behind him, he slithered towards the bed and stood over her. In the darkness, she was little more than a vague form. He felt the rage build inside, and when it was at its
peak, he raised his fist to strike.

  ***

  He awakened with a start, and found himself alone in bed.

  He was in Jessica’s old bedroom, as the two of them were staying with her father during their visit.

  As he went downstairs in his robe, he saw a light on in the kitchen. He walked into the room and she smiled at him.

  “Hi, I hope I didn’t wake you, but I couldn’t sleep and so I thought I'd get a snack.”

  “No, it wasn’t you that woke me; it must have been a bad dream.”

  “I hate those.”

  “Gabby?”

  “Yes?”

  “Where’s Jessica?”

  ***

  The lights came on just as he raised his fist. It was the brightest light Jackson had ever seen, and after the former darkness, it seared his pupils and rendered him temporarily blind.

  That injury was followed by the sharp pain on his left cheek. He let out a shriek, touched his hand to his face, and felt the bloody flap of skin even through his gloves.

  As the horror of his wound fully enveloped him, he felt the blade slice across his face again and his bottom lip fell to the floor, along with the tip of his nose.

  He turned to run, to flee the butcher before him and ran into the closed door, the door he had shut to lock in Gabby's screams. As he at last flung it open, something crashed against the side of his head, and it brought back the blessed darkness and took away the cursed pain.

  ***

  Jessica placed the knife and the leather sap on the bed and hit a switch, which caused the lights to go out. She reached over to the bedside table and turned on the lamp. Afterward, she removed the welder’s goggles she wore, while keeping on the plastic, hooded coveralls.

  Blood was everywhere. By the door, Jackson Poole lay unconscious, his face bleeding and mutilated, Jessica stepped over him and walked to the apartment door. When she placed her eye to the peephole, she saw no movement in the hallway.

  She walked back into the bedroom and began disassembling the two, fourteen hundred watt work lights and their metal stands. On her way home, she would dump them in a field along with the bloody coveralls and goggles and set fire to all of it.

  Her phone vibrated.

  “Hi honey, what are you doing up?”

  “Where are you?”