Taken: A One to Take Primer

by Tia Louise

  Taken

  A One to Take Primer

  Tia Louise

  TLM Productions LLC

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Scene 1: Leaving

  Scene 2: Where the Wind Blows

  Scene 3: The Cabin

  Scene 4: Fire in the Desert

  Scene 5: Making a Plan

  Epilogue: Proposition

  Author’s Note

  While you wait…

  Extra! Extra!

  Books by Tia Louise

  One Immortal

  About the Author

  If you are reading this book and did not purchase it or win it from an author-sponsored giveaway, this book has been pirated. Please delete it from your device, and support the author(s) by purchasing a legal copy from one of its many distributors.

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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  “Taken”

  Copyright © TLM Productions LLC, 2015

  Printed in the United States of America.

  Cover design by Steven Novak, Novak Illustration

  Cover model, Alfie Gordillo

  Photography by R + M Photography, rplusmphoto.com

  * * *

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, photocopying, mechanical, or otherwise—without prior permission of the publisher and author.

  Created with Vellum

  For Mr. TL, my only cowboy.

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  Special thanks to Miranda, Kelly, Jemima, Becky, Marina, Elle, and Ilona for reading and giving feedback on this little primer. You’re the best!

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  And Huge Hugs to my reader group, “Tia’s Books & Babes” for voting on the title, voting on the cover, being excited, and just generally ROCKING! Love you ladies.

  Now for our #DirtyCowboy…

  Prologue

  Stuart Knight

  Years ago, behind enemy lines…

  The gun felt right in my hand. Heavy and tight. My back pressed against the dusty wall of the stone shelter where we waited, watching.

  We were pulling out. It was our last day in the camp, our last day in country. Conflict hadn’t ended, but we were handing over the fight to the local military. Still, we were Marines. First in, last out. Our final job was to provide support, watch for any sign of ambush, before we made our way to the airfield.

  The majority of our men had gone ahead with the convoy, but I stayed back with our CO. He was a good leader, and we’d been together since the beginning. While I sat on the gritty floor, he stood by the square window staring out at the miles of tan desert. I was pretty sure I knew where his mind was.

  Bending my outstretched leg, I rested an arm on top of my knee. “Thinking about home?”

  Derek blinked once and looked down before turning steel blue eyes on me. “Eighteen months is a long time with only a week at Christmas.”

  “Women make you soft, soldier.”

  His mouth tightened, and I had to laugh at his reaction. I was pretty happy to be headed home myself, even if I didn’t have a girl waiting on me.

  “You’re the only shithead I’d let get away with a crack like that.”

  Calling each other “soldier” was an ongoing joke between us.

  “It’s because I’m your best man. You’d have lost an arm without me.”

  He exhaled a laugh, and I put the butt of my rifle on the floor, wrapping the shoulder strap around my wrist.

  “Keep talking, fucknut.” His elbow bent, and he pinched his top lip. “I’ll be waiting to laugh when a sweet pair of baby blues knocks you on your ass.”

  “Not happening.” Using my gun, I pushed myself to standing. “I’m more of a hazel guy.”

  Derek’s arm dropped, and he smirked. If I was happy, he was three times as glad to be pulling out. Only I’d be back. Being stateside was just a break for me.

  I walked over to stand by the window. “This is my life, and it’s no kind of life to share.”

  “Are you questioning my loyalty, Corporal Knight?”

  “Not at all, Lieutenant Alexander. You’re a great Marine. But guys like you do your time and retire. Go home, get married, have kids.”

  “You’re a lifer.”

  “Damn straight.” I straightened my back to stretch my tired muscles. “Only way I can give one hundred and ten percent is not to have somebody waiting on me.”

  A shadow moved around the corner of the bungalow across from us, catching my eye.

  “My dad was a lifer, and he had a family.”

  “Mine too. And we both know how shitty it was growing up with them leaving, Moms crying.”

  Long nights, sitting against the wall staring into darkness, we’d shared just about everything to pass the time, to keep from going insane from the monotony combined with the stress of knowing at any time we could be blown up or shot. We were walking targets, and we’d been lucky.

  “You’re right,” he exhaled, looking away again, out at the sea of beige. “I’m proud of my service, but when the time comes, I’ll walk away.”

  “You’ve got another road ahead of you.” I didn’t think any less of him. Some guys in this outfit didn’t have the right stuff, the right attitude or the honor, but that could never be said of this guy. “I’m glad we served together.”

  “Now who’s getting soft?” His deep laugh was the last sound I heard before the staccato clank! of a grenade dropped into the space with us.

  We had seconds, if that long. No time to speak, only time to act. Reaching down, I grabbed it, and threw it as fast and hard as I could. It was just out the window when the BLAST! threw us both against the opposite wall.

  My back had been curved from the throw, and I hit a bare space. I was winded, but not hurt. Derek was out cold. White smoke filled the room. Our luck had run out, and we were under attack.

  Shots fired outside as I made my way through the blindness to where his dark body was slumped on the stone floor.

  “Fuck!” I shouted. He was as big as me and twice as heavy, but I’d be damned if I left him. With a deep grunt, I hauled him onto my shoulders.

  His voice was a groan in my ear. “Stuart. Go on. Go.”

  “You’re not dying today, soldier,” I shouted back.

  Months of working out and not much else between the explosions and the darkness had me strong as a damn mule. I went up the short flight of steps to the exit. I had no idea what I’d be stepping into when I went through that door, but they knew we were in here. We couldn’t stay.

  I held Derek steady on my back as I peered into the smoke and dust filling the air. Two bodies in robes right ahead of us. Not Americans. We couldn’t do anything for them, but I would do something for us.

  A convoy had been preparing to transport the last of us two houses down. If I could make it that far, it was possible we’d be safe. I couldn’t see a damned thing as I made a break for it. My thighs burned with the exertion and the extra weight, and my lungs seized from the smoke. Derek was a fucking dead weight on my back, but I barely noticed with the adrenaline pumping in my veins. I was born for this.

  Blinking hard, I could just make out the hulking shapes of the armored trucks waiting to take us away.

  “We’re almost there,” I shouted, even though I was pretty sure he was out again.

  Taking the first step, I dug in with my heel, trying to gain speed
with traction. Combat boots, thirty-seven pounds of weaponry, ordnance, spying shit, and my commanding officer. I ran as fast as I could to the symbol of safety. I was just there when my feet went out from under me. My ears rang with the noise of the explosion, and pain shot like fire through the lower half of my body. I flew forward and landed on my chest in the dirt.

  I couldn’t stop shaking. It wasn’t fear—it was adrenaline combined with the effort I’d been pushing to get us to safety faster. My brain tilted on its side. The trucks were near, but they couldn’t see us in all the smoke and confusion. Bodies were running all around us. I needed to get up, but I was dazed.

  God dammit! I was made for this. I tried to force myself to get up, but my body didn’t respond. I was above myself looking down. Derek lay on my back exposed, unprotected. What the fuck was happening to me? I fought against this pansy-assed flake-out. I had to get back down there. I had to carry my brother to safety. I was stronger than this.

  Somebody had to see us, but the whole place was in confusion. Another whistling rocket, another explosion. I struggled to open my mouth and yell for backup. Nothing came out. I saw a truck jolt and fly back. It was hit.

  Then, like an old-fashioned television switching off, everything blinked to black. I didn’t see anything anymore.

  Scene 1: Leaving

  Stuart

  Six years later…

  The pickup rumbled down the highway in the direction of Bayville, New Jersey. I needed to get away, but I had one errand to do before I left. Just in case I never came back.

  After I left Nikki’s, I went back to Derek’s place and tore through a bender. When I opened my eyes again, two days had passed. I was sitting on the bedroom floor with an empty bottle of Belvedere, an empty prescription bottle, and the few mementos from after my dad died. As the oldest son and the only Marine to follow in his footsteps, Mom had given them to me.

  With bleary eyes, I studied his medal of honor and the assorted badges he’d earned for exemplary service, the flag he’d fought to defend, and then I looked at what I’d become. My own career cut short, I’d slowly devolved into this. A broken-down, wasted warrior. Chips cashed in, I could only think of one last place to go. If that didn’t work…

  Kicking my ass off the floor, I pushed through the headache and the hangover to the shower. For a while I stood under the warm spray and let it bring me back to life. After that, I dried off and dressed in dark jeans and a long-sleeved, white button-down. It would do for this errand.

  I threw all my shit into my pack and grabbed the keys to the rental. I had to return it since I was leaving the state, but I had money to buy something. It was more the delay associated with going through the process. I stopped in a used car dealership and bought a late-model, black pickup. Once I finished in Bayville, I’d drive it as far as Cleveland and fly the rest of the way to Montana.

  I thought about my plans. Dad’s Medal of Honor should be with someone who deserved it. Lane was a baby, but maybe one day he’d do a better job carrying on our family legacy. I’d shot that privilege straight to hell.

  The Jungle Gym was nicer than I expected from the tagline “Where the wild things are.” I expected it to be a bunch of MTV reality-show bad actors, since that was what this area was infamous for. Instead I found a decent-sized, respectable gym.

  Someone spoke, but I didn’t acknowledge them. I was checking out the establishment when I said, “I’m looking for Kendra Woods. She goes by Kenny.”

  “I’m Kenny.” The voice came from a tiny girl behind the counter. She was dressed in black and had enormous blue eyes.

  Her appearance didn’t make sense, and I said what I thought. “I expected someone older.”

  “I’m twenty-six, and you are…?”

  She was pissed, but I couldn’t imagine my little brother having a baby with this person. She was not his usual leggy blonde. Still, apart from the purple hair, she was cute in a waifish sort of way. Her eyes were a definite plus.

  “I’m Stuart Knight. You know my brother Patrick. May I speak to you alone? It’s about my nephew.”

  A tremor moved through my torso, and I reached up to rub the back of my neck. I needed to relax, but my action seemed to put her on guard. Probably all of this had her on guard, which wasn’t my intention.

  Resistance stiffened her back. “We can talk here. Mariska’s my best friend.”

  The person behind her stepped forward, and for a second, my control slipped. A pair of hazel eyes exactly like the sunset in the place I was headed struck me. Then her cheeks blushed a shade of pink…

  “Hello,” I said, watching her.

  “Would you like a smoothie? I make them myself, right over there.” She turned and pointed to the other end of the bar, and her chestnut hair swayed in long waves down her back. I imagined lacing my hands in those soft waves, pulling her head against my shoulder… “It’ll give you some privacy while you talk.”

  “Thank you.” I looked down to break the spell, but my eyes caught on the sway of her ass as she crossed to the other side of the space. Small and perky, I wanted to see the mark of my hands on it.

  Clearing my throat, I focused on Kenny. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I have something for Lane.” I took out the medal wrapped in a piece of heavy black cloth and paused as she crossed to my side of the bar. “It’s my father’s distinguished service award. It was given to me when he died. I need you to give it to Lane as the first grandson when he’s older.”

  Concern flooded her blue eyes, and I could tell she was smart. That’s when it all clicked. Patrick was a sucker for smart chicks.

  “Are you ill?” She touched my arm carefully. “Do you want me to call Patrick?”

  “No. I don’t want my brother involved.”

  My voice was sharper than I intended, and another tremor tickled at my neck. I was losing patience. I needed to get out of here and to a drug store. I was about to pay for that fucking bender, and it was going to hurt like hell.

  But Mariska was back. “On the house.” She held some kind of beverage. “It’s full of lavender and blueberry. It’ll help you relax.”

  Just looking at her beautiful eyes seemed to help me relax, and her cheeks blossomed with that rosy glow. My gaze dropped to her full, pink lips, and a force inside me pulled. It didn’t make sense, but I wanted to explain why I couldn’t stay with her, why I couldn’t take her with me.

  “I have to go,” is all I said.

  “Where will you go?”

  “My uncle has a place out west where I can breathe. It’s a place where I usually find peace.” Fuck. Why did I tell her that?

  “Please let me call Patrick,” Kenny interrupted.

  “Do not call my brother. I don’t want to see him.” My tone sent her back to afraid, but I couldn’t help it. I was barely fighting off the withdrawals, and her insistence pissed me off.

  I went straight to the door and was just about to push through it when Mariska ran up to stop me. She was taller than her friend, but smaller than me. Her skirt swayed around her slim hips with her movements.

  “You forgot this.” She touched my hand before holding out the cup.

  Her skin was cool against mine, and I wanted to pull her against my chest. Memorize the feel of her body, take a deep inhale of her hair so I knew her scent. I wanted to watch her as I drove deep between her thighs, see how the light changed in those beautiful eyes. I wanted to hear the sounds she made when she came.

  But it was more than sexual desire I felt. Her touch, the sound of her voice, did something to me. It filled my head with images of morning light breaking over her skin. Time passing in her arms. Her stomach round with my baby.

  Jesus. It was coming off the fucking drugs is what it was. I needed to get out of here, to Uncle Bill’s. If I couldn’t get it together there, none of this mattered. Besides, I didn’t know anything about this woman. Correction, this girl. Up close, I could tell she was at least ten years younger than me.

  “Thanks,” I
said and pushed through the door.

  Scene 2: Where the Wind Blows

  Mariska

  Pain. Burning. Explosions. All around me is confusion and yelling. The bright beige of the desert contrasts sharply against the dark green and brown of the armored vehicles, and figures in white robes and sand-colored fatigues rush by without stopping.

  I can’t control what’s happening, but I’ve got to complete this mission. I’ve got to get him to safety. Someone grabs my arms and drags me roughly away. A whistle grows louder from above, then BOOM!

  We’re all lifted a foot off the ground then slammed back again…

  * * *

  Gasping, I sat straight up in the bed and stared into the darkness of my bedroom. What the hell was that?

  I’d had vivid dreams since I was a little girl. My Yaya said it was because I was more sensitive than others, and she liked to note that I dreamed in color. Very unusual.

  Still, all my dreams were about me—a solution to a problem or a premonition of something coming. Nothing in my life was like the images I’d just seen. My body shook, and my heart beat too fast. I was afraid. My dreams never scared me. I could control them because they were mine.

  Only… this dream wasn’t mine.

  My grandmother also taught me to keep a dream journal. She said it would help me understand when the events came to pass. I just had to write them down and wait.

  She’d taught me to read coffee grounds in the old Turkish style and to detect auras. She would smile and say everything was connected. If I paid attention, I’d see how. Thinking of her calmed my frayed nerves. I missed her so much.