Taken By Surprise (Taken Trilogy Book 1)

by Jessica Frances

  “It’s okay, he won’t hurt you.” I pull out another bobby pin since I can’t remember where I put the other one and pick the lock chaining him to the radiator. This one is harder to do since my hands won’t stop shaking and tears are falling freely down my face as I feel shock setting in.

  “What’s your name?” I ask the boy to distract myself.

  “Jonah.”

  I finally get his lock open and help him to get out of the chains. I tense, hearing a groan coming from the man on the ground. He is stirring.

  “Come on, we have to get out of here.” There isn’t time to wait for Dean. I have no idea how much time has passed. It could have been twenty minutes or just two. I feel like I’ve been stuck in this house for hours, though.

  Jonah and I run out of the room and down the hallway. On the floor by the door, I see an open black bag full of cash and without thinking or stopping, I scoop it up and push through the front door and out into the bright daylight outside.

  I keep ahold of Jonah’s hand. Since his eyes are so swollen, I doubt he can see much of anything now and I don’t want him to fall. I take him to my car and, once I get him buckled in, I jump into the driver’s seat. Adrenaline pumps through my body as I madly drive through the streets. It’s a full ten minutes of speeding before I feel I can speak again.

  “Are you okay? Can I take you to the hospital?”

  “I want to go home.” Jonah is shaking in his seat and I try to slow down.

  “Okay. Where is home?”

  ***

  We pull up in front of Jonah’s house twenty minutes later and I take my keys out of the ignition.

  “You’re home. Here, take this.” I sit the black bag full of money on Jonah’s lap. “I think you might have to make a quick getaway and this will help.” I don’t know exactly how much money is in there, but I would guess it’s easily two hundred thousand dollars.

  “You don’t want any?” Jonah can obviously see well enough to know there is money in there.

  “No, I don’t need it.”

  “How can I pay you back for saving my life then?”

  “You don’t need to pay me back. Just take your Mom and get out of here.”

  “Will you come in with me? I know Mom will want to thank you.”

  “Sure.”

  I grab my bag out of habit and walk with Jonah up the pathway to his home. The house is rundown and looks like a tornado might have gone through it recently. The windows are boarded up and no longer have glass in them, the paint is all chipped away and there are dead plants all around the front and I can see they lead all the way to the back, too.

  Jonah opens the front door just as his mom rushes forward and wraps him into a big hug, sobbing loudly. I feel like I’m intruding on a moment and look back out to my car, wondering if I should just leave.

  “Look at you. What did he do to you? I didn’t think I would ever see you again.” Jonah’s Mom pulls him out of the hug long enough to examine him briefly before she wraps him back up in her arms.

  “Mom, stop. Rose saved me. We have to go. Look what she’s giving us.” Jonah points at the black bag on the ground full of money.

  “You saved him?”

  “Sort of. I knew the police were on their way to that man’s house, but I didn’t know if they would have gotten there in time. He might have made it out before they arrived, which means he’ll know where to come looking for you. You both have to leave.” My voice shakes and I get the feeling that soon I’ll be going into shock.

  “And the money?”

  “I took it from him. I wasn’t really thinking, but…” I shrug. I had stolen money before and felt awful having done so, somehow this feels different. Jonah needs this money and the drug dealer deserves to have it taken from him.

  “Jonah, get your things.” Jonah’s Mom pushes him away towards what I assume is his room and watch him leave.

  “Will you be okay?” Jonah’s Mom asks me nervously.

  “He doesn’t know who I am. I’ll be fine. Besides, he’ll have to get in line if he wants to kill me.” I think back to the bank and feel exhausted from today. I have been on a nonstop rollercoaster all day; I’m ready to collapse in my bed and sleep for days.

  “Thank you for helping my son.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m just glad I was able to be useful today. Please stay safe.” I turn back, heading back towards my car when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn back to Jonah’s Mom.

  “Take this.” She holds up a small pile of money and forces it into my hand. “I don’t feel right not giving you anything.”

  “No, really, I don’t need—”

  “Please.”

  I see stubbornness in her and I know I have to let her pack. The longer I’m here, the longer I’m stopping her from leaving, however it’s obvious that she won’t let me go without giving me some sort of thanks. I also have to get back home. Dean is probably in a complete panic over me.

  “Thank you.” I take the money from her and place it in a secret compartment in my bag to show that I have accepted it. No need for anyone to see that money when the bank is being investigated for theft. I will have to find a charity to dump it in between this place and home.

  She nods her head to me and I walk away from the house and back towards my car. I glance back briefly and see her closing the door. I hope they make it out in time. I should get ahold of a phone, make sure they’ve caught the drug dealer so I can be sure Jonah and his Mom will be safe.

  I walk up to the curb, lost in thoughts of today and how insane it has all been. I groan, knowing it’s not even over yet. I still have to make a statement to the police about the bomb and, most likely, another one about that drug dealer. I also have someone out there trying to kill me. Why? Who would go to such extreme measures to kill me? To put a bomb in my workplace? Nothing has made sense about today. Maybe this is all some crazy nightmare. I’ll wake up soon and today won’t have started. I’ll call in sick and stay in bed all day just to be sure none of this happens.

  I reach out to open my car door when I feel something placed over my mouth. Hands grab me and pull me backwards. I try to scream, but all I manage is a muffled cry. I struggle against the strong grip, however I feel dizzy all of a sudden and fear whatever I’m breathing in is affecting me.

  Darkness surrounds me rapidly as I’m thrown into the back of a vehicle and roll around as it starts up. Then, I’m driven away. Before fear has time to set inside me, my eyes close. I don’t even get time to enjoy being able to breathe when the cloth is taken away from my mouth before a deep sleep knocks me into oblivion.

  CHARLIE NICHOLS

  Chapter Fifteen – The Breakfast

  Houston, Texas

  Friday, April 6th

  Aromas of food wake me up early Friday morning. I bury my head further into my pillow and close my eyes tightly, hoping to recapture the comfortable sleep that I have just been pulled from. My stomach betrays me, though, because soon enough it starts to rumble, feeling empty. The smells of eggs and bacon cooking rouse my senses again and I can’t help opening my eyes.

  The light from my window blinds me, making me wish I had the ability to make it go away, to make it dark. Still, the sun keeps moving upwards and I rub the sleep away from my eyes as I shake my legs out from under the covers. My feet feel cold on the tiled ground and, although I wish I had carpet or a rug to walk on instead, I know that once summer sets in I’ll be grateful for the tiles.

  I stand and pull at the t-shirt I’m wearing, deciding I will eat first and get changed later. I step out of my room, leaving my bed covers a mess, and make my out into the hall. Glancing at the open kitchen from the hallway, I see Dad standing over by the stove, scrambling eggs while he hums to himself. Usually I have a quick bowl of cereal and maybe some toast before I leave for work. Every once in a while, though, Dad gets into these weird moods where he’ll get up early in order to go to the store for bacon, eggs, hash browns and fresh juice; for that one random morning, w
e will feast until we can hardly move.

  It always makes me think of Mom when he does it since it was something she used to do for us when I was little. Dad said it was her weekend specialty and that she used to play music really loud that would wake Dad up while she cooked. It was one of the few times she was always happy. I don’t remember the breakfasts she used to cook, but Dad always tells the story and now, when I see him cooking breakfast, I think of her.

  “Morning.” I smile at Dad as he notices I’ve been watching him and then make my way over to the fridge where I grab a carton of milk and take several long gulps out of it before putting it back on the door’s shelf. I close the door just as Dad places a plate piled high of greasy food on the wooden table that is an island in the middle of our kitchen. I grab a stool and sit down then pick up a fork and dig in.

  Dad places his plate next to mine and laughs as I inhale my food rather than tasting it. I can’t help that I feel starved in the morning or at lunch or at dinner. In fact, I’m mostly always hungry.

  “Slow down, you’re going to choke on that if you’re not careful.”

  I force myself to chew at least three more times than I think necessary, and as my plate empties, I finally start to slow down.

  “So, I should be able to get down to the site today, see how it’s all moving along.”

  I nod, inwardly disappointed he’s coming. The guys already resent me for being the boss’s son, but sometimes I feel like they start to forget. Dad visiting is always a big reminder that I’m there because of him. It doesn’t matter that I work harder than any of them, that I always volunteer for the jobs they don’t want to do or that I’m the first to arrive and last to leave. To them, I’ve been given a free ride because Dad owns the construction company.

  “Perhaps we can do lunch?”

  “Sure.” I hope to mask my reluctance as I quickly eat the last few mouthfuls on my plate. “Thanks for breakfast, Dad.”

  I stand up and place my plate in the sink, glancing at the time on the microwave before rushing back to my room to get ready. I had hoped to mention moving out at breakfast, but have chickened out again. It isn’t because I don’t want to move out or because I think Dad will be angry at me, either; it’s because I hate to worry him.

  Mom had suffered with depression and he had been unable to help her. I do have memories of her, however I can’t remember her being sad. I never feel that she is troubled when I think back to her. When I was six-years-old, we found her dead. She took a bunch of pills and locked herself in the bathroom. Dad never forgave her for doing that, for giving up. He never forgave himself for not stopping me from seeing her like that, either.

  It wasn’t his fault, none of it was. He loved her, I remember that. He still does love her. He just worries that the trauma of that day has stuck with me, that even after all these years, I might somehow fall into a depression like she had and he will lose me, too. Keeping me living at home is his way of keeping tabs on me. Even at twenty-two, he thinks I’m too young to be living alone. It’s another sore point with the guys I work with.

  After I have brushed my teeth and tried to flatten my dark brown hair down—since it always seems to look messy—I leave quickly, grabbing my jacket off the floor of my bedroom. Wearing my usual blue jeans and black t-shirt, I poke my head into the kitchen, seeing Dad reading over the newspaper.

  “Dad…” Just say it. Say I found a place and I’m moving out.

  “Yes?” Dad looks up from the article he’s reading when I hesitate.

  “See you at lunch.” I again chicken out. As I grab my keys off the table by the door and leave, I promise myself that at lunch I’ll do better.

  Chapter Sixteen – The Date

  The morning had been deceivingly cold. The sun is now out in full force and pounding on my overheated skin. It had only taken one summer working out in the elements to get me what seems like a permanent tan. It had also taken an entire summer of full time work to now have the ability to go home after a busy day and not have every muscle in my body ache.

  A lot of the guys I work with are older and plumper around the middle, where I am full of muscle from the work I do. The older guys appear to have somewhat accepted me as a colleague; it’s the ones my age or just a bit older that have a problem with me. Dad had built Nichols Construction from the ground up and I have been surrounded by sites and equipment my entire life. I know that I’m good at what I do, but my dream is to design houses, not build them. It’s something I have started to realize over the past year and another conversation I have avoided having with Dad.

  “I heard your Daddy is coming to visit you today, Char-wee.” Adam’s voice brings me back from my thoughts. Adam is a guy who’s my age and hates me on principle. He has never liked me, although when he found out his girlfriend—who is also Dad’s assistant—and I had dated for a few weeks before she started going out with him, he suddenly couldn’t stand me. He is at least a foot shorter than me and, while he is fitter and stronger than most of the guys here, he’s not as fit or strong as me. However, that doesn’t seem to deter him. Gemma, his girlfriend, let it slip to me once that Adam is afraid I’ll decide I want her back and she’ll leave him for me. Not much of a relationship if there is even a chance of that happening.

  “Shut it, Adam.”

  “He needs to make sure his little baby is okay,” Adam taunts as I clench my fists. I average wanting to punch Adam at least ten times a day, so this is just my first for the day.

  “Get back to work.” I try my best to ignore him and turn my back so I’m not facing him. I hold the drill in place and set to placing the nail where I need it to go.

  “You’re not my boss, asshole,” Adam snaps at me.

  “Not yet.” I only say it to annoy him and the growl I get in response makes me feel satisfied. I hate saying anything like that, yet I will do it a hundred times over if it gets at him. The guy is a dickhead.

  Wanting to get away from Adam before anymore can be said, I ride the shaft up to the top where a few of the other guys have started up work and set myself up in a corner. We’re building a ten story apartment complex and after some stalling at the beginning of the project from some misfiled documents, we’re on our way to finishing.

  I work solidly until lunch and then pack up before heading back down to the ground level. Dad is already there, speaking to the foreman, and I usher him away before he can ask any questions about me. Dad has a habit of acting like the people around me are teachers and he is sitting in a parent/teacher conference. It’s embarrassing.

  We walk a couple blocks away from the site and sit down at a local burger joint. I order a steak burger with all the fillings, feeling starved already. As I wait, I move my hair backwards and forwards with my hands, noticing they’re covered in dirt and grease afterwards, No matter what job I do, I always manage to get covered in dirt.

  When both our meals come, we eat in silence. It isn’t until we have both finished our plates that the quiet is broken.

  “I have a meeting tonight that will most likely go through dinner, so you’ll have to sort yourself out for food.”

  “I actually have a date tonight.” I had asked a girl out the day before when I had gone to grab a coffee across the street. She seemed nice and looked hot.

  Dad frowns at my words. He always frowns when he thinks I’m doing something wrong.

  “Just make sure you’re careful.”

  “Careful? It’s a first date, Dad.”

  “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “I won’t.” I roll my eyes. I’m over this conversation already.

  “You will always get hurt if you allow yourself to care enough, Charlie. Remember that.”

  “Not everyone is like Mom, you know.”

  “Yes, I know,” Dad snaps. I know I have angered him with my comment. He hates when I bring her up, especially when I mention it in conjunction with her depression.

  “Look, just relax, okay? It’s only a first date and
it might not even lead to a second.”

  Dad nods tightly at me, however I know he still feels angry. It’s definitely not the right time to bring up moving out. I’ll have to wait until tomorrow now.

  ***

  I meet my date, Nora, outside the usual restaurant that I take all my dates, and find my nerves getting the best of me.

  Nora looks beautiful in a blue dress that hugs her curvy figure perfectly. Her hair is up in a ponytail and I find my eyes drifting to her open neck and then down her exposed shoulders. I am completely underdressed in just black pants and a plain white button shirt. I move my hair backwards and forwards as I glance over the menu.

  “I’ve never been to this place before, is it good?” Nora doesn’t appear nervous at all.

  “Yeah, I usually get the steak here.”

  “I love steak.” Nora smiles and I smile back. So many times I’ve been out on dates and the only thing my date will eat is chicken. There is something incredibly hot about a woman eating proper meat to me. Of course, I will take a chicken eater over someone who doesn’t eat at all. Now those women are weird. Why go on a dinner date and then not eat simply to look thin?

  “Well, I ate steak for lunch, so I might have to give something else a try.” I debate internally if I should just eat steak again.

  “You’ve sold me on steak.” Nora closes her menu; I think I might like this girl even more. I dislike a girl who takes forever merely to make a simple decision.

  Looking over the menu, I’m unsure what to order. Strangely enough, I don’t feel starving for once and wonder if it has to do with the sudden nerves I’m feeling or the fact that I have eaten two large meals today already.

  “I don’t suppose you would think I was lame if I choose a salad?” I ask, inwardly cringing at myself.

  Nora laughs, but shakes her head to say no. “Although, it does sound like something a woman would have on a date, not the man. And here I thought I was dating a manly man working in construction,” Nora teases.