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

by Remington Kane

  Seventeen minutes passed, but then he spotted it. It was a black, Chevy Suburban with white number ones pasted on it.

  Jack smiled. His diamonds were finally within reach. He pulled back into traffic and followed the Suburban, as dreams of living life in a tropical paradise danced in his head.

  CHAPTER 21

  He was certain he was alone.

  Jack had, “Put him through his paces,” as Brice had warned and he had no doubt that the FBI had been left far behind.

  He was driving his fifth vehicle of the day, an old Buick, and had used four cell phones. He had also pedaled, run and swam various distances as Jack commanded him to, and at one point had even traversed an underground passage.

  He was dressed in a set of black coveralls and a pair of tight sneakers. The sleeves and cuffs of the coveralls hung inches above his wrists and ankles. Apparently, Jack had been expecting a shorter man.

  The diamonds were in the trunk, earlier, they had been secured within a box that resembled a microwave oven, but was actually a sophisticated device used to detect and disable tracking or listening devices. The box had detected the fake diamond containing the tracker and sent an electrical charge through it that fried the microchip transmitter.

  There was also a black box attached to this car’s dashboard, and he was certain that it was sending his location to Jack. He also wore an earpiece, whose range he guessed was less than a mile.

  Jack was near.

  Good.

  Although he had traveled nearly two-hundred miles since leaving the cabin, he knew from his perusal of area maps that he was now less than ten miles away from where he began; he also had an idea where Jack was guiding him.

  Jack’s voice boomed in his ear.

  “Can you hear me, White?”

  “Yes.”

  “Four cars in front of you is a motorcycle, follow it.”

  Jack’s voice disappeared and he kept an eye on the Harley. Seconds later, the bike sped up and threatened to leave him behind. He kept it in sight though, and watched as it pulled off the highway and down an old paved road that had high weeds growing through its many cracks.

  He nodded to himself, certain that he now knew where the exchange was taking place.

  Nearby was a former lake. It was a former lake because all of the water had drained from it seven years ago, when an abandoned mine shaft running beneath it collapsed and emptied the lake water within hours, like bath water draining from a tub.

  The area had been closed off ever since, as engineers feared another collapse and local politicians and land developers pondered over its future use.

  He followed the bike around a curve and found its driver standing beside a huge sign that blocked the way and warned of the danger of traveling any farther. The helmeted man gestured for him to stop, and then turned and yanked on the massive warning sign.

  The sign had apparently been freed from its fastenings and fell to the ground, causing a squall of dirt to rise high in the air.

  The motorcyclist climbed back on his bike and urged him to follow. He put the car in gear, drove over the sign, and followed him to a stand of trees that faced one end of the dead lake. It looked like an odd depression in the ground.

  The lake had been shaped like a square, about a mile long on all sides, and perhaps a little wider than it was long. To the left of its center was a small concrete dome, undoubtedly used to cover the sinkhole.

  ***

  Jack parked the bike and removed his helmet, afterward; he used his gun to gesture to Mr. White to get out of the car.

  “We meet at last, Mr. White,”

  He ignored Jack’s greeting and looked off to the far right of the property. After covering his eyes with his hand, he squinted, and could make out a small group of people gathered by what used to be the boathouse, and in the air was the faint scent of meat grilling upon an open fire.

  He pointed. “Are they with you?”

  “They’re the area’s homeless. They began squatting here when the lake dried up. This isn’t as private a meeting site as the cabin I had, but it’s the best I could do in a pinch.”

  “Where’s Samantha?”

  “First things first, get the diamonds.”

  He walked around to the trunk and popped it open, to reach inside and bring out the shiny metal tube that held the diamonds.

  “Unscrew it, I want to see if it’s booby-trapped.”

  He did as asked and saw the sparkling stones.

  “It’s nice to see that Brice didn’t do anything stupid, now close it up and toss it here,”

  He did as Jack requested and watched him catch the container in his left hand. Jack laid his gun atop the Harley’s seat and unscrewed the canister again. He plucked a jeweler’s eyepiece from his pocket and used the magnifying loupe to study a few random uncut diamonds.

  Jack whistled.

  “These are good, hell, old man Ryan might have overpaid me.”

  “Samantha?” he said, and Jack closed up the diamonds and stared over at him.

  “There’s a pair of binoculars in the trunk. Pick them up and look across the lake. If this were a clock, she’d be just about at the two hand.”

  He found the binoculars, and after several adjustments, he saw Samantha standing on the opposite shore with a young woman, behind them was a blue pickup truck parked on a steep hill.

  He lowered the binoculars.

  “You have your diamonds, when do I get her?”

  Jack took out his final cell phone and dialed.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s done, we’re good, let the bitch go.”

  “You’ve really got the diamonds?”

  “Yes, baby, I did it. Now let her go, leave the truck, and I’ll come around to get you.”

  “Yes, yes, I’ll see you soon,”

  Jack turned the phone off and spoke to him.

  “She’s free, she’ll be walking around the lake counter clockwise, you can go pick her up, just follow the path around the lake.”

  He nodded to Jack, closed the trunk, and opened the door to get in.

  Jack called to him.

  “Hey, White!”

  “Yeah?”

  “What gives?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, the kid kept telling me what a badass you were and when I grabbed her the other day you threatened to kill me, but hell, today you haven’t even so much as threatened me.”

  “All that matters to me is getting her back safely.”

  Jack made a noise of disgust.

  “You straight shooters are all the same, all talk, just a bunch of gutless do-gooders. Go on, get out of here.”

  He gave Jack a last look and then got behind the wheel and drove away.

  ***

  Cinda was happier than she’d ever been. Jack had actually done it. Five million dollars!

  She looked down at Samantha with a huge grin lighting her face.

  “You’re free now, honey. That Mr. White of yours is here to take you home.”

  Samantha didn’t move, and so Cinda gestured to her right.

  “Just keep walking that way and Mr. White will meet you.”

  Samantha began walking, but not in the direction that Cinda had indicated, instead, she climbed back up the hill and clambered into the front seat of the pickup.

  Cinda stood before the truck with her hands on her hips and her head tilted as she stared up at Samantha with an irritated look on her face.

  “Hey, kid, don’t you understand, you’re free now.”

  Samantha sent her a smile, before reaching over with both hands and releasing the emergency brake, which sent the truck lurching forward.

  Cinda gasped in surprise and attempted to jump clear, but the bumper on the driver’s side smashed into her hip and the front wheel ran over her. The truck soon stopped its forward motion however, as the rear tire sat perched upon Cinda’s back.

  The sudden lurch had sent Samantha falling to the floor; she righted her
self and hopped out the open door to find Cinda lying behind her.

  Cinda’s legs seemed to be in disagreement about which way to point, as her right foot was sticking straight up, while the left foot was pointing downward, and was actually embedded in the sandy soil.

  Samantha walked over and glared down at her.

  “Die!”

  Cinda followed the order, as she gave one last gasp and laid her head down in the dirt, eyes open, but unseeing.

  Samantha reached inside the pocketbook that still hung from Cinda’s shoulder and removed her gun. She then began marching across the dry lake, determined to make Jack pay for Maria’s death.

  ***

  Jack was busy preparing for his escape.

  He took off the sweatshirt he’d been wearing and put on a green work shirt that he’d plucked from the bottom of his backpack.

  The shirt had the name, Ray, stitched over one pocket in red, and written in yellow script on the back were the words, Puller Manufacturing.

  The Puller Manufacturing Company had a plant less than a mile from the lake. Their second shift, the daytime shift, was about to let out in twenty minutes and Jack intended to blend-in with the herd of happy workers leaving their nine-to-five’s.

  Once he mingled in among them, Jack would be one of a hundred wearing the same green shirt and would hop a bus to make his getaway. Cinda had a similar shirt and was supposed to join him.

  After changing his shirt, Jack screwed the bottom off a thermos and removed the insulated glass tube inside. He then slid in the container holding the diamonds and screwed the bottom of the thermos back in place. It was a perfect fit.

  He looked down at himself and smiled.

  Between the work shirt, boots and jeans, he looked like a working stiff, add the thermos to the mix and his disguise was perfect. A cop wouldn’t look at him twice.

  He stuffed his old shirt into the backpack, along with the cell phone. On his wrist was the tracker he used to keep an eye on Mr. White’s location. His brow furrowed, as he realized that the display was showing White heading the wrong way.

  Apparently, the man had decided to cut across the lake bed instead of driving around it. Jack dug a pair of binoculars from his pack and focused in on the car.

  Man, he’s really moving.

  Jack had just begun to lower the binoculars when he noticed it. He adjusted the lens and took a closer look.

  No one was driving the car.

  He dropped the binoculars and reached for his gun as the sound of running feet reached his ears.

  White slammed into him just as he gripped the gun, but the impact sent them both to the ground and caused Jack to fire an errant shot. An instant later, and White had a gripped on his wrist, while pummeling him mercilessly with his other hand.

  ***

  Samantha heard the shot and stopped in her tracks. Moments later, she caught the whine of an engine and turned her head to the right, where a hundred feet away a driverless car went speeding by, bumping along the uneven ground so roughly that it often lifted up on two wheels. Then, she was off again, running, and certain that Mr. White was making Jack pay.

  ***

  Jack screamed in agony as the carpel bones in his wrist ground together. Mr. White’s grip was like a vise and Jack relented and let go of the gun.

  Mr. White shoved the gun away and stood, only to reach down and pluck Jack from the dirt; what followed were several blows to the ribs that weakened Jack’s knees.

  White held him up and stared into his eyes.

  “Killing that child crossed the line.”

  Jack spoke to him through a busted lip.

  “Kill me if you want, but don’t fucking preach to me.”

  White’s eyes closed into slits, then, Jack felt himself being spun around and a strong arm entwined itself about his neck. Jack fought back by elbowing White in the ribs and stomping on his feet, but the tall man ignored his assault and tightened his grip.

  As the darkness threatened to swallow him, Jack nearly shed a tear. He had been so close, so close. A moment later, and the world disappeared.

  ***

  He met Samantha as she climbed up from the lake and grew angry at sight of the bruising Jack’s punch had left her wearing. He then took note of the gun in her hand, but made no move to take it.

  Samantha smiled up at him.

  “Jack?”

  “He’s handled, what happened to Cinda?”

  “I was playing in the limo once and accidentally released the emergency brake. Billy jumped in and stopped the car right before it could roll down a hill. He then hugged me and told me that I could have been hurt, that cars were very dangerous.”

  He stared at her for a moment before lifting the binoculars to his eyes. Across the way he could see Cinda’s body lying beneath the pickup truck.

  “It looks like Billy was right,” he said.

  “Mr. White.”

  “Yes?”

  “Billy’s daughter, Maria, I really liked her.”

  “I’m sorry, honey.”

  “Thanks.”

  A moan came from up the hill. Samantha sent him a surprised look and then rushed towards the sound. When she walked past the motorcycle, she saw Jack lying face down in the dirt and very much alive.

  “You didn’t kill him?” she said.

  “No, death is too good for him.”

  Samantha raised the gun with both hands and pointed it at Jack.

  “I want him dead. He should die for killing Maria.”

  Jack cried out in a panicked, gasping voice.

  “I can’t move! What the fuck is going on? I can’t move!”

  “You’re paralyzed, Jack, paralyzed from the neck down,” he said.

  Samantha kept the gun aimed at Jack, as she gave him a puzzled look.

  “You did that to him, on purpose?”

  “Yes, death would have been a kindness.”

  Samantha shook her head.

  “No, I want him dead. He killed Maria and Kevin.”

  Jack began crying, sobbing, and Samantha watched him with eyes devoid of pity. Tense moments passed, and then she lowered the gun, once it was pointed at the ground, she let it drop.

  She looked up at him.

  “This is better? To leave him like this?”

  He looked over at Jack, stared over at his handiwork and knew that the heartless child-killer now had a lifetime of struggle and pain to look forward to, a lifetime of suffering.

  “Yes, Samantha, it’s better to leave him that way.”

  She reached up and took his hand.

  “I trust you.”

  They left Jack to his misery and walked back to the shore. Across the lake, he saw where the car had finally come to rest and assumed that the branch he used to press down the pedal had jostled loose.

  He took out the cell phone that he had found in Jack’s backpack and dialed. Brice answered in an anxious tone.

  “What’s happened?”

  “Samantha is safe, we’re both safe, Jack is severely injured and Cinda Lyons is dead. We’re at Givens Lake, the one that had the sinkhole.”

  “I know it. We’ll be there in five minutes.”

  “Good, now let me speak to my wife.”

  Jessica came on the line.

  “How are you?”

  “I’m good, better than Jack,”

  “I’m sure of that. How is Samantha?”

  “Slightly injured, but safe, and she misses her friend, Maria.”

  “Maria’s death caused her pain?”

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe there’s hope for her yet. I love you and I’ll be there with Brice in a few minutes.”

  He told Jessica that he loved her and ended the call. He then held the phone out for Samantha to take.

  “Would you like to call your grandfather?”

  “No, I’ll see him soon enough.”

  He placed the phone back in his pocket.

  “I understand.”

  Afterward, they st
ood there on the shore of a dead lake, each holding the hand of a kindred soul.

  HIT SQUAD

  By

  REMINGTON KANE

  CHAPTER 1

  He was seated at the kitchen table, having his first cup of coffee of the day while he scanned a variety of Tech blogs on his laptop.

  Jessica had been sitting across from him until she suddenly turned pale and ran for the bathroom, something she’d been doing often of late.

  Although still in her first trimester of pregnancy and not yet showing, she recently developed morning sickness and was prone to bouts of nausea throughout the day. Her doctor had prescribed medication, but it appeared to be of little help.

  Jessica walked back into the kitchen while wiping her face with a damp cloth.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I’m fine, but I’ll be very happy when this goes away.”

  “I’m sure. Are you still going to Florida to see Dr. Harven, Thursday?”

  “No, I’ve postponed that. As much as I’m looking forward to interviewing him for my book, I don’t think it would be a good idea. The way I’ve been lately, there’s a good chance I might puke on him in the middle of the meeting.”

  “Will that put your book behind schedule?”

  “No, I’m actually slightly ahead right now, and besides, I still haven’t finished reading his book. It was written decades ago, but his insights into the sociopathic mind were groundbreaking.”

  Jessica’s phone rang and she picked it up and read the caller ID.

  “Who is it?” he said.

  “I don’t know; I don’t recognize the number.”

  He watched her answer it and say, “Hello?”

  A moment later and she wore a wide smile.

  “Jimmy! Hey big brother, how are you?”

  He sighed and mouthed four words to her.

  “How much this time?”

  Jessica suppressed a laugh and kept talking.

  “That’s good, and we’re both fine too, so what’s up?”

  As she talked, he kept staring, waiting to hear the amount. His brother-in-law only seemed to call when he was short on funds.

  “Five thousand dollars? Jimmy, that’s a lot of money.”

  He closed his laptop and leaned back in his seat.