Taken! 7-12 (Donald Wells' Taken! Series) Read online

After driving around to the other end of the alley, he parked. He was driving the Russian’s car, and he gagged him with duct tape found in the glove box and pushed him along to the rear of the car, where he thrust the protesting Russian inside the trunk and slammed the lid, and then he made a call.

  “Hello?” Jessica said.

  “Hi, listen, Lena’s in trouble but I think I can help her. How is George doing?”

  “He’s been drinking, but I finally got him to eat something too.”

  “Good, if everything goes right, I should have Lena back soon.”

  “How dangerous is it?”

  “It’s manageable.”

  He heard her make a sighing sound.

  “What was that for?”

  “To you, World War III would be manageable, but all I care about is that you return to me.”

  “It’s what I live for.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too, see you soon.”

  He put his phone back in his pocket and then removed a package from the back seat. He then walked casually over to Ivanov’s car. A minute later, he took out the knife he had liberated from the Russian and walked around to the rear door of the restaurant.

  ***

  Ivanov slid back into the booth and smiled across at Lena.

  “What’s your answer?”

  “It’s yes, but if you ever harm George, I’ll kill you.”

  “You really fell in love with this George, huh? Well don’t worry, as long as you’re a good girl, he lives.”

  A pounding noise came from the back of the building and a voice yelled out, “Delivery!”

  Ivanov looked over at his man, Fedor.

  “Go back there and tell that fool that we’re closed.”

  Fedor did as he was told and walked into the kitchen; three minutes later, he had yet to return.

  Ivanov gestured to one of his other men.

  “Yakov, go see what’s keeping Fedor.”

  The man nodded and walked into the kitchen. Minutes later, he too had yet to return.

  Ivanov slid out of the booth with a furrowed brow. Afterward, he walked over to his men and whispered a few words. A moment later, the four remaining men headed towards the kitchen, with guns drawn.

  As the first two cleared the doorway, he kicked in the front door and attacked them from behind.

  After watching Ivanov dive for safety behind the bar, he shot the two remaining goons and then dived behind a brick partition to use as a shield.

  The two men that had entered the kitchen returned with guns ablaze and sent a barrage of bullets towards him. As the man on the right fell from a wound to the head, his partner advanced.

  Lena freed the small knife hidden in her hair and jammed it into the base of the man’s skull. The man dropped to the floor along with the gun, and after a violent twitch, he lay still. In a flash, Ivanov bolted out the door, a few seconds later, the Caddy screeched out of the alley and away.

  After retrieving a gun from the floor, Lena walked over to him.

  “I see you can do more than fight with your hands.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, how’s George?”

  “Devastated, he thinks he’s lost you.”

  “We have to get to the cemetery, something awful is about to take place.”

  He shook his head.

  “I know about the bomb. It’s been handled; now let’s wipe your prints off anything you might have touched and get out of here.”

  As they approached the car, the trunk popped open and the one-eared Russian, wild eyed and bloody, came at them with a tire iron. Lena shot him once in the forehead and he fell to the pavement with a wet thump.

  Lena pointed up the alley. “We’ll take the Lexus; it’s mine.”

  ***

  When they were halfway back to the farm, Lena asked a question, as he drove.

  “I suppose you know about my past?”

  “The Russian you shot, he explained everything.”

  “When we get to the farm, let me have the car and I’ll get out of George’s life.”

  “You could do that, just leave him?”

  Lena wiped at her eyes.

  “It’s what’s best for him. Let him remember me as Lena the decent girl, not Lena the hired killer.”

  “He’s loves you, and I’ve known George a long time, for what it’s worth, I think you’re underrating him.”

  “You think if he knew what I was, he would still want me?”

  “All I know is that there are people that can forgive their loved ones anything. My wife is one of them. Besides, it doesn’t sound like you had much choice; from what I’ve learned, killing was in your blood.”

  She looked at him sideways.

  “What would you know about it?”

  “More than I want to,”

  ***

  When they returned to the farm, Lena took George by the hand and led him into the study. Three hours passed before they joined them out on the patio.

  He looked up at his friend. “George?”

  “We’re good. She shocked me, that’s for sure, but hell, I love her and she’s given that life up.”

  Lena kissed George. “I love you so much.” She then looked over at him. “We’ll have to run and change our names. Ivanov knows about George and about this place.”

  “You won’t have to worry about Ivanov. It seems he choose to view the funeral of his long-time associate Sergio Gallo from a bluff overlooking the cemetery. From the description of the blast on the news, they may never find every piece of him.”

  Lena opened her mouth in shock.

  “You mean you put the bomb in his car?”

  “It was his property; I simply returned it.”

  Lena walked over and kissed him on the cheek.

  “George was right, you are a tough man.”

  Jessica grinned. “You don’t know the half,”

  It wasn’t until George and Lena left for their honeymoon two weeks later, that he remembered the Russian he had locked in Lena’s closet.

  TAKEN! 8 - GABBY

  He watched the girl as she left the bagel shop with a coffee in one hand and her phone in the other.

  She climbed into a red BMW Mini and headed north along the highway.

  He followed.

  As usual, it was her looks that attracted him to her. The girl was young, no more than nineteen and so beautiful that every male head turned to look her way in desire and adoration. She was dressed in a pair of tight jeans that accentuated her curves and her blouse was made from a thin fabric that her breasts seemed to strain against, as if seeking release.

  He admired her beauty as other men, but unlike them, he felt more than mere lust and admiration. He felt the need to possess her, to own her, to take her!

  The girl was on the highway for two minutes before exiting and turning left. Three blocks later, he watched as she backed into the driveway of a home in a suburban neighborhood. There were no other cars in the driveway and he parked across the street and watched her.

  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 he
r 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.

  ***

  “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.”

  ***

  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 entered, 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 n
eeds 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.

  ***

  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.