Taken Read online

  The charity bash she looked forward to, though. It was to be a five-thousand-dollar-a-plate affair, and every prominent family in the States had been invited. The meal was being prepared by France’s top chef, and the entertainment would be an assortment of instrumental pieces played by the Boston Philharmonic Orchestra.

  Today she and her party planner, Iva, ordered the carnations and prepared the invitation designs. Kitty liked to get involved with the charities and had spent many endless hours helping to plan and organize events, parties, walk-a-thons and an assortment of things. All in an endeavor to generate much needed financial support to the causes she believed in.

  She was running a little behind schedule as she made her way down the crowded road. Her heart raced the closer she got to the all glass three-story car dealership. The building was as ultra-modern looking as it could get and they had orange trees blossoming inside. The smell of them filled the building with the sweetest fragrance. The luxury import dealership had an exclusive clientele, and to even get on that list was a feat in itself. Nevertheless, Mr. Mario Giovanni had been an extremely close friend of her father and she didn’t have to worry about lists.

  Kitty walked into the dealership and Mario lifted his head from his latte and smiled a warm, welcoming greeting. His deeply tanned skin was accented nicely by his salt and pepper hair. He kept his appearance in the same manner as his business—up-to-date and in style.

  “Kitty! Good morning,” Mario exclaimed in his thick Italian accent.

  “Good morning, Mario. Is it ready?” She didn’t hesitate with further pleasantries. Her excitement reminded her of her younger years before her family had died.

  “Yes, I’ll ring the back and have them bring it around front for you. Now we have a few papers for you to sign, and of course, we need your uncle’s signature on them as well,” he said as he looked around her to the door with a questioning expression on his face.

  “Yes, he should be in momentarily,” she told him. She couldn’t wait for the day she no longer required his signature on the things she wanted.

  “Cafe mocha latte?” Mario asked.

  “Yes, please, that would be delightful.”

  “Ginnie, please get Miss Callaghan her latte and bring it to the office,” he told his assistant and secretary.

  “Right away, Mr. Giovanni,” the short-haired brunette said before she walked to the small kitchenette area at the back of the room. Like everything else there, Ginnie was new, exotic and beautiful.

  Mr. Giovanni’s assistant looked as if she’d walked out of a centerfold. She was tall, leggy and all curves. The kind of woman she figured men liked. Kitty was a little jealous. At five-foot-three and a little on the thin side, she thought she kind of looked like a teenage boy. Her butt was small and her breasts, well, they weren’t a hallmark of her figure. An A cup was a little bit too tight, but a B was a tiny bit too big. With thin legs and arms, she looked scrawnier than anything else.

  Her eyes, though, she liked. They were a silvery-blue and big. Her hair she could say at least wasn’t unruly. It sat pin straight down her back. She had an overabundance of it and had wanted to get it cut, but Gregory wouldn’t let her. It sat around her waist and was a deep honey-blonde. The hair was something else she planned on getting rid of the day after her twenty-first birthday. Kitty had already made the appointment to get it cut right to the nape of her neck.

  “Please, this way, Kitty. I can’t wait for you to see the office. They finally finished after a month and a half of delays,” Mario told her as he guided her to his office upstairs. It overlooked the posh all-glass encased showroom floors.

  The custom-made furnishings and finely-decorated space of the recent renovations was a statement of decadence, and they’d done a wonderful job.

  “It looks absolutely divine, Mario,” Kitty said.

  She admired the artwork and clean, crisp lines of the furnishings. It was ultra--modern with steel, chrome and glass tables. His large desk looked to be made to match the room. However, its top had a black shiny marble slab on it. The walls had glass covered boxes, which showcased his collection of miniature scale cars. Each one was sent to him from the manufacturers of his luxury imports.

  Kitty sat in one of the sleek chairs. She realized although it was a wonderful look for this place, it wasn’t something she’d want for herself.

  “Your latte, Miss Callaghan. Can I get you anything else?” Ginnie asked as she set her cup down.

  “No, I’m good, thank you.”

  “Oh, I see your uncle has arrived,” Mario said with some distaste. “Ginnie, please escort the gentleman in.”

  They watched as Gregory eyed the room before he came and sat beside her. He was nothing like her father. Where her dad had been a tall thin man with genteel social graces, her step-uncle was not. Average height, stocky build and faded brown hair. He had an air of demand about him. He’d come from an upper-middle class family, and his father had married Kitty’s grandmother when her father was in university. There had been a ten-year age difference between Gregory and her dad, and they hadn’t liked each other.

  She held her breath as he read the paperwork for the car. If he saw his name wasn’t on the registration this time, he might not sign it. He looked at her, raising an eyebrow, then at Mario.

  “Looks good. Where do I sign?” he asked as he held his hand out for a pen.

  “Here…here…and let’s see…yes, here,” Mario told him.

  After Gregory signed, he stood and walked around the room. He seemed to be admiring all the mini cars in the glass displays.

  “Now, Kitty, you need to sign it as well,” Mario said. She felt butterflies in her stomach. Gregory had said nothing about the registration.

  “Excellent. Now, Kitty, if you don’t mind, I can tell you about your warranty and such.” Mario proceeded to go into the details of her car’s warranty and maintenance schedules.

  A loud crashing sound had both of them staring at Gregory. He stood in the remains of a smashed glass case that had held a mini Viper. The glass shards were scattered all around his feet and the car lay on its side. Its hardwood base hung from one L bracket on the wall. The other had skidded across the floor. Kitty saw blood. He’d cut his hand and deep red rivulets ran down his fingers onto the floor.

  * * * *

  Kitty sat for six hours in the emergency room before Gregory was stitched up and ready to go. Now as they packed the SUV for the weekend trip, she thought about faking being sick. However, he’d just stay home and he’d already given the staff the weekend off. At least at the ski lodge there would be other people.

  “Can you put my briefcase in the front?” Gregory asked as he babied his hand.

  “Yes,” she said gloomily.

  “So do you want me to drive? It’s a three-hour trip. You looked tired.”

  It had her giving him a weird look. Gregory had never been concerned about her tiredness before. He acted strangely, and she didn’t like it.

  “No, I’ll be fine. If I get tired I’ll let you take over,” she told him as she got behind the wheel.

  The drive was long and quiet. They were nearly halfway there as she began to drift off to sleep. She shook her head and rolled down the window to get some of the cold mountain air into her lungs to help wake her up. Gregory’s cell phone light flashed. It irritated her as he texted someone.

  “Gregory, can you please stop texting. The light is very distracting. Besides, what’s so important you need to text someone this late at night,” Kitty said as she slowed down to make the next sharp turn.

  “Oh, sorry. That’s a new business partner. We’re about to embark on a most lucrative business contract.” He shifted in his seat, moving it back. He was having a hard time with it, as the bandage wrapped around the nasty “C” shaped cut from the broken glass was a bit bulky. The doctor had told him he needed to remove it and let the air get at the stitches after a few hours, but Gregory was being a baby about taking it off.

  They d
rove in silence for another ten minutes, and as she turned another bend, she could make out a minivan broken down on the side of the road. A woman stood beside it, waving her arms.

  “Pull over,” Gregory told her.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “It’s just a woman.” The way he said it made him sound so sexist.

  “All right.”

  “I’ll get out and see if they need help. I’ll leave my cell in the car with you,” he said as she pulled up behind the van.

  “Okay, but I’m leaving the car running.” It was dark with no street lights, and it was a bit creepy.

  Kitty watched as he walked to the front and then could just hear them talking, but not what they said. The woman had her hood propped open and Gregory looked to be investigating the situation. He poked his head out so she could see him.

  “Bring me my cell. This poor lady needs to call her babysitter to let her know what’s going on,” he said.

  Gregory acted weirder and weirder. Her birthday coming up made her believe he tried to get on her good side so he wouldn’t be completely cut off from her wealth. She grabbed the phone and got out, then took three steps. She heard a scuffle and saw Gregory fall to the ground. Out of nowhere a hand wrapped around her mouth. She struggled as something stung her hip. Everything became foggy very fast as she felt herself being lifted and carried toward the van.

  * * * *

  Just two days before this had gone down, Caleb had made a cage from chain-link fence to house his captive. He stared at her tied to the cot in the small enclosure and thought the one word that best described her was fragile. She wore a heavy gray wool skirt and black knee-high winter boots. The white blouse she wore was fitted, and her black jacket he’d rolled up and placed under her head after he’d cleaned out the pockets. As he removed her boots, he felt the warmth of her flesh as he ran his finger along her leg. Caleb wanted this to go down without a hitch. If it didn’t the girl could get hurt or even killed.

  He took the boots with him when he left and locked the chain-link door just in case she somehow got the bindings off. Before heading upstairs to the main floor of the old farmhouse, which the inside man had supplied for the job, he turned the heat up a little more. It was kind of chilly in the basement, and he felt bad for not having the foresight to have a blanket for her. The banks weren’t open this weekend for the kind of access they needed. He’d have to wait forty-eight hours before he could call in the kidnapping, and he didn’t think the heaters would be enough to adequately warm the basement.

  He stepped into the kitchen and saw his two partners at the table. Henderson had tried to scrub the makeup off of his face and the dress he’d worn lay on the floor. Now only clad in his boxers, Caleb sized him up again. Short, thin and his face kind of looked similar to a weasel. He didn’t like him much and would be glad when he and the other man left. The other partner, Mr. Trites, was a beefier man in his late thirties. He wore tailored clothes and his hair was well-kept.

  Caleb walked over to the fridge and grabbed a beer. He listened to the two men as they discussed some overseas accounts and a charity fund. Apparently, Miss Callaghan was about to offload a lot of money into nearly three hundred charities.

  “So do you two plan on staying here tonight?” Caleb asked as he lowered his bottle from his lips.

  “Um…no,” Henderson said.

  The look of distaste on both their faces made him laugh out loud. “Well, one of you needs to bring food. Both me and the girl need to eat…she’ll need clothes to change into as well.”

  “Clothes? Why? What are you planning on doing to her?” Henderson asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “None of your business, Henderson.” Caleb growled, then took another drink of his beer.

  “She’s not supposed to get hurt,” Henderson said.

  “Don’t worry it won’t hurt,” he said with a smile.

  The look of utter horror on Henderson’s face was worth the lies he said. Mr. Trites, however, surprised him. He almost looked jealous at the prospect of Caleb taking the girl. The smell of the other man’s arousal bothered Caleb, and that didn’t sit well with him. Although the man was the ringleader on this job, he made a mental note to keep Trites away from the girl.

  “I won’t touch her, Henderson, but she can’t stay in those clothes. Bring me some gym pants and warm sweaters for her. The basement is too cold for her to stay dressed like that.”

  “Make sure you don’t touch her,” Trites warned.

  “I’m not stupid,” he retorted back. The two men didn’t stay much longer after that. Henderson seemed a little more reluctant to leave, though.

  * * * *

  Two hours had passed before Henderson returned with supplies. As Caleb watched him leave he saw the beginnings of heavy snow falling on the ground. He put the bags on the counter and went through them. Toiletries and a change of clothes were in one and food was in the other two. The man had sent six different sets of gym suits and a pair of warm slippers. After he put everything away, he went down to the basement. Although the farmhouse was old, someone at one time had put a foundation under it and had separated it into several rooms. Headed to what he’d assumed was a small storage room, Caleb could make out noises coming from behind the closed wooden door.

  He paused, taking a few deep breaths. He’d never done this before. Sure he’d hired himself out as a mercenary, but never had he’d kidnapped someone. Henderson had dangled the carrot in front of him and he’d chased it. It would get his brother out of prison. The deal was set with a judge to have him overturn the bogus conviction once he was paid. Henderson had worked it all out beforehand. Caleb knew he and his brother would be the scapegoats for this if anything went wrong. He pulled the ski mask over his face, unlocked the door and stepped inside.

  Chapter Three

  Kitty was cold, her head pounded and she couldn’t see. She tried to move, but found her hands were tied and she was gagged as well. Her struggles to get free only hurt both her wrists and head. She tried to focus on listening instead and heard footsteps getting nearer. Her heart pounded in her ears. Terror gripped her as a door creaked opened and then it sounded as if a lock was being undone. The squeak of something, which reminded her of a park gate parting, filled her ears.

  Sudden blinding light filled her vision. Tears streamed down her cheeks. It took a second before it cleared and she saw a huge man standing over her. He wore a black sweater and combat pants. She stared at his empty shoulder holster, and her gaze drifted to the gun in his leather-gloved hand. His face was hidden under a balaclava. He tilted it to one side as he stared down at her.

  He gently pulled the gag from her mouth and then moved to the bindings on her wrists. He struggled a little with them. “You tightened them more when you tried to get loose,” he told her. The man’s voice had a deep bass. She locked gazes with his gray eyes.

  “What do you want from me?” she asked. Her voice sounded very small even to herself.

  “Relax, I’m not going to hurt you. You just need to stay here for a few days.” The last knot came out of her bindings and her wrists fell limply onto the cot. “I’m sorry. Let the blood get back into them and they won’t feel so heavy.”

  Pins and needles ran along her limbs as she laid there. Her terror caused her to remain silent as she stared up at the man.

  “Get up slowly,” he ordered, gesturing with the gun.

  Slowly she stood. Kitty slumped a little and quickly sat back on the cot. The room spun, and she felt lightheaded as her blood pounded in her ears.

  “Hey, are you all right?” he asked.

  She stared at the man pointing a gun at her in a cage inside what appeared to be a basement. “No!” Her voice trembled. She thought that was a foolish question.

  “Here, let me help you.” He gently took her by the arm, helping her to stand. “Can you walk?”

  “I think so.” She was confused as this masked man treated her with kid gloves.

 
“I’m gonna take you upstairs where it’s warm and you can have something to eat,” he said as he guided her out of the room and up the wooden stairs.

  Kitty looked the kitchen over and could tell it was an old house that had been redone at some point in the last twenty years. He guided her to a chair with wooden arms and made her sit.

  “Here, put this around your left wrist and zip it tight enough so you can’t get your hand loose.” He passed her a plastic zip tie.

  “Please…I.”

  “Now, little one,” he said very firmly. “I don’t want to be rough with you.”

  “Don’t hurt me…please.” She whimpered and tied her left wrist with the zip tie until it felt securely in place against the armrest.

  The man grabbed the tie and checked it. He seemed to be pleased with its security, and turned and walked to the fridge, holstering his gun as he did. Her tiny arms made it easy to slip herself free the second his back was turned.

  “Beer?” he asked.

  She heard the clink of bottles, then the shattering of glass on the kitchen floor as she assumed he must have turned around and saw her gone from the chair. She bolted out the door, which she’d ever so quietly opened while he’d had his head in the fridge. She heard him race after her. He cursed something in an almost animalistic growl as her pantyhose-covered feet landed in the snow and she ran blindly into the swirling darkness of the snowstorm.

  Kitty was freezing without a jacket, boots or anything else to protect her from the elements. She stumbled and fell into the snow. Scrambling, she made it to her feet and ran again. She couldn’t see anything behind her let alone in front of her, and knew if she couldn’t see him, he wouldn’t be able to find her. She ran into something that caught in her skirt. It cut into her hands as she tried to free herself. It felt like a barbed-wire fence as she crawled over it, cutting her arms and legs as she did. The fear filling her momentarily kept her from feeling the pain.