Taken By Force (Taken Trilogy Book 2) Read online

  TAKEN BY FORCE

  By Jessica Frances

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2013 Jessica Frances

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

  http://www.facebook.com/pages/Jessica-Frances-Author

  Cover Design by MGBookcovers

  Editing by C&D Editing

  Taken By Surprise – Book 1

  Taken By Force – Book 2

  ZOE HOLLOWAY

  Chapter 1 – The Tree

  Boston, Massachusetts

  December 20th (Zoe age 12)

  “Zee, you still haven’t gotten a Christmas tree yet?” Dana gasps as we walk into my house, closing the door behind us and shutting the cool wind out.

  “I told you, Mom hates all things Christmas. That was her and Frank’s thing,” I explain to her for at least the hundredth time. I shake off my coat and leave my sludge covered boots by the door. The snow has all but melted outside, however a bad storm is coming and promising to make up for the lull that has been December.

  “That’s not really fair on you. Christmas is the best time of year.”

  I shrug, sitting down leisurely on the couch. I’m exhausted from school and my one condolence is it’s over until after New Year’s now.

  “Come on, you have to love Christmas. I can’t be best friends with someone who doesn’t even like it.”

  “I suppose getting presents is pretty cool,” I compromise.

  “That’s one great thing, but there are so much more!”

  “Really? Like what?” I watch her eyes light up as she thinks about her favorite time of year.

  “Like decorating the tree, watching all the Christmas lights, sitting in front of a warm fire while eating marshmallows every night—”

  “You don’t even have a fireplace,” I interrupt and roll my eyes at her.

  “So? I can imagine what it’s like. The night before Christmas is the best; you can feel the magic in the air. Santa is coming.” I found out last year that there’s no such thing as Santa.

  Mom had been so devastated after Frank died that when I brought him up she snapped at me that he wasn’t real. I had been shocked when she told me, but when you think about it, of course Santa isn’t real. How does he make it to every household? How does he know what every child in the world wants? How does he keep track of who’s naughty and who’s nice? It’s simply not possible.

  Mom apologized afterwards and tried to pretend she had lied, but I knew she had finally told me the truth. I also realized that most of my classmates didn’t know it yet, or at least they were happy to not think about it too closely. I felt like I got older a lot faster than most kids when Dad walked out on us, and when Frank died last year, I felt ten times older than everyone else in my grade. Finding out Santa wasn’t real was now just another reason I was different from everyone else because I didn’t get to believe in magic anymore.

  “Have you been good this year?” I ask her, careful not to show any doubt on my face. Dana can read me like a book and everyone knows what Dana does best is read books. I don’t want her to lose the magic, not yet anyway. If she is thirty and still believing, then I guess I will have to sit her down and talk. Until then, Santa is real and so is magic.

  “I’ve made my bed every day this year. There were one or two days I forgot, but Mom promised me he would understand. I put away all my pocket money this year, too, and I’m going to donate it to charity. I talked to Mom about it and she was really proud.”

  “Which charity?”

  “I’m going to give it to the dog shelter. Mom said loads of dogs are abandoned at Christmas time. It’s so horrible.”

  “I wish I had some money to give, too.” I frown, knowing I spend any pocket money I earn as fast as I get it.

  “You’re so sweet, Zee; that’s why we’re best friends. That’s another reason to love Christmas, everyone is really nice and people do things for other people for no reason. Mom calls it the Christmas Spirit.”

  “You really do love this whole Christmas thing?”

  “Of course I do. I have an idea.” Dana has that look in her eyes that speaks of mischief and perhaps even mayhem.

  “What? It isn’t doing our homework straight away so you’ll have time to read whatever books you get for Christmas, is it?” I groan. Last year Dana had that brilliant idea. That is usually her idea of mischief.

  “No, silly, we can do homework tomorrow.” Dana rolls her eyes at me while I groan again. “Today is about Christmas and the spirit. You need to get some and I know how we’ll do it. Do you have tree decorations here?”

  “Why would we need them? We don’t even have a tree.” I frown at her, hoping she isn’t thinking what I fear she is thinking.

  “Of course you have a tree; you have loads of them outside!” Dana smiles sweetly at me.

  “It’s freezing outside; you can’t be serious,” I complain, hugging my sweater tighter to me, knowing I won’t win this fight.

  “It’ll be fun. Come on.” Dana pouts, and it’s the one that gets her parents to do anything for her.

  “It won’t be much fun when we electrocute ourselves,” I point out, already sitting up from the couch and getting ready to give in to her.

  “Trust me, it’ll be magical.”

  I sigh dramatically, but knowing Dana all too well, I know she won’t stop begging, and since we have at least an hour until Mom gets home, I figure I might as well give in now.

  I find all of our Christmas decorations in the spare room, which houses all of Frank’s old things that Mom hasn’t wanted to throw out. It makes me sad to see so much of his personal things simply sitting here collecting dust. Mom refuses to come in here now; another reason we don’t usually do much about Christmas. This will be my second Christmas without Frank. I have so many happy memories with him, even when Mom was with Dad.

  He was Dad’s best friend and he didn’t have family nearby, so he used to stay with us. Dad would drink heavily at Christmas time, I honestly don’t remember much about him because he was always passed out, but Frank would drive me around so we could look at all the lights around our neighborhood. He helped decorate the house, and when Dad left, he made sure Christmas was special. It’s the reason Mom doesn’t like Christmas now and probably why I don’t, either. I don’t like remembering him because it makes me feel sad.

  “Wow, there’s loads of things in here.” Dana opens up the box marked ‘X-mas’ and pulls out large clumps of tinsel.

  “Yeah, come on, let’s bring it out.” The walls begin to feel like they’re closing in on me and I suddenly want out of this room.

  I help Dana carry the box into the sitting room and we rummage through it.

  “This is so awesome and these all look brand new,” Dana exclaims.

  “Are you serious about decorating a tree outside?” I frown at her again. It’s cold inside, no telling how cold it’ll be outside, and while it’s not snowing now, I can feel it coming in the air. It’s close.

  “Absolutely. You need a tree, Zee.”

  “Fine, but when my mom asks us whose idea this was, you speak up and own it.” I give Dana a stern look, feeling like this isn’t going to go over well with Mom at all.

  “She’ll love it!” she confidently states.

  “I hope so.”

  So we go outside, pick the closest tree to the backdoor and set about decorating it. Dana puts on Christmas lights first and then we decorate around it. I’ve never done this before. Frank had always finished it before I got home from school. He said
he wanted to see my reaction when I saw it all done. It never really occurred to me that I could help him decorate it. This is fun, though. Soon I don’t feel the cold and the wind dies out over our laughter.

  We skip around the tree, bringing tinsel with us. I giggle as I trap Dana in with it and she laughs when I get glitter stuck all through my hair. When we’re finished, we stand back to admire our work. It might have been a little too many decorations and a bit hard to even realize there is a tree underneath, but I definitely think we could have a future in decorating Christmas trees. Is there even a job for that?

  “Ready?” Dana asks me. A light blanket of snow has started to fall and we take the extension cord with us as we run inside. The darkening clouds overhead provide us with perfect Christmas tree lighting.

  “Ready.” I watch the tree, eagerly waiting for the lights to come on.

  Dana jams the plug inside the hole and quickly jumps away as a zap of light flashes from the plug.

  “Are you okay?” I rush over to her.

  “Yeah it was just a small shock, nothing really.” Dana holds her hand close to her chest and we both look out into the backyard to see nothing has happened. No lights are flashing.

  “We must have done it wrong.” I frown as the snow comes down faster.

  “Let’s leave it for now, we’ll look at it later.” Dana walks away, looking disheartened.

  “We’ll just watch some TV.” I quickly take the remote, hoping to steer her away from thinking that doing homework will be a good idea.

  I click the ‘on’ button, but it doesn’t work. I press the button on the actual TV, but still nothing happens.

  “Are you sure you’re pressing the right button? It’s pretty dark in here.” Dana moves over to the light switch and flicks it, only nothing comes on.

  I rush into our kitchen to find everything electrical appears dead. No digital times are flashing at me from anywhere.

  “Do you think it’s a blackout?”

  “You mean at the exact same time as we plug in inside Christmas lights that we’ve put on outside in the snow?” I groan.

  “Oh…” Dana looks worried.

  “Remember, your idea.” I smile sweetly at her.

  Chapter 2 – The Anger

  Jacksonville, Florida

  December 8th

  My alarm rings loudly in my ear and I slam my hand down on it to shut it off. I’m already wide awake. I have been for hours. I don’t remember the last time I had a decent sleep. Well I do, it was when I was with Charlie. Seeing my best friend murdered in front of me by a guy I had sort of liked and then being kidnapped is enough to make anyone lose a lot of sleep. Instead I was able to feel calm and safe with Charlie.

  Ever since we parted ways, though, I’ve been uneasy and nervous. I know I’m being paranoid. That no one is watching me, but still, I’m scared and angry and definitely moody.

  After Will, Rose, Charlie and I separated, I got stuck with Joel in Florida. I knew that I could never actually like Joel again, not with what happened between him and Dana, yet I didn’t realize I was capable of feeling so much hate towards him. Merely seeing him breathing makes me want to throttle him. I’m beginning to hate Florida, too.

  Add in how much I hate myself for what happened to Dana and I’m living with a lot of hate and anger these days. It’s exhausting, and it’s not going to stop until, at the very least, I get away from Joel. He killed Dana. It doesn’t matter to me that he was being driven crazy by future dreams, it doesn’t matter to me that he is sorry or that he hates himself. I don’t care that I hear him screaming most nights from his nightmares. I don’t even care enough to ask him if they’re from seeing Dana’s dead body or the torture P.A.G.E. did to him when he was held captive at The Windmill. I simply don’t care. Staying with him has been a mistake. I just know it, but I haven’t moved out. I promised the others I wouldn’t and it’s only four more months until I’ll see Charlie again. We said one year apart before he would come for me. It’s my only reason for keeping my promise.

  Jacksonville is driving me crazy. Summer here is horrific; I’ve never felt so hot in my life. It isn’t even the temperature, it was just that it was so constant and it went for months on end. No break. I lived by the fan in my room. My skin burned and browned and I don’t like it. I stayed indoors as much as I could, but since I don’t have a car and I had to get to work, most days I was stuck out in the heat waiting for buses.

  I miss Boston more than anything, however I know deep down, that I’m dreading the day I have to go back there. Dana was like my sister, she was family and nothing will be the same without her. Every memory I have of home, I have with her. I won’t even be able to look at a lamp post without remembering a moment between Dana and me. It’s daunting. It almost makes putting up with the heat bearable, almost.

  My dreams, which have landed me in this situation, have been practically dormant. I’ve seen quick images of the others, in what I assume are their new lives, but mostly it’s hazy. The more I try to concentrate on them, the less I see. It’s frustrating. The one time in my life I’ve wanted to see my future and I get nothing. I try not to worry that this is something foreboding. Just because I haven’t dreamt of the future lately doesn’t mean something bad is going to happen.

  I’ve seen that kiss between Charlie and me; I have to believe that it’s real. That hadn’t been merely a regular dream. It has to be us in the future. Sometimes, when I close my eyes to go to sleep, I can feel him near me. It feels like, if I just reach out my hand, I’d feel him lying next to me. Those nights are the only nights I manage to get to sleep, but it’s never for long.

  I miss him. I’ve only ever had one boyfriend before and nothing about him felt special. Something about Charlie does, though. I’ve never missed a guy before, not like this. Maybe it’s because of the crazy circumstances we met and started liking each other in. I don’t know. All I do know is that I wish he was here.

  It’s a comfort to miss Charlie because, when I think about him, it gives me a break from thinking about Dana. Images of her dying in front of me appear to be burned into the backs of my eyelids and I’m continually assaulted by that memory any time, day or night. I try to remember her smile, her laugh, her voice, yet it’s often all wiped away and the only thing my mind can focus on is her bleeding out in my arms.

  I’ve cried so many tears these past few months that my eyes look permanently swollen. I’ve taken a very low care factor approach to my appearance and eating regularly hasn’t been a priority of mine. As a result, I look awful. My hair is always greasy and full of split ends, my clothes are loose and bland, and my eyes dark and sullen. I’m always covered up, but when I shower, I see how skinny I look. My bottom ribs are starting to show, my hips stick out too much and my shoulders and elbows stand out from my thin arms. I’ve always been on the thin side, but this is too much. I hate myself; body, soul and mind. I know I’ll have to make an effort soon, not just because in four long months Charlie will be here, but because I’m killing myself.

  I roll off my bed and sit up, trying to psych myself up for a hearty breakfast. So far, I haven’t had my appetite ruined by any horrible images, so perhaps I can manage something.

  I shiver when I get another sensation of being watched. I look around my room. My curtains are drawn on the small window and my lamp is turned down low so my room is only dimly lit. I know I’m being paranoid. Ever since we escaped The Windmill and went on the run, I’ve felt watched. Knowing P.A.G.E. wants to use us to fight a war scares the hell out of me. I’m already haunted by images of Dana’s death, what else do they want me to see in a war? Not only will I be tormented by future dreams of death, but if they put me on the front line, I’ll be seeing it awake, too. I’m not capable of dealing with any of that. I can’t ever do what they want me to. I was born and raised to live a quiet, normal life. Not this action and suspense life that I’ve been dropped into.

  None of us really do; especially Will, he’s only a kid. Just bec
ause he’s strong and can heal exceptionally fast doesn’t mean he should be thrown into a war zone. Rose is an expert at computers and I assume they want her away from the front line and safely behind a computer screen, even though she is probably best suited to fight. She is the only reason we made it out of The Windmill successfully and the only reason we’ve made it this far on the run. She helped us set up new identities through the help of an online friend, and gave us all good advice. She would have rivaled Dana for inner strength.

  Charlie I’m not sure about. I know he’s strong and caring, but I can’t even contemplate him being put in a war zone, to have bullets and bombs aimed at him. The thought makes my heart stop in fear. I know it’s because I care about him, a lot. Ever since we met, I’ve felt a connection to him and it only grew stronger the longer we spent time together. My suppressed dreams and instincts pushed me towards him, and I found myself caring deeply for him. Thankfully, he seemed to feel something for me, too.

  I try to glimpse a future with him—try to see us living free of being on the run, free of P.A.G.E. chasing us—however every image I see of us is made up. It’s wishful thinking. There won’t ever be a time where we’re free. There is only one way for that to ever happen, and that is for the four of us to take on P.A.G.E. and somehow win. A feat that is so unlikely that we all decided to run when we left The Windmill. Taking on the rogue government agency will only get us all captured or killed.

  I shake away those terrifying thoughts and focus on getting changed for work. I found a job working at a used bookstore not long after we settled into Jackson. I don’t like the work, and being around books makes my heart ache for Dana, but for some reason, I can’t bring myself to quit. As much as it hurts being surrounded by Dana’s literary gods, I also feel closer to her.

  A few times I’ve picked up books I remember seeing her with and tried to read them. I find I don’t dislike reading as much as I used to. I sometimes think about buying some to take home, but a feeling that I’ll be moving soon keeps me from purchasing any. I usually work alone in the shop and often I do six days a week. The pay isn’t very good, and I open the store early in the morning only to end up staying to close it up at night, but it keeps me out of the apartment and away from Joel.