Taken! Alphabet Series - 26 Original Taken! Tales (Donald Wells' Taken! Series Book 14) Read Online Free
Author: Donald Wells
Tags: detective, Suspense, Thrillers, Women Sleuths, Mystery
man.
The man was in his mid-thirties, slim and tall, with dark hair and eyes. He was standing in the corner near the call buttons, and he watched the numbers descend on the overhead display panel with great interest.
On the thirty-eighth floor, the elevator came to a stop and chimed its arrival. When the doors opened, there were two men in suits, holding briefcases, waiting to get on. As the men were about to step inside the car, a voice cried out.
“Police! Step away from the elevator!”
He looked past the two men and saw a cop running down the hall, much as the man beside him had done moments earlier. The men in the suits backed away from the elevator and gawked at the galloping police officer with the gun in his hand. When the cop was twenty feet away, the doors began closing and so great was the cop’s desire to enter the elevator that he could feel it shudder as the man slammed against the now tightly shut doors.
As the elevator again traveled downward, he looked at his companion and saw that he too now carried a weapon.
He was in Boston.
He had been in the law offices of Levy, Aaron, Roman & Childs. The criminal attorney, Jeff Roman, was also a fight promoter, and the man who had given him his start in the sport of Premium Fighting, a sport in which he was now the undisputed champion.
He had begun fighting professionally more than a year ago and rose up the ranks of the fledgling sport in a meteoric manner that left no doubt that he would one day be the one to beat. A week ago, in an anticlimactic match, he defended his title for the third time by beating his opponent in less than four minutes.
He had become the best there was in a tough sport and now he was walking away from it to pursue another, more traditional, route to success.
He was starting his own company, and today he met with an intellectual property attorney as a first move at gaining a patent for an invention.
After looking over the software he developed, the patent attorney assured him that he should have little problem gaining financial backing, and that given the usefulness and uniqueness of his design, that he could also sell it outright if he wished and expect six figures.
All this, and he was still a week shy of his twentieth birthday.
The man pointed the gun at him.
“Be cool, kid, all I want to do is get the hell out of this building.”
“What have you done?”
“Nothing, I’m an innocent man.”
“That cop didn’t seem to think so.”
The elevator continued down without stopping, an almost unheard of occurrence in a building as busy as this one, and he assumed that the authorities were now in control of the machine.
As they approached the bottom, the elevator began to slow and the man hunkered down near the floor while screaming at him to get into the opposite corner.
He complied, not out of obedience, but out of common sense. If the doors opened upon a cadre of agitated police officers, the last place he wanted to be was in the line of fire.
PING! went the elevator as the doors opened up on a lobby that earlier was bustling with activity, but that now looked deserted, as the polished marble floors reflected the strobe of the red and blue lights of the police cars parked out front.
The man with the gun began breathing faster as he mashed the buttons on the elevator to no use, and the doors stayed firmly open.
A deep voice echoed across the lobby, magnified by a bullhorn.
“Williams! This is the police! Let your hostage go and then come out with your hands in the air!”
“Damn it!” Williams said. He was standing as far into the corner of the elevator as he could get, and held his gun arm up and ready.
“How do I know you won’t shoot me once I let the kid go?”
“Nobody has to get hurt here, but if you don’t let the hostage go, then we’ll be forced to come in after you. Face the facts, Williams, you’re trapped.”
Williams shook his head.
“No, me and the kid come out together. That way I know
The man was in his mid-thirties, slim and tall, with dark hair and eyes. He was standing in the corner near the call buttons, and he watched the numbers descend on the overhead display panel with great interest.
On the thirty-eighth floor, the elevator came to a stop and chimed its arrival. When the doors opened, there were two men in suits, holding briefcases, waiting to get on. As the men were about to step inside the car, a voice cried out.
“Police! Step away from the elevator!”
He looked past the two men and saw a cop running down the hall, much as the man beside him had done moments earlier. The men in the suits backed away from the elevator and gawked at the galloping police officer with the gun in his hand. When the cop was twenty feet away, the doors began closing and so great was the cop’s desire to enter the elevator that he could feel it shudder as the man slammed against the now tightly shut doors.
As the elevator again traveled downward, he looked at his companion and saw that he too now carried a weapon.
He was in Boston.
He had been in the law offices of Levy, Aaron, Roman & Childs. The criminal attorney, Jeff Roman, was also a fight promoter, and the man who had given him his start in the sport of Premium Fighting, a sport in which he was now the undisputed champion.
He had begun fighting professionally more than a year ago and rose up the ranks of the fledgling sport in a meteoric manner that left no doubt that he would one day be the one to beat. A week ago, in an anticlimactic match, he defended his title for the third time by beating his opponent in less than four minutes.
He had become the best there was in a tough sport and now he was walking away from it to pursue another, more traditional, route to success.
He was starting his own company, and today he met with an intellectual property attorney as a first move at gaining a patent for an invention.
After looking over the software he developed, the patent attorney assured him that he should have little problem gaining financial backing, and that given the usefulness and uniqueness of his design, that he could also sell it outright if he wished and expect six figures.
All this, and he was still a week shy of his twentieth birthday.
The man pointed the gun at him.
“Be cool, kid, all I want to do is get the hell out of this building.”
“What have you done?”
“Nothing, I’m an innocent man.”
“That cop didn’t seem to think so.”
The elevator continued down without stopping, an almost unheard of occurrence in a building as busy as this one, and he assumed that the authorities were now in control of the machine.
As they approached the bottom, the elevator began to slow and the man hunkered down near the floor while screaming at him to get into the opposite corner.
He complied, not out of obedience, but out of common sense. If the doors opened upon a cadre of agitated police officers, the last place he wanted to be was in the line of fire.
PING! went the elevator as the doors opened up on a lobby that earlier was bustling with activity, but that now looked deserted, as the polished marble floors reflected the strobe of the red and blue lights of the police cars parked out front.
The man with the gun began breathing faster as he mashed the buttons on the elevator to no use, and the doors stayed firmly open.
A deep voice echoed across the lobby, magnified by a bullhorn.
“Williams! This is the police! Let your hostage go and then come out with your hands in the air!”
“Damn it!” Williams said. He was standing as far into the corner of the elevator as he could get, and held his gun arm up and ready.
“How do I know you won’t shoot me once I let the kid go?”
“Nobody has to get hurt here, but if you don’t let the hostage go, then we’ll be forced to come in after you. Face the facts, Williams, you’re trapped.”
Williams shook his head.
“No, me and the kid come out together. That way I know
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