Justified Means (Book One) (The Agency Files)
Read Justified Means (Book One) (The Agency Files) Online
Authors: Chautona Havig
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
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All Scripture references are from the NASB. NASB passages are taken from the NEW AMERICAN STANDARD BIBLE (registered), Copyright 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation
I cannot express how grateful I am to have you for a neighbor and a friend. This book is for you.
~Lee~
Thanks to Lee for her wrinkle-free joke.
Table of Contents
Jarred from sleep, duct tape stretched over her mouth
, muffling Erika’s gasp. She struggled, but someone swiftly bound her hands, before wrapping rope around her body twice to keep her arms at her sides. The man with the rope wore nothing to hide his face, and the woman with him worked quickly and silently, pulling clothes from her closet and drawers before dumping them in Erika’s duffel bag.
Zip ties bound her feet together, and she wondered, illogically, why they hadn
’t used the duct tape for that too. Instinctively, she wanted to scream, fight, and flee but Erika knew it was useless. No one was home to hear, and she could never overpower two people while bound and gagged. Despite the utter ridiculousness of the idea, regardless of her mind fighting her to try it, her body screamed for her to try.
Emotions ranged from fear to confusion to anger.
What would they do with her? Could she hope that the presence of the woman meant she wouldn’t be physically assaulted? How dare they break into her home and take her like this! What could they want anyway? Her family wasn’t wealthy; she didn’t have a top-secret government job. Why would anyone want to abduct a coffee shop manager? She shuddered at the logical answer.
As the
questions raced through her mind, the man pointed toward the door and threw her over his shoulder. Craning her neck to see what was happening, Erika watched as the woman nodded, grabbed Erika’s bag, purse, and jacket, tousled her spiky hair, and walked calmly from the house swinging her things. Through the sheer curtains of the window, she stared fascinated as the woman tossed everything but the purse into the trunk of Erika’s 1992 Honda Prelude. She started the car, pealed out of the driveway, and raced down the residential street presumably toward the interstate.
“
So much for keeping quiet,”
Erika thought to herself.
Silently, the man carried her out the back door, locking the door after rearming the alarm system that obviously hadn
’t been much of a deterrent for him. He opened the back gate, slipped into the narrow walkway between back fences, closed the gate carefully behind him, carried her three houses down, and opened a gate to the backyard of the next street over.
The man moved quickly—each step a deliberate movement without any hesitation or strain—as if he carried bound women on a daily basis. Human trafficking? That thought made her shudder—again.
He hurried across the back yard, slipped into the garage from a side door, and loaded her gently onto the floor of a small mini-van with the first bench seat removed.
Once inside, he buckled himself, turned on an eighties rock station, and punched the garage door opener.
Slowly and casually, he backed into the street and drove off into the night. “I just want you to know, Erika; we’re not going to hurt you.”
She couldn
’t see him. She couldn’t answer. However, his words did little to reassure her. Who was “we?” How did “we” know her name? What did they want with her? And why did she have a sickening feeling that she’d never see her family again?
They drove for hours.
For a while, it felt as if they were climbing—possibly into the mountains—but it leveled sooner than she expected. Light slowly filled the sky outside the windows, giving her hope. With light, perhaps people could see her and help. The van stopped for gas, and Erika banged her feet against the floorboard, hoping to attract attention, but the sound of the man’s chuckle told her they were alone—no one near to hear.
As he jumped back into the vehicle, her abductor spoke.
“We’ll be there soon. Just hang tight.”
Suddenly, every foul word she
’d ever heard in her life bubbled up inside her. Erika rarely used coarse language; she considered it evidence of a weak vocabulary and lack of imagination, but at that second, had she been able to, she would have sworn enough to embarrass the toughest biker or gang banger. For the next forty minutes, she ran through every filthy word she could remember, created a few of her own, and decided that the language she’d created as a child needed a few obscenities as well.
Eventually, the van stopped.
As the van door opened, the pungent scent of pine and earth filled her nostrils. Carefully, the man pulled her from the floor, snipped the zip tie around her ankles, and helped her walk into a small log cabin that seemed completely surrounded by trees. She couldn’t even see where they’d entered the tiny clearing of a yard. Her green car sat near a pine tree, and Erika wondered—some sort of defense mechanism, she supposed—if sap would drip on it and ruin the paint. As if paint on a ten-year-old car was a concern anymore.
“
You took long enough!” The woman’s voice sounded impatient. “Her stuff is in there—food on the counter. Better get the perishable stuff in the fridge. I’ll call when I have news.”
Without another word, the woman grabbed the keys from
the man, hurried to the van, and seconds later, shot between trees that looked too close together to drive through. The man sat her on a chair and stared at her as though frustrated. “I don’t know how to get the tape off without hurting you.”
Erika glared at him.
There, lie one. He said they weren’t going to hurt her. She tried jerking her head telling him just to tear it off, but he stared at her confused. Carefully, he tugged at one corner but stopped when she winced.
“
I’m sorry, I don’t under—” He paused, watching as Erika jerked her head toward the bathroom. “Do you need in there? Let me get your hands.”
That was too easy.
He was really going to untie her? Erika ran through her self-protection course in her mind. Jab the nose, kick him into opera, and run. The sight of him placing a gun on the table next to him stopped those thoughts. She probably shouldn’t irritate someone who could likely run faster and shoot straight.