Taken Read Free

an older woman stopped her by the elevator and asked her if everything was all right.
    “My husband. I can’t find my husband,” she muttered.
    The woman gave her a pitying smile. “Story of my life. He’ll come back when he runs out of money, honey.
    They all do.”
    “He’s not gambling. It’s our wedding night. He went to get ice.” Kayla entered the next elevator, leaving the woman and her disbelieving expression behind. She didn’t care what that woman thought. Kayla knew Nick wouldn’t gamble away their wedding night. He wouldn’t do that to her. But when she returned to her room, it was as empty as when she’d left it.
    She didn’t know what to do. She sat back down to wait.
    When the clock struck midnight, and Nick had been gone for almost five hours, Kayla called the front desk and told them her husband was missing. The hotel sent up George Benedict, an older man who worked for hotel security. After discussing her situation, he assured her they would look for Nick, but there was something in his expression that told her they wouldn’t look too hard. It was obvious to Kayla that Mr. Benedict thought Nick was either downstairs gambling and had lost track of time or he had skipped out on her, plain and simple. Neither explanation made sense to her.
    Kayla didn’t sleep all night. In her mind she ran through TA K E N
    7
    a dozen possible scenarios of what could have happened to Nick. Maybe he’d been robbed, hit over the head, knocked unconscious. Maybe he was sitting in a hospital right now with amnesia, not knowing who he was. She hoped to God it wasn’t worse than that. No news had to be good news, right?
    Finally, she curled up in a chair by the window, watching the moon go down and the sun come up over the lake.
    It was the longest night of her life.
    A knock came at the door just before nine o’clock in the morning. She ran to open it, hoping she’d see Nick in the hallway, wearing a sheepish smile, offering some crazy explanation.
    It wasn’t Nick. It was the security guy from the night before, George Benedict. His expression was serious, his eyes somber.
    Putting a hand to her suddenly racing heart, she said,
    “What’s happened?”
    He held up a black tuxedo jacket. A now limp and wilted red rose boutonniere hung from the lapel. “We found this in a men’s room off the lobby. Is it your husband’s jacket?”
    “I . . . I think so. I don’t understand. Where’s Nick?”
    “We don’t know yet, but this was in the pocket.” He held out his hand, a solid gold wedding band in his palm.
    She took the ring from him, terrified when she read the simple inscription on the inside of the band, FOREVER
    LOVE, the same words that were engraved on her wedding ring. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak.
    This was Nick’s ring, the one she’d slipped on his finger when she’d vowed to spend the rest of her life with him. “No,” she breathed.
    “I’ve seen it happen before,” the older man said 8
    Barbara Freethy
    gently. “A hasty marriage in a casino chapel, second thoughts . . .”
    She saw the pity in his eyes, and she couldn’t accept it.
    “You’re wrong. You have to be wrong. Nick loved me.
    He wanted to get married. It was his idea. His idea,” she repeated desperately.
    She closed her hand around the ring, her fingers tightening into a fist. Her husband had not run out on her . . .
    had he?

    1
    Two weeks later
    Nick Granville was happy to be home. He hadn’t left his heart in San Francisco, as the song went, but he had missed the city of narrow, steep streets and sweeping bay vistas. As he set down his suitcases on the gleaming hardwood floor in the living room of his two-story house, he drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out. While the past three months spent in the jungles of Africa had been spectacular, engineering bridges in remote parts of the world had taught him to appreciate the simple pleasures in life, like a hot shower, a good cup of coffee, and a soft