Abducted By My Father's Best Friend (Taken)

I know we have a time limit. I know soon Jeremy will be here and we’ll be making our plans on how to get back to the States and what comes next.

I don’t think Mia and I will come next. I think everything we’re sharing right here and right now will remain here in London, without us.

It makes me sad, just a little. It makes me long for her, even though she’s lying in my arms right now. It makes me fucking depressed that I can’t give her the life she deserves.

I want to, though.

I stand from our cocoon we’ve made on the living room floor and head into the kitchen. Mia follows me, wearing nothing but an old t-shirt I found in a drawer.

“You look good in my old clothes.”

She laughs. “I never would have taken you for a Metallica fan,” she tells me, looking down at her shirt.

“I like all music.”

“Really?” She pops up onto the granite countertop, and I move in between her legs.

“Yep. Everything.”

“Even country?”

I laugh. “Sure. I like some country music.”

She laughs harder. “No way. I can’t picture it.”

I turn around to face her, kissing her lips harder so she knows how much I love doing it. “You don’t think a guy like me would like country music?”

She shakes her head. “Nope.”

“Man loses his wife, dog, truck. What’s not to love?”

She laughs harder, tossing her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. “What are you going to cook for me?”

I smile against her lips. “Whatever you want that I have in the pantry.” I glance over toward the pantry, remembering we don’t have much of anything in this house. “We may have to go out.”

“Ooh, I’d like to do that.”

I kiss her again, my body growing hungry for her so soon after just having her. “Get dressed.”

She hops off the counter and rushes up the stairs to put her clothes back on.

“And while we’re out, we can grab a few things.” We need clothes and toiletries, and I need to make sure we have enough to stay here a few days if needed.

Once we’re both dressed, we head out the door and walk to a shopping area a few blocks away. We hold hands, mainly because I want everyone to know this beautiful woman is mine, but also to make sure we don’t lose each other in the crowds.

It’s busy. People mill about and I keep Mia close.

“What do you want for dinner?” I ask, after we’ve purchased a few outfits and toiletries.

“I saw a grill on the back patio. How about a juicy steak?”

I could easily fall in love right now. Most women I date eat salads and never want to eat anything that’s not on their fad diet. “I love it.”

We continue our shopping trip in a small market, picking out two sirloins to toss on the grill.

A bundle of broccoli catches my attention, and I let go of Mia’s hand for a second. When I turn around, she’s nowhere to be found.

“Mia,” I call out. “Mia.” I scan the crowd, not able to see her anywhere. “Mia,” I shout again.

I race down the aisle, checking each area for Mia. I’m about to become frantic when I spot her not too far away.

“Mia,” I call out, and she turns around. “What are you doing?”

She stares into my eyes like she’s seen a ghost. “I thought I saw Enzo.”

“No way,” I say, there’s no way that motherfucker knows where we are.

“It looked just like him, but when I got closer I guess…” Her words fall away as she scans the crowd with worried eyes. “I swear it was him.”

I hold on to her. “I promise you. He has no way to know where we are.”

Mia nods, agreeing with me. “Ok, ok.”

I purchase our groceries and then shuffle her out of the store. She’s a bit shook up when we return to my place, and it pisses me off that she’s worried. I don’t want her to have to worry about a thing when she’s with me.

“Why don’t you have a glass of wine, and I’ll get the steaks started.”

Mia nods. “Ok, I like that idea.”

I take the steaks out to the grill and turn it on, hoping we have enough propane to handle the meal. It’s a nice evening out, and a soft breeze plays across my skin.

There’s a few stars making their appearance, and I like this domesticated feeling rushing through my veins.

Mia joins me after a few minutes with two glasses of red wine in her hand. “Here,” she says, handing one off to me.

I sit with her on the patio furniture while the steaks cook. I hold her close, hoping to banish the fear she’s clearly hiding away. “It wasn’t him,” I say.

“I know it wasn’t,” she says, but she doesn’t sound very convinced.