Taker: Taker, #1

By Layla Valentine

He stole me away, and now he's my only hope
On the run with the bad boy and his son –
And our story gets crazier
I'm pregnant with his baby!

Her:

In the wrong place at the wrong time, I saw something I never should have seen
The people responsible aren't happy to have a witness running around
Enter Tate Dale, the man sent to deliver me to my fate
Only he doesn't kill me; instead, he takes me with him, along with his kid
He tells me he's the only one who can protect me,
Sure as sin, one thing soon leads to another…
And now, weeks into our new lives on the run, I find I'm pregnant
He's stunning, gorgeous, irresistible; but can I trust him with my life?
Can we survive the baddies out to get us?
Can we be a family?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Layla Valentine
• Release date: May 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201712471

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

ABBIE

Ididn’t mean to spill the steak tartare—that was a total mistake. And I definitely didn’t mean to spill it on the lap of the businessman who’d pinched my ass when I came by to refill drinks.

Total, honest mistake. Honestly.

And the look on his face when the steak accidentally slid off the plate and onto his fancy slacks just happened to be a nice bonus for the slipup.

"They’re pissed, said Jamie, my good friend and coworker at the Chesterton, the upscale steakhouse where I waited tables. Not just the guy with the stained slacks, but all of them."

Well, if they didn’t want to deal with the consequences, they should’ve known that ‘free gropes’ didn’t come with the special.

She laughed. Don’t get me wrong, you made the right call. But damn, look at Mark.

I peeked through the line window on the main floor toward the party room where the group I’d been waiting on was seated. Mark, our red-faced, big-bellied manager, was there, standing with a trio of men from the group and doing his best to cool the situation down.

I know his face normally is tomato-esque, said Jamie. But this is a new depth of red.

You think he’s pissed?

I know he is. But like I said, you did the right thing.

Mark broke from the party and came back to the kitchen, making his way through the bustle of servers zipping here and there and cooks calling out orders. The smell of steak was thick in the air, mixing with the clatter of plates.

The moment he was in the kitchen, he locked his eyes onto me, raising his hand and doing the little come here finger curl toward me. That let me know, without a doubt, that I was in some serious trouble.

Office. Now.

Time to go off to my official scolding, I said to Jamie.

Good luck, she said. See you on the other side.

I followed Mark through the kitchen and toward the small, cramped manager’s office. Once inside, Mark plopped into the chair in front of the computer and reached forward to shut the door. The din from the kitchen quieted right away.

He let out a sigh before shaking his head.

All right, he began. It took some drink comping and some apologies, but I think they’re finally calm.

I hope they’re calm in more ways than one, I said, leaning against the door. You know what he did to me, right?

He nodded. I heard, I heard. And don’t get me wrong—that kind of behavior is something we don’t tolerate here at the Chesterton.

But we tolerate it enough not to boot them out when they do it.

Another sigh. You know it’s not easy being a manager, right?

I bit my tongue, knowing he was about to go into the same spiel I’d heard time and time again.

And don’t give me that look, he said, raising his finger. That ‘here we go again’ look.

But these guys, I said, gesturing toward the dining room through the wall. They think they can do whatever they want because they have money. It’s ridiculous.

They’re men used to getting their way, said Mark. And when you cater to this kind of clientele, you have to, well, let them sometimes.

Even when ‘their way’ involves grabbing the asses of the waitresses?

I’m not saying it was okay. But spilling food on his lap isn’t the right reaction, and you know it.

It was an accident! I said, a fake tone of innocence to my voice. My hand slipped. That’s all.

He shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Abbie, you’re the best server we’ve got here. If there’s one person who wouldn’t be dropping food like a newbie, it’s you. Another sigh from Mark. You want to run your own restaurant someday, right?"

It’s my dream.

Then you’re going to have to learn to deal with conflicts like that without dropping hundred-dollar pieces of meat onto people.

"I would deal with them—by kicking their asses out onto the street the second it happened."

He opened his mouth to argue the point but closed it. Mark knew by now that I was stubborn, and once I put my foot down, there was no budging me.

And see how long you can keep a business running that way. He waved his hand through the air, dismissing the subject. But I’m not going to get into that. They don’t want you waiting on them, so I’m cutting you for the night.

My eyes widened. Are you serious?

Do I look like I’m joking right now? Head home and think about whether or not you can be a team player going forward.

But it’s Saturday night, I said. I can’t afford to not work a weekend.

You should’ve thought about that before you did what you did. Now go.

I hated it, hated the way he talked to me like I was some dumb kid who’d gotten out of line. But he was the boss, and for now, there was nothing I could do about it.

Moments later I was back in the kitchen, Jamie waiting for me with an expression on her face that suggested she