Taken for Granted

By Kelley Griffin

When his family is taken, sixteen-year-old Ethan must grow up fast.

Like any other teenager, Ethan Campbell's goals in life seem simple-fit in with the popular crowd, win the lacrosse trophy, get the girl. Until his mother and grandmother go miss

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kelley Griffin
• Release date: Aug 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9781958965122

Kelley Griffin

Kelley Griffin is an author, mom to five sons, wife to a marine and a teacher to tiny humans. She pens Romantic Suspense and YA Suspense stories with rich characters and nonstop action. Look for her current books: Binding Circumstance, Entangling; Book One of the Kirin Lane Series, A Mind Unequal; Book One of the Casey King Series, Unraveling; Book Two of the Kirin Lane Series, and Taken for Granted, a new YA series made up of four serialized novellas.When she's not barricaded in her office writing you can find Kelley playing cards, inhaling campfires and acting goofy.Check out her webpage at www.kelleygriffinauthor.com

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Prologue

Five days ago, Ethan Campbell’s teenage life had been normal.

He stretched his stiff back as far as he could without hitting his head on the low shelf filled with teetering boxes above him. The cold, grooved, metal floor cut into his tailbone causing his cramped-up legs to feel tingly from riding in one position too long.

Clearly, he hadn’t thought this last hiding spot through.

Lifting the black ballcap the cop had given him, he closed his eyes and scratched at his scalp like he always did when he was feeling overwhelmed, pulling his fingers through the unruly curls on his head. Somehow, this would help him figure a way out.

The road noise in the back of the box truck was deafening and he needed to focus. He had to concoct a plan, but all he could think about was how he’d let his mama down.

And the last things he’d said to her in anger.

Ethan desperately wanted to scroll on his phone, not only for some much-needed light, but to take his mind off what he’d done and what he’d have to do once the truck stopped.

But he couldn’t. He’d need the precious battery life to communicate with the others. He’d never thought about helping someone other than himself.

Until now.

Last Friday after their fight, when his life was excruciatingly normal, he’d turned down his mom’s request to play a stupid board game. He’d opted instead to sulk in his room and snag over fifty eliminations to win in the newest Annihilator 5 game on the day it dropped.

But it all meant nothing the moment she was gone. Regret ate at him like a disease. What he wouldn’t give to go back and play that dumb game with her now.

So much had changed. And it was all his fault. A permanent lump set up camp in his throat. And he deserved every bit of it.

But now, he’d kill for normal.

Now, she was gone.

He couldn’t—no wouldn’t let her down.

Ethan sat in total darkness, heading toward God-only-knew-where, freezing his tail off and being bounced around like a box of Legos shaken by a four-year-old.

Abruptly, the truck turned then stopped.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Ethan straightened quick like he’d been poked with a needle. The truck was rolling backward slowly, as if it were trying to sneak up on something.

When the parking brake creaked and the truck came to a stop, Ethan froze.

Slam.

Slam.

Through the thin metal walls of the truck, he listened as the driver and passenger argued. Their voices were muffled but the argumentative tone was unmistakable.

The roll up door lock clicked and engaged. It rattled its unhappiness as it was lifted, and light filled the back of the truck.

Ethan cinched his backpack tighter, then pulled his knees to his chest. He exhaled silent and slow. Blinking rapidly to get his eyes used to the light, he placed one hand over his thudding heart, begging it to slow down its rhythm.

He prayed this wasn’t a terrible mistake.

Chapter One

The Saturday before...

––––––––

Ethan Campbell smelled chocolate.

No, not just smelled...he could taste the sweetness on his tongue.

Despite pretending to be asleep in the back of his mom’s crusty sedan to avoid conversation, his nose twitched like a hungry puppy as he inhaled the rich sugar. The sound of thin cellophane ripping every few seconds meant Grams in the front seat was being annoying. Again.

It crawled under his skin the way she ate a chocolate bar, peeling back the paper an inch at a time. Bite, rip, bite, rip. This was one of many things she did that drove him nuts lately. Just unwrap the dang thing and shove it in your mouth.

Everything she and his mom did while they drove as the sun rose that morning got under his skin. But at least they weren’t trying to talk to him.

That would be so much worse.

Want a bite? Grams offered his mom.

No thanks, I’m good. E might want one, though.

The passenger seat creaked as Grams must’ve turned to look at him.

Nah, he’s out.

Rip, bite, rip, bite. Ethan rolled his eyes under his eyelids.

How’s it going with ‘The Revolt?’"

His mom sighed. Same. Doesn’t speak. Refuses to hug me now—I don’t know what that’s about. Acts like I’m the dumbest person on the planet. Last night’s argument was the worst. The things he said...

His mom’s voice cracked at the end.

Yeah. He’d said some ugly crap. He hadn’t meant it. It just flew out. But it wasn’t all his fault. And it was part of the reason he wasn’t speaking to her this morning.

His mom cleared her throat and changed the subject. He’s wearing me down on this ‘getting-a-dog’ thing...and you know, I might think about it if his attitude would change. Sixteen sucks. I miss fourteen—I was smart and huggable when he was fourteen.

His mom lowered her window. Cold air rushed in and whistled through the crack. He had to strain to hear the rest.

Amy-Lynn, don’t you lose hope. He’s in there somewhere.

Grams was the only person allowed to call his mom by her childhood name. Everyone else called her Amy.

If you say so. His mom exhaled, loud. Sometimes, I wanna just snatch the life out of him when he talks back with that smart mouth. The things he says to me... Her voice trailed off.

Treating him like he was four and refusing to let him go to the party was what set him off. Yes, it was a parents-not-home drinking fest, but his mom knew he didn’t drink and only a handful of sophomores had been invited. Just being seen there would’ve elevated him from awkward to popular.

And it wasn’t just him this would’ve benefited! It would’ve helped his best friend, Aiden too. God knew his friend had struggled lately. From getting suspended from school and grounded eternally at home, to the entire school finding out why—thanks to an anonymous note—his life had been total crap lately.

If Ethan had been allowed to go, he could’ve snuck Aiden in and then maybe people would stop whispering behind his back.

But no.

She’d have to drive them and meet the parents, blah, blah, blah.

She’d generally kept her cool when Ethan flew off the handle lately, but this time the shock in her eyes had registered with him.

It didn’t matter.

But something told him, it did.

Grams belted out a dumb-as-hell song from the oldies station. Of course, the old bat knew every word. Her hair had a pink hue to it this week. Last week was blue. A few weeks back it’d looked purple. The color changed like one of those troll dolls with a tiny body and cotton candy hair.

Only she was smart. Like Master’s degree, honor roll smart. But with the kind of snarky sense of humor that could cut you in two, while making you feel good about yourself at the same time. And she’d always been his favorite person on the planet. Other than his mom.

Cracking one eye, Ethan watched early morning sunshine cut through the fog covered trees as they zoomed by out the opposite window. He stretched out his legs as far as he could. He’d grown since they’d made this trip last year. Last year, sleeping in the backseat was comfortable. He could see over the top of his mom’s head now.

He wanted to sit up, grab his lacrosse ball, and stick from the back window and work on his ball handling skills, but then he’d have to talk.

They always wanted him to talk.

He wished he could’ve ridden to the tournament with Aiden. His dad was cool. He didn’t prod his son about his feelings all the time. He just turned up the radio and pointed out women with big boobs on the road.

Plus, Aiden’s sister Natali might be in the car. His older woman crush. At sixteen, she was a junior, had her learner’s permit and had a doesn’t-take-crap-off-anyone attitude that he secretly loved. The smell of her lotion alone woke him up in places he didn’t know existed. Problem was, he always acted like a chump around her.

But today would be different. Today he planned to score at the Tri-county Lacrosse Tournament held in Chattanooga every year. This was where he’d shine, and she’d notice him. At least, that was the plan.

Grams cleared her throat. So...Mr. White seems nice at church.

Drop it, Mom.

What?

I’m not dating anyone until this thing with E passes. He doesn’t need a step-dad driving a larger wedge between us.

Ethan swallowed hard. How would he feel if his mom dated? She hadn’t been with anyone except his dad. An odd, protective jealousy ran through him. Nope. She didn’t need to date and if he had to act like a jackass a while longer to keep her from it, then so be it.

But on the other hand, he wanted her to be happy. Four more years and he’d be off to college. Off living his own life. And she’d be alone.

Well, not really...his Grams would still be there. The old bat was just crazy enough to live forever.

Hmf, Grams scoffed.

Ethan sat up and finger-combed the dark swatch of hair that swung over one eye. We almost there?

His mom’s voice went up an octave. Well, there’s my sleepy boy. She cleared her throat as if that were the wrong response, lowered her voice and changed the subject. About another hour. You hungry?

Yup.

We’ll stop at a gas station at the next exit, and you can get something, okay?

He didn’t answer. He knew this drove her crazy, but he couldn’t stop himself. Something in her babyish tone just set him off.

Ethan grabbed his stick then balanced the tiny blue ball on the bend in the lacrosse head. He flipped it and missed. The ball thudded on the floorboard. He bent to retrieve it. Thick, beautiful silence filled the car for almost a full minute before his grandma broke it.

Boy. Answer your mama.

Grams’ tone was light, but her message wasn’t.

"Yes, Amy, that would be amazing."

Grams’ head turned slowly toward him. She shot him a tight smile with narrowed eyes.

His mom just turned the radio up.

When they pulled into the gas station in some random hick town between Knoxville and Chattanooga, Grams got out and hobbled toward the store restroom. Her knees had gotten too bad, and she could no longer jog with her geezer group.

Ethan got out just as his mom stuck a five dollar bill out the window. When he took it, she reached around behind her seat to the cooler of snacks and drinks she’d brought.

The tournament, gas and food were more than she could afford on her small salary as a cashier for a thrift store. He knew it. Guilt twisted his stomach.

Split something with me? he offered.

Her face brightened like he’d just asked if she wanted a million dollars. Note to self, brat, do that more often.

No, honey, I’m good. I brought snacks. Go get what you want, though, okay?

His mom was pretty. Especially when she smiled. He’d gotten his blue eyes from her. Her highlighted blonde hair was shoulder length and straight. She didn’t look like other moms. She was slim and wore jeans and t-shirts like a teenager. Men noticed her. And not because she let it all hang out like Aiden’s mom, trying to prove something either. She was wholesome. Not overly made up.

He shot her a half smile and turned to walk into the store.

The market smelled like cigarette smoke and barbeque.

Ethan walked toward the back taking in every detail. One of his superpowers was his ability to memorize a room. He could pick out the smallest of things. This ability went hand in hand with his dream of being a cop.

Like the tattooed construction worker with dirty fingernails filling his cup with soda, or the man behind the counter with one ear pierced whose thick Indian accent echoed through the market. He spoke loudly as if that would make it easier for people to understand him. And the man with inky black hair standing at the ATM machine.

Ethan leaned into the cooler to grab a Mountain Dew as his mind cataloged the man. He wore a traditional Islam stole, with short sleeves.

Short sleeves.

And... his shoes were wrong too. Most Islam men wore plain black shoes and this guy had on bright green Nikes. When the man turned, he realized this was a woman, dressed as a man—which was also against the rules.

When his gaze reached the woman’s face, he realized two things, a few seconds too late.

One, somehow his feet had unconsciously moved him to an open area in the middle of the store where he stood frozen, staring at her.

And two, she now glared back at him with angry eyes that held a warning.

Ethan shrugged, trying to seem like an uninterested teen, then ambled toward the candy aisle. He hoped he’d given off the vibe that he didn’t care what she was doing.

Once in the aisle, he ducked behind a display of Whatchamacallits, grabbed two to buy, then searched once again for this woman. She was obviously up to something.

He liked to envision in his mind that he was already a cop.

As he peeked over the boxes of candy bars, he followed the woman’s line of sight. She watched over three other women in full covering niqab dress who stood in the dairy aisle, picking out milk and butter as if she were the mother hen.

Something didn’t seem right.

For one, who buys groceries in a convenient store? Heck, he was a kid and even he knew better. Two of the women spoke in a low tone to each other while the third woman stopped, mid grab of a gallon of milk, and stared back at him.

She was completely covered except for her eyes, crystal blue exactly like his and his mom’s.

Pleading eyes. Like this woman was trying to tell him something. He was locked inside her gaze for a full ten seconds. Then the other two women ushered her away.

Ethan stared down at his chocolate bars. Something really wasn’t right.

From behind, someone grabbed him around the shoulder. He spun and yelped.

His mom’s sneaky smile morphed into a question in her eyes.

You okay?

Ethan swallowed hard. I thought you were in the car?

Her smile returned. Had to pee. You about done? We gotta fight the tournament traffic and I don’t want you to be late. She turned on her heel and headed for the door.

Ethan paid for his snack and walked outside in time to see the woman dressed as a man driving away in a white van.

~*~

I got nothing. His mom yanked her blonde hair into a messy ponytail with deft fingers as she peered under the hood and into the darkness of wires, smoke, and engine parts.

Grams sat in the car, pondering over a crossword, unbothered by their breakdown. Ethan stared at the engine with his mom.

What did you hear right before it died? he asked, having no idea why—he didn’t know the first thing about engines.

Knocking sounds. Then it just lost power. His mom sighed heavily and glanced at her watch. You’re gonna be late, she announced more to herself than him.

A horn blew. A flashy-red, two-door sports car pulled onto the emergency lane in front of them and stopped. Squished in the back seat, a bright smile and one lone middle finger came into view. Involuntarily, Ethan smiled.

His best friend and goalie, Aiden, shot him their normal hello. Aiden’s house of a father came strutting back toward Ethan’s mom, all cologned-up, and chemically whitened smile. Here it comes.

Amy! Fancy meeting you here. You didn’t answer my text this morning.

His mom didn’t flinch. Yeah, I was already on the road.

I could’ve brought the Navigator and we could’ve driven the boys up together.

Something in his tone made Ethan want to vomit.

My mom rode along. And you’ve got Natali.

His mom’s voice was even and clipped as she stared into the engine.

Just as Aiden scrambled his beefy body out of the back seat to get to his best friend, his older sister Natali stepped out of the car.

Her dark hair flipped in the breeze of the passing vehicles. Her aviator glasses and painted lips made her look more like a senior than a junior. He wondered if she still used that apple shampoo. God, it smelled good.

When Aiden slugged him in the shoulder and rolled his eyes, Ethan knew he’d stared too long. He shrugged as if to say he couldn’t help it.

Ethan’s dad puffed up a bit, leaned over and gazed under the hood.

It’s probably your alternator. We should get your mom to drive the kids in my car to the tournament and I’ll stay here with you and wait for the tow truck.

Ethan’s hackles rose. Aiden’s dad was divorced from Aiden’s mom for good reason. He couldn’t keep his eyes or his hands to himself.

Ah, hell no.

Mom? His mom turned to look at him. It’s no big deal. Jaxon can take my spot. He’s a good attack. They’ll be fine. He swallowed hard and gave his best fake smile.

They wouldn’t be fine, but he didn’t want to say it. Jaxon had the tenacity of a mouse. If a defender were even an inch taller, he’d cower and wouldn’t fight for the ball. But Ethan nodded at his mom, nonetheless.

She shook her head, No. E, you need to go. Get your stuff out of the back and put it in Mr. Howell’s trunk.

Then she turned to Aiden’s dad. Thanks for the offer, but Mom doesn’t drive, and I can’t leave her. Can you take Ethan with you and we’ll be there as soon as we get it fixed?

Mr. Howell’s shoulders dropped. You sure? Seems dangerous—two women alone on the side of the highway.

His mom’s tight smile meant she was offended.

We’ll be fine.

Okay, he said, then added, be thinking of where I can take you for dinner, you know—to cheer you up after all this.

His mom shot Mr. Howell a look. It was the same look she usually shot Ethan when he was being ridiculous. Ethan smiled a little to himself as he and Aiden popped the trunk and grabbed out his bag and two Gatorades.

Sorry. He’s such a douche. Aiden tilted his head toward his dad.

Ethan shook his head. No big deal. My mom can handle it.

Aiden lips curled up as he reached into the backseat to retrieve his friend’s stick and ball.

Ethan stuck his head into the passenger window and yelled, Bye Grams! Try not to melt.

Grams grabbed her heart, then narrowed her eyes. A devious grin spread across her papery skin. "Try not to melt yourself," she said, nodding toward Natali.

Ethan followed her gaze, then slid her a look. His ability to read people came from her. And she nailed him in three seconds. Her raspy laugh followed him halfway back to the Howell’s car where his mom stood.

Thanks again Steve, for taking Ethan.

He smiled, ready to feed her another line when she spun and hugged Ethan. He gave her only a lean-to instead of a hug. Natali stood next to the car, half watching them and half staring at her phone. The last thing he wanted was for Natali to think he was a little kid.

Ethan’s mom shoved a ten dollar bill in his hand. He tried to shove it back, but she shook her head.

We have the cooler of snacks, you don’t. Use it. We’ll be there hopefully in time to catch the second game. Love you.

He didn’t respond. He didn’t know why he didn’t say it back. But he just didn’t. He felt it. But couldn’t make himself say it. Awkward silence seemed to be his mantra lately.

She watched him for another beat, gave him a reassuring smile, then walked back toward their car.

Grams just shook her head.

~*~

You drive like two sloths screwing inside a wool sock, Natali announced slightly under her breath, but loud enough for everyone in the car to hear.

"Natalia."

Mr. Howell’s voice held a warning. You know I don’t like that kind of talk out of a lady.

"Sure you