The taskmaster, p.30
The Taskmaster, page 30
“Just read the damn email,” I snapped, and his jaw clenched before he relented.
“I’m writing to you as my last hope,” he announced, reading from his screen. “For years now, I’ve lived with the pain of what that doctor did. He’s never received justice, and no one seems to be listening to me. I’ve approached the police on numerous occasions, but all they do is tell me they’ll look into it, but they never do.
“I’ll start by explaining what happened to me, and if you think this is something you could help me with, I would be eternally grateful. I have no one else to turn to.
“I met Doctor Charles Quinn thirty years ago, when I attended the General for the routine delivery of my baby. What should’ve been the happiest day of my life turned into a nightmare. He butchered me, took pleasure in my pain, and when he told me my baby was born asleep, I didn’t believe him. I still don’t. A mother knows, and for the last thirty years, I’ve lived in a nightmare, convinced he did something to my baby.
“I’ve seen the news reports. I know he was involved in trafficking. I also know he was responsible for those murders. I just want justice for my baby. To find out what he did, if that’s at all possible. So, I can finally put this nightmare to bed, and get some closure.”
Noble kept reading but my mind had already gone. So, there were more. I knew there would be. More babies he stole, more families he tore apart, more victims of his sordid practises. And more reasons for me to keep doing what I do best. I could never change. I was blessed that Abigail would never expect me to.
I realised Noble had stopped talking and was staring at me.
“So?” he asked. “I wouldn’t normally invite you onto a job, but I think in this case, you might be able to help us. It would have to stay on the down-low though. Until I’ve had chance to talk to the others.”
“Fine,” I replied, and reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a card. “Here’s my email. Forward the details and I’ll think it over.”
He took the card, and I turned to walk away, but before I did, I asked, “What’s the woman’s name?”
“Tia,” he replied, stealing the air from my lungs. “Tia Bailey.”
Bonus Chapter
ISAIAH
Istood outside the small, terraced house in a street that was just like any other. Nothing remarkable. A typical English estate with kids playing in the street, and people chatting on their doorstep. They didn’t pay much attention to me. I was nothing special. But this day was a day I never thought I’d see.
I opened the small wooden gate, stepped onto the path, and closed it behind me. Then I took a moment to look at the house, before I approached the front door. I didn’t see anyone at the windows, and as I tried to keep my beating heart under control, I thought maybe she wouldn’t be here.
What if this was all a mistake?
My hands shook as I lifted my arm to ring the doorbell. But I did what I could to block the intrusive thoughts from my brain. I pressed the bell, heard the ringing coming from inside, and I stood back. I didn’t want to frighten her when she opened the door and saw a heavily tattooed stranger standing on her doorstep.
The door opened and a middle-aged, slim woman with dark hair stood on the step, frowning. She went to speak but nothing came out, and her mouth fell open as she stared at me.
Then her eyes brimmed with tears, and she gasped, “You look just like him,” before covering her face with her hands. Her shoulders shook with silent tears, and I heard her whisper, “Please Lord, don’t do this to me.”
I didn’t speak. I wanted to give her chance to compose herself. To take it all in.
After a few seconds that felt like forever, she moved her hands away from her face, and in a low, vulnerable voice, she asked, “Who are you?”
I stayed where I was, keeping my distance as I said, “My name is Isaiah James. But I think you know me as Enzo.”
Her legs buckled beneath her as her sobs broke free. She couldn’t contain them any longer, and I lurched forward, putting my arms around her to help her.
“It’s not...” She sobbed, struggling to speak. “You’re not... you can’t be.”
I lifted her in my arms and ushered her to the door.
“I think we need to sit down for this conversation.”
I walked with her into her house, closing the front door behind us, and leading her into her cosy little living room. The TV was on, but I took her remote control from the arm of the sofa and switched it off. She sat down on her sofa, and I sat next to her. And as I did, she glanced at me and gasped. From that moment, she couldn’t take her eyes off me.
“I know you look like him...” She sniffed, and I took a tissue from a box on her coffee table and passed it to her. “But my eyes play tricks on me. I see him everywhere.”
“Who do you see?” I asked.
“My Michael.”
I sat still as she dabbed her eyes, and then I asked, “Who is Michael?”
Her eyes dipped for a second before she lifted them and replied, “My husband. The father of my baby.”
“Can you tell me about your baby?” I asked, and she wept, then told me the same story I’d heard from Quinn’s traitorous mouth. But the part about her being murdered was lies. Lies meant to torment me further. To keep me away from the one thing I’d always dreamed of.
When she finished, I took her hand in mine and said, “You were right to mistrust him. He did lie. I didn’t die. But I only found out you existed recently, when you sent that email to Adam Noble.”
She shook her head in disbelief, but then she reached out and put her hands on my face, and my heart broke when she said, “Is it really you? Are you my baby boy?”
I nodded. I couldn’t speak. My throat was thick, and my voice had withered to nothing.
“Where have you been for all these years?” she gasped.
“Dreaming of you,” I managed to reply, and her sobs intensified, as her face crumbled under the weight of it all.
We sat for hours talking about what had happened on the night she’d given birth. I didn’t tell her about my life before Abigail. She had been through enough; she didn’t need to know her baby was ripped from her womb and thrown into hell. She’d lived long enough in a hell of her own. But today was the start of something new. The past didn’t matter anymore. We had a future, my mother and me.
I told her I had a family of my own now and took my phone out. She sat close to me, her leg touching mine as I showed her a photo of me and Abigail.
“She’s beautiful,” she remarked, touching the screen with her fingertip. “Her hair is stunning. Look at all those curls. And you look so in love.”
“She’s everything to me,” I exclaimed, then I swiped to the photo of my son and told her, “And this is our son... your grandson, Enzo.”
She covered her mouth with her hands as she started to cry again. Then she took the phone from my hands and held it like it was the most precious thing she’d ever held. She glanced from the phone, to me, then back again, and with her voice cracking with emotion, she said, “My baby grew up to be a beautiful man, and now you’ve brought another baby into my life. Another baby Enzo. I can’t wait to hold him in my arms.”
“I’m so sorry it took so long to find you,” I told her.
“I’m sorry I ever let you go,” she replied, and then she leaned forward and hugged me. I hugged her back. I hugged my mother for the first time ever, and a little piece of my fractured, wretched heart felt like it fused together.
Eventually, she pulled away, wiped her tears and said, “I knew when they put the other baby in my arms that it wasn’t you. I just knew. Call it mother’s instinct or whatever, but I prayed every day that this moment would come.”
“And now it has.” I paused. “Can I ask you about my father? What kind of man is he?”
“Was,” she corrected, and I felt a harsh sting in my gut.
She stood up and walked over to her bookshelf, pulled a photo album from it, and walked back over to sit with me.
“Your father was a good man. He served in the military. That’s how he died. He was on tour, and his unit was out on patrol when they drove over an IED. It killed them instantly. That’s the only comfort I have, that he didn’t suffer.”
She smiled as she started to flip through her photo album.
“Your father liked tattoos. He had quite a few of them, just like you.” She settled on a page and pointed at a photo of a group of soldiers standing together. “There is he. That’s my Michael.”
I took the album from her and peered closely at the man who was my father. He had a strong build, stood tall and confident, and I couldn’t deny, he did look like me. And then I looked at the men who stood beside him, and at the end, standing apart from the others, looking out of place, stood a face I’d never forget as long as I lived.
Frederick Wilson from Clivesdon House.
“Do you know this guy?” I asked, pointing him out.
“If I remember right, your father wasn’t keen on that man. Said he was a coward. I think they had a few fights, and your father reported him for his poor conduct. Your dad said he put a lot of soldiers’ lives at risk with the way he behaved.”
The puzzle pieces were all falling into place. Wilson knew my father. I’m guessing he knew who I was too. Charles Quinn had probably told him.
Was that why they kept me there so long?
He couldn’t let me go because he couldn’t let his hatred of my father go. I was the vessel he used to take out his twisted anger and sick revenge. I could be wrong, and I’d probably never know the truth, but the facts were there, and it felt too convenient.
“He’ll be looking down on us now,” my mother said proudly, dragging me out of my dark memory, back to the here and now. “He’ll be watching us and smiling. He’d be so glad we found each other.”
“He’s not the only one.”
“He was a good man. It killed him that he wasn’t there when you were born.”
I hadn’t been a good man. But I hoped that I could be the man I needed to be, for now and in the future.
A loving husband.
A doting father.
And a strong, reliable son.
The End.
Copyright @ Nikki J Summers 2025
Need more of The Taskmaster?
Then read, The Player, a standalone, dark, kidnap and captive romance today. The Taskmaster enjoys playing even more games in that story.
Click here to download
Acknowledgments
The Taskmaster didn’t make this an easy write for me, but it was so worth it. He took me on a journey, and all I could do was hang on for dear life and go with it. I have so many people to thank for helping me make this book what it is today.
First of all, my family. Thank you for everything you do to help me, so I can concentrate on my writing. That includes all the cooking and cleaning. Haha! But seriously, you support me, listen to me when I’m feeling down, and you’re always there. I couldn’t do this without you. Thank you.
Next, I must thank SBR Media, and my agent, LaSheera Lee, who has helped me so much since things got a little crazy. Thank you for all your help and guidance. Plus, I love your motivational Facebook posts!
This book wouldn’t be what it is today without the magic touch of some amazing and truly talented people. Designs By Charlyy, thank you for creating the most amazing cover. It’s stunning and you’re incredible. I appreciate everything you’ve done.
To Lou J Stock, thank you for formatting this book and always adding that special touch. You are brilliant at what you do and I’m so thankful to have found you.
To Lindsey Powell, for being an amazing editor and an even more amazing friend. You always go above and beyond for me, and I would be lost without your friendship and support. I’m so grateful for all you do. Thank you, my lovely friend.
Caroline Stainburn at CLS Editing, thank you for having the most incredible eye for detail and helping me to polish this story. Your edits are always first class. Thank you for being there, listening to me, helping and guiding me through this whole process. You’re amazing.
To Candi Kane PR, you’re the best at what you do and I’m so grateful for all your help to spread the word about my book. Thank you for organising the cover reveal, release day, and all the promotion. You’ve made my life a million times easier.
I will forever be amazed and in awe of all the awesome, hardworking, and truly talented book bloggers, bookstagrammers, Tik Tokers and everyone on social media who take the time to read, promote, and spread the word about our books. Your work is amazing, and you always go above and beyond. I am truly grateful. Thank you for every single post, share, and comment. It means the world. I wish I could list everyone, but the acknowledgments would be longer than this story! You all do such a fantastic job. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
To the indie author community, I love how supportive, encouraging, and utterly amazing you are. Strength comes from lifting each other up, and you do that with so much style. Thank you. I’m proud to be a part of such a fabulous community.
Last, but not least, to all the readers out there who have taken the time to download, read, and review The Taskmaster, thank you. Thank you for taking a chance on me. Thank you for making this all worthwhile. Thank you for being as enthusiastic about The Taskmaster as I am. Your messages and comments give me life. I’m so grateful for you. Thank you for sticking with me through this journey. Here’s to many more in the future!
Lots of Love,
Nikki x
About the Author
Nikki J Summers is a British author who was born and raised in Birmingham, the home of the Peaky Blinders. She currently lives in Staffordshire with her husband, two children, and her cavapoo called Poppy.
She writes U.K. based dark, new adult, gothic, and contemporary romance stories about morally grey heroes who would burn the world to save their heroine. Those heroines usually save themselves, but the heroes are always by their side holding the matches.
Much like her soldiers and The Taskmaster, she wears many masks; schoolteacher, romance writer, wife, mother, daughter, sister… the list is endless, but she loves wearing every single one of them.
When she’s not writing, you’ll find her curled up with a good book or bingeing a Netflix box set.
She loves to hear from readers, so please feel free to reach out.
For updates on my new releases and other news, follow me on the following links. Reader Group
Other books by Nikki J Summers
Soldiers of Anarchy Series
The Psycho
The Reaper
The Joker
The Player
The Thief
Rebels of Sandland Series
Renegade Hearts
Tortured Souls
Fractured Minds
Reckless Lies
Standalones
Luca
This Cruel Love
Hurt to Love
Firethorne
Pride
All available on Amazon Kindle Unlimited
Only suitable for readers 18+ due to adult content.
Nikki J Summers, The Taskmaster
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“I’m writing to you as my last hope,” he announced, reading from his screen. “For years now, I’ve lived with the pain of what that doctor did. He’s never received justice, and no one seems to be listening to me. I’ve approached the police on numerous occasions, but all they do is tell me they’ll look into it, but they never do.
“I’ll start by explaining what happened to me, and if you think this is something you could help me with, I would be eternally grateful. I have no one else to turn to.
“I met Doctor Charles Quinn thirty years ago, when I attended the General for the routine delivery of my baby. What should’ve been the happiest day of my life turned into a nightmare. He butchered me, took pleasure in my pain, and when he told me my baby was born asleep, I didn’t believe him. I still don’t. A mother knows, and for the last thirty years, I’ve lived in a nightmare, convinced he did something to my baby.
“I’ve seen the news reports. I know he was involved in trafficking. I also know he was responsible for those murders. I just want justice for my baby. To find out what he did, if that’s at all possible. So, I can finally put this nightmare to bed, and get some closure.”
Noble kept reading but my mind had already gone. So, there were more. I knew there would be. More babies he stole, more families he tore apart, more victims of his sordid practises. And more reasons for me to keep doing what I do best. I could never change. I was blessed that Abigail would never expect me to.
I realised Noble had stopped talking and was staring at me.
“So?” he asked. “I wouldn’t normally invite you onto a job, but I think in this case, you might be able to help us. It would have to stay on the down-low though. Until I’ve had chance to talk to the others.”
“Fine,” I replied, and reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a card. “Here’s my email. Forward the details and I’ll think it over.”
He took the card, and I turned to walk away, but before I did, I asked, “What’s the woman’s name?”
“Tia,” he replied, stealing the air from my lungs. “Tia Bailey.”
Bonus Chapter
ISAIAH
Istood outside the small, terraced house in a street that was just like any other. Nothing remarkable. A typical English estate with kids playing in the street, and people chatting on their doorstep. They didn’t pay much attention to me. I was nothing special. But this day was a day I never thought I’d see.
I opened the small wooden gate, stepped onto the path, and closed it behind me. Then I took a moment to look at the house, before I approached the front door. I didn’t see anyone at the windows, and as I tried to keep my beating heart under control, I thought maybe she wouldn’t be here.
What if this was all a mistake?
My hands shook as I lifted my arm to ring the doorbell. But I did what I could to block the intrusive thoughts from my brain. I pressed the bell, heard the ringing coming from inside, and I stood back. I didn’t want to frighten her when she opened the door and saw a heavily tattooed stranger standing on her doorstep.
The door opened and a middle-aged, slim woman with dark hair stood on the step, frowning. She went to speak but nothing came out, and her mouth fell open as she stared at me.
Then her eyes brimmed with tears, and she gasped, “You look just like him,” before covering her face with her hands. Her shoulders shook with silent tears, and I heard her whisper, “Please Lord, don’t do this to me.”
I didn’t speak. I wanted to give her chance to compose herself. To take it all in.
After a few seconds that felt like forever, she moved her hands away from her face, and in a low, vulnerable voice, she asked, “Who are you?”
I stayed where I was, keeping my distance as I said, “My name is Isaiah James. But I think you know me as Enzo.”
Her legs buckled beneath her as her sobs broke free. She couldn’t contain them any longer, and I lurched forward, putting my arms around her to help her.
“It’s not...” She sobbed, struggling to speak. “You’re not... you can’t be.”
I lifted her in my arms and ushered her to the door.
“I think we need to sit down for this conversation.”
I walked with her into her house, closing the front door behind us, and leading her into her cosy little living room. The TV was on, but I took her remote control from the arm of the sofa and switched it off. She sat down on her sofa, and I sat next to her. And as I did, she glanced at me and gasped. From that moment, she couldn’t take her eyes off me.
“I know you look like him...” She sniffed, and I took a tissue from a box on her coffee table and passed it to her. “But my eyes play tricks on me. I see him everywhere.”
“Who do you see?” I asked.
“My Michael.”
I sat still as she dabbed her eyes, and then I asked, “Who is Michael?”
Her eyes dipped for a second before she lifted them and replied, “My husband. The father of my baby.”
“Can you tell me about your baby?” I asked, and she wept, then told me the same story I’d heard from Quinn’s traitorous mouth. But the part about her being murdered was lies. Lies meant to torment me further. To keep me away from the one thing I’d always dreamed of.
When she finished, I took her hand in mine and said, “You were right to mistrust him. He did lie. I didn’t die. But I only found out you existed recently, when you sent that email to Adam Noble.”
She shook her head in disbelief, but then she reached out and put her hands on my face, and my heart broke when she said, “Is it really you? Are you my baby boy?”
I nodded. I couldn’t speak. My throat was thick, and my voice had withered to nothing.
“Where have you been for all these years?” she gasped.
“Dreaming of you,” I managed to reply, and her sobs intensified, as her face crumbled under the weight of it all.
We sat for hours talking about what had happened on the night she’d given birth. I didn’t tell her about my life before Abigail. She had been through enough; she didn’t need to know her baby was ripped from her womb and thrown into hell. She’d lived long enough in a hell of her own. But today was the start of something new. The past didn’t matter anymore. We had a future, my mother and me.
I told her I had a family of my own now and took my phone out. She sat close to me, her leg touching mine as I showed her a photo of me and Abigail.
“She’s beautiful,” she remarked, touching the screen with her fingertip. “Her hair is stunning. Look at all those curls. And you look so in love.”
“She’s everything to me,” I exclaimed, then I swiped to the photo of my son and told her, “And this is our son... your grandson, Enzo.”
She covered her mouth with her hands as she started to cry again. Then she took the phone from my hands and held it like it was the most precious thing she’d ever held. She glanced from the phone, to me, then back again, and with her voice cracking with emotion, she said, “My baby grew up to be a beautiful man, and now you’ve brought another baby into my life. Another baby Enzo. I can’t wait to hold him in my arms.”
“I’m so sorry it took so long to find you,” I told her.
“I’m sorry I ever let you go,” she replied, and then she leaned forward and hugged me. I hugged her back. I hugged my mother for the first time ever, and a little piece of my fractured, wretched heart felt like it fused together.
Eventually, she pulled away, wiped her tears and said, “I knew when they put the other baby in my arms that it wasn’t you. I just knew. Call it mother’s instinct or whatever, but I prayed every day that this moment would come.”
“And now it has.” I paused. “Can I ask you about my father? What kind of man is he?”
“Was,” she corrected, and I felt a harsh sting in my gut.
She stood up and walked over to her bookshelf, pulled a photo album from it, and walked back over to sit with me.
“Your father was a good man. He served in the military. That’s how he died. He was on tour, and his unit was out on patrol when they drove over an IED. It killed them instantly. That’s the only comfort I have, that he didn’t suffer.”
She smiled as she started to flip through her photo album.
“Your father liked tattoos. He had quite a few of them, just like you.” She settled on a page and pointed at a photo of a group of soldiers standing together. “There is he. That’s my Michael.”
I took the album from her and peered closely at the man who was my father. He had a strong build, stood tall and confident, and I couldn’t deny, he did look like me. And then I looked at the men who stood beside him, and at the end, standing apart from the others, looking out of place, stood a face I’d never forget as long as I lived.
Frederick Wilson from Clivesdon House.
“Do you know this guy?” I asked, pointing him out.
“If I remember right, your father wasn’t keen on that man. Said he was a coward. I think they had a few fights, and your father reported him for his poor conduct. Your dad said he put a lot of soldiers’ lives at risk with the way he behaved.”
The puzzle pieces were all falling into place. Wilson knew my father. I’m guessing he knew who I was too. Charles Quinn had probably told him.
Was that why they kept me there so long?
He couldn’t let me go because he couldn’t let his hatred of my father go. I was the vessel he used to take out his twisted anger and sick revenge. I could be wrong, and I’d probably never know the truth, but the facts were there, and it felt too convenient.
“He’ll be looking down on us now,” my mother said proudly, dragging me out of my dark memory, back to the here and now. “He’ll be watching us and smiling. He’d be so glad we found each other.”
“He’s not the only one.”
“He was a good man. It killed him that he wasn’t there when you were born.”
I hadn’t been a good man. But I hoped that I could be the man I needed to be, for now and in the future.
A loving husband.
A doting father.
And a strong, reliable son.
The End.
Copyright @ Nikki J Summers 2025
Need more of The Taskmaster?
Then read, The Player, a standalone, dark, kidnap and captive romance today. The Taskmaster enjoys playing even more games in that story.
Click here to download
Acknowledgments
The Taskmaster didn’t make this an easy write for me, but it was so worth it. He took me on a journey, and all I could do was hang on for dear life and go with it. I have so many people to thank for helping me make this book what it is today.
First of all, my family. Thank you for everything you do to help me, so I can concentrate on my writing. That includes all the cooking and cleaning. Haha! But seriously, you support me, listen to me when I’m feeling down, and you’re always there. I couldn’t do this without you. Thank you.
Next, I must thank SBR Media, and my agent, LaSheera Lee, who has helped me so much since things got a little crazy. Thank you for all your help and guidance. Plus, I love your motivational Facebook posts!
This book wouldn’t be what it is today without the magic touch of some amazing and truly talented people. Designs By Charlyy, thank you for creating the most amazing cover. It’s stunning and you’re incredible. I appreciate everything you’ve done.
To Lou J Stock, thank you for formatting this book and always adding that special touch. You are brilliant at what you do and I’m so thankful to have found you.
To Lindsey Powell, for being an amazing editor and an even more amazing friend. You always go above and beyond for me, and I would be lost without your friendship and support. I’m so grateful for all you do. Thank you, my lovely friend.
Caroline Stainburn at CLS Editing, thank you for having the most incredible eye for detail and helping me to polish this story. Your edits are always first class. Thank you for being there, listening to me, helping and guiding me through this whole process. You’re amazing.
To Candi Kane PR, you’re the best at what you do and I’m so grateful for all your help to spread the word about my book. Thank you for organising the cover reveal, release day, and all the promotion. You’ve made my life a million times easier.
I will forever be amazed and in awe of all the awesome, hardworking, and truly talented book bloggers, bookstagrammers, Tik Tokers and everyone on social media who take the time to read, promote, and spread the word about our books. Your work is amazing, and you always go above and beyond. I am truly grateful. Thank you for every single post, share, and comment. It means the world. I wish I could list everyone, but the acknowledgments would be longer than this story! You all do such a fantastic job. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
To the indie author community, I love how supportive, encouraging, and utterly amazing you are. Strength comes from lifting each other up, and you do that with so much style. Thank you. I’m proud to be a part of such a fabulous community.
Last, but not least, to all the readers out there who have taken the time to download, read, and review The Taskmaster, thank you. Thank you for taking a chance on me. Thank you for making this all worthwhile. Thank you for being as enthusiastic about The Taskmaster as I am. Your messages and comments give me life. I’m so grateful for you. Thank you for sticking with me through this journey. Here’s to many more in the future!
Lots of Love,
Nikki x
About the Author
Nikki J Summers is a British author who was born and raised in Birmingham, the home of the Peaky Blinders. She currently lives in Staffordshire with her husband, two children, and her cavapoo called Poppy.
She writes U.K. based dark, new adult, gothic, and contemporary romance stories about morally grey heroes who would burn the world to save their heroine. Those heroines usually save themselves, but the heroes are always by their side holding the matches.
Much like her soldiers and The Taskmaster, she wears many masks; schoolteacher, romance writer, wife, mother, daughter, sister… the list is endless, but she loves wearing every single one of them.
When she’s not writing, you’ll find her curled up with a good book or bingeing a Netflix box set.
She loves to hear from readers, so please feel free to reach out.
For updates on my new releases and other news, follow me on the following links. Reader Group
Other books by Nikki J Summers
Soldiers of Anarchy Series
The Psycho
The Reaper
The Joker
The Player
The Thief
Rebels of Sandland Series
Renegade Hearts
Tortured Souls
Fractured Minds
Reckless Lies
Standalones
Luca
This Cruel Love
Hurt to Love
Firethorne
Pride
All available on Amazon Kindle Unlimited
Only suitable for readers 18+ due to adult content.
Nikki J Summers, The Taskmaster
