“It was more of a smug remark,” she said. She could not hold back a tiny smile.
“I see.”
He fed her another slice, and then a cracker.
“Stale saltines,” she said. “You really spared no expense, did you?”
Rainhorse chuckled and bit into one of the crackers, “They are stale. Sorry.”
“The grapes have seeds, too,” she remarked. “Keep this up, and I’m gonna have to complain to management.”
“That would be bad,” he said. “I think I’m already on probation.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Nothing. Eat.”
She chewed and swallowed. “So, Jackson, why are you being so nice to me?”
“Nice? I didn’t realize that forcing a bag over your head, throwing you in a van and kidnapping you against your will was considered nice,” he replied.
“True,” she said. “You’re right. Let's just say, of all the ruthless kidnappers I've ever met, I like you the best.”
Was she trying to charm him, he wondered?
“What’s that mean?” he asked.
“You’ve protected me from your partner and you’ve been nice to me… well, at least most of the time.”
“You don’t know me, girl,” he said.
“I know you don’t want to hurt me. Why are you even mixed up in something like this?”
“That’s a long story.”
“What do you normally do? I mean, for a living.”
“That’s an even longer story.”
He could see her mood suddenly change. She bent her head down, her chin nearly touching her chest. He could see her lips stretching over her teeth. She began sucking air. She sniffled.
“Look at that sad expression. And here I thought we were getting on so well. Are you crying?” he asked.
“I’m sorry. I just… I want to go home.”
“I know.”
Rainhorse could hear her crying.
“Are you…” she began, then paused. She sniffled again.
On the nightstand was a box of tissue. He reached over and pulled one. He dabbed her nose.
“Am I what?” he asked, softly.
“Are you going to hurt me… I mean, when this is over?” She turned her head toward him. She was biting her lip, he could see.
“Why would you think that?” he asked.
“I’ve heard you guys talking. I don’t think everything is going as planned.”
Rainhorse scratched his chin, deciding how to best handle the question.
“Look, we’ve had a minor delay, but I still expect everything to end well,” he lied. “This was planned out to the last detail, including taking you in a manner where you couldn’t see our faces. Now, if I was going to hurt you, why would I care if you saw my face? Right?”
“I suppose so,” she said, failing in an attempt to force a tiny smile. Tears were now visible on her cheeks and chin as they flowed from her eyes, still under the bag.
“I just want to go home,” she repeated.
“Yeah, I know you do. We’re working on that,” he lied again. “Just stay calm. Your mom is a smart woman. We all know she can afford it. I’m sure she’ll meet the demands. This will all be over soon.”
Through the bedroom window, he caught a glimpse of Jingles walking back toward the house. The old-style flip-phone was in his hand, still opened.
“I have to go,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said. She sniffled again, “If I have to be here, I’m glad you are with me. You’re not like the other guy.”
Rainhorse stood, “Actually, I’m worse.”
“What?”
“No more talk,” he snipped. “Lay back down on the bed. I have to go. I’ll be back soon.”
“But…” she began to plead.
“Now!” he commanded. He stood and left, closing the door behind him. Jingles had just come back inside and approached Rainhorse with his hand extended. He held the phone.
“He wants to talk to you,” Jingles said.
Rainhorse took the phone, “Yes?”
“It’s time to move on to the next step,” Barnabas said. “I’m going to text you an address. You will drive the van you have to the address I provide. There will be another van waiting for you there. Switch vehicles and drive back. When you get back, we are going to move you to a different safe house.”
“Why?” Rainhorse asked. “It’s only been a few…”
“Security,” came the reply. “There have been some… complications on my end creating a delay—has to do with the overseas account for the money transfer. I need to buy some time. You know as well as I do that a safe house is never safe for more than twenty-four hours.”
“I’ll stay with the girl,” Rainhorse said. “Send Jingles to switch vans.”
“No!” Barnabas demanded. “That’s not in his skill set. It’s yours. You do it.”
“Look, I don’t want to leave the girl alone with this pig,” Rainhorse said.
“Why?”
“You said yourself, you’re having complications. It’s best to keep the girl safe and unharmed. I can’t promise that if I leave her alone with that jackass.”
“We’ve had this discussion, Rainhorse,” Barnabas barked. “It’s not your concern. Now do as I say and do it now! Don’t make me say it again.”
The phone went dead.
He handed the phone back to Jingles, who was holding up the van keys. Rainhorse took the keys. His own phone beeped. He looked at the address that had been texted to him. He recognized the spot. It was about a ninety-minute round trip.
He looked up at Jingles, glaring at him, “I’ll be back soon. You leave her alone, do you understand?”
“Relax,” he said. “We’re cool.”
“If I get back and find out you’ve even touched her, I’ll…”
“I said we’re cool.”
“I’m serious, Jingles.”
“Me too, partner,” he said. “Now go switch the vans.”
Rainhorse looked at Jingles one more time, as a warning. Jingles smiled. He turned and left the house, got into the van and pulled away. The safehouse was a small house in Manteno, a rural area outside of Chicago. Rainhorse took the small backroad for two miles and turned onto the Hwy 55 entrance to Chicago.
He thought about Lindsay. He wanted to get her out of his head, but the thought of her with that disgusting pervert incensed him. He had thought it out. There was nothing he could do. He had to go through with it. After this job, he would never allow himself to get into this position again—he swore it to himself.
He hit the gas.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jingles slipped into the bedroom where the young girl lay, appearing to be asleep. He checked his watch. He could have a lot of fun with the girl in ninety minutes, he thought. He tiptoed over to her.
“Who’s there?” she asked. “Jackson? Is that you?”
"Who the hell is Jackson?" Jingles asked.
"He's your partner. Where is he?"
“You mean Rainhorse? He’s gone, love. It’s just little ole me.”
“I thought I wasn’t supposed to know your names,” she said.
“It don’t much matter now.”
“What do you mean by that?” she asked, beginning to hyperventilate.
“Oh, nothing,” Jingles replied.
Lindsay stiffened and began to gasp, “Where is Jackson? I want him.”
“He’s gone, missy,” Jingles said. “Won’t be back for long time.”
He touched her hand. She recoiled.
“Leave me alone,” she demanded.
“Now that’s not being very friendly,” he said.
“Please!” she begged. “I know what Jackson did to you when you tried to hurt me before. He’ll be mad.”
“It don’t matter whether he likes it or not,” Jingles said. “The fact is, the big boss said it was ok for you and I to have a little fun.”
“No!” she screamed. “Get away.”
“Aw, now don’t be that way,” he said. “Here, I’m gonna take that bag off your head. I want you to see all of this.”
“No. Jackson said I can’t see your face.”
“But I want you to,” he said.
Jingles struggled with her to remove the bag. Eventually, he got it off. She saw him for the first time. He was under six feet tall, paunchy, with wispy fine locks of hair. His skin was heavily pocked and his nose and cheeks were swollen, bloodied and bruised, undoubtedly from the beating Jackson had administered earlier.
He reached for her—she repelled in disgust.
"Stay away from me, you monster!" she screamed and kicked at him.
"That's ok Missy," he replied. "I like a little fight."
He lunged for her, ripping open her shirt. She heard the material tear and the buttons pop. She shrieked and fell back onto the bed, trying to use her legs and feet, still bound together to fend him off.
“Wowsa,” he said, gawking at her brassiere and the soft flesh swelling out of the top of it. “Your mom must have had you on a high protein diet. He he.”
“You’re disgusting,” she cried out, kicking at him.
"Relax, will ya?" he said. "It's easier when you relax. You're gonna love it."
"Get away! Leave me alone-- please."
"Oh, now quit goin' on about it," he said, reaching for her belt buckle.
She rolled to her right trying to get away. She made one turn, coming to rest again on her back. Still on the bed, Jingles lunged at her one more time. She raised her right leg and kicked, landing a solid blow on the area of his face already bloodied and bruised by the blows his partner landed earlier.
Jingles wailed in pain, leaning back momentarily to hold his nose. It was now bleeding profusely.
“Ow, goddammit!" he barked, trying to hold his nose to stop the bleeding. He looked at Lindsay. There was fury in his eyes.
"You're gonna pay for that, you little bitch," he scowled. He lunged for her again.
He grabbed at her pants again, pulling down at them, trying to force them off her.
Lindsay screamed at the top of her lungs. Jingles forced the zipper of her jeans down and crawled on top of her. She could smell his foul breath.
“Now, give me a kiss, sweet thing,” he said. “I love foreplay, don’t you?”
“Screw you!”
“Oh, just the opposite,” he said, chuckling. Suddenly, Lindsay heard her attacker begin to gag. He started to choke. If was then that she saw the massive hand that was squeezing Jingles’ neck.
"I knew you'd try something like this," she heard a familiar voice say.
It was Jackson, who looked completely different to Lindsay than what she imagined. The huge Cheyenne yanked Jingles away from her. The smaller man landed on his butt at the foot of the bed.
"You're supposed to be swapping out vehicles," Jingles barked at him. “Get the hell out of here."
"Not a chance, asshole," Rainhorse replied. "I warned you about this."
"Barnabas said it was ok," Jingles snapped back. "He said it was fine."
"Well, Barnabas isn’t here. I am—and it's not fine," Rainhorse barked back, moving toward Jingles.
Jingles crossed his arms above him, in a defensive position, but it was too late. Rainhorse grabbed him by the hair and pulled him off the bed. Jingles wailed in pain, moving both hands to his head in a futile attempt to free himself. Rainhorse yanked on his hair hard, pulling out hair and drawing blood. Jingles shrieked in pain. Rainhorse looked down at Lindsay.
"Are you ok?" he asked.
"No! I am most certainly not ok," she barked back. She sat up. "That son-of-a-bitch tried to rape me."
"You sit right there," Rainhorse commanded.
"Does it look like I'm going anywhere?" she snipped.
"I'll be back in a minute," he replied.
Jingles relaxed his legs, trying to use his ample weight to force Rainhorse's grip to loosen, but the big Cheyenne pulled him back up hard, causing his partner to release the biggest howl of pain yet.
“You’re dead, you son-of-a-bitch!” Jingles bellowed. “When Barnabas hears about this...”
“Shut up!” Rainhorse demanded, pulling harder on the heavy man’s hair.
The big man dragged him out of the room.
Lindsay backed up on the bed as far as she could, quaking in fear, hyperventilating. She sat there, now frozen, helplessly sobbing, listening to the two men struggling, each one screaming at the other as the sounds of loud banging, furniture breaking and punching continued.
After thirty seconds, all went quiet.
“Jackson?” she called out, meekly.
There was no answer.
Lindsay held her breath as she heard footsteps once again walking toward the bedroom. She wondered if it were possible that Jackson had been hurt and it was her would-be rapist now moving toward her.
But it wasn't.
Rainhorse appeared in the doorway, looking not much worse for the wear.
"Jackson. Thank god you're ok," she said. "I was so scared I don't know what I would have done."
"He didn't hurt you, did he?"
"I don't think so," she said, breathlessly. "He ripped my shirt open."
"Here, let me untie you," he said, moving toward her. "I’m going to get you out of here."
Jackson was much older than she imagined, older than her dad, but not as old as her grandpa—perhaps fifty or so. He was dressed in black jeans, black boots and a tight black t-shirt, which highlighted his defined pectorals and huge biceps. He was taller and more muscular than the polo player she’d met a year ago in England, and that guy was six-foot-three and weighed over two hundred pounds. The big Cheyenne had the broadest shoulders she had ever seen on a man. His hair was thick, straight, jet black, parted down the middle, and extended to his shoulders. His skin was darker than hers, but not by as much as she expected. He was handsome, she thought, in a rugged kind of way. On his right bicep, she saw a tattoo. It looked to be a military tattoo of some sort.
"There," he said, as he finished removing her bonds. "Do you think you can walk ok? Are you ok to move?"
She nodded.
"I heard him call you Rainhorse. Is that your name?"
The big man paused and then nodded, "Your travel bag is in the closet. Go change your shirt. We have to get you out of here... right now."
She sat up and pulled her shirt closed. She stood and moved toward the closet.
"What did you do to that guy?" she asked.
"I knocked him out and tied him up," Rainhorse lied. He had broken the man’s neck. Jingles was dead, his body hidden in the spare bedroom closet, but he didn't want to share that graphic detail.
Lindsay opened her bag and pulled out a gray sweatshirt with an Eton College logo on the front. She slipped it on over her torn shirt without bothering to pull it off. She also pulled out socks and a pair of green Nike's.
"So, you're going to take me to the police station now, right?" she asked, pulling her hair out from the back of the sweatshirt.
"Well, we need to talk, quickly," he said. "We don't have a lot of time."
"What about your boss?" she asked. "He's going to be pissed when he finds out about all this."
"Screw my boss," he said. "This was a huge mistake. I’m so sorry.”
“What now?” she asked.
“Change of plan,” he said.
“What change?” she asked.
“Let’s just say, my boss and I have had a professional disagreement. I’m going to take you back to your mom. Are you good with that?"
She smiled through the tears, "Yes, please."
"I thought that might work for you, but you have to do what I say, ok?"
She nodded.
"Let's get in the car. We've got to get away from here on the double."
"I have to pee, first."
"Make it quick, girl. They'll be coming for us soon. I’m grabbing your suitcase. I'll meet you in the van outside."
Lindsay nodded, heading to the bathroom. Rainhorse left. After she used the bathroom she walked to the front door and noticed her phone was sitting on the kitchen table. She looked out the front door and saw Rainhorse sitting in the driver's seat, waiting. She picked up the phone and turned it on. She quickly placed it in silent mode and slipped it into her back pocket.
Lindsay came out of the front door. She saw, for the first time, the safe house where she had been held. It looked to be a small, brick rambler in the middle of farm country. She noticed there were no other houses within sight. She opened the side door of the van and picked up her bag, placing it inside.
"Hurry," Rainhorse barked. "How long does it take to pee, anyway?"
"I'm here," she barked back. “What are you waiting for?”
The van's rear tires kicked up gravel as they pulled away.
"What was all that shit back there?" she demanded, as the van took a right turn from the drive onto the highway. "What did you mean, 'screw your boss?' Something's happened. What is it?"
"I've jumped off the deep end," he said. "I'm taking you home. You and I are in the same boat now."
"I don't understand," she said, beginning to tear up again.
"It’s simple. He was going to kill you after he got the ransom.”
“What?” she cried. “You lied to me.”
“No, I didn’t, I swear on my life I didn’t know they intended to hurt you. I never signed up for that. When I found out, things changed for me. I couldn’t stand by and let them hurt you.”
“What now?”
“The ransom my boss was going to get for you was going to make him wealthy for life. This little adventure we’re on right now has changed that. He’s not going to get jack shit now, and he’s not going to be happy about it. He is going to want us both dead... and soon," Rainhorse replied.
"Won’t he still try to catch me so he can make my mother pay?"
"No, we’re past that. I know him too well. The job is blown—he knows it. We will now be officially classified as witnesses—loose ends. Killing us will be his only mission, and he will not stop.”
“But you said…”
“I know what I said, but that was then and this is now. Kidnappings have a way of taking odd twists and turns.”
“How many kidnappings have you been a part of?”
Brotherhood Protectors: GUARDIAN ANGEL (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 5