Steal My Girl

by Casey McMillin

  I cried bitter tears that burned and stung and made my head ache even more than it already did. I was extremely thirsty, and tried to swallow, but the effort made me gag. I was nauseous, which I hadn't even noticed at first, but once my gag reflex got triggered, my upset stomach reared it's ugly head.

  I begged my body not to do it, but there was just no way to stop myself. The contents of my stomach came out of my mouth, which was obviously blocked by the gag. A good bit of the vomit was painfully redirected through my nose, but much of it got stuck in my throat.

  I gagged and choked, and flopped around desperately for a few seconds before blacking out again.

  I woke up to the sound of men yelling.

  "It's your fuckin' fault if she's dead."

  I was teetering on the edge of consciousness, and their voices were distant.

  "I told you she didn't need to be gagged, you fuckin' idiot. It's not like she's going anywhere."

  "I didn't want to listen to her screamin' all the way."

  "Well, you're gonna have to explain your special needs to Luis if she's dead when we get to the Dominican."

  I risked the slightest of peeks through barely open eyelids to see where I was. I tried to swallow and cringed against the nasty taste but was so very relieved that my mouth could actually close. My hands and legs were bound, I was covered in puke and in a lot of pain in multiple areas of my body, but my eyes and mouth were free, and the relief I felt from this fact was unexplainable. I almost felt as though my eyes and mouth being loosed somehow equaled me having a chance at making it out of this alive.

  I stayed very still, being careful not to let them know I was conscious. I could see through my barely cracked eyelids that I was lying on my side over what looked to be the arm of a couch or chair. There were two guys standing on the far side of the small room, but neither of them was looking at me.

  "She'll wake up. Will said she was breathing fine on her own."

  "It doesn't matter if she's breathing. She might as well be dead if she's brain dead and never wakes up."

  "What's Luis trying to do, put her on the phone and make her beg them to come help her?"

  "I have no clue what he plans on doing, and I don't really care. We're just supposed to bring the girlfriend alive."

  I almost spoke out loud to tell them that I wasn't anyone's girlfriend, and because of that, would offer no real leverage. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I imagined that I would tell them that and they would turn around and drop me off at Target. I really did want to say it out loud, and I wasn't scared to do it, but truth was, I just couldn't. I physically couldn't muster up the strength to open my mouth and say the words. I could barely hold my eyes open, and even that, was the slightest of cracks.

  There was a door on the other side of the room and one of the guys went out of it while the other one turned to head in my direction. I left my eyes cracked and watched him approach. He looked right at me and couldn't even tell they were open. I felt the cushion of whatever I was sitting on shift when he sat down next to me. Every movement caused pain to radiate in my jaw, and I tried to just zone out as I bit back tears.

  I knew I needed to make a plan at some point, but was too sick and exhausted to remember how to do that. I was in and out of consciousness for the next… I actually had no idea how long I was out, but when I woke up, I was on a cot with no bindings on my feet or hands.

  I picked my head up, but put it back down when I saw the guy standing at the foot of my cot with a machine gun on his shoulder. I stared up at the ceiling. It took me a second to focus on what I saw, but apparently, I was in a tiny shack that was made of what looked to be banana trees. I was in the middle of the jungle somewhere with a machine gun toting stranger watching me, waiting for me to wake up.

  I tried to muster up the will to sit up and confront my situation, but I was just too sick to make that happen. My head and neck were absolutely throbbing and my whole body ached painfully. I was really sick with the flu one time when I was in middle school and this was a similar feeling, only worse. I was almost certain I had a fever. I shifted onto my side, trying in vain to find a comfortable position. When I did, the guy with the gun came around and looked at me. I focused on him, and the next thing I knew, he was yelling something in Spanish.

  Seconds later, one of the guys from the kidnapping—the quiet one, whose name was maybe Ken—came into the shack.

  "She's awake, Will. Get in here."

  I saw Will come into my field of vision. He reached up and hit Ken on the back of the head, and Ken cut his eyes at him.

  "You gotta get her in good enough shape to talk to her boyfriend," Will said.

  I shook my head imperceptibly, but Ken was looking at me and saw it. "She's saying something. She shook her head just now."

  "Whater ya sayin' no to? It doesn't seem like you're really in a position to be refusing us anything."

  "He's not my boyfriend," I said—or at least that's what I tried to say. My voice came out a strangled whisper and both of them scowled at me like they couldn't even begin to hear what I was saying. I licked my lips, which felt numb and cracked, and swallowed, trying to clear my throat. Swallowing was extremely painful and I let out a whimper.

  Will slapped Ken on the back of the head again. "Y'all fucked her up," he said. "I told you she was gonna turn out brain dead from choking."

  I stared up at them and hazily wondered if they were right. Maybe I was brain dead. Maybe that was why I couldn't get my point across to them. I shook my head again, and they both stared down at me.

  "Water," I choked out.

  The guy with the gun came into my view, handing one of them a canteen. Ken put it to my mouth, and I took a few tiny sips. It tasted like crap, but I was so thirsty for it that I didn't care. Somewhere in the back my mind I knew I'd probably get sick from drinking it, but that was really the least of my worries right then.

  "He's not my boyfriend," was the first thing I said when I thought my mouth could form words.

  "What'd she say?"

  "I think she said he isn't her boyfriend. Is that what you said?" he yelled down at me.

  I attempted a nod.

  "Well that's a nice sentiment but unfortunately we know it's bullshit because we were with you guys last night. Then we followed him to your house where he spent the night."

  I shook my head again, and they both stared down at me. "He doesn't care about me. You got the wrong person." My words barely made it out past the pain in my throat and jaw, but I had to make an attempt at making them doubt themselves.

  "Oh, you're not the right girl? You're not the one Rory McDonald was gaga over? Why don't we just let you go free then? Do you need a ride back to your car?"

  They looked at each other and laughed loudly, and the whole situation was so surreal that I felt like I'd been drugged.

  "You need to get her to drink some more of that water," I heard one of them say. The canteen was again to my lips, and I drank a few little gulps before closing my eyes and drifting to sleep again.

  ***

  The next time I woke up, I was the most aware I'd been in a while. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was an IV bag hanging over me.

  "Are you finally gonna open your eyes?"

  I dreamed I'd be looking at a friendly face, but when I looked around, I saw it was Will the kidnapper. "Luis had to bring in a doctor from the coast to give you an IV because I told him you were gonna fuckin' die if he didn't."

  I didn't say anything, and he continued after a minute of silence.

  "He was so pissed about the inconvenience that he made me shoot Ken and Freddy for almost killing you."

  Fear struck me at how casually he spoke of killing his partners, and he must have picked up on it because he shrugged. "It doesn't make a difference to me, as long as I get paid." He spoke again, with a very deliberate tone of voice. "But I don't get paid if you can't get on the phone and tell your boyfriend to come get you. And don't say he's not your boyfriend,
because that makes you worthless to us, and believe me you do not want to be considered worthless."

  He was an older man, and I stared at the wrinkles by his eyes as he smiled sarcastically at me. I was quiet, trying to piece together everything I been through. I decided I'd feel a lot better knowing how long this whole ordeal has been going on.

  "What day is it?" was the first thing I said.

  "Sunday. He looked at his watch. Well, I guess Monday now."

  Did that mean it was midnight? I thought it was daylight but glanced around to see a few battery-operated lanterns. I stared at one of them blankly.

  "If you're well enough to ask what day it is, you're well enough to make a phone call." Will pressed a few buttons on his phone and put it to his ear.

  "She's awake. Yeah. Whenever you're ready."

  "Thirty minutes later, a guy came in the door. He spoke to the machine gun guy in Spanish, and Will interjected in Spanish as well. I didn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved that I couldn't understand them.

  Will got right in my face. "Sit up," he said.

  I rolled onto my elbow, but it was the best I could do. I felt like shit. The worst I'd ever felt in my life. Had my body really deteriorated this much in…wait, how long had I been kidnapped? If it was Monday morning and I left Saturday, then its been like a day and a…

  "Pick yourself up and listen to my instructions. I'm going to talk to him first and tell him what our terms are. He's going to ask to put you on the phone, and when I do, you better convince him you're terrified. If you deviate from these simple instructions, I'll be forced to make you scream. Do you understand?"

  I nodded. Will and the guys talked some more in Spanish before he placed a call on the special phone the messenger had brought with him.

  He held the phone to his ear. "Hello, I'm calling for Rory McDonald," he said, with an eerie smile. "The ship you took over was worth four million to us. We have a young lady here named Megan Richie who must be worth that even though she's pretty beat up."

  I heard someone yell through the phone, and Will smiled as he held the phone away from his ear. He pressed a button to put Rory on speaker and continued to hold the phone out in front of him. "We will take this amount plus twenty percent in cash within twenty-four hours or the girl dies."

  He took the bottom of his boot and kicked me in the leg. I let out a weak cry, but Rory still heard it.

  "Megan?" he asked sharply.

  "Yes."

  "Is it really ye? What'd I tell you got stuck in my eye when I was a kid?"

  "Glitter," I said weakly.

  I heard him sigh. "Megan, are they hurting ye?"

  "It's okay," I said.

  "Fucking hell! I'm gonna kill every last one of them!" he roared. His voice seriously sounded like a growl as it came through the phone, like a lion was on the other end. I would have smiled at the sound if I could've mustered up the strength. I heard him take a deep breath. "I'm coming for ye, baby. Listen to me. Ye need to hold tight. Be strong. Ye got this. I'm coming."

  "That's enough." Will said. "You have twenty-four hours to come up with the money or I'm finishing the job. You'll get another call in eight hours with further instructions."

  He hung up the phone and I lay stiffly back onto the cot.

  Chapter 10

  Tom Kelly and his boys were employed by the United States Government, and were working the longest possible undercover operation. Tom's job as a pirate was a career-long charade, which made it even more dangerous than if he were just a regular pirate.

  That would have been way less complicated.

  Tom was a real piece of work, and because he knew the government had to go along with whatever lifestyle he created as Tom Kelly, he went ahead and made himself super rich, and opened a very-real fishing business on the side. It was sort of an inside joke he had with his superiors. He said if he was going to pull off a lifelong job, he needed it to seem real.

  Tom really lived the lifestyle of a pirate. The story of how his boys were conceived on Tom's trips around the Caribbean was totally true. The boys had come into his life during their adolescence, and the government wanted to raise them in boarding schools, but Tom insisted they stay with him.

  He didn't tell them everything at the beginning. That information came over time, but Rory and Drake both worked for the government now, and had been training with their father since they were about seventeen.

  Tom had a crew of eight men besides his sons working under him, all of which were government agents. They were so deep into the lifestyle, that they couldn't risk a bust revealing their identity. For this reason, they were always very strategic with any information they gathered when undercover.

  The Puerto Ricans they came up against recently were new to the mix, and Tom wasn't surprised at all that they were pissed about having their ship taken. He was surprised, however that they were able to pull off a kidnapping. Tom thought his team was untouchable, and Megan Richie's disappearance had come as an absolute shock to him.

  Sunday afternoon, Megan's friend Sage came by Megan and Addie's place saying Megan had never come to help her move the day before when she promised she would. Addie didn't even consider telling Drake and the boys about it, instead she and Sage walked over to knock on Megan's parent's door to ask if they knew where she was.

  They talked for twenty minutes about Megan's dependability with picking up the phone, and mutually decided not to panic until they'd called her other friends to see if anyone had heard from her. By the time Addie went over to Drakes at 4PM that afternoon, she had already started to feel uneasy about Megan. Sure, she was terrible with checking in, but not showing up to Sage's had Addie feeling an ever-growing sense of dread.

  Rory and Tom were sitting at the bar when Addie came in.

  "Drake's in the shop," Rory said.

  "Thanks," she said, not smiling.

  "What's wrong?" Tom asked.

  "We just can't find Megan and I'm feeling nervous about it."

  "What? What'd ye just say?" Rory asked, turning to look at her from over his shoulder. "Are ye talking about Megan? I tried to text her twice yesterday."

  "Yeah, she was supposed to meet her friend to help her move, and she never showed up. Nobody's seen or heard from her since yesterday morning."

  Rory slid back in his chair, causing a screeching noise, stood up, and started walking toward her. Tom stood and followed, both of them looking like they took Addie really seriously, which made her feel both relieved and scared.

  "Tell me everything ye know," Rory said, approaching Addie cautiously.

  "I went to breakfast with her yesterday morning, and right when we got back, she left, headed for her friend Sage's house. She never showed up, and Sage came by an hour ago to check on her."

  "And no one noticed she was missing between then and now?" Rory said, tense with frustration. The statement was directed at Addie and it was almost accusatory. She scowled at him.

  "I thought she was helping a friend. And for your information, we don't check in with each other every five minutes."

  "What's the matter?" Drake said, coming in for the first time.

  "Megan's been missing since yesterday fucking morning, and we're just finding out about it," Rory said, angrily.

  "I'm just finding out about it too," Addie said. "And don't say she's missing. I can't think of it like that."

  Rory ignored her. He could think of nothing but getting Megan back safely, and that started with a call to Mike Greer who was managing the case with the Puerto Ricans.

  "Call Mike," he said, looking at Tom, who gave him a curt nod and took off, pushing buttons on his phone.

  "What's going on?" Addie asked.

  The guys couldn't tell her the truth, and they had to do some type of damage control with Addie and the other civilians that had been caught in the crosshairs of this. Tom made his phone call, and then decided they needed to pay a visit to Alan and Candice Richie, Megan's parents.

  Drake sta
yed home in order to correspond with Mike about the search for Megan, and Rory and Tom went with Addie to speak to Megan's parents. Rory didn't show much emotion, but it was obvious by the set of his jaw that he wasn't taking any of this lightly. He and Tom stood in the Richie's living room with Alan, Candice, and Addie. Megan's brother Steven was at a friend's house and knew nothing of the severity of the situation.

  "Mr. Richie, my name is Tom Kelly, I live in the house right behind you."

  "I know who you are," Alan said, smiling and shaking Tom and Rory's hands before he sat down. "Addie's told us a lot about you and your boys." He gestured for Rory and Tom to have a seat, but they both stayed standing, which made his face shift into a worried expression.

  "We have reason to believe that your daughter's safety has been compromised," Tom said, not beating around the bush.

  Alan Ritchie looked Tom and Rory over seriously. Candice fell onto the couch and burst into a fit of dramatic tears, and Addie looked up at the guys as if she was shocked that they seemed like they knew something about it.

  "What do you know?" she asked before Alan could get the question out.

  "Not much yet, but we will. We're working on it. But there's a reason I'm here to speak with you. There's one thing that's very important. You cannot call the police. You absolutely cannot call them." Tom stared at Alan when he said it the second time, trying to convey how important it was that he listen to his words.