“And did you remain upright after you pulled the trigger?”
“Upright is such a general term,” Jessica replied while waving the question away as if it was trivial, definitely not willing to admit she had fallen on her butt and had suffered a bruised shoulder for more than a week.
“Just as I thought,” Ryker said, seeing right through her. “No guns for you.”
She stood up, getting closer to the table, peeking into the open bag as if she was willing to make do with their leftovers. There were more pistols and general weaponry inside.
“Come on…”
“No, I am sorry.”
“Boss!” Max called.
Ryker gave her one last look and said, “I have counted these guns, I will know if one is missing.”
She saluted sloppily and he headed toward the cockpit. Vurnon and Hubrecht stuffed themselves in the doorway to see what the conversation was about.
It was a perfect opportunity for Jessica to snoop. She bent forward and went in search of a weapon. He had said he had counted the guns but… what about this? She picked up what was obviously a tactical knife. She pressed a button and a four-inch blade came flying out, startling her. A switchblade was perfect, she thought wickedly.
She just had time to fold it shut and shove it down her left sock when Hubrecht turned back toward her.
“Do you need something? A Coke or something to eat?”
She shook her head quickly with guilt, afraid that he had seen her stealing a knife. “No, thanks.”
He came closer and inspected her for a moment.
“Come with me.”
She wondered what he wanted but there was a pleasant smile on his face. She followed him toward the pilothouse and they went down a curving staircase.
“You haven’t had the tour yet, yes?”
“No,” she answered, at last figuring out what was going on.
“Captain Prins forgets his manners sometimes.”
“Captain Prins? What, you buy half a dozen boats and suddenly you’re a captain?”
Hubrecht shook his head. “No, Ryker has earned the title legitimately. Captain was his rank when he was in the Korps Mariniers.”
“The what?”
“The Netherlands Marine Corps.”
“Ryker was a soldier?”
“Yes.” He gave her a moment to absorb the information before continuing. “This is the guest stateroom. It has a queen-size bed and the guest head – the bathroom – is right here.”
They moved aft along the companionway. He showed her the well hidden washer and dryer and explained that Ryker had come into possession of the boat a few years before when a client had failed to pay his debts. Secret compartments had been made for smuggling runs but so far the Dutchman had only used the yacht for leisure cruises.
“And right here is the full-beam master stateroom.”
“Full-beam?”
“It takes the entire width of the boat.”
They walked in and Jessica couldn’t help thinking the bedroom looked like a miniature luxury hotel room. The walls were made of teak again, making it rich and inviting. There were mirrors where the headboard would have been. There were portholes on each side and even a narrow loveseat.
“You really respect Ryker, don’t you Hubrecht?”
He glanced around quickly to make sure they were alone and then nodded. “He saved my life. We were in Afghanistan together, and then Iraq. He was my commanding officer and he pushed me away while we were being attacked. He was shot instead of me. He is a hero and I owe him my life.”
“I had no idea.”
“He became a hard man after the war. He moved down here to Curaçao to start a new life and it was a fellow soldier from England who convinced him to start smuggling. He had saved his life just like Captain Prins had saved mine, that’s how it started.”
Jessica nodded, trying to picture how a hero could change paths so suddenly. “I see…”
“He was a compassionate man when I first met him. He was always listening to his men, looking out for them. After the war, after he became what he is now, he lost a part of himself, a part of… a part of his humanity. But that was before you.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, not trusting herself to breathe.
“Since he has met you, I can see glimpses of what he used to be. He was a good man before and when he’s around you he’s becoming a good man again.”
She felt her hands tingle with nervousness. What was Hubrecht saying? She couldn’t possibly have this effect on the immovable giant that was Ryker.
“So,” he continued, lowering his voice. “Please be careful not to hurt him. He doesn’t deserve it again.”
She nodded and the short bodyguard resumed his guided tour. She lost interest in the boat and started imagining Ryker in a different life. To her he was this mysterious and powerful outlaw, someone to be feared and yet charming beyond reason. But according to his faithful sidekick, deep down he was a valiant and selfless man.
Both personas threatened to make her faint.
They went back up the stairs and there was no longer a huddle in the cockpit. Vurnon was going over weapons again. Hubrecht grunted a question at him.
“Upstairs,” Vurnon replied, barely raising his head.
When Hubrecht went to the dinette table to help him out, Jessica understood the question had been meant for her. She took the staircase next to the dining area and went up to the flying bridge.
She came out of the hatch somewhat unsteadily because of the rolling sea but swiftly pulled herself to her feet. There was a helm with a captain’s chair from which someone could pilot the yacht. Immediately behind was a plushy seat wide enough for at least two people.
Ryker was there with a clipboard as music played just loud enough to overcome the ocean and motor. She recognized Never Had a Dream Come True by S Club 7. He looked up as she came forward and sat down next to him.
“Still working on your plan?”
“Yes. I have been working on it for almost a year and I honestly never thought I would ever put it into practice.”
“Because it’s dangerous?”
“Because after this there is no going back. If we do not achieve victory, Baiz will come after me until I am completely annihilated. My strength is only a fraction of his and I will not be able to resist for long.”
This gave her chills and she found herself rubbing her arms since she was still only wearing a T-shirt. The temperature was in the 80s but out on the water it felt much cooler.
“Come closer,” he ordered.
He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him. She wanted to resist, to tell him that she didn’t need him, but the warmth from his body was irresistible. His hand stroked her upper arm and it was too late when she realized she was sighing.
“Would you like a jacket?”
“No, this is nice. You’re a sweet man, Ryker.”
He shifted and she felt him tense up. “I am not sweet.”
“You wouldn’t be doing this for me if you weren’t,” she reminded him.
“I try to keep my goals in perspective.”
“You can’t fool me. I know what kind of person you are. I just wished you could remember too.”
He looked as if he wanted to say something but kept his mouth shut. They looked out toward the horizon and she craned her neck to look at his clipboard. There were rough sketches but also numbers in the margins. It was like everything was calculated to the millisecond.
“Is that the plan?”
“Yes, you want to hear about it?”
When she nodded, he told her how to they were heading to a spot not far from Savaneta on the southwestern side of the island. There were twin bays, essentially shaped like a W, with a small marina in one and a villa belonging to Baiz in the other.
“Wait a minute, Baiz lives in Barranquilla. That’s on the coast, no? Why does he need a house in Aruba?”
“Because Colombia is such a criminal
haven, it is also under great scrutiny. He uses Aruba as a forward operating base. He even has an airstrip to fly out his drugs and contraband throughout the Caribbean and up to the United States. It is much easier to act incognito this way.”
He had a way of explaining so she could understand and she immediately saw how he would have been a great military officer.
She listened to him list the details of the two-pronged attack but she lost herself thinking about how she really felt about him, what kind of future they could ever have together. It was absolutely insane to think about anything that wasn’t in the present since they lived thousands of miles apart.
Besides, she had to be nothing but a short-term distraction for someone like him. He could have anyone he wanted. He was rich, popular, and no doubt had his pick of local beauties. To think he would even consider a serious relationship with her was as ludicrous as it was unpractical.
She took a deep breath and decided she needed to clear her mind from this nonsense. She looked up at him.
“So, what’s your stance on the bumper stickers?”
“Excuse me?” he asked with furrowed brow, turning toward her and trying to make sense of the non sequitur.
“Bumper stickers, they’re stickers that you put on car bumpers.”
“Yes, I know what bumper stickers are. What about them?”
“Are you for or against them? Where I’m from everybody has them.”
“Why?”
Now it was her turn to be puzzled. “What do you mean, why?”
“Why would one desecrate their car with stickers?”
“Lots of reasons, mainly to say that you’re proud of something. They can be political, religious, or humorous. A lot of people have stickers of their favorite teams, the branch of the military they served in, or alma mater.”
“Alma what?”
“Alma mater, the college you went to.”
“And that is very important in America?”
She frowned and realized she had never given this serious thought. To her it was part of everyday life. You went to college, you stuck a small decal of the school in the rear window of your car.
“I guess. It’s just the way it’s done. So I gather you’re not into bumper stickers then.”
“I have never encountered one that warranted being displayed, I suppose. I will have to look into this.”
He leaned down and kissed her lips until she was forced to shut her eyes. Pressing her body against his, she decided she would have made small talk earlier had she known it would’ve led to this. Being kissed by him was worth all the anguish in the world.
Chapter 25
Daphne didn’t feel human anymore. She was dirty, hungry and oh so tired. She hadn’t slept a wink in what, two, three days? She didn’t even know how long ago she had been abducted. Time was a hazy concept now. It felt like she had been taken weeks ago. There were stretches of time she couldn’t account for but she didn’t think it was from sleep. No, it was more like passing out.
She had no idea where she was except from knowing it was in a basement. The temperature wasn’t so bad but the air was absolutely rancid. She spent the first several hours gagging. Now she was used to it, just like she had accepted the plastic bucket that served as a toilet.
The room she was in was small, maybe six feet by eight. The walls were grimy cinderblocks and the floor was nothing but a concrete slab covered with dust. There were no windows and light came from a bargain store fixture on the ceiling. At one point she had considered snatching the low-wattage light bulb and possibly using it as a weapon but there was no way to reach that high.
She had seen a funny T-shirt once in college, it said What Would MacGyver Do? That simple statement gave her hope for a spell. Her best idea was to try and fold her mattress so she could have a chance to reach the ceiling but it was simply too rigid to be bent in half. Then, she dragged the mattress underneath and used it as a springboard. While she managed to touch the fixture, she couldn’t get a hold of it long enough to pry the bulb out.
And then she cried. She wrapped herself in the threadbare blanket that came with the bed and sobbed forever. Why was this happening to her? What had she done to deserve this? Was this karma? Had she wronged someone in a past life? Dried tears streaked her face now. She didn’t have the energy to cry anymore.
More than that, she had stopped caring. It wasn’t that she was ready to die but she was ready for something to happen. Anything would be better than this vacuum of information. No one told her anything. At every opportunity she questioned the guard who brought her food once in a while. He never answered her questions, just told her to eat.
She had scoffed at the first two meals but had wolfed down the others. It wasn’t exactly high cuisine, especially for someone like her who had graduated from the Culinary Institute of America, but it wasn’t the slop she expected from all those prison movies either. They usually gave her a sandwich and some potato chips or some microwaved pasta. She was also given water at will but they always insisted on getting the empty bottles back.
The thing she was most grateful for was that she hadn’t been assaulted, sexually or otherwise. That was her most intense fear. She had heard of horror stories about sex slavery and human trafficking and she couldn’t help thinking that was why she was here. She just never thought of it in concrete terms.
Then again, that wasn’t how she had been captured. She had stumbled upon dangerous looking man doing illegal looking stuff and they had taken her, most likely to leave no witnesses. So why hadn’t they just kill her? What were they waiting for?
She had always mocked her mother, her friends, anyone telling her that she should be more careful in life. She had a free spirit and believed in having as much fun as possible. She didn’t like people raining on her parade and using scare tactics to dampen her enthusiasm.
They had been right all along.
She sat in the corner of the room, her back against the cinderblock walls, hugging her knees which were propped up against her chest. She felt so dirty and she would do anything for a shower. Her clothes weren’t quite in tatters yet but there hadn’t many to begin with, just shorts and a bikini top. She had lost her sandals somewhere on the way back from Klein Curaçao.
She didn’t know if it was day or night. She didn’t know if her disappearance had even been noticed by anyone. For all she knew, these kidnappers had forged a letter from her saying she was going to spend the rest of her vacation away in Barbados. The worst part was that given her track record it would almost be believable.
Her only salvation was her best friend Jessica. She knew her better than anyone and she had to be aware that something was off. And since Jessica was the complete opposite of her, uptight and with a proclivity for worrying about the silliest things, she would most likely have gone to the authorities by now.
So why hadn’t she been rescued yet?
That was the most depressing question so far. If Jessica’s determination hadn’t yielded anything by this time then it meant that the odds of ever getting out of here were slim to none. There was no escaping the fate these monsters had laid out for her.
Her head snapped up when she heard the deadbolt rotate out of the heavy metal door. It swung open gently, the creaking sounds of rusty hinges giving her goose bumps like nails on a chalkboard.
“Holà,” the captor said.
It was always the same man that she dealt with. He had said that his name was Raul when she had first been locked up here and he had been one of the men with guns on the shipwreck. He was in his mid-20s but looked older, his hair greasy and his sweaty face unshaven.
“There’s no food?” she asked.
She inspected what he was carrying, it was out of the ordinary. He had a heavy bucket, a towel, and some toiletries. He put everything on the ground just inside the door, keeping his body in the frame to block her exit should she try anything foolish.
“Tonight you find out why you’re here.”
She s
hivered at his words. “And why am I here?”
“El Hefe, Señor Baiz, he’s coming for you later. You should be grateful, he’s the one who told us to keep you alive.”
“Why… Why does he want me alive?”
The thug snorted as he put his things down. “Because he’s not an animal, he doesn’t like to fuck corpses.”
Daphne stopped breathing. So it was human trafficking after all.
“He wants me to become his sex slave?”
“Slave? No. After a while you learn to like it, so they say.”
“What happens if I don’t?”
“You don’t want to find out, believe me. It becomes the problem of Herrera and he loves to play with his knife.”
Doing her best to not pass out, she asked, “Does he have many slaves like me?”
“I said you’re not a slave. You’re more like a… mistress. El Hefe always wanted to have an American mistress.”
“I can’t do this, Raul.” She stood up and came toward him. “Please let me go, I’ll do anything!”
He pointed at her and she stopped in her tracks.
“I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do.”
“Please…”
“There is hot water here,” he said, indicating the bucket. “Clean up very good for Señor Baiz. There is also this.” He picked up a bottle of Nair for her to see. “Use it everywhere, even… down there. El Hefe likes it that way.”
“Raul, don’t let him do this to me,” she pleaded with fresh tears falling down her face.
“You should be happy, it’s a great honor to be his whore. After a few weeks he usually stops hitting you.”
He backed away and closed the door, locking it behind him.
Daphne shrieked as her crying intensified. Right then and there she vowed that if she came out of it alive she would stop being this irresponsible. But first she did have to stay alive which was becoming unlikely.
Chapter 26
Jessica was proud of herself when she settled into the inflatable dinghy in the back of the yacht. It took two hours of intense debate but eventually she made her point. She had to go with them on shore not because she was an asset in the assault but because she had to be there for Daphne.
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