Her Wicked Hero

by Caitlyn O'Leary

  She stared up at Harold Brockman, looking for reassurance. “What if I did it wrong?”

  “You didn’t. I’ve known you damn near your whole life, you did it perfectly. We just need to be ready when help arrives.”

  “What happens if Raymond goes somewhere with the backpack? I should never have put it back there.” Marcia hit her fist on her thigh. “That was so stupid.”

  “It isn’t his, it’s a duffel they put everything in, it’s not going anywhere. Haven’t you noticed, all the men are still wearing their regular packs?”

  She wanted to believe him, she really did. But she would have felt better if it was with them.

  “I have to depend on you to follow orders,” his voice turned to steel. “If they had found that watch on you, they would have beat you or worse. Then they would have destroyed the beacon and moved all of us. Our lives depend on you doing what I tell you.” He put his knuckles under her chin. “Look at me.”

  She raised her eyes.

  He started coughing, but she watched him will himself to stop. She was so worried about his injuries. “Now my family doesn’t know this. My wife didn’t even know this, but I’ve been in a situation similar to this in the past. I know what I’m doing. I know what needs to be done to survive. You have to do what I tell you. If you don’t, we’ll die.”

  “You really were a spy, weren’t you?”

  “If I tell you, then I’ll have to kill you,” he said with a wan grin.

  She smiled, trying to perk him up. “Did you have a number? Were you 008?”

  “That’s for the British. We came up with code names like Rambo. Seriously though, I need you alert for whatever comes next. I’m depending on you. That means you need to get some shut-eye. I’m on watch, you sleep. Then when you wake up, we can switch. How does that sound?” He coughed again.

  It actually sounded good. Marcia pulled the thin blanket tighter around herself. She stretched out and placed her arms under her head and looked over at Debbie and Christie. Knowing she needed to be rested for them had her closing her eyes.

  Marcia felt rather than heard when Debbie stood over her. “What is it Sweets?” she asked the girl.

  “I need to go,” she said nodding toward the door.

  There was a makeshift outhouse their captors had made near the edge of the clearing. It offered a bit of privacy, and Marcia always went with the girls. She looked at Harold and saw he was awake but sweating a lot. He gave a tight grin and nod. Those ribs of his had to be hurting pretty bad. She’d insist he take off his shirt and then bind him with a torn blanket when she returned.

  “Okay, Debbie, let’s go.” She banged on the door. “Bathroom break,” she shouted.

  Of course, there was no answer. Even though it was the afternoon and she could hear noise outside, they always took their damn time to let them out. She gave it two minutes, then banged on the door even louder.

  “Bathroom break,” she yelled again. She turned to Christie who was still on the floor, clutching her blanket around her. She knew she hated going to the latrine and held off for as long as she could, but she needed to take advantage.

  “Christie, come with us.”

  The younger girl shook her head.

  “Christie, go with the other girls,” Harold said.

  “No. I want to stay with you. I don’t have to go. I promise.”

  Marcia looked at the water bottle next to Christie and realized it was almost full. Mr. Brockman must have seen it too.

  “Christie, you have to drink your water, otherwise, you’ll get sick. Drink some right now.”

  “No.” Christie didn’t look twelve, she looked five years old sitting in the middle of the dirt floor of the hut as she stared petulantly at her father.

  “Young lady, I said drink it.”

  “Fine.” Christie picked up the bottle and started drinking, and Debbie banged on the door of the hut. It opened.

  “Keep your pants on,” Raymond laughed. “Oh yeah, you’re not, are you? Follow me, I’m your guide.”

  Debbie grabbed Marcia’s hand in a death grip as they walked across the little clearing toward the lean-to that housed the communal toilet which was nothing more than wooden planks over a hole in the ground.

  “Wait here.” Marcia looked inside before she would let Debbie go. She wanted to make sure there were no snakes or spiders. Marcia came back out. “Where’s the toilet paper?” she demanded.

  “We’re out,” Raymond smirked.

  “Kyle said he made sure there would be some for the girls.”

  “He was wrong.”

  Marcia grabbed Debbie’s hand. “I’m going to find him.” She started walking away with the girl in tow. Raymond grabbed her upper arm and whirled her around.

  “Bitch. You’ll do what I say. We’re out of goddamn toilet paper. The little girl can go find a fucking leaf.”

  “No!” a woman shrieked

  Raymond, Marcia, and Debbie all whirled around to stare when they saw Mr. Hoff being dragged out of his hut with his sobbing wife following him.

  “Raymond, get over here,” Kyle called.

  “Come on, let’s join the party.” Raymond grabbed both of their arms and fast-walked them over to where the Hoff’s were.

  “I have good news,” Kyle said grinning to the nine mercenaries standing around the Hoff’s. “We just made our first sale.”

  Another man Marcia hated, his name was Kroeger, he pulled out his knife and started cleaning his nails. “So now that there’s less for us to watch, you going to start paying us off and letting us go on our merry way?” he asked Kyle.

  “Is that what you want to do? Do you want to be released early from the job?” Kyle asked.

  “I’m sick of the jungle. You’re getting paid now. It could be weeks before the other deals are made. So yeah, I want out early.”

  “Okay, that can be arranged.” Kyle nodded to the bald man who was next to Kroeger, and somehow, he’d shot Kroeger in the head before Marcia even saw him pull out his gun.

  Mrs. Hoff started to scream hysterically. Debbie started to cry. Marcia pulled her into her arms, shoving the young girl’s face into her chest, so she couldn’t look at the bloody mess.

  “Nice going, Kyle, more for us. How much is Hoff going for?” Raymond asked.

  “He’s small potatoes compared to the physicist and Brockman, he only went for six million.”

  “Cool, he’s the six-million-dollar man,” the bald man said.

  “You girls are going to be with us a while,” Raymond whispered to Marcia and Debbie. “Your daddy’s worth a fortune.”

  Debbie whimpered, but Marcia had had enough. “If he’s so important, where the heck is our fricking toilet paper?” she said loud enough for Kyle to hear.

  “Bitch,” Raymond said under his breath.

  “You’ve got balls, Lesley,” Kyle chuckled. “I like that. Raymond, give them a roll of toilet paper to keep. They’ll have to make it last.”

  Raymond let go of her arm and stomped off. Marcia breathed a sigh of relief. She knew it was going to be badly bruised. She watched as Raymond tried to go past Kyle, but the man shoved Raymond in the chest and whispered in his ear. Raymond paled, then he turned to glare at Marcia. Kyle pushed him away toward the mercenaries’ quarters.

  “Come on, Franz, let’s get you and Lilith going. You’ve got a boat to catch. Need to start your trek through the jungle. Then you get to take a nice nap again. You remember that, don’t you?” Kyle asked.

  Mrs. Hoff started talking in German to her husband. Kyle backhanded her. “English. Speak in English.”

  She hit the ground hard and didn’t get up. It took a moment for Marcia to realize her head had hit a rock.

  “Fuck me,” Kyle said disgustedly. He yanked her up by her arm and shook her. “Lilith, are you with me?” She moaned.

  “Well, at least you’re not dead. Now, speak English.”

  She looked up at him helplessly. “Where are we going?”

 
“There are some nice people in Tehran who want to talk to your husband about his banking practices.”

  “Can’t you let her go? I’ll tell them anything they want to know. Can’t she be set free?” Mr. Hoff begged.

  “Franz, you’re a big boy. You know everyone likes to have a bit of influence when negotiating with someone. She’s their way of influencing you.”

  Marcia watched as Mr. Hoff started to cry. Then like magic, Mrs. Hoff stopped. “It’s going to be okay Franz. I’ll be fine. We’ll both be fine. You’ll see.”

  Raymond stomped back and shoved the roll into Marcia’s chest. “I’m going to get you for this.” He grabbed her and pulled so hard, she hit her knees. “Get up.”

  Debbie looked at Marcia, her fright obvious. Marcia gave her the best smile she could and got off the ground. Raymond damn near sprinted to the lean-to, and the girls did their best to keep up. Marcia handed the roll of toilet paper to Debbie and stood in front of the opening to give her privacy from Raymond. She also didn’t want Debbie to be able to see anything happening with the Hoff’s.

  “Bull, you’re going to go with Kevin, I want you back tomorrow. Duane isn’t answering at the boat. He’s probably drinking again. If he is, you know what to do,” Kyle said.

  Marcia saw the man named Bull nod his head. What the heck that meant, she had no idea. At least, he seemed kind the way he helped Mrs. Hoff to her feet. God, what was going to happen to them when they got to Tehran? Were they really going to torture Mrs. Hoff? Surely Mr. Hoff would just tell them everything he knew. She knew Mr. Brockman would because he wouldn’t want anything to happen to Christie or Debbie.

  What happened if they didn’t believe him? What happened if they thought he wasn’t telling them everything? She covered her mouth, sure she was going to throw up.

  “Marcia, are you all right?” Debbie asked as she came out of the outhouse.

  “Who’s Marcia?” Raymond demanded.

  “That’s my middle name,” Marcia quickly lied. “Lesley Marcia Brockman.”

  Raymond stared at her for a moment, then looked back at the spectacle in the clearing where the Hoff’s were being led away. Mrs. Hoff was trying to comfort her husband.

  “Look at how weak he is,” Raymond said. “You can totally see he doesn’t wear the pants in that family,” he laughed. “Same damn thing with the professor and her husband. Damn, all these pussy-whipped men, it’s pathetic.”

  Debbie handed the roll of toilet paper to Marcia. “It’s your turn. I’ll stand guard.”

  Raymond laughed again. “What are you going to guard against, little girly?”

  “Debbie, just stay close, okay?” Marcia said quietly. She waited until the girl nodded, then went into the lean-to. Marcia finished quickly and was zipping up her jeans when three loud blasts sounded right outside.

  “Debbie,” she screamed, sure the girl had been shot even though she could see she had just ducked down. Marcia lunged out of the opening and tackled her to the ground, covering her with her body.

  “Fuck,” Raymond yelled. Marcia looked up and saw he had pulled his huge pistol out of its holster and had it aimed into the clearing. She looked over to see what he was aiming at. The two men who had been holding the Hoff’s were now lying in a pool of blood. Mrs. Hoff was screaming again. She saw two of Kyle’s men behind the hut where Christie and Harold were, and they were shooting into the jungle. Where was Kyle? Were they about to be rescued?

  More shots were fired. Another one of the mercenaries ran over to the Hoff’s and grabbed Mr. Hoff, putting a gun to his head.

  “Stop shooting, or I’ll kill him,” he shouted to the unknown assailants in the jungle.

  The shooting stopped, and Marcia breathed a sigh of relief. At least there wouldn’t be any more holes shot into the hut with Mr. B. and Christie. Then she saw blood spray at the same time as she heard the crack of a rifle. The head of the man holding Mr. Hoff just disintegrated. Marcia stared in disbelief as Mr. Hoff and the dead man both fell to the ground.

  “Franz,” Mrs. Hoff screamed at the top of her lungs. She crawled over to her husband. She screamed again as her leg spurted blood. Oh God, she’d been shot. Marcia tried to cover Debbie even more, not wanting the precious girl to be hurt.

  So many shots rang out through the clearing, Marcia felt dizzy. She tried to see what was going on, wanting to know if they were going to live or not. She prayed all the bad guys would die, and they would be rescued.

  She shrieked as her hair was wrenched almost out of her head. She was on her knees. She desperately tried to pull out of Raymond’s grasp, so she could protect Debbie.

  “Stop it. You’re coming with me.”

  “Marcia,” the young girl wailed.

  Raymond pointed the gun at the Debbie. Shots continued to ring out. Then, like avenging angels, Marcia saw men painted in green and wearing green fatigues running into the clearing. They shot Kyle.

  Her hair was yanked so hard, she was lifted onto her feet. “I will kill your sister.” Raymond’s eyes looked crazy. Marcia looked down and saw his gun was pointed at Debbie’s head.

  “Don’t go,” Debbie begged.

  “What do you want?” Marcia asked.

  “You’re my insurance policy. I’ll get a payoff as long as I have you. Now, let’s go.”

  When Marcia hesitated, he hit Debbie in the head with the muzzle of the rifle. She let out a cry and slumped to the ground. He lifted the rifle butt again and stared at Marcia.

  “It’s your choice.”

  “Stop! I’ll go with you.”

  He fisted his hand in her curls and yanked. She did her best to keep up with him, trying not to cry despite the pain. It wasn’t until they were well past the clearing and lost in the jungle, she realized her jeans weren’t even buttoned.

  “Count off,” Gray commanded. “I want to know how many bogeys you got.”

  “One,” Dalton said.

  “Two,” Hunter said.

  “One,” Aiden said.

  “One,” Dex said.

  “Two,” Zed said as he prowled into the clearing. He counted three prisoner huts and one larger dwelling for the mercs. Aiden was kneeling down next to an old man and woman, his backpack already off, so he could offer first-aid.

  “I’m counting eight bodies, Lieutenant,” Griff said to Gray Tyler. “Either someone’s being bashful, or there was a falling out amongst these assholes, and they killed one of their own.”

  Zed watched as Aiden talked to the older couple, then spoke up. “The leader executed one of the men before we got here according to Mrs. Hoff.” That still left them down one mercenary. According to Duane on the boat, there were nine guys up here at the camp, and Zed was positive he hadn’t been lying. He’d been in too much pain to lie.

  “I’ve got Brockman, and he’s in bad shape,” Dex called from one of the huts.

  “I’ve got two injured,” Griff yelled, from another hut.

  Zed scanned the area carefully, he felt something. That’s when he heard it. A whimper over at the edge of the clearing.

  “Nobody in the barracks,” Dalton said disgustedly. He and Wyatt came out and went to Aiden. He saw Dalton get some of Aiden’s supplies and head into the hut with Dex as Zed started jogging toward the soft sound of a girl crying. He saw the makeshift latrine, and the closer he got to it, he could smell the stench.

  “Hello?” he queried. “Who are you? It’s safe to come out.”

  There was no answer. He crouched down, knowing his size was formidable. Even though he was pretty sure that he was dealing with an innocent, he kept his rifle at the ready since there was still one mercenary unaccounted for. A girl who couldn’t be more than thirteen peeked around the corner, her brown hair was matted with blood.

  “He took her,” she gasped. “You have to save her.”

  Zed moved toward her, “Querida, I have to look at your head.”

  She shook her head, then moaned. “What?”

  “Honey, you’re hurt.”
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  Enough of this happy horseshit. Zed pushed his rifle behind his back and had the girl up in his arms before she could blink.

  “Please, help Marcia,” she said again in a whisper. “He’s got her.”

  “I will,” he promised. “You need to be quiet, so we can help you, right now.” He eased her down on the ground next to the older couple he recognized as the Hoff’s. “Where are the others?” he asked Aiden quietly.

  “My sister and dad are in there,” the girl struggled to sit up as she pointed at one of the huts.

  “What’s your name?” Aiden asked as he crouched down beside her. He already had a sterile pad against her head and was flashing a penlight in her eyes. “Look forward for me, will you?” he smiled easily at the girl.

  “You’re not listening to me.” She grabbed at Zed’s arm, ignoring Aiden. “I’m fine. You need to go after Marcia. That man will kill her.” Her eyes flooded with tears.

  The kid was killing him. He loved her concern for Marcia. Every instinct inside him was screaming to do exactly what she wanted. He needed to go after Marcia and bring her back to safety.

  “Gray, we’ve got a problem,” Zed heard Hunter shout out to the lieutenant. “Come here.”

  “I’ll be right back, I promise.” Zed squeezed the girl’s hand and went over to see what Hunter had found. He was examining one of the corpses and had rolled up the man’s shirt sleeve. Even from ten yards away he could clearly see the man had a Navy SEAL trident tattoo on his bicep.

  Fuck!

  He’d been one of theirs, and he’d been part of this heinous operation. It made Zed sick.

  “Check ‘em all,” Gray bit out. “I want to know if there are any more Budweiser tats.”

  On the third man Zed checked, he found a screaming eagle tattoo. “Got us Airborne over here,” he hollered.

  “Those of you not doing triage, huddle up. Dex, I need you on me,” Gray shouted loud enough so Dex could hear even though he was in the hut with the Brockman’s.

  Dex came out of the hut and glanced around until he spotted Aiden. “O’Malley, Brockman isn’t doing well. He’s having trouble breathing. I’m pretty sure one of his ribs punctured a lung.”