Her Wicked Hero

by Caitlyn O'Leary

  “I’m sorry Raymond, I’m just getting a little tired, so I was wondering how much longer before we get where we’re going.”

  “Days. But we’ll take a break at nightfall. Do you need more water?”

  She shook her head. If she had water, she’d need to pee. She didn’t want to have to do that here in the marsh with him looking on.

  He shoved the device into his backpack, this time wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go. Should only be about two more miles, then lucky for you, we won’t have to walk anymore.”

  Marcia sloshed through the water, grateful he had at least shortened his stride, so she could more easily keep up. She looked down at the muddy water, wondering if there were snakes in it. She was so tired. It took all of her energy just to put one foot in front of the other. She thought about Christie, Debbie, and their father, and her stomach turned over. She sent up fervent prayers all of them would be okay.

  Who were the men who had come to their rescue? Would they be able to assist Mr. B.? He’d been trying to hide it, but Marcia had known his injuries had been bad. He’d been having trouble breathing.

  “What?”

  It took a moment for her to realize that Raymond was talking to her.

  “Huh?”

  “You were mumbling. I wanted to know what you were saying.”

  Marcia realized two things, the water was only as deep as a mud puddle, and Raymond was squeezing her shoulder tightly as he glared down at her.

  “I was praying,” she finally answered honestly.

  He barked out a laugh.

  “What a waste of time. God isn’t going to save you. You need to pray to your new god, and that would be me.”

  “I was saying prayers for,” she stopped herself before she called Harold Brockman, Mr. B. “I was praying for my dad and my sisters. Do you think they’re okay?”

  “You better be praying for your dad’s safety. He’s the one who’s going to have to get you out of this.”

  “What do you mean?” Marcia asked carefully. She didn’t want to give away the fact that she was excited to get information from Raymond. What did this man Jefferies want her for?

  “You’re pretty enough but selling a white woman into the sex trade only gets me so much. I’m looking for a hell of a lot bigger pay off than that.”

  Marcia stumbled.

  “Bitch, keep walking, we still have a long way to go.”

  Pull it together Price, she admonished herself. Protecting the girls from the human trafficking had always been on her mind ever since they’d been kidnapped, so why get her panties in a twist now? She needed to keep herself together.

  “Don’t like the sound of that, do you?” Raymond laughed. He pulled her along, so they were walking again. “Come on, Lesley, one foot in front of the other, don’t make me have to carry your ass, it’ll just make me angry.”

  “I don’t want to make you angry.” Boy, wasn’t that the truth. Her face still hurt. “But what do you mean Dad can get me out of this? We’re not all that rich.”

  “Rich is a relative term. Once I can get to a phone, I’ll be able to negotiate a price that will make me rich.”

  “With Jefferies? What will they do with me? I thought you said if you gave me to him, I could go home?” Marcia couldn’t stop the rapid-fire questions from shooting out of her mouth.

  Raymond squeezed her neck. “You’re kind of cute when you get all cat curious. It won’t hurt to tell you the ways of the world. You know the old deal we had in place. Sell you, your sisters, and your dad to the highest bidder. Then let that bidder do whatever the fuck they wanted to you and your sisters while Daddy-dear watched until he confessed everything he knew.”

  Marcia hadn’t been able to think of anything else for days. It was the reason she hadn’t been able to hold down food.

  “I was always behind that plan because that meant that your dad would suffer. Like he made my friends suffer and die.”

  “What are you talking about?” Marcia demanded as she struggled to pull her right foot out of a deeper hole of mud.

  “Your father fucked up last year when he provided intel on one of his projects. He only had one fucking job, and that was to determine when those Al-Qaeda fucks were going to show up. He screwed up on the time. He told us in absolute terms they would arrive at ten p.m. They showed up at three p.m. and seventeen good men died because of his fuck-up.”

  “What are you talking about?” Marcia wanted information, but she knew she needed to act ignorant too. She’d been living at the Brockman’s house since Mrs. B. died, so she could help watch over Christie and Debbie. She wasn’t stupid. She knew that Mr. B. still had his hands in a lot of different pots even though he’d retired. In some ways, she guessed, he had even more freedom to get things done, and he was making the most of it. She wondered what project had gone so terribly wrong that seventeen men had died.

  “What? You can’t believe your dad got good men slaughtered? Well, he did.”

  “Are you telling me he was working with men like you? Mercenaries?”

  “Don’t get up on your high horse. Before I took this project, I was working for the Thorne Group. I came over to the dark-side so I could help take your daddy down and also for the money. It was a twofer.”

  “So, it was men from the Thorne Group who died? They were working with Dad?”

  “Yep.”

  “How are you going to make this deal work now that you just have me?”

  Raymond’s stride faltered, but he immediately continued on as if nothing had happened. “That’s the part where I need the phone. Your daddy always has little operations going on throughout the world, and Jefferies is the man in the know. Those operations your daddy handles cost a shit-ton of off-the-books money. He’ll just have to slide some over our way if he wants his pretty daughter back home, now won’t he?” Raymond grinned down at her evilly.

  Marcia kept quiet for a long while, using the sounds and the scents of the swamp to block out the feel of Raymond’s hands on her body. She was jarred out of her reverie when Raymond suddenly stopped and pulled out his GPS device.

  “Thank fuck. We’re almost to the river. Just another quarter mile, and we’ll be at the river bend. If you’re really quiet, you should be able to hear the rushing water.”

  They were both silent. She looked up and saw all the trees in the distance. She could hear the monkeys and the sound of water. Marcia looked at her mud-caked feet with dread. The man could say whatever he wanted about Mr. B. paying for her return, but that was never going to happen if Raymond had his way. He wanted Mr. B. to suffer, and that meant Marcia was going to have to suffer.

  “Do you hear it?” he asked her.

  “Oh yeah. Everything is coming through loud and clear.”

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Zed said the words in a low whisper. Dammit, if he’d only gotten out of the camp twenty minutes sooner, he would have caught up with Raymond and Marcia. Now they were on some damn boat they’d hijacked, headed down river. The only, and he meant only good thing he could see out of this was there wasn’t a body in the water or on the shore.

  Pull it back, Zaragoza. He looked closer at the disturbance at the shoreline. He could see where the boat had actually flattened a lot of reeds, but he didn’t see any evidence of the plants having been cut or chewed by motor blades. He took a deep breath and gave a slight smile. So, the boat was probably being propelled by good old-fashioned paddle power. Or it could just be that the motor hadn’t been turned on.

  He needed a boat, and he needed one now. Preferably one with a motor. He clicked his comm, and didn’t get a signal to Dex, so he dug out the satellite phone.

  “I need help,” he said to Dex without preamble.

  “I’m conferencing in Kane,” was Dex’s immediate response.

  Zed waited until he heard a click.

  “You all here?” Dex asked. Zed and Kane said yes at the same time.

  “I’m at the river.” Zed started. “Really f
resh tracks are telling me Raymond and Marcia just confiscated a boat to head downriver. They probably have a twenty to thirty-minute head start.” Zed knew he sounded pissed, but that’s because he was pissed. “I can’t see them,” he continued. “How much boat traffic can I expect? Am I close to civilization? Do you think I should head out after them on foot and hope they camp come nightfall?”

  “Here’s what you need to know,” Kane said in a calm voice. “You’re currently ten miles up-river from where the Eco-Tourism really starts on the river. So, you’re going to have to figure out a way to either stay out of sight or blend in, and you’re going to have a hell of a time blending in with your rifle,” Kane said.

  Dex laughed and Zed felt relief wash over him. This was workable.

  “Why are you laughing, Dex?” Kane asked.

  “I’m hurt Kane, I leave for nine weeks, and you forget who you’re dealing with,” Zed said.

  There was a long pause, and then Kane laughed. “So, you scrounged up some civvies before heading out?”

  “Now, I’m offended. Of course not. Wyatt’s low man on the totem pole. I had him do it.”

  Dex laughed even harder.

  “I’ll be able to blend in, I have an extra duffel to shove the SCAR into because I’m sure as hell not leaving my rifle behind.”

  “That could work,” Kane relented. “Now, to answer your question. Where you’re currently at, you’re probably going to run into mostly locals. There are fishermen and people who live on houseboats. Sometimes, out where you are, you’ll have folks hunting orangutans.”

  Zed could hear the disgust in Kane’s voice, but he wasn’t quite clear about something.

  “What―” Dex started.

  “They kill the mother and steal the babies,” Kane explained, answering Dex’s unanswered question. “People will pay top dollar for their private zoos or to raise them as pets.”

  “Sounds like Raymond was just lucky to get a boat,” Zed said. “I’m going to head down-river and catch up with them when they go ashore for the night.”

  “Let us know your progress,” Dex said.

  “You got it.”

  Zed disconnected and tucked the phone back into his pack and took out his GPS. He wanted to keep track of the distance, so he knew when he was getting close to the Eco-Tourist area. He looked at the clothes Wyatt had found for him in the men’s barracks but decided to stay in his mission clothes for the time being. They were a hell of a lot more comfortable that was for damn sure.

  He looked up at the sun, just a couple of more hours ‘til nightfall. He stayed close to the shoreline but far enough in the foliage, so he wouldn’t be spotted if someone was watching the riverbank. Zed’s movements were silent as he moved through the jungle, so the birds continued to sing and the monkeys continued to chatter. As he listened, he couldn’t help but think about the bastards who would butcher unsuspecting mothers, so they could kidnap baby orangutans.

  Marcia rocked the baby, relieved the child was finally calm. Too bad the same couldn’t be said for his mother. She looked over at the small woman who cowered in the corner of the boat. Her eyes were huge as she trembled and stared at Raymond’s automatic rifle. Marcia had no idea who the old man was who was lying on the deck. He’d been kind enough to maneuver the boat over to the shore when Marcia had waved him over, but as soon as Raymond had stepped out from behind the tree and boarded the boat, he had tried to fight him. The old man had to be at least seventy, and he went down hard under the butt of Raymond’s rifle.

  The woman had scrambled over to the old man, trying to revive him. She was crying and moaning in a language Marcia didn’t understand. That was when Marcia heard a baby crying. She looked under the houseboat’s small awning and saw a crib where a toddler was standing up, their arms out. The child was babbling, and Marcia wasn’t sure if it was toddler-speak or the same foreign language the woman was speaking. When the woman didn’t go over to the baby, Marcia went over and picked it up.

  “What are you doing, Girly?” Raymond demanded.

  “Taking care of the baby.”

  He grunted, sounding like he was agreeing. He grabbed the large paddle the old man had used to get over to them. Raymond then grabbed hold of the same wooden handle the old man had been holding onto. What was the name of it again? It was a rudder or tiller or something like that. Why hadn’t she paid attention when she’d gone sailing when her dad and mom were alive?

  Raymond got them into the middle of the river, then they started going a lot faster than she thought they would have. Marcia rocked the baby and sidled up to the woman, giving her an encouraging smile, but it was no use, she just sat there holding the old man’s head in her lap. So, Marcia decided to concentrate on the baby in her arms. She didn’t know if it was a boy or a girl. Instead of thinking of the child as an it, she decided he was a boy. His cloth diaper was wet, and she needed to find a new one. Marcia ducked back under the awning and started to go into the small interior of the houseboat.

  “Hey, bitch, where do you think you’re going? Stay where I can see you,” Raymond roared.

  Marcia spun around. She hadn’t even thought about Raymond in ten minutes, her entire focus had been on the small family.

  “The baby’s diaper is wet, I need to get him a new one.”

  Raymond pointed his gun at the mother. “Get her to do it.”

  “She’s too scared. She won’t move,” Marcia protested.

  “It’s her brat. Isn’t it instinct?”

  “Her husband or father is bleeding, she’s trying to help him. Just let me find the diaper,” Marcia requested reasonably.

  “Okay,” Raymond smirked. “I’ll hold the baby to make sure you don’t do anything funny.”

  She didn’t want to relinquish the baby to him. “You need to steer the boat.”

  “Only takes one hand. Don’t backtalk me.” He held out his arm. “The sooner you hand over the brat, the sooner you’ll be back. Who knows, you might find something to feed it.”

  Marcia closed her eyes and said a little prayer, then handed over the baby. She ran to the small little room that held a small little kitchen and two cots. She saw a cooler and found a bottle.

  Aaaaa-eeeeee

  Marcia stood stalk still at the sound of the ear-splitting terrified shriek, then she bolted outside.

  “No!” She screamed as her horrified eyes took in the scene in front of her. Raymond was holding the baby by its feet over the river. The baby was struggling wildly, the mother trying to get to her child as Raymond easily held her off. The mother shoved against him, howling her fright.

  “Find what you needed, Girly?” Raymond asked calmly.

  It took all of Marcia’s willpower to answer in a mild tone. “Yes, I did. But I dropped it when I heard the screaming.”

  “Well, I guess we’ll just have to hope my arm doesn’t get tired by the time you get the stuff you need, huh?”

  “Why are you doing this? Let me have the baby,” Marcia beseeched.

  “I think after you get the shit you need, the little mommy will be able to take care of her own kid, don’t you? I think she’s done being too scared to come out of the corner.”

  The woman was looking back and forth between Raymond and Marcia. She was sobbing.

  “Come on, Lesley, you better go get the bottle and diaper. Better hurry.”

  Marcia turned and ran. She was back in seconds. “I’ve got it. Please let the baby go.”

  Raymond lowered his arm just a little. She knew he did it on purpose just to torture her and the baby’s mother. “Please Raymond. I’ll do whatever you want. Please don’t hurt the baby.”

  “Lesley, I just want you to do what I say when I say it. Got it?”

  “Anything Raymond.” Tears flooded her eyes and spilled over. “Please, I’m begging you.”

  “God, there is nothing prettier than a crying woman.” He pulled the baby back over the edge of the boat and shoved the child toward the mother. They collapsed into one anoth
er’s arms.

  “Don’t stand there, Lesley, give them the diaper and milk, that’s what started all of this. It was your fault it got to this point.”

  “I’m sorry, Raymond. You’re right, it’s all my fault,” Marcia said as she walked forward. After half a step, she realized what she’d said and meant.

  My God, get it together girl. Don’t believe his craziness is your fault. You’re being manipulated by a madman.

  When she looked up into his eyes, she saw his pleasure at her behavior and realized she needed to keep it up, now it wasn’t just her life on the line.

  Marcia crouched down and attempted to hand the diaper and bottle to the mother, but she wasn’t having any of it.

  Raymond roared toward them, “Take it, you dumb bitch. Get your kid to stop it’s wailing.” The mother and baby just started crying louder.

  “Raymond, please, I’m begging you. Let me take them under the awning. You’ll be able to see us all the time. I’ll be able to quiet them down, I promise.”

  “No!” he shouted into her face, spit flying. “Make them shut up out here.”

  Marcia turned her head and looked at the mother and baby and saw the futility of Raymond’s demand. She changed her position, so she was on her knees, her butt on her heels. She looked down at the deck floor.

  “I’m trying to do what you want, Raymond, I really am,” she said in a soft voice.

  He pinched her chin and yanked her head up, so she met his eyes. “I can’t stand their pathetic caterwauling. Make it stop. Make it stop.” Marcia’s breath stopped when she saw the pistol in his hand.

  “You told me you liked it when I cried.”

  “Your tears make me hard. Their tears are like nails on a chalkboard. If they don’t stop soon, I’ll kill them.”

  “I don’t want you to have to kill them, Raymond. I don’t want that for you,” she coaxed. His fingers relaxed slightly. He looked indecisive. “Let me try to calm them down. The baby’s hungry, and once I can calm the baby down, the mother will calm down.”