by Beth Orsoff
“You can’t treat us this way,” Jane shouted. “We’re not criminals.”
Actually, we were, or at least I was.
“We have a deal,” she said. “In writing.”
“We only had a deal if you gave us the head.”
“That’s not what it says.”
“Oh no,” John said. “Let me see it.”
“Uncuff me,” she said. “It’s in my purse.”
John grabbed Jane’s bag, and pulled it from her shoulder to her wrist, before dumping the contents in the sand. Along with her wallet, water bottle, and cell phone, out came Fred and the stun gun too.
“I’ll take this,” John said. But as he reached for the taser, Fred clamped down on his finger.
“What the fuck!” John yelled. He tried to shake Fred off, but the little guy wouldn’t let go.
John lifted his gun and took aim at Fred.
That’s when my maternal instinct kicked in (the only explanation since I know it was an incredibly stupid thing to do). I lunged for John screaming, “No!” Since my hands were still cuffed behind my back, all I could do was knock him over, which I did. But that didn’t keep the gun from going off.
The bullet whizzed past Fred, who finally did let go of John’s finger, but grazed me in the shoulder. It was as if someone had sliced me open, then poured rubbing alcohol into the gaping wound. I screamed again, this time in pain.
“What kind of fucking nut job are you?” John said, pushing me off of him.
“Yeah,” Jane said. “What the hell were you thinking? It’s a turtle for God’s sake.”
I couldn’t focus on anything except the excruciating burning sensation in my shoulder. Cheryl sat me upright and inspected the wound. “The bullet barely hit you. You’ll be fine. Give me the keys,” she said to John.
“Why?”
“Someone needs to put pressure on it to stop the bleeding. I’m not going to stand here all day and she can’t do it if she’s got her hands cuffed behind her back.”
“Oh fine,” John said, clearly disgusted with all of us. He reached into the backpack and pulled out a set of keys, which he tossed to Cheryl. She unlocked my cuffs, pulled a red bandana out of her fanny pack, and stuffed the handcuffs in. After she washed the wound with Jane’s water, she covered it with the bandana and told me to hold it there until the bleeding stopped.
While Cheryl was tending to me, John was sifting through the contents of Jane’s bag, which were still strewn across the sand. This time when he grabbed the stun gun, Fred wasn’t there to stop him. Fred was ten feet away pushing himself in circles in the sand.
“Give that back,” Jane said. “It’s mine.”
“Did you know it’s illegal for private citizens to carry tasers in Belize?”
“But I’m an American,” Jane said.
“It doesn’t matter,” John replied, checking the safety before stuffing the stun gun into his pocket. He continued searching until he found the note Jane had written on his DEA letterhead. He read it and laughed before tearing it into little pieces.
“You can’t do that,” Jane said, aghast. “That’s a signed deal.”
“I just did,” he said, and tossed the pieces into the air like confetti. The breeze caught them and blew them towards the water before they rained down onto the sand.
“You are so fired,” Jane said.
John shook his head and laughed, then opened his cell phone and paced the beach until he found a signal. While he talked in hushed tones and indecipherable sentences, Cheryl stuffed the rest of Jane’s things back into her bag. She looked like she was about to speak when John turned around. “What are you doing?”
“You mean it was your intention to leave evidence lying all over the sand?”
John said, “uh-huh,” which I presumed was in response to his caller and not to Cheryl, and closed the phone. “Back-up’s on the way,” he said.
Thank God. Maybe they could rein in this psycho.
“And I thought he was the nice one,” Jane whispered.
Her track record was almost as bad as mine.
Chapter 60
WE HEARD THE MOTOR boat when it was still a speck in the distance. Watching it approach, my hopes rose. Surely someone on board could control John. If we were lucky, maybe it’d be his boss and he’d fire him on the spot.
When the boat anchored and only one man debarked, I started to get concerned. But my hopes weren’t completely dashed until I recognized the man trudging up the beach.
“Ernesto, my man!” John greeted our former captive. “How’s it hanging?”
We kidnapped a DEA agent? Now we were really in trouble. Except, he thought we were the agents. Or at least he pretended to. What the hell was going on here?
“Long and hard, my friend,” Ernesto said. “And even harder now,” he added as he approached me and Jane. We were both huddled in the shade under a palm tree, me holding Cheryl’s bandana to my aching shoulder, Jane kneeling next to me with her hands still cuffed behind her back.
“Hello Ernesto,” Jane said, in her haughtiest tone.
“You know her?” Cheryl asked.
Ernesto responded by grabbing a handful of Jane’s hair and jerking her head back. “Miss me, Blondie?” he said, as he ran a dirty finger down her swan-like neck and into her cleavage.
“Get your paws off me,” Jane said, pulling away from him.
Ernesto laughed.
“C’mon,” Cheryl said. “This is business.” Then she jerked her head towards John and the three of them huddled together farther down the beach.
We couldn’t hear what they were saying, so we assumed they couldn’t hear us either.
“Why did he just lie about knowing us?” Jane asked.
“I don’t know and I don’t care.” I wasn’t particularly proud of kidnapping Ernesto, although I still felt it was the right thing to do under the circumstances. But if he wanted to pretend it never happened, that was fine with me. “What we need to focus on now is getting the hell out of here.”
“Where are we going to go?”
“At this point, I’m voting for the Camus Caye Police Department.” At least Sergeant Ramos never held a gun to my head.
“We can’t quit now,” Jane said. “Look how far we’ve come.”
“We’re handcuffed on a deserted beach with a bunch of crazy people with guns, one of whom is our former hostage. This seems like the perfect time to quit.”
Jane called out to Ernesto and all three turned around. “Will you please tell your friends who really killed Michael so they’ll let us go.”
Ernesto looked perplexed until John said, “She thinks we’re DEA.” Then he and Ernesto started laughing.
That’s when I realized just how much trouble we were really in.
Unfortunately, Jane needed more convincing. “Excuse me,” she said, pushing herself upright and walking over to them.
Of course I followed.
“I don’t see what’s so funny here,” she continued.
“Sit back down,” Cheryl warned.
“No,” Jane said. “I want an explanation and I want it now.”
John pointed his gun at Jane’s forehead. “I want that jade head now. How about we trade? You give me the head and I won’t blow your brains all over this beach.”
“What kind of cop are you?”
“I’m not,” he said, still pointing the gun at Jane’s forehead. “Any more questions?”
Cheryl stepped between Jane and John and grabbed us both by the arm (thankfully my uninjured one). “If you want to live,” she whispered, as she pulled us back down the beach, “then keep your mouth shut and do what I tell you.” Then she pushed us into the sand and walked back to John and Ernesto.
“I think you’re right, Lizzie. I think it’s time to quit.”
I sat back and tried to think of a way out. I was shot in the shoulder, Jane’s hands were cuffed behind her back, we were miles away from anyone who could potentially help us, our one weapon
had been confiscated, our cell phone was dead, and we had no visible means of escape. It didn’t look good.
“Got any ideas?” I asked.
“I was hoping you did,” Jane replied.
Apparently John, Cheryl and Ernesto were having better luck coming up with a plan than we were. The trio marched back to us and John told us to get up.
“Where are we going?” Jane asked, as we pushed ourselves upright.
John slapped Jane across the face with his gun. “No more questions, or next time I’ll use the bullets.”
Jane’s cheek was red where he’d hit her and I could see the tears in her eyes, but to her credit, she didn’t let them fall. She stood behind me as we all walked single file through the jungle. This time I was glad Cheryl was behind us. I didn’t exactly trust her, but she seemed to be the only one of the three who didn’t seem intent on inflicting bodily harm.
Chapter 61
JOHN OPENED THE DOOR to the drug house and pushed me and Jane inside. It looked the same as it had from the outside—a big, empty room with a dirt floor and bare walls.
“Is your shoulder still bleeding?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, easing the bandana away. Both my shirt and shoulder were covered in blood, so it was hard to tell.
“Give me the cuffs,” John said to Cheryl.
“What’s the point, John? She’s not going anywhere.”
“I think all those pregnancy hormones are turning you soft.”
“You’re pregnant?” Ernesto said. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” Cheryl replied.
“I’d like to have a kid some day,” Ernesto said, slithering up to Jane. “What do you say Blondie, you up for it?”
“Drop dead,” Jane replied.
Ernesto grabbed Jane by the hair and snapped her head back. “Be nice to me Blondie. I’m the one with the stun gun now.” In case she had any doubt, he unlocked the safety and zapped it in the air next to her cheek.
Jane flinched, but kept her mouth shut.
Cheryl grabbed the stun gun from Ernesto’s hand. “Do us all a favor, Ernesto. Go find yourself a nice prostitute.”
“Let him have his fun,” John said. “What’s the harm.”
“What’s the harm?” I shouted before I could stop myself.
John reached for his gun, probably to give me the same warning across the cheek he’d given Jane, but Cheryl grabbed his arm. “John, we don’t have time for this. Let’s go.”
John followed Cheryl to the door, but Ernesto didn’t. “I think I should stay here and keep an eye on these two,” Ernesto said. “We wouldn’t want them to escape.”
“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Cheryl said. “Where do you think they’re going to go?”
“Let him stay,” John said, slamming the door shut behind them. We heard Cheryl arguing with John as he lead her away. He assured her that we’d be fine. Of course, he didn’t know our history with Ernesto. Not that I think he would’ve cared.
“It’s just us rabbits,” Ernesto said, sidling up to Jane.
“How much money is it going to take for you to get us out of here?” Jane asked.
“A lot of money, Blondie. I don’t think you have that much.”
“Don’t be so sure,” I said. “She’s got more than you think.”
“Name your price.” Jane managed to sound authoritative even with her hands cuffed behind her back. Maybe it’s something you’re born with.
Ernesto appeared to consider it, but then said, “Not yet. We still have some unfinished business to take care of.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“This,” he said, popping the button at his waist and unzipping his pants. “Which one of you wants to go first?”
“Are you nuts!”
“A blow job’s fine. I know you girls get off on it.”
“She lied, Ernesto.” At least where it concerned him.
He pulled a knife from his pants pocket and flicked open the blade. “No matter.”
“It’s okay, Lizzie,” Jane said. “I don’t mind.”
“You don’t mind!” Had he drugged her when I wasn’t looking?
“Now there’s a girl with a good attitude,” Ernesto said, turning to me. “You could learn from her, chica.”
Jane winked at me, which I was sure meant something, I just didn’t know what.
“You have to at least put on a condom,” I said.
He laughed and pushed his pants down to his knees, revealing a pair of faded tighty-whities.
“Ernesto,” Jane said, sitting up, “I know you would really enjoy this more if I could use my hands.”
Now I understood.
“I don’t have the keys,” he said. “You’ll figure something out.”
When he reached down to pull out his penis, I jumped up. Ernesto dropped his dick and pointed the knife at me.
I raised my one good arm in a sign of surrender. “I just want to help. Jane and I, we like to work as a team.”
Ernesto looked warily from me to her.
“Trust me,” Jane said, and ran her tongue across her upper lip. “It’ll blow your mind.”
His lust overtook his judgment. “Okay, but no funny business.”
I knelt down behind Ernesto while Jane remained in front of him. From this position, maybe we could flip him over my back. It also offered the added advantage that I didn’t have to look at him.
I reached around with my good arm and grabbed Ernesto from outside his underwear. He was already rock hard, so at least this would be quick.
“Lizzie, take your shirt off,” Jane said.
“What? Why?”
“To make it more pleasurable for Ernesto,” she said, and gave him a fake smile. “And so we have something to clean up with.”
“You take your shirt off. You’re the one with the boobs.”
“Yeah,” Ernesto said. “You take yours off.”
“I can’t,” Jane said, jangling the handcuffs behind her back. “You don’t have the keys.”
“That’s no problem.”
Jane probably thought what I thought—that he’d pick the lock with his knife. Instead he reached down and slit her shirt up the middle. He was scarily skilled with that blade.
“Oh yeah,” he moaned as he gave Jane’s shirt a tug and it fell open revealing a lacy demi-bra hugging C-cup breasts.
When he pulled his penis out himself and shoved it against Jane’s clenched lips, I decided this game had gone far enough. I grabbed the bloody bandana from my shoulder, wrapped it around Ernesto’s dick, and squeezed as hard as I could. I didn’t know if you could actually break a penis, but I was trying.
Ernesto screamed. Jane opened her eyes. And I yelled, “Now!”
Jane pushed herself up and body slammed Ernesto. He didn’t fall backwards as I’d hoped, probably because I was still holding onto his penis, but it did cause him to drop the knife. With all of us yelling, Ernesto from pain, and Jane and I trying to tell each other what to do—we both agreed someone needed to stab Ernesto, we just felt that the other should be the one to do it—it’s not surprising we didn’t hear the ruckus outside.
It wasn’t until the gun went off that we all stopped yelling and turned around. Standing in the doorway was Jack. And standing next to him with his gun pointed at the three of us was Rodrigo, the “friend of the family.”
“Police,” Rodrigo said. “You’re all under arrest.”
Chapter 62
I ADMIT THAT FROM where Rodrigo stood, this did look pretty bad. I was kneeling behind Ernesto with my arm wrapped around his leg and my hand still squeezing his dick. Jane was standing in front of him with her boobs on display and her hands cuffed behind her back. And Ernesto, whose pants were around his ankles, was still sporting a major hard-on.
“It’s not what it looks like,” I said, finally letting go of Ernesto.
Then the three of us all started talking at once—Jane and I in English, and Ernesto in Spanish.
Ernesto reached down and very carefully zipped up. He continued ranting at Rodrigo, mostly in Spanish. From the tone and the hand gestures, I gleaned that Rodrigo had set him up. Or at least Ernesto thought he had. I still wasn’t sure I had it all figured out.
“You two,” Rodrigo said, pointing to me and Jane, “go stand against the wall.”
We did as we were told, keeping our eyes on Rodrigo’s gun, which he kept pointed at Ernesto even when he bent down to pick up the knife. Once he’d closed the blade and stuck it in his pocket, he reached behind him for a pair of handcuffs.
“Ernesto, turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
Ernesto looked like he was following instructions, but when Rodrigo tried to cuff him, Ernesto spun around and took a swing at him.
Another gunshot rang out, and Ernesto fell to his knees, a dark red stain spreading across the front of his yellow shirt.
Rodrigo was easing Ernesto onto his back when Cheryl rushed in, gun first.
“Are you okay?” She was staring at Rodrigo.
“I’m fine, honey. Everything’s fine.”
Honey?
“Jack, can you help me with him?” Rodrigo asked.
Jack gave me and Jane a quick glance, then turned his attention back to Rodrigo. “What do you want me to do?”
Rodrigo told Jack to grab his feet while he lifted Ernesto by the shoulders. “Lizzie, come with us,” Rodrigo said, as they carried Ernesto to the door.
I fell in behind Rodrigo and Jane started to follow when Cheryl said, “No, you stay here with me.”
It all starts to run together after that. Rodrigo and Jack carried Ernesto through the jungle and back to the beach where Sergeant Ramos was waiting with John in handcuffs.
“The Parrot Caye Police are on their way,” Sergeant Ramos told Rodrigo.
“Good,” Rodrigo said. “Let them know we’re going to need transport to the hospital.”
Sergeant Ramos nodded and reached for his walkie-talkie.