Never Trust a Bad Boy (The Never Trust Series)

by Kira Adams

  We have been super careful to ensure the girl doesn’t see anyone else’s face. My mug got us into this mess so I’m going to make sure no one else is pulled in deeper than they already are.

  “You okay?” Ammo asks, as he helps himself to a cup of coffee. He’s wearing an obnoxiously bright Hawaiian shirt that he got from our last trip to Honolulu. He wears it when he needs to do laundry and there is nothing else.

  Shrugging, a sigh escapes my lips. “I’m happy she finally stopped yelling, but that doesn’t make me feel any better.”

  Ammo stifles a laugh. “Hey, you are dealing with the consequences of your actions. You turned some girl’s entire world upside down in a matter of minutes. Put yourself in her shoes. Think of how she must feel.”

  This – right here, is why he is my best friend. He puts me in check when it’s needed. Shifting gears, I lean in so that we are the only two privy to our conversation. “Kev, have you noticed how Trinity has been acting lately?”

  He scoffs. “Lately?”

  I shake my head, waving my hand. “Whatever…she’s gotten too deep with the coke.”

  He looks back at me as if I have two heads and then glances around, worried we might have been overheard.

  “Oh, you pussy,” I exclaim. “She’s with Stefano banging it out. They aren’t paying us any attention.”

  Again, he doesn’t appear to appreciate my bluntness.

  “What?” I ask, my hands in the air in surrender.

  “Sometimes, man, you just need to focus on you and leave well enough alone.” Always the voice of reason.

  “Yeah, but we also need to talk about stuff. We should be able to feel comfortable giving feedback in any capacity as long as it isn’t malicious or ill-intentioned.”

  It’s difficult for him to argue this because he’s been preaching communication since we started out on our first job and it’s been ingrained in us ever since.

  “Tell me this, what’s your long-term goal with the girl?” Ammo takes a swig off his beer, staring back at me expectantly.

  In a perfect world, we would be able to let her go with no fear of ever being turned in, but we have not spent enough time with her to know exactly where her head is.

  I shrug. “I don’t know, but I’ll let you know once I figure it out.”

  It’s been about a week since everything went down. At first, the only thing anyone else suggested was how to get rid of her, but that’s died down a bit. Luckily for us, things have been relatively normal. No surprise drop-ins, nothing on the news suggesting that we could go down for our crime. Her face has been all over countless television and radio stations. Mikhaela Jennifer Ramirez is the name they’ve been blasting all over the news stations and social media. They’ve been using a picture that doesn’t appear to be very recent, because her face is thinner. After seeing her in person and having to physically carry her, I know very well that she is not tiny by any means; she’s a thicker girl. In the picture, her hair is pulled back into a simple ponytail accentuating her jawline. Her cheeks are much fuller now. Her brown eyes remain the one constant, along with her long, straight, auburn hair.

  We’ve been keeping her in our guest bedroom, which houses an ensuite bathroom. Originally, the room was used for my father, before his dementia progressed. We had to keep the locks on the outside of the door so he wouldn’t wander off in the middle of the night. There were so many times we caught him wandering the backyard, or almost out the front door.

  The lock comes in handy with Eduardo’s daughter. Although she is being kept against her will, she is still treated fairly. She’s fed three meals a day and recently she requested a pen and paper, and I obliged. I’m really not a terrible guy and we aren’t all bad.

  “So, what’s your plan, Romeo?” Ammo asks, chomping on a mouthful of cereal.

  “We’re not killing her if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

  “Whoa! Who said anything about killing her? I’m on your side.”

  Unsure if he is being honest, I pull out a chair at the table and plop down. “If I let her go and she turns me in to her dad, we all die. If the police find out, we go to jail. I don’t know what I’m trying to get by keeping her here, but maybe, just maybe, I can try to get her to see the ‘why’ behind all of this.”

  He nods, his face eerily non-judgmental. “I trust you, man. You’ve been the brains behind this whole operation since day one, so I have to believe you know what you’re doing. But Eduardo is not someone we can fuck with, so we need to be prepared for anything.”

  Nodding, I digest his words. “I don’t think we can stay here any longer. It’s only a matter of time before something gets back to him and he finds out it was us. I think we need to find a new place to call home base.”

  Ammo shakes his head up and down in agreeance. “I think you’re right. Let’s pack up what is important, today, and plan to blow this popsicle stand tomorrow.” He stands up, walking over to the sink, rinsing out his bowl. He inhaled that cereal. If I didn’t know any better, I’d wonder if he even chewed. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to give the girl some common amenities.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He laughs. “If you’re going to keep her with us, I’m sure she’d appreciate a change of clothes or even offering to wash them for her. She’s only human.”

  Ammo has always been the most even-keeled one out of us all. How he became a levelheaded, evil genius is beyond me.

  Following his suggestion, I ask Trinity if she has any clothes that might work, and head towards the bedroom with the key. After day three, she stopped making noise. In the beginning we would hear humming, or on rare occasions singing coming from the room. We assume because she lost hope. For that to happen is a soul-crushing thing, hopefully she is okay in there.

  Opening the door slowly, I’m anticipating her rushing it, screaming and yelling for help…anything other than what I receive. She is on the bed, back turned to me, and head lowered. Her breathing is ragged, and it looks like she might be crying.

  “I brought you a change of clothes. We weren’t sure of your size, so these were the best we could do.” While she isn’t what one might consider fat, she is far from what one might consider skinny.

  She glances up at me through tear-stained eyes. “Why am I here?” Her cheeks are red and puffy from the tears, but the glossiness accentuates her emerald green eyes.

  My heart tugs because no guy likes to see a girl cry. No girl, ever. Girls take note, if you ever cry in front of me – I will be rendered near useless. “Look, I know things don’t make a lot of sense right now, but I did what I had to do in order to guarantee you wouldn’t turn us into Eduardo.”

  She shakes her head, a grimace on her face. “Why in the world would I ever do that? If you didn’t realize it, the night you took me, I was already in the process of leaving. You kind of threw a wrench into my plans.”

  My face scrunches up. “Leaving?”

  She shakes her head, rubbing her eyes. “You really don’t know anything…do you? Eduardo kept me locked away like a goddamn animal. I was trying to get out to live a semi-normal life. This is not exactly what I envisioned.”

  I want to apologize for grabbing her, but it’s something I struggle with. Taking responsibility for my actions and acknowledging the wrong in them has never been a strong suit of mine. “Listen, we just need to get in the clear and then we will be able to go our separate ways. I don’t know when that will be, but we need it to be safe for everyone involved.”

  She stares back at me through wet, lowered lashes. Her brown hair falls, obscuring her face. “I know I probably don’t get a say in it, but would you consider letting me leave this room? It’s just that back at the mansion, I was stuck in my bedroom most of the time. It would be nice to be able to get out and stretch my legs a little. I won’t try to run, I promise.”

  The idea bounces around in my head — her free to roam the house as she pleases and us confident that she won’t leave. “I’m not sure
we are quite there yet. But tell you what, if you want to get out for a little bit tonight, we can take a walk outside.”

  Her eyes widen, lighting up instantly, making them sparkle. “You’d let me do that?”

  “Well, yes, alongside me of course.”

  She shakes her head dismissively. “Outside is outside. I’m in.”

  “Okay, let me go make sure of a few things and I’ll be back in a few to get you. It’s kind of chilly out there today, there’s a bit of a breeze, so I’ll see if there is a sweatshirt I can grab for you.” Turning to leave, I realize that I still don’t know her name. “You know, I’m not sure what to call you.”

  She looks back at me in a surprised fashion. “Mikhaela.”

  “I’m Brains, or at least that’s what everyone else calls me.”

  “Everyone else?” Her eyes light up. “Are there others here?”

  She’s good. I’ll give her that. “Alright, I think that’s enough for today.”

  “But what about the walk?” It’s as if I’m crushing her dreams.

  “You know what, on second thought, it’s too chilly tonight. Let’s try for tomorrow during the day, the temperatures should be warmer by then.” Heading for the door, I can feel the desperation dripping off her to get out of this box. The thing is, she needs to understand who calls the shots. She can’t get too comfortable.

  “Was it something I said?”

  Turning around so we are facing one another, I plant a smile on. They say a smile can help soothe and calm others. I’m hoping that it will ease her for tonight. “Goodnight, Mikhaela.”

  “So, let’s go over this again. Stefano and Trinity are going to wait in the car and be our eyes and ears and we are taking the inside. Bo, you’re going to deal with housewife Betty, and I’m going to deal with the money.”

  “You can say it again if you want, but nothing has changed since we started planning over an hour ago.” It’s hard not to crack jokes at Kevin’s anal tendencies.

  He glares back at me and then pops the magazine into his gun.

  “Whoa, whoa, don’t shoot.” My hands go up in the air, surrendering, but I’m not worried.

  “This isn’t a joke, Bo. Everything before this was child’s play. This is the real deal. If they find out it’s us, we’re going to jail.” He always takes the fun out of anything with his serious tendencies. He is only looking out for us, but sometimes he’s a bit overbearing.

  “What would make you feel more comfortable about the situation? Did you want to sit out on this one? We can do it without you. But just know if you do that, your cut gets split amongst the three of us.” Stefano can be brutal, sometimes. He doesn’t have the lifelong connection with Kevin that I do.

  “I think we need code names. What if someone hears our real names when we are out there and calls the cops? We need to cover our tracks every way possible.” Since joining our cause, Trinity has had several decent ideas that she has willingly shared with us. I’m more than happy with her being a part of the team if she continues to contribute in that way.

  “Okay, yeah, that’s a good idea. What should our names be?” Kevin asks, his eyes shifting between us all.

  “Well, we know that you’re funding everything for this…no offense. So, what if you were ‘Money’?” Trinity points to Stefano.

  “Money, I like that.” He mulls it over for a moment before breaking out into a smile. “And Kevin deals with the firepower, so we could call him ‘Guns’.”

  Trinity giggles. “I was thinking something more along the lines of ‘Ammo’.”

  Kevin’s eyes light up. “You’re onto something here. Keep going. What would you be?”

  Trinity considers the options for a few moments. “Well, since I’m the driver I think ‘Wheels’ would be fitting.

  Stefano slaps his hands together. “Yes. Money, Ammo, Wheels and…?” All eyes land on me expectantly.

  “Don’t look at me. This wasn’t my idea.” Waving them off, attention returns to Trinity.

  “I’d say ‘Brains’ for you, Bo, because you’ve been the puppet master behind the scenes, since the beginning.” And she isn’t wrong.

  Kevin claps. “I like this. Smart thinking, Trinity. Moving forward, anytime we are on a job we will refer to each other using these aliases.”

  Trinity smiles, validation in her grin. “It’s starting to feel real…”

  “Oh, yeah. There’s no turning back now. You’ve sold your soul to the devil. Question is, are you ready?”

  The adrenaline is always high the night before a hit. Especially now that we have kicked it up a notch. The stakes are higher, so is the payout. If we pull this off, we each walk away with $50,000. Not chump change. That’s comparable to an entire year’s salary for some people.

  “I hate to bring this up, but it’s gotta be done. We need to make sure all of our bases are covered.” Kevin is always the one going over our plans with a fine-toothed comb. Generally speaking, I give ideas to Kevin and he will bring them to life. We are one hell of a pair. “How are you planning to keep Betty occupied?”

  My eyebrows shoot up suggestively. “Don’t worry about it, man. I can guarantee you she won’t be worried about anything other than me, when I get there.”

  “Holy shit!” Stefano slaps his hands together. “Good for you, man. If I was single…”

  Trinity pushes him playfully. “You better watch it.”

  Looking around the table at my friends, I realize that these are the times we are going to look back upon. The ones that remind us why we fought the good fight. Even if nothing goes to plan, at least we have each other. No matter what happens, we will never turn on one another.

  Mikhaela

  My captor is toying with me. Dangling the carrot in front of my face and expecting me not to grab it. Maybe I overstepped. Maybe I asked too many questions, but who knows what my future holds. Brains told me he took me because he didn’t want to be turned in, but hasn’t told me much else.

  What I do know is that he did not come back the following day because three meals went by without me seeing the light of day. He didn’t come the day after that or the one after that, either. In fact, I stopped counting altogether. Someone has been coming back occasionally with food and water, but never without a mask and more of an afterthought.

  Besides the tick marks I leave on my paper with each new meal, I’m lost. They’ve also changed the game. Sometimes I’ll see the full three meals and some days it’s as if they left and forgot they have a responsibility. Those days I’m lucky if I get the usual two.

  There are no windows in my dungeon, except the tiny window over the toilet. Oddly enough, I’m not in any hurry to be rescued. My cage at home isn’t much different besides the never-ending windows. It almost makes it worse, being able to see where you can’t go. This way I don’t have any FOMO.

  For the first bit of time, I was stuck in the same smelly clothes they took me in. Sometimes I’d wear them into the shower just to see if it would help alleviate the odor. Eventually, I was brought a change of clothes and it made me tear up a little. Being able to have a piece of my dignity back feels amazing.

  At some point, I ask for a pen and paper so that I can help pass the time by journaling. I also do it so that I may be able to sketch what I can manage of my captor’s face. Although it’s obvious there is more than one person holding me hostage, they have been calculated enough to only have Mr. Handsome deal with me. It’s a smart move. The more people I’m exposed to, the more likely they will go down. It’s almost as if they have done this before.

  The loneliness and absolute silence drives me wild. At least at home in Eduardo’s mansion, I have people to talk to, to banter with. A big part of me is even missing Tito. He’s watched out for me since before I could do it myself. He’s been closer to a father figure than anyone else in my life.

  What I wouldn’t give to be able to have a conversation with someone. A conversation with anyone. It’s amazing how much we as humans thrive off c
onnection. I feel like I’m losing pieces of my sanity. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference between my dreams and reality.

  Entry 18 –

  It was cereal for breakfast, chips and salsa for lunch, and a burrito for dinner. Lately I can’t find it in me to eat. My appetite is almost non-existent. The Frosted Flakes went soggy before my stomach noticed and the chips and salsa felt more like leftovers of someone’s scraps. I’m not that desperate. The silence is maddening. I can’t take it anymore. I’ve taken up singing to help rectify the problem. Most of my singing is done in the shower, but it’s bled into my daytime routine. There is no radio or TV, so I’ve been singing Disney songs. That might sound silly and childish, but it’s all I have been able to remember.

  I think I finally have a good portrait of my captor. Practice makes perfect. It’s so good, I’ve hidden it in my sock. I can’t risk them finding it and either killing me or taking away my one piece of vengeance.

  Although I’ve been locked away for God knows how long, it’s only a matter of time before they trip up.

  I hear the lock and fold the new pages of makeshift journal entries, tucking them under my pillowcase. I’m surprised to see Mr. Handsome standing on the other side of the door. He looks unusually good today in dark jeans and a black sweatshirt. Another sweatshirt dangles from his right arm. “Let’s go, Mikhaela, we don’t have much time.”

  He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I’m off the bed and grabbing the sweatshirt from him before he can change his mind. Slipping it over my head, it’s apparent it’s not exactly the right size for me. It hugs my stomach in all the problem areas, but it’s the least of my worries. Ignoring my insecurities, my eyes lock with his. “Okay.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot.” He pulls out a bandana from his back pocket. “I need you to put this on.”

  “Seriously?” I ask, but upon seeing his face, the hesitation dissipates. Quickly tying it around my head, my vision is now mainly the thick strip of the fabric. He grabs my hand and a volt of electricity shoots up my arm and into my neck. Trying to ignore it only makes it worse.