Wild Captive

by Tripp Ellis

I peered through the window of the door and saw two twin beds on either side of the room. Girls were in their bunks, asleep. It seemed there was a strict curfew. If the girls weren’t working, they were locked up tight in the dorm. Maybe Randall was paranoid about them escaping after all?

  There was a commons area halfway down the hall, to the right, with a television, a few couches, chairs, a table, and vending machines.

  "How are we going to find her?" JD whispered.

  I shrugged.

  We continued to move down the corridor, peering into the rooms. We used our night vision goggles to look for girls that resembled Violet.

  At the end of the hall, a security guard descended the steps, and emerged into the corridor. He reached for his gun when he saw us.

  I drew down on him and lined the scumbag up in the reticle of my sites. I squeezed the trigger and snapped off a round. The suppressor at the end of the barrel minimized the report. The snap echoed down the hallway, but it would be barely audible outside the structure.

  My bullet pierced the man's chest, exploding a volcano of red slime from his torso. He crashed to the ground.

  JD and I advanced cautiously down the hallway.

  On his waistband, the goon had a key ring that allowed access to the various structures on the island as well as the dorm rooms. I snatched the keys from his belt then rifled through them until I found one that opened a dorm room door. I pushed into the room and called for Violet.

  The two occupants shrieked in terror. They set up in their beds, eyes wide with fear.

  Neither were Violet.

  I asked if they knew where she was, and they shook their heads. One by one, we unlocked each door until we found someone who could point us in the right direction.

  "I think she's at the resort tonight," a young girl said. "She was swimming with a guy in the pool when I left."

  "How long ago was that?"

  She shrugged. "Maybe half an hour. Nobody seemed interested in me, so I came back here." She frowned.

  "We're getting everyone out of here. We’ve got a boat waiting. Go with JD, and we can take you back to the main island."

  Her skeptical eyes examined me. At this point in time, these girls didn't trust anyone. For all they knew, we could have been traffickers, trying to steal Randall's girls and pimp them out somewhere else.

  Somewhere that could have been worse.

  I left JD in the dorm to free the rest of the girls—those that wanted to leave—and told him that I'd rendezvous at the beach.

  I pushed out of the air-conditioned compound into the slick, steamy air and slipped back into the forest. I weaved through the trees until I reached the main resort. I snaked down the narrow path, through the villas, to the pool. Crouching low, and hiding behind leafy plants, I surveyed the area.

  Violet wasn’t at the pool.

  My eyes caught sight of a couple disappearing down a path leading to a bungalow. I was pretty sure the girl was Violet.

  I doubled around, attempting to cut them off. The man’s eyes went wide when I emerged from the shrubs, my weapon aimed at him.

  Violet shrieked.

  The man raised his hands in surrender. “Don’t shoot. You can take my wallet, jewelry, whatever you want.”

  "Violet, your father sent me. I'm here to take you home,” I hissed.

  The man started to say something else.

  “Get on the ground. Now! Hands on your head.”

  He complied.

  “Tony sent you?” Violet asked. “I don't want to go back. He's just going to put me in rehab again."

  "Do you really want to stay here and let these losers do whatever the hell they want to you?"

  "No!" she said with a twisted face.

  "Then come with me."

  I told the man if he moved, I'd kill him. I took Violet by the arm and escorted her down the path. I pulled her through the trees, heading toward the southeast corner of the island.

  "How do I know you're not some psychopath taking me God knows where to do God knows what?"

  "Keep your voice down," I hissed.

  I activated my headset. "Devil Dog, this is Bravo One, we are Oscar Mike. Meet us at the rendezvous point. Over."

  Static crackled over the line.

  "Devil Dog, do you copy, over?"

  There was no response.

  Dread twisted in my stomach. My jaw tightened. From where I was, I didn't have a clear view to the hilltop. I hoped it was just a radio malfunction, but I didn't think we were that lucky.

  We rendezvoused with JD at the extraction point. He had several girls with him that were more than ready to get off the island. They were scared and terrified.

  "Seriously, how do we know you're legit?" Violet asked.

  I dug into my pocket and handed her the emerald ring that belonged to her grandmother.

  Her eyes widened, and she burst into tears. "That's my grandmother's ring. Where did you get it?"

  "Your father gave it to me. He told me to give it to you. He thought it might remind you of home, and the people who love you."

  Tears welled in her eyes. She slipped the ring on her finger.

  We hovered in the trees at the edge of the beach. I tried to contact Floyd again, but there was no response. The inflatable tender didn't have enough room for all of us. We’d have to make several trips. And I feared our mission was already compromised.

  With my night vision goggles, I scanned the shoreline, looking for any sign of Randall, or his goons. Waves crashed against the shore. The SunCruiser was anchored a half mile offshore in the inky blackness. To get all these girls off the island and onto the boat would take an hour, at least.

  It was time we didn't have.

  JD grabbed one side of the tender, and I grabbed the other. We raced down to the surf and launched the boat. The girls climbed into the small inflatable. The boat had a max capacity of four, but we stretched that to eight. I told JD to take the girls back to the boat and come back for a second round. I made sure Violet was on the first boatload out.

  JD cranked up the outboard and twisted the throttle. The inflatable fought against the incoming waves as it headed out to sea. The sound of the outboard rattled through the night. At this point in time, the cat was out of the bag. There was no way our activities had gone undetected.

  55

  I stepped out of the surf and began to usher the rest of the girls back to the tree line when Randall, Cartwright, and two other goons emerged from the forest, surrounding us.

  Frustration tensed my body.

  Cartwright had a pistol to Floyd's head.

  "Drop your weapon, or your comrade gets a large hole in his head," Randall yelled.

  There was nothing I could do. I raised one hand in surrender, and with the other, I crouched down and set the AR 15 in the sand.

  "Now the pistol." Randall yelled. Then he added, "Carefully."

  With my thumb and index finger, I grabbed the grip of my 9mm and delicately pulled it from the holster and tossed it into the sand. I rose slowly.

  "Ladies, it's past curfew,” Randall shouted. “I'd suggest all of you get back to the dorm before I get angry.”

  The girls scampered away like cockroaches in the light.

  Randall called after them, "I will deal with you all later."

  I stood there with my hands in the air, trying to figure out how the hell I was going to get out of this situation.

  The whine of the outboard motor echoed in the distance as JD raced the refugees to the SunCruiser.

  "Get on the radio and tell your friend to return to my island with my merchandise,” Randall demanded. “If he doesn't, your comrade dies, then you die."

  I activated the headset. "Bravo Two, this is Bravo One, do you copy, over?"

  There was no response.

  "Bravo Two, this is Bravo One, do you copy? Over?

  "I'm almost to the boat,” JD crackled back. “What's going on?"

  "Change of plans. We have uninvited guests at the party. Yo
u need to turn around and bring the girls back, or Floyd and I will have a real bad day."

  "Copy that," JD responded.

  Randall and his goons kept their weapons aimed at me. One of them approached, looking to scoop up my weapons from the sand. As he did, Floyd got frisky.

  The former Marine twisted around, grabbed the barrel of Cartwright’s pistol and shoved it toward the sky. Muzzle flash flickered from the barrel as the weapon discharged. In a flash, Floyd punched Cartwright in the ribcage, kneed him in the groin, then broke his nose with an uppercut. When he was finished, he had the weapon in his hand.

  Floyd fired two slugs into my nemesis, then twisted around and took aim at another goon. Another double tap, and the man's chest erupted with blood. He tumbled to the sand, and the surf washed over his body as he gasped for breath. Saltwater filled his mouth and mixed with his blood. He twitched and convulsed for a moment before he went still.

  Floyd's activity had caused enough of a distraction for me to take action. As the goon knelt down to scoop up my weapons, I kicked him in the face. Bones crackled, and teeth shattered. Blood spewed from his mouth. He tumbled back and discharged his weapon. As he fell, the amber glow of muzzle flash illuminated his face.

  I dove to the ground, tumbled, scooped up my pistol, and rolled onto one knee. I blasted the goon before he could get a shot off at me.

  I swung the barrel of my pistol around and took aim at Randall.

  His eyes, wide like saucers, stared at me in disbelief. He spun around and disappeared into the forest as I popped off a few shots. Bark splintered from a nearby tree as he turned tail and ran.

  I sprang to my feet and chased after him. My legs drove me forward as I darted into the underbrush, plowing through leafy plants, dodging trees.

  Randall, in his white linen suit, wasn't exactly breaking any land speed records.

  He looked over his shoulder, trying to see how much distance was between us. Fear bathed his face. He aimed his pistol at me and muzzle flash flickered from the barrel.

  I ducked for cover as two bullets snapped past me, ruffling the leaves of a nearby plant. I took cover behind a tree and fired two shots into the night, trying to clip the bastard as he disappeared down the path that led to the main resort.

  I launched to my feet and sprinted after him. I hopped over a fallen log, then held up at the entrance to the path. I cautiously angled my weapon down the passageway, and more gunfire erupted at me.

  I ducked for cover and caught a glimpse of Randall disappearing into the resort.

  When it was clear, I advanced cautiously down the path and into the pool area.

  Randall's footsteps echoed in the night as he ventured down another path.

  I followed the sound of his footsteps, and we played this cat-and-mouse game, trading pot shots as he dashed toward the pier.

  I chased after him, my heart pounding.

  Randalls shoes clunked against the wooden planks as he raced down the dock. He leapt into a Go Fast boat and the engines roared as he cranked them up.

  The water behind the boat burbled.

  My chest heaved for breath. I sprinted as fast as I could. My quads burned. I raced down the dock as Randall throttled up the boat and launched away from the pier.

  I ran out of running room and stopped at the last plank.

  I took aim at the goon as he carved through the water, spitting a trail of white foam. He was about to escape into the inky blackness.

  My fingers squeezed the trigger in rapid succession, the pistol hammering against my palm. The deafening blasts rang my ears, and the smell of gunpowder filled my nostrils.

  The son-of-a-bitch was going to get away, and there was nothing I could do about it.

  I emptied the entire magazine.

  When the smoke cleared, I watched Randall slump at the helm, his white linen jacket spotted red.

  The boat banked to starboard. Still on full throttle, the speedboat made a long arc around. Soon, it was on a collision course with the pier.

  My eyes widened, and I realized I should get the hell out of there. I spun around and ran back down the dock, clearing the planks just as the Go Fast boat slammed into the pier and launched into the air.

  The engine howled as it soared across the sky, then crashed onto shore, the fiberglass hull shattering. The engine stalled out, and Randall's body was thrown from the wreckage.

  The smell of fuel, oil, and exhaust filled the air.

  I found Randall's bloody body on the beach, mangled and twisted. I had connected with more than one round, and his white linen suit was mostly a deep shade of red.

  I didn't feel bad about the kill. Not in the slightest. If anything, I figured it would give me redemption points.

  56

  By the time I made it back to the southeast beach, JD was on shore with the girls.

  I staggered out of the forest, onto the beach, drenched in sweat.

  A sour look twisted on JD's face. "What the hell? Did I miss all the excitement?"

  I shrugged. "Looks like it." I glanced to Floyd. "Nice work!"

  Floyd grinned. "The old man's still got a few moves."

  "Indeed, he does," I said. "Semper Fi."

  A prideful smile curled on his lips.

  "What now?" JD asked.

  "I’d be cautious about the local authorities. You don't know who Randall had on the payroll," Floyd warned. "And you're gonna have a little problem on your hands here before too long. Most of these girls will start going into withdrawals if they don't get their opiates.“

  Floyd had a good point. All the girls were strung out, no doubt. That's how Randall kept them compliant. We weren’t equipped to handle victim support. Most of these girls came from unhealthy and abusive situations. They had little resources, and no home to go back to.

  From the resort phone, we called the local FBI office in the District of the Pristine Islands and made an anonymous tip.

  It wouldn't be long before the island swarmed with agents from the Human Trafficking and Exploitation Division, along with the Victim Support Services Unit. They would be able to give the girls medical care, accommodations, and help them get their lives back on track.

  We were way out of our jurisdiction, and our methods may not have passed intense scrutiny. We decided it was best to get the hell out of there before we had to answer a lot of questions.

  "We can't leave just yet," JD said. "Our phones. I paid a thousand bucks for mine. I'm not leaving it here.”

  We made our way back to the main resort and found the electric cart and drove to the airstrip. Randall's private plane sat on the tarmac. We boarded the craft and pried open the compartment where he had stashed our cell phones. We powered them up, slipped them back into our pockets, then took the cart back to the resort.

  We left the cart behind, and JD and I weaved through the forest on foot to the southeast beach. Floyd had policed up his weapons, magazines, and as many shell casings as he could find. He didn't want to leave anything behind that could come back to haunt him. The weapons were unregistered, and we'd all been careful not to leave fingerprints on any of the rifles, magazines, or shell casings.

  I hovered over the body of Cartwright and snapped a photo of his body, and a close up of his face. Blood oozed from his lips, and his chest was spotted with crimson.

  I needed proof of death. Isabella and I would have a long conversation soon.

  We boarded the tender and left the island with Violet.

  The small skiff crashed against the waves as we headed out to sea. A few minutes later, we boarded the SunCruiser, weighed anchor, and set off into the night.

  I called big Tony and let him know we had recovered his daughter. He said he was going to charter a private plane, and he'd call me back with the details. 15 minutes later, he called back and told me his flight was leaving at 6:30 AM and to meet him at the FBO at St. Edward at 9:30 AM.

  Floyd ferried us to the main island where we said our goodbyes.

  "I haven't had tha
t much fun since I retired," Floyd said. "You boys look me up if you're ever back down this way."

  I thanked him for everything and exchanged numbers.

  We caught a cab to the airport and waited at the FBO for Tony to arrive. A few hours later, the big man was stepping off a Gulfstream, looking for his daughter.

  Violet ran into his arms on the tarmac, and the two embraced. She burst into tears as she hugged her father, "I'm so sorry, Dad. I promise, I'm not gonna screw up anymore."

  He held onto her, and I thought he would never let go. "Everything is gonna be okay. You can put this all behind you, and you're going to have a great life."

  She nodded.

  Tony shook my hand, tears welling in his eyes. "Thank you both."

  "Think nothing of it," JD said.

  "I owe you two, big time."

  "We'll be sure to collect," JD said with a grin.

  "I'm sure you will," Tony said.

  We boarded the plane and took our seats. I was exhausted, yet still wired from the adrenaline. I reclined in my seat and tried to relax. Before the plane took off, I texted an image of Cartwright’s body to Isabella. She called back instantly. "Can you confirm the kill?"

  "I can."

  "Nice work," Isabella said.

  "I had a little assistance on this one."

  "I don't care how it got done as long as it got done. I was beginning to think we might never get him."

  "I learned some interesting information."

  "I'm all ears."

  "Cartwright told me you're the one who ordered the hit on Ruiz, and myself."

  There was a long pause.

  "And you believe him?"

  "I know better than to believe the words of a dying man," I said.

  "Good."

  "So you're going on the record, denying that?"

  "Yes. I am. He's just trying to fuck with your head."

  "I'll take your word for it. But you know as well as I do, it doesn't end well for people who fuck me over."

  "I know that all too well, Tyson. I'm not that stupid."

  I was about to hang up the phone when she added, "Oh, by the way, your accounts have been restored. I think you'll find the balances are where they should be."