by Brad Taylor
She’d nodded again, and he’d said, “Do what I ask and you’ll be away from that asshole. You’ll be with friends. Understand?”
Without conviction, she said, “Yes.”
He grabbed her by her hair and said, “Do you understand? You aren’t his anymore. You’re mine.”
She said, “Yes, daddy. Yes.”
He’d liked the answer, and then they’d waited, sitting on a couch in the living room. Thirty minutes later, four men had entered, all looking like the Enforcer. Hard men with tattoos and scars. Slaven had embraced them, and then spoken in a language she didn’t understand, but she could see where this was headed, and it wasn’t good.
She’d felt the tears well up and was ashamed at her weakness. She had brought this on herself by running from Pike, and she deserved what came. She couldn’t do anything tonight, because that would put the women in the house in jeopardy, along with Pike and Jennifer. She would have to wait, but in her heart she was sure that in the waiting, she would lose. It tore at her, not the least because she wasn’t even sure how much Pike truly cared for her. Even if she tried to warn him, he might just toss her aside like all the other men she’d met on her odyssey from Syria. Deep in her heart, she didn’t believe that—after all, it was Pike who’d saved her life in Switzerland and brought her to America—but she was afraid to put her trust to the test.
The only two men she’d ever trusted were her father and her brother. And they were both dead.
Eventually, Beth had left the house, going to some hole-in-the-wall motel down the street to meet her john, and Amena was torn between wanting it to be Pike and not wanting it to be Pike.
And then the call had come from Beth. It was Pike.
She’d been crammed into a car between the two rough men, then driven about two miles to an indoor-outdoor cafe called Rita’s. She was hustled inside and saw the place was jam-packed, with a live band, the cacophony of noise assaulting her ears. She was led to a back booth in the corner of the restaurant, all by itself at the edge of the crowd.
She was shoved into a seat and found herself facing Pike Logan and Beth. She wanted to smile, but knew that would kill the girls. She maintained her surly appearance, and saw his confusion.
He said, “Hey, doodlebug. Good to see you.”
Slaven said, “Get out of the booth.”
Pike said, “What for?”
“Because I said so. Beth, you come over here.”
Pike exited, and one of the rough men slid in. Slaven said, “Have a seat.” Pike did so, and the Enforcer slid in to his right. Beth took a seat next to Slaven.
Pike said, “Hey, I don’t want any trouble. I just want my girl back.”
Slaven said, “She doesn’t want to go back with you. She has some new friends now, and we aren’t paying your freight. Understand?”
Amena saw Pike’s eyes narrow and knew this was going to be an endgame. She couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t be responsible for his death.
“I don’t want to be with you anymore,” she said to Pike. “I want to be with them, and if you try to prevent that, they’ll stop you. I don’t have the money you’re owed, but I’m done with you.” She could barely look at him.
In her heart, she wanted Pike to destroy everyone in the booth, but she knew he couldn’t do that. He was good, but not that good.
Slaven said, “So, you heard her. Time to go. You wanted a payment, but that isn’t coming. You leave here now, and you’ll get to go on your own two feet. You choose to fight for your little bit of money and you’ll exit in a body bag.”
Pike bored into Amena’s eyes and said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I want my little doodlebug.”
Amena felt Slaven’s hand on her knee, squeezing like a vise. She wanted to tell Pike so bad what was happening. Wanted to tell him what was at stake. Wanted to have him help her, but in so doing, she would put his life in jeopardy.
In that moment, she realized she loved him.
Loved him and Jennifer like her own flesh and blood, and because of it she was forced to sacrifice to spare them. She wanted the love returned, but she knew that wasn’t going to happen. Her flesh and blood had died in Syria.
Slaven squeezed her knee again and said, “Tell him to leave. Let him know it’s you that wants this.”
She felt the tears well up in her eyes, wanting to say the words, and couldn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to send her body to hell. She looked at Pike, wanting to find some reciprocal love, and saw nothing but a brooding man. She said, “I . . . I . . .”
Slaven squeezed her knee again, and she desperately sought a way to let Pike know that she was in danger. Something Slaven wouldn’t understand, but Pike would. She found it, and took a leap off of a cliff, praying she was right about his affection. Begging to believe.
Amena locked eyes with Pike and said, “Winter is here.”
She saw relief flood across Pike’s face, his expression visibly relaxing, like he’d confirmed something. It was only a split-second reaction, and then she saw his face harden, his eyes boring into hers with the truth she had been seeking. He nodded. Nobody else seemed to notice, but she did, and she finally understood why.
He loved her.
Slaven clamped his hand on her leg until she yelped, saying, “What the fuck does that mean? Winter what?”
She kept her eyes on Pike, and she saw a hint of a smile. She fought to contain her own. She knew he would be forced to leave her here with the men, but he would come for her. He was completely overmatched in the booth, but he wouldn’t be the next time. It was the best she could do.
Slaven said again, “What do you mean about winter?”
Pike ignored him. Speaking to her alone, he said, “Yes, winter is here. Because I am winter.”
Faster than she could follow, he whipped his elbow to the left, crushing the nose of the man next to him and bouncing his head off the back of the booth. The man fell forward onto the table, unconscious, and Pike hammered the back of his neck like he was breaking the vertebrae of a rabbit for slaughter. There was a snap like a broken twig, and the man sagged.
The Enforcer sprang back in surprise, and Pike jammed the first two fingers of his right hand into his eye orbits, causing him to scream and thrash. Pike drove his head back until his throat was clear, then backhanded a strike into the cartilage of his neck, smashing it. The Enforcer’s eyes bulged out and he put his hands to his throat, coughing and spluttering, his face turning red. Pike slammed his head into the table hard enough to knock him out, and the body sank into the corner of the booth, his life slowly extinguished by the lack of oxygen from his shattered windpipe.
The entire action took less than five seconds. Two dead men, both lying next to Pike. Slaven was incredulous. He jumped up, pulling a small pocket pistol from his waist, and Amena grabbed his wrist, latching onto it with her mouth, biting as hard as she could.
Slaven screamed, and Pike stood up, throwing a right cross with his whole body behind it, snapping his hips and cracking Slaven in the temple with a blow that could have felled a bull. He collapsed on the table, unconscious.
Nobody said anything. Amena looked at Pike in awe, her eyes wide open, trying to get her mind around what he’d just accomplished. Beth looked sick to her stomach, rocking back and forth in the booth.
Pike glanced left and right and nothing happened, the music so loud and the crowd so packed that nobody had even noticed the action.
He returned to Amena and said, “Doodlebug, you want to go home?”
She stood up on the bench and then launched herself across the table, cinching her legs around him and saying, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
He wrapped her in his arms and said, “Nothing to be sorry for.”
She leaned back and said, “They said my father was coming. . . .”
“Yeah, so?”
“Why would they say that?”
She saw Pike duck his head a little bit, then rise back up. “I can’t be you
r father. But I can be the next best thing.”
She squeezed him like she never wanted to let go, then said, “Where’s Jennifer? Why isn’t she here?”
Pike laughed and said, “She’s outside. Waiting on you.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Don’t tell her I told you this, but if I’d have been killed in here, she was going to kill everyone exiting to free you.”
And the depth of his commitment came home. She said, “So you knew I was lying?”
“Of course I did.”
For the first time since the loss of her family, she felt whole. Amena said, “Where is she?”
“Right outside, in the parking lot out back. Go chase her down, but don’t do anything scary, because she might shoot you.”
Amena grinned, and then said, “There are more that need saving. We can’t just drive away. There’s a girl with a surgical thing going on and another one named Misty.”
She looked at Beth and said, “And there’s Beth. They all need to be saved.”
Pike said, “Go find Jennifer. Take Beth with you. Let me solve the rest.”
Amena squeezed him with her arms for a second, then dropped down.
She took Beth’s hand and said, “That’s my daddy,” then raced into the crowd, dragging Beth behind her.
Chapter 13
I let Amena scamper away, then glanced around the room, the music bouncing off the walls, the floor packed with drunk beach patrons. Nobody was paying any attention to our table. Luckily, the idiot I’d knocked out had demanded we be in the corner, which helped, but there was only so long I wanted to remain with two dead guys and an unconscious one. Sooner or later, a waitress would ask if we wanted anything, and I was pretty sure the folks at the table wouldn’t answer.
I searched the two men I’d killed, retrieving their wallets and cell phones and finding two handguns; one a CZ 75 and another a beat-up Browning Hi-Power. I shoved both into my waistband, then scrambled around for the pocket pistol Slaven had brandished.
I found it under the table, stood up, and saw a waitress making her way through the crowd. That would not work.
I shouldered my way past the cordon of people and touched her elbow, saying, “Hey, I’m going to cover that back table. We’re done with the drinks, but we’d like to stay a little bit longer.”
I gave her four twenties and said, “Keep the rest.”
She smiled and I walked back to the table, wondering how I was going to get the man known as Slaven to wake up. I decided on the expedient route, picking up my glass of water and dumping it on his face.
He spluttered, and I saw his eyes flutter open. I jammed the Browning Hi-Power into his ribs and said, “Stand up slowly and you might live. Unlike your friends.”
I saw his eyes focus on the two dead men across the table, and then he sluggishly rose. I said, “Keep your hands to the front. Lace them together.”
He did so, and I said, “We’re going out the back, right now. If you try anything, I’ll put a bullet in your heart and simply run away. Do not underestimate my desire to kill you.”
He nodded, and we pushed our way through the crowd, exiting onto the back patio. I prodded him to a six-foot wooden fence at the back of the patio, a single gate in the middle for trash removal. I said, “Open it.”
He did so, and we spilled out into a gravel parking lot jammed with vehicles, throngs of people coming and going. I called Jennifer and said, “We’re out. Where are you?”
“I see you. Back row. Keep coming.”
I did and found her with Amena and Beth, Amena bouncing up and down on her toes and Beth looking sick to her stomach.
Jennifer said, “What happened in there?”
“Nothing. Just solved a problem.”
She gave me her disapproving teacher glare and said, “Amena said you slaughtered two men.”
I pushed Slaven forward and said, “It could have been three. Ask Beth if they deserved it.”
Jennifer grinned and said, “Okay, okay, Amena told me that as well. What now?”
Honestly, I wasn’t sure. I had Amena back safe and sound, and could just dump Slaven at the nearest police station, implicating him in everything he’d been doing, but Amena had said that others were at risk, here, on Folly Beach. I decided to explore a little bit.
I said, “Take Amena to the motel room.”
Jennifer had been outside of the motel cottage when I’d met Beth, and had followed us to the restaurant, so she knew where to go.
“What are you going to do?”
“Meet you there. Beth, you’re going to drive my Jeep. Can you work a standard transmission?”
She nodded; then, like a robot, she said, “I have to go. Get back. I don’t want to be a part of this.”
I realized how much the trauma of her captivity had penetrated her psyche. She was still worried about the men, refusing to believe she had been saved.
I said, “Beth, you’re not going back there, ever. You’re free. Trust me.”
Out of nowhere, Slaven said, “You’re still mine. Remember that. Remember what will happen if you help.”
She cowered and said, “I’m sorry, daddy. I didn’t do this. I did what you asked. It’s not my fault.”
Her reaction to his words infuriated me. I cocked my fist and slammed it into Slaven’s kidney, bringing him to his knees. I jerked his head up by the hair, looked into his eyes, and said, “You’re trying my patience. If you say one more word, I’ll fucking cut your throat.”
He opened his mouth, and I raised a finger, saying, “Think. If you utter a sound, you are dead.”
He closed his mouth and I turned to Beth, saying, “Come on. You drive. I’ll be in the backseat with him. He can’t hurt you anymore. Nobody can.”
She nodded, struggling to believe. I turned to Jennifer and said, “See you at the motel.”
She took Amena’s hand and kissed me on the cheek, whispering, “Don’t kill him on the drive.”
I smiled and said, “I won’t. I need him.”
Ten minutes later, we were at the shithole motel, me pushing Slaven forward while Beth trailed behind. We reached the cottage where I’d met her, and I said, “Beth, knock on the door.”
She did, and Jennifer opened it. I pushed Slaven forward saying, “Find me something to restrain this guy and gag him.”
In short order I had him on the floor of the disgusting bathroom, the roaches crawling on him, his legs bent and tied to his arms behind his back, his mouth gagged and a rag cinched over his eyes.
I leaned down and thumped his head into the floorboard, saying, “You try anything at all, and you’re dead. If you so much as twitch, I’ll kill you.”
I stood up and said, “Amena, Jennifer and I are going to talk to Beth. I want you to stay here and watch him. If he makes any move—and I mean any move—come out and tell me.”
She nodded like it was a game, all smiles. She said, “Can I kick him first? Before I come out?”
I said, “By all means. But aim for his nuts when you do.”
Jennifer slapped my shoulder and said, “No. No, Amena, you can’t kick him. Just come out and tell us.”
We exited and Jennifer hissed, “What are you trying to teach her?”
I smiled and said, “That guy deserves a kick to the nuts.”
She said, “He certainly does, but you don’t tell Amena that.”
We entered the bedroom and found Beth sitting on the mattress, fidgeting and working her hands through her hair and clutching her shirt.
Jennifer sat next to her and said, “So, what’s your story?”
“What are you going to do to me? What do you want? I can sleep with you if that’s what you would like, but you have to let me go back after. I don’t even want any money.”
I sat on her other side and put my hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump. I said, “Hey, hey, we don’t want anything from you. We wanted to find Amena. That’s all. You can leave if you want, but apparently we’ve foun
d something more than we bargained for.”
She looked at me with an earnestness that penetrated my soul, wanting to believe our good intentions, but not wanting to have her trust shattered yet again. She said, “I can leave here now? Walk right out that door?”
“Yes. I promise.”
Tears formed in her eyes and she said, “I’ve heard ‘I promise’ before, from Slaven. Right after that, I never saw my family again.”
I realized she had been trained to submit. Trained by punishment. I looked at Jennifer and saw her beginning to tear up. She gently brushed Beth’s cheek and said, “When we say it, we mean it. Now what was Amena talking about with other girls? What’s an ‘exit fee’?”
Beth fought back a whimper, looked at Jennifer, then at me, and said, “These men are evil. They will kill all of us if they get the chance. You don’t know them like I do.”
I leaned in and said, “I want to know them. Tell me. What’s the exit fee?”
She started crying and said, “They capture girls like me, and then force us to have sex. If you want to leave, you have to pay an exit fee. I couldn’t do it.”
“What’s the fee?”
She looked at me, wiped her nose, and said, “A kidney.”
The word hung in the air, and neither Jennifer nor I could believe it. Incredulous, I said, “A kidney? Like the organ?”
She sniffled and said, “Yes. Tess is in the house right now. They took her kidney.”
Her words sank home and I felt an unbridled rage. I stood up, my hands shaking, and Jennifer saw the slide. She said, “Hey, maybe it’s time to call the police.”
I snapped, “What police? The Folly Beach Police Department? I’m sure they’ll run right over after we tell them that someone’s harvesting organs. They’ll put one patrol car on it, and he’ll either get killed or leave, satisfied that nothing’s wrong. The girls will still die.”
