Poppy

Ohmigod, I was going to puke again. I was currently hooded, handcuffed, and belted into a car... an SUV, I think... and it was hauling ass to wherever Curly was taking me. But I couldn’t watch the road, ergo, I was horribly nauseated.

Before I could warn my captors of my condition, however, we stopped moving and I was hauled out of the vehicle, losing my balance slightly as I was set on my feet. As soon as the hood was removed, I pitched forward and puked all over the ground... and someone’s boots.

“Goddammit!” Curly growled, gripping my arms.

I leaned to my right and wiped my mouth on the sleeve of his shirt, earning a howl of, “You stupid bitch!”

“My day is complete,” I sneered.

He growled again and shoved me aside, which gave me space, which meant I took the advantage and made a run for it. The problem was I didn’t know where the hell I was, and my middle hurt from where Roach grabbed me earlier, so my run was more of a gasping limp as I rushed away from the car... and straight into a fist.

Then black.

* * *

“... goddamn motherfuckin’ idiot!” I heard Curly yell as I started to come to. “Why the fuck did you hit her?”

“She was runnin’!” Roach said as strong arms lifted me.

I played dead, not wanting anyone to know I was awake yet. This proved harder than expected, because whoever was holding me had me over his shoulder and it was spiked into the very sore part of my belly, cutting off my air.

“What happened to young Poppy?” Harlan’s deep, southern voice asked, lethally.

“She tried to run,” Roach said, and I was set gently on the ground.

“I gave you strict instructions not to harm her. Why was this not obeyed?”

“I—”

Bang!

I jumped at the sound of a gunshot, and subsequent thud of what I assumed was a body hitting gravel, rolling to my side with a groan.

“Miss Poppy, I apologize for my... ah... colleague’s abuse. He won’t do that again.”

I opened my eyes (well, eye, since I couldn’t see out of the other one now that it was starting to swell) and found Harlan hunkered down in front of me.

All of my bravado of feeling safe in the knowledge that no one would hurt me swiftly left my psyche, and I found myself unable to stop shaking.

Curly and Roach I knew (sort of), they were “brothers,” so I knew what to expect, and also knew that they knew what my father would do to them if they hurt me. But this man? He was a monster dressed up like a fried chicken hawker, and I suddenly realized that my tenure in this life was on very thin ice.

“Do you need a minute, or can I help you up?”

“I need a minute,” I rasped, gulping in deep, terrified breaths. Despite my attempts to keep my emotions in check, I felt tears running down my face and could taste blood in my mouth.

“Someone get this girl some water,” Harlan ordered, gently dabbing my tears away with his handkerchief. “There, there, sweetness—”

“Don’t call me that,” I ground out.

“Still feisty despite your injuries, I see. I like you Poppy. I like you very much.” He rose to his feet and one of his other cohorts helped me to mine, handing a bottled water to me.

My hands were still handcuffed in front, so Harlan unscrewed the cap and handed it back to me. After rinsing my mouth out, I drank greedily, my stomach aching for something to fill it.

God, I just wanted to go home. I wanted to curl up in my bed and have Devon hold me until... well, forever. He could never ever let me go.

“Do you feel better, dear?” Harlan asked.

You know, like it was a Tuesday and I had a headache.

I nodded, not knowing if I could keep myself from saying something that would incite his rage enough to shoot me as well, and I was hauled up against Curly once again who looked pissed and nervous all at the same time.

Harlan and two of his bodyguards walked toward the shipping docks and it was then I realized we were at the harbor. The smell of salt air, gas, and fish assaulted me as Curly dragged me behind.

I could hear nothing. Just the water lapping against the boat slips, and that seemed weird to me. But as soon as that thought floated through my mind, my eyes started to scan my surroundings. If Hatch was here, he’d be hidden, and I just knew he was here, because I suddenly felt a lot less panicked.

“Where’s the ship?” Curly asked.

“It’ll be here,” Harlan said. “It’s not due for ten minutes.”

“I don’t like this,” Curly continued. “It’s too fuckin’ quiet.”

“It’s a Sunday.” Harlan smiled slowly. “All the good people of Savannah are faithfully attending church services. It’s the perfect day to do our business. Just relax.”

“Hard to relax when I feel like we’re bein’ watched.”

That was when I saw him. My dad. It was only for a split second and I know it was because he wanted me to see him, but I saw him and I couldn’t stop the tears.

Harlan misconstrued them, thankfully, and said, “Now, now, dear Poppy. No one’s going to hurt you... further, that is. Calm yourself. This will all be over soon.”

Yes, it will, asshole. You’re right about that.

* * *

Devon

“Bogdan!” I called out to him, while waiving him over. He ran to us immediately, and I asked him to help us move agent Kahler.

“Sparky, what the hell are you talking about? Who is this guy?” Doc asked.

“Doc, this is Bogdan. He’s the ship’s mechanic, and his sister was one of the young women in the container. He knew the container was rigged to blow and he warned us. Without him, they’d all be dead.”

“Holy shit,” Doc said.

“Doc, I’m not sure how much, if any of the ship’s crew, is in on this. I think everyone on board is a slave of some form or another, and I think if we asked, they’d help.”

We got agent Kahler situated in the wheelhouse and Doc fired up the engines and got us headed back home before radioing Hatch with a status report.

Bogdan was not only a wealth of information about the ship, but about the Russian’s trafficking operation. He explained, in his best English, how the women on board, as well as the entire ship’s crew, had been tricked by promises of safe passage to America. They were all told they could work aboard the ship to pay for the cost of the voyage, and were promised jobs once they reached the US. Of course, this was all a lie. The women were to be sold, and the men likely executed or held to work as slave labor on other boats.

Alamo got blankets for the girls and reunited them with the crew, many of which were family members or even spouses. It was clear they posed no threat to us, but I was hoping the crew would be willing to pose a threat to the men that had taken them, and held their loved ones’ captive.

“Can your crew operate guns, Bogdan? Can they shoot?”

“Shoot? Yes...  most,” he replied.

“When we reach the harbor, there are going to be some bad men with guns waiting for us. Will you and the rest of the crew help us?” I asked.

Bogdan smiled wide and said, “We will...  help... fight.”

“Good,” I said. “But before we fight, I need to teach you all an American game called hide and seek.”

* * *

As the harbor came into view, I allowed my thoughts to turn to Poppy one last time before focusing once again on the plan. More than ever, I knew I had to return to her in one piece. Not for her sake, but for mine. I simply had to see her again; I needed her. But right now, I had to remember that she was tucked away safe, and that I, and my fellow passengers, were still in grave danger. Doc had Alamo check on the injured Lieutenant, and move him out of sight, and told me to bring Captain Vasili up to the wheelhouse.

“Alright, Captain, I’m going to uncuff you now.” Doc grabbed the handcuff key. “If you try anything, my friend Deputy Sparky here is going to be forced to shoot you, and if Deputy Sparky has proven anything today, it’s that he doesn’t hesitate when it comes to shooting scumbag slave traders.”

Captain Vasili simply grunted.

“I want you to radio into the harbor as if everything is perfectly fine. Then I’m going to have you take the wheel and drive us in, just like you’ve done a thousand times. Nice and easy.” Doc explained. “I don’t want anyone that may be listening to know we’re coming, and you’d better not try and signal anyone in any way as we pull in. Do you understand me?”

“And why should I help you?” he asked.

“I’ll tell you why, Captain Shit-Stain. It’s because we’re the goddamned FBI,” Doc said, leaning into his role. “We’re the ones that determine if you’re locked up here in the good ol’ United States, where we can at least protect you from becoming a rival prison gang’s bitch”—the captain’s eyes widened, and sweat poured from his brow—“Or shipped back to Russia, where I’m sure your bosses will be delighted to see you after losing such a precious shipment. Or maybe, we’ll just send you off to some military black site, where we can drop you in a hole and forget about you.”

The captain said nothing. He just scowled as spit gathered and frothed at each corner of his mouth. Doc uncuffed him, and the captain did as he was told. We placed Agent Kahler onto a makeshift bed on the floor that was made from cushions and life vests. He was fading in and out of consciousness and was pale as hell. At least he was resting and quiet. Thank God Doc had morphine in his kit.

“Okay, this is it,” Doc said, and signaled for everyone to take their places as ship began its docking procedures. We were to unload at a slip at the very end of the harbor, in an area that was only used by smaller vessels, and was far from prying eyes. It was a perfect location for an operation like this, and with the harbor master in their pocket, I could see why this had been working for them.

We had changed out of our Fish and Wildlife gear and were now dressed in crew gear, and Bogdan was once again reprising his role as guard number two, posted in front of the locked container. We also had two of the crew members, along with Doc and Alamo, on deck to assist with docking. We couldn’t afford to have anything look at all out of place when we pulled ashore. The entire plan hinged on the element of surprise. Not to mention, for all we knew, there could be more explosive booby traps on board that could be triggered remotely should they smell something fishy.

“Alright, nice and easy,” Doc called out. “Everybody just remember the plan and stick to the script. Harlan and his crew come aboard with the harbor master, the captain sets up the exchange, we give the signal, and agent Moore and his team swoop in and arrest the bad guys. Keep your eyes peeled, stay out of the way and act... Russian.”

After many tense minutes, we finally docked and the ship’s engines were killed. I was posing as the crane operator in order to have a better vantage point of the deck, and to stay out of Harlan Cavanaugh’s direct sight.

Thankfully, the ringing in my ears had greatly decreased, but had by no means stopped. I wondered if I’d suffered permanent damage, but was quickly pulled away from this thought when I saw three men walking up the gangway. I could see that two of them were armed and instantly recognized Harlan Cavanaugh to be among them. He was still dressed in formal Southern whites and walked between the two larger men.

“Captain Vasili, how nice it is to finally meet you sir,” Cavanaugh said, extending his hand along with a broad smile to the captain, who currently stood alone on the ship’s deck. Doc and Alamo, hung back in an attempt to remain a little more out of site.

“Such a skeleton crew you have captain,” Harlan exclaimed. “Where in the seven seas are all your men? Surely you can’t possibly sail this pirate ship all by yourself, now can you?” His syrupy southern snake charmer tone barely hid the suspicion in his voice.

“Oh... the crew is simply on the upper deck preparing for offloading. Please come now. Allow me to take you to your cargo. I’m sure you are anxious to be on your way with your merchandise,” Captain Vasili said nervously.

“All good things in time, Captain, all good things in time,” Harlan said slowly. “Tell me, did you have any trouble on your long journey? Any issues with the cargo that I should be made aware of?”

“Issues?” the captain asked.

“Interference perhaps. Interference from an... outside party for instance.”

“I’m... I’m...  not sure...  what you mean, Mr. Cavanaugh?” he sputtered.

“Then please allow me to be clearer with my question, Captain. Did the Dogs of Fire Motorcycle club attempt to interfere with my shipment?”

“Dog of Fire?” the captain asked, seemingly genuinely confused.

“We’ve never met previously, Captain, and I’m not sure what your employers have told you about me—”

“Only that you are a serious business man, and to be treated with the highest respect,” Vasili said, giving Harlan a slight bow.

“Yes, well, flattery, my dear Captain, as we say in this country, will get you everywhere,” he said. I swear, even from my distance, I could still see every one of his goddamned pearly whites when he smiled. “What you may not know about me,” Harlan continued. “Is that I’m very good at telling when someone is lying to me.” His smile dropped. “Now tell me, Captain, have the Dogs of Fire contacted you in any way regarding my shipment, or any other matter?”

“No sir. No dogs, no motorcycles. I don’t know the men you are talking about. I swear to you,” Vasili said in a serious and convincing tone.

In all reality, he had no idea who the hell we really were, or who the Dogs of Fire were. Harlan remained frozen for a few tense moments before smiling once again and placing a hand on the captain’s shoulder.

“Well, that’s just music to my ears, Captain. We truly do appreciate you taking such good care of our merchandise, and I’m sure I’m going find everything in perfect working order. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, yes of course,” Vasili said reassuringly.

“Well that’s certainly good to hear, as I have quite the cumbersome cargo to unload on you in exchange,” Harlan said with a sickening chuckle, as he motioned to the silver suitcase being carried by one of the bodyguards. I hated this man and everything he stood for. I thought about how I would feel if one of those women was Poppy and it made me want to beat him to death with that fuckin’ suitcase.

“Right this way,” Vasili said as he led him and his goons to the staircase where I’d left half of my hearing.

* * *

Hatch

I watched as Harlan Cavanaugh and two huge bodyguards got out of a black SUV. It was dumb luck that we could see them from our vantagepoint. They had parked on a small frontage road about one hundred yards from the harbor, opposite from where we were posted, safely hidden from view, behind a low wall where they stored propane tanks. The wall itself was made of brick, however the top layer had a lattice design in it, so I could see Curly without being detected.

After watching Harlan and his oversized goons make it down to the boat, I saw Curly pull Poppy out of view, but a few minutes later, they inched around the corner, Curly gripping Poppy’s arm and her face contorted in pain. My spine stiffened and my fists clenched.

“Hold your position,” Dalton warned as I watched Curly drag my girl around like a rag doll.

“Fuck you,” I seethed. They’ve got Poppy.”

Dalton nodded. “I can see that, but you have to stow that shit right now.”

“Seriously, Dalton,” I ground out. “He hurts her one more time, and I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him.”

“Need you not to do that, Hatch.”

His words fell on deaf ears because Poppy cried out and I saw red, jumping over the wall and making a run for Curly.