CHAPTER SEVEN

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jingles slipped into the bedroom where the young girl lay, appearing to be asleep.  He checked his watch.  He could have a lot of fun with the girl in ninety minutes, he thought. He tiptoed over to her.

“Who’s there?” she asked. “Jackson? Is that you?”

"Who the hell is Jackson?" Jingles asked.

"He's your partner. Where is he?"

“You mean Rainhorse? He’s gone, love. It’s just little ole me.”

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to know your names,” she said.

“It don’t much matter now.”

“What do you mean by that?” she asked, beginning to hyperventilate.

“Oh, nothing,” Jingles replied.

Lindsay stiffened and began to gasp, “Where is Jackson? I want him.”

“He’s gone, missy,” Jingles said. “Won’t be back for long time.”

He touched her hand.  She recoiled.

“Leave me alone,” she demanded.

“Now that’s not being very friendly,” he said.

“Please!” she begged. “I know what Jackson did to you when you tried to hurt me before. He’ll be mad.”

“It don’t matter whether he likes it or not,” Jingles said. “The fact is, the big boss said it was ok for you and I to have a little fun.”

“No!” she screamed. “Get away.”

“Aw, now don’t be that way,” he said. “Here, I’m gonna take that bag off your head.  I want you to see all of this.”

“No. Jackson said I can’t see your face.”

“But I want you to,” he said.

Jingles struggled with her to remove the bag. Eventually, he got it off. She saw him for the first time. He was under six feet tall, paunchy, with wispy fine locks of hair. His skin was heavily pocked and his nose and cheeks were swollen, bloodied and bruised, undoubtedly from the beating Jackson had administered earlier.

He reached for her—she repelled in disgust.

"Stay away from me, you monster!" she screamed and kicked at him.

"That's ok Missy," he replied. "I like a little fight."

He lunged for her, ripping open her shirt. She heard the material tear and the buttons pop.  She shrieked and fell back onto the bed, trying to use her legs and feet, still bound together to fend him off.

“Wowsa,” he said, gawking at her brassiere and the soft flesh swelling out of the top of it. “Your mom must have had you on a high protein diet. He he.”

“You’re disgusting,” she cried out, kicking at him.

"Relax, will ya?" he said. "It's easier when you relax. You're gonna love it."

"Get away! Leave me alone-- please."

"Oh, now quit goin' on about it," he said, reaching for her belt buckle.

She rolled to her right trying to get away. She made one turn, coming to rest again on her back. Still on the bed, Jingles lunged at her one more time. She raised her right leg and kicked, landing a solid blow on the area of his face already bloodied and bruised by the blows his partner landed earlier.

Jingles wailed in pain, leaning back momentarily to hold his nose. It was now bleeding profusely.

“Ow, goddammit!" he barked, trying to hold his nose to stop the bleeding.  He looked at Lindsay. There was fury in his eyes.

"You're gonna pay for that, you little bitch," he scowled. He lunged for her again.

He grabbed at her pants again, pulling down at them, trying to force them off her.

Lindsay screamed at the top of her lungs. Jingles forced the zipper of her jeans down and crawled on top of her. She could smell his foul breath.

“Now, give me a kiss, sweet thing,” he said. “I love foreplay, don’t you?”

“Screw you!”

“Oh, just the opposite,” he said, chuckling. Suddenly, Lindsay heard her attacker begin to gag. He started to choke. If was then that she saw the massive hand that was squeezing Jingles’ neck.

"I knew you'd try something like this," she heard a familiar voice say.

It was Jackson, who looked completely different to Lindsay than what she imagined. The huge Cheyenne yanked Jingles away from her. The smaller man landed on his butt at the foot of the bed.

"You're supposed to be swapping out vehicles," Jingles barked at him. “Get the hell out of here."

"Not a chance, asshole," Rainhorse replied. "I warned you about this."

"Barnabas said it was ok," Jingles snapped back. "He said it was fine."

"Well, Barnabas isn’t here. I am—and it's not fine," Rainhorse barked back, moving toward Jingles.

Jingles crossed his arms above him, in a defensive position, but it was too late. Rainhorse grabbed him by the hair and pulled him off the bed.  Jingles wailed in pain, moving both hands to his head in a futile attempt to free himself. Rainhorse yanked on his hair hard, pulling out hair and drawing blood. Jingles shrieked in pain. Rainhorse looked down at Lindsay.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

"No! I am most certainly not ok," she barked back. She sat up. "That son-of-a-bitch tried to rape me."

"You sit right there," Rainhorse commanded.

"Does it look like I'm going anywhere?" she snipped.

"I'll be back in a minute," he replied.

Jingles relaxed his legs, trying to use his ample weight to force Rainhorse's grip to loosen, but the big Cheyenne pulled him back up hard, causing his partner to release the biggest howl of pain yet.

“You’re dead, you son-of-a-bitch!” Jingles bellowed. “When Barnabas hears about this...”

“Shut up!” Rainhorse demanded, pulling harder on the heavy man’s hair.

The big man dragged him out of the room.

Lindsay backed up on the bed as far as she could, quaking in fear, hyperventilating.  She sat there, now frozen, helplessly sobbing, listening to the two men struggling, each one screaming at the other as the sounds of loud banging, furniture breaking and punching continued.

After thirty seconds, all went quiet.

“Jackson?” she called out, meekly.

There was no answer.

Lindsay held her breath as she heard footsteps once again walking toward the bedroom.  She wondered if it were possible that Jackson had been hurt and it was her would-be rapist now moving toward her.

But it wasn't.

Rainhorse appeared in the doorway, looking not much worse for the wear.

"Jackson. Thank god you're ok," she said. "I was so scared I don't know what I would have done."

"He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"I don't think so," she said, breathlessly. "He ripped my shirt open."

"Here, let me untie you," he said, moving toward her. "I’m going to get you out of here."

Jackson was much older than she imagined, older than her dad, but not as old as her grandpa—perhaps fifty or so. He was dressed in black jeans, black boots and a tight black t-shirt, which highlighted his defined pectorals and huge biceps. He was taller and more muscular than the polo player she’d met a year ago in England, and that guy was six-foot-three and weighed over two hundred pounds. The big Cheyenne had the broadest shoulders she had ever seen on a man. His hair was thick, straight, jet black, parted down the middle, and extended to his shoulders. His skin was darker than hers, but not by as much as she expected. He was handsome, she thought, in a rugged kind of way. On his right bicep, she saw a tattoo. It looked to be a military tattoo of some sort.

"There," he said, as he finished removing her bonds. "Do you think you can walk ok? Are you ok to move?"

She nodded.

"I heard him call you Rainhorse. Is that your name?"

The big man paused and then nodded, "Your travel bag is in the closet. Go change your shirt. We have to get you out of here... right now."

She sat up and pulled her shirt closed.  She stood and moved toward the closet.

"What did you do to that guy?" she asked.

"I knocked him out and tied him up," Rainhorse lied.  He had broken the man’s neck. Jingles was dead, his body hidden in the spare bedroom closet, but he didn't want to share that graphic detail.

Lindsay opened her bag and pulled out a gray sweatshirt with an Eton College logo on the front. She slipped it on over her torn shirt without bothering to pull it off.  She also pulled out socks and a pair of green Nike's.

"So, you're going to take me to the police station now, right?" she asked, pulling her hair out from the back of the sweatshirt.

"Well, we need to talk, quickly," he said. "We don't have a lot of time."

"What about your boss?" she asked. "He's going to be pissed when he finds out about all this."

"Screw my boss," he said. "This was a huge mistake. I’m so sorry.”

“What now?” she asked.

“Change of plan,” he said.

“What change?” she asked.

“Let’s just say, my boss and I have had a professional disagreement. I’m going to take you back to your mom. Are you good with that?"

She smiled through the tears, "Yes, please."

"I thought that might work for you, but you have to do what I say, ok?"

She nodded.

"Let's get in the car. We've got to get away from here on the double."

"I have to pee, first."

"Make it quick, girl. They'll be coming for us soon. I’m grabbing your suitcase. I'll meet you in the van outside."

Lindsay nodded, heading to the bathroom. Rainhorse left.  After she used the bathroom she walked to the front door and noticed her phone was sitting on the kitchen table. She looked out the front door and saw Rainhorse sitting in the driver's seat, waiting. She picked up the phone and turned it on. She quickly placed it in silent mode and slipped it into her back pocket.

Lindsay came out of the front door. She saw, for the first time, the safe house where she had been held. It looked to be a small, brick rambler in the middle of farm country.  She noticed there were no other houses within sight. She opened the side door of the van and picked up her bag, placing it inside.

"Hurry," Rainhorse barked. "How long does it take to pee, anyway?"

"I'm here," she barked back. “What are you waiting for?”

The van's rear tires kicked up gravel as they pulled away.

"What was all that shit back there?" she demanded, as the van took a right turn from the drive onto the highway. "What did you mean, 'screw your boss?' Something's happened. What is it?"

"I've jumped off the deep end," he said. "I'm taking you home. You and I are in the same boat now."

"I don't understand," she said, beginning to tear up again.

"It’s simple.  He was going to kill you after he got the ransom.”

“What?” she cried. “You lied to me.”

“No, I didn’t, I swear on my life I didn’t know they intended to hurt you. I never signed up for that. When I found out, things changed for me. I couldn’t stand by and let them hurt you.”

“What now?”

“The ransom my boss was going to get for you was going to make him wealthy for life. This little adventure we’re on right now has changed that. He’s not going to get jack shit now, and he’s not going to be happy about it. He is going to want us both dead... and soon," Rainhorse replied.

"Won’t he still try to catch me so he can make my mother pay?"

"No, we’re past that. I know him too well. The job is blown—he knows it.  We will now be officially classified as witnesses—loose ends.  Killing us will be his only mission, and he will not stop.”

“But you said…”

“I know what I said, but that was then and this is now.  Kidnappings have a way of taking odd twists and turns.”

“How many kidnappings have you been a part of?”

“Counting this one?”

“Yes.”

“One.  Look, I'm going to make sure you get home safe, I promise, but this won't be a simple thing," he replied. "When the big boss finds out we’re missing, he will come after us… hard."

"I just want you to let me out," she sobbed. "I'll find my own way home."

"Sorry, girl," he said. "If it were that easy, I'd do it, but if I let you out here, you'd be dead within the hour. You have to trust me on this."

Rainhorse made a sharp left turn.

"I don’t understand,” she said, with growing urgency. “Why can't you just drop me off at the police station?" she asked.

"Because if I did that, I'd be the one dead within the hour. I like you and all, but not enough to die for."

"I don't get it," she said.

"As soon as you tell them who you are, they'll pick up my trail with their street cameras. I wouldn't make it another ten miles."

"Then drop me off a couple of miles away, where there are no cameras," she said. "I'll walk from there. I won't tell them what car you are in or anything about you. I swear."

"I can't," he said.

"Why?"

"Here's our situation," Rainhorse began. "My boss, and the organizer of this whole affair, is a man named Barnabas Quince. He is a former Military Intelligence Officer, a very smart man gone very bad.  He is well-funded and well-organized.  He's been planning your kidnapping for a year. He’s planned for every contingency. He can’t let you live. He can even get to you in a police station. I know.  The man has FIM-92 Stingers, AT-4’s and an entire arsenal of military-grade explosives. To save himself, he’d blow up the entire police station where you would be held. Hell, he could blow up a whole city block from the air. He’ll find you at any cost. If I drop you off, it would be the same as if I killed you myself."

"Holy shit!" Lindsay exclaimed. “Won’t they just find me at my mother’s house and kill us all?”

“No,” Rainhorse said, emphatically. “When we get you home, you’ll call the FBI and tell them everything. They’ll swoop in and offer you protection. You’ll be ok.”

“Let’s call them now,” she insisted.

“No.”

“Why?”

“What part of me telling you that I don’t want to be caught or killed, is not connecting with you? Look, you’ll be home safe within twenty-four hours.”

“Maybe this Barnabas guy won’t find out anything’s wrong for a while,” she supposed.

He looked at his watch, "Not likely. Within fifteen minutes from now I am supposed to meet a guy at a pickup point and exchange vehicles. When I don't show up, they'll call me.  When I don't answer, they'll call my partner. When he doesn't answer they'll know something is wrong. That's when they'll come for us. When they come, they'll come—all guns blazing. Between now and then we have to get as far away as possible."

“Won’t he realize you’re taking me home?”

“Not right away. He’ll think I’m trying to collect the entire ransom myself.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, that’s the way he thinks.”

"What are we going to do now?" she asked.

"There's a small town up ahead, called Peotone," Rainhorse said. "We have to get out of this van. I'm going to switch cars..."

"You mean steal one?"

"Yes, I'm going to steal a car," he said.

"Then what?"

"Then I'm going to drive you home," he said.

"All the way to Montana?"

"Yes."

"Then what will you do?"

"I'm going to disappear."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that.”

“I want to call my mom,” she said.

“Can’t do it,” he replied. “Barnabas has the technology to triangulate cell signals. I left my phone back at the house, anyway.  If I had brought it with me, he’d find us that way. He’s also monitoring your mother’s phone.”

“He hacked my mom’s phone?”

“I told you he was good.”