Page 1 of Her Wicked Hero

1

“He’s going into anaphylactic shock, I need the EpiPen,” she screamed.

Christie and Debbie were crying as Harold Brockman was having seizures in the dirt.

“If he dies, there’s no need for the rest of you, so you better find it fast,” Raymond said as he emptied out the contents of a duffle bag onto the floor of the hut. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him light a cigar and watch her search.

Marcia tried to block out the two young girls’ sobs. She hated the subterfuge, but their lives depended on it. She saw the small black case with the EpiPens, but she couldn’t find the freaking pocket watch. She scrabbled through the mess of accumulated crap until she spied something round and gold.

“Hurry up, girlie, your reason for living is dying.”

She had just seconds. Marcia fumbled for the clasp and popped open the watch, then depressed the glass. She felt it click, then she jammed it shut. It couldn’t have been that easy, could it? God, she hoped so. She dropped the watch and grabbed the little black case.

“Found it,” she shouted in triumph as she held up the container that held the medicine. Now she had to pretend that she was administering the drug without doing it. So far, Mr. B. was a darn fine actor, hopefully, she would be as good. She crouched down beside her best friend’s father and took out the syringe. It looked straightforward. She pulled off the blue cap, then held it with her hand near the orange top and jammed it into his thigh, making sure the needle didn’t enter his flesh.

After a few seconds, Harold Brockman took a deep gasping breath. Boy, he was good. They must have taught that in spy school. Marcia started to shake. She looked up at Raymond. He was staring at her with those dead eyes. She hated him. She hated all of them, but Raymond was the worst. He had smiled when he killed the three mathematicians. He’d enjoyed it. He’d used a knife on one of them. Hadn’t even shot him.

“Pick that shit up,” Raymond said. He motioned to everything on the ground with his cigar. When Marcia crawled over to the bag, Christie and Debbie practically fell into their father’s arms. Even though he had broken ribs, he didn’t flinch, instead, assuring them he was okay.

“So, you live for another day,” Raymond laughed. Marcia flinched when the ashes he flicked hit her cheek.

“The girls need more food and water.”

“What about you? Aren’t you going to ask for yourself? Or is big sister too much of a martyr?”

Marcia went along with that lie as well. Harold Brockman had told his two girls she needed to pretend to be his eldest daughter, Lesley Brockman, she would be safer that way. Marcia appreciated Mr. B. looking out for her, but she also knew it might eventually wind up taking some of the focus off the younger girls, so she went along with the ploy.

“Yes, Dad and I need more food and water too, but it’s more important for the girls.”

Raymond flicked his cigar at her again and if she hadn’t dodged it, ash would have gone into her eye. He cracked a smile, this time, it reached his eyes. “What are you willing to do for the extras, Lesley?”

“Nothing,” Harold choked out. “Don’t play your stupid games with her. You need your hostages in good working order, so get us food and water. God knows, it’s plentiful around here,” the older man said disdainfully.

“You’re not in a good position to give orders, Brockman.”

Marcia knelt there, looking back and forth between a man she considered her surrogate father to the scariest man she had ever encountered in her life.

“Sure I am. I’m the biggest fish you’ve ever had on a hook. What are the bids up to? Twenty million?” Harold Brockman asked.

“Higher. Especially with the leverage we can provide. You’ll sing like a canary. Every American secret will become available to whoever buys you.”

“They ought to know better, they’ve changed everything since I’ve retired from the NSA. God knows, once they figure out I’ve been kidnapped, they’ll re-evaluate every policy too.”

“You’re dead, didn’t you know that? You died with everybody else on that yacht. Hell, it was my vote to leave two of your other kids on that fucking boat too, so I had less to worry about. But Kyle thought you’d bring more if we sold you with three daughters who could be tortured to get you to talk.”

Marcia rolled up onto her feet and pushed her face into Raymond’s. “Enough,” she ground out. “Don’t talk that way in front of my sisters.”

“She’s right,” Kyle said as he bent to come into the hut. “What the fuck are you thinking? We need to keep these young girls calm.”

Kyle cupped Marcia’s cheek. “You okay?”

She forced herself not to flinch away from his touch. He was the leader of the mercenaries, and she couldn’t afford to alienate him.

“I’m fine.”

“Raymond, go check on the professor and her husband. We want to make sure all of our assets are taken care of.” Marcia watched as the monster picked up his backpack and ducked out the door.

“How is Ilsa?” Marcia asked. She remembered how one of the men had used the butt of his rifle on her. She had doubled over onto the ground.