Page 22 of Her Wicked Hero

“I looked, they only had chopsticks. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

He put the food on the deck floor. “Go find something for me to drink. I’ll have to use my own fork. Hurry back.”

He started to shrug off his backpack and Marcia ran toward the galley again. Near the bottom of the cooler, she’d seen a couple of jugs of liquid. She pushed things aside and found the jugs. One was milk, and the other was a light orange color liquid. She took a quick taste. Kind of warm papaya juice. Frantically, she went to the cupboard and looked for glass.

Shazam! Her eyes widened when she spotted the pistol. It looked like it was from World War II, but it still was a gun. She checked the chamber and saw that it was loaded. The safety was on, so she put it into the waistband of her jeans, under her shirt, then grabbed the glass and poured some juice for ratboy. She took a step toward the door, then realized she was thirsty. She drank half, then poured some more for weaselface.

“Took you long enough,” he said when she returned.

She saw that he’d eaten half the plate. Maybe he’d be in a better mood now. He slurped up the glass. “Get me more.”

Marcia hurried back and got him another glass. She grabbed a handful of rice for herself and wolfed it down. She didn’t know when she’d get to eat again. She needed to keep her strength up, now it wasn’t just her life depending on her simpering performance.

“I’m waiting,” he yelled out.

Nurul was done feeding Hana and stared at her with a scared expression as she hurried by on her way to Raymond. He grabbed the glass from her.

“Can I check out the old man?” Marcia asked tentatively.

“Let him die.”

“You can’t mean that.” But as soon as the words were out of her mouth, Marcia realized they weren’t true. Raymond meant it. He didn’t care who he hurt or killed. She had to figure out an angle to get the old man some help. She had to.

Raymond continued to eat, staring at her with a satisfied gleam in his eye. “You’re trying to figure me out, aren’t you?”

She slowly nodded her head.

“I just don’t register in your mind.” His eyes twinkled. “I’m really a simple man. I eat. I shit. I fuck. Too bad you’re not blonde and stacked, if you were, I’d be all over you. You’re beginning to have the right attitude though, I’m kind of liking that.”

Marcia shuddered. He said it so evenly like it was normal.

“Jesus, don’t get your tit in a ringer. I told you, you’re not my type. Just keep feeding me, and we’ll be okay.”

She couldn’t help herself. “What will it hurt to help the old man?” she asked quietly.

“It’s a waste of effort. A bullet is more expedient.”

Marcia gnawed her bottom lip and gasped in pain. She’d forgotten her injury. “How long before we get to where we’re going to?” she asked, changing the subject.

“I’d say we’re almost there.”

“Really?” Marcia spun around to see what he was looking at. Nothing made sense, all she could see was more jungle.

“It’s almost dark, we’re not going to be floating down the river in the middle of the night. Haven’t you noticed all the turns we’ve had to navigate? Shit, Lesley, use your brain.” He started to guide the boat toward the shore.

Oh no, Marcia saw the old man start to move. He was up on his hands and knees. What was he saying? She swung her head around and saw Raymond casually lifting his rifle.

5

Zed heard a shot ring out as he saw the boat up ahead in the moonlight.

Was that a baby crying?

He ran for all that he was worth. Then he heard three more shots and splashing.

“Come on, Nurul, follow me,” a woman yelled.

What the hell?