J. McKenna - Wanted - Kept Woman

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “You’d better think of a way and real quick.” He pulled some handcuffs out of the bag. “Here.” He tossed them to Suzanne who caught them in both hands, eyes wide. “Go put them on your boyfriend, arms behind his back.”

Suzanne rose, shakily, and moved around behind Brian. He brought his hands together for her. “I’m sorry,” she said, tears, flowing down her cheeks, as she snapped them around his wrists. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not too tight—we wouldn’t want him to lose the circulation in his hands. He’ll have to sign some documents I’m sure.”

Brian knew the odds were diminishing fast. He could still kick the gun out of his hand, but it would be much harder without the use of his hands, and could lead to both their deaths. He decided to wait it out, look for an opening.

Sam seemed to relax, now that Brian was cuffed. “Now we get to the good part.” He reached into the bag and pulled out a length of rope then a chain, with an object about a foot-long duct-taped in the center. It rattled ominously as he held it up.

“What the hell is that?” Brian asked.

“What does it look like?”

Brian peered at it. There was a long round cylinder, red at each end where it stuck out from the duct tape and a small red light shining through a hole cut in the tape. The object had been taped right in the center of the length of chain. He was afraid that he knew exactly what it was.

“Now I can’t trust Suzie here to simply wait patiently while we’re gone. Nor can I trust Brian to behave himself. So I brought along a little protection.” He pointed the gun at Suzanne. “Stand up.”

Slowly, she stood, shaking. Brian watched intently every move Sam made. Just give me an opening , he begged silently . Come on!

Sam approached Suzanne from behind, keeping her in between him and Brian. He bent down and put the gun on the floor next to him, then pulled the chain tight around her waist, above her hips. Suzanne gasped. “Ow!”

“Relax, baby. This has gotta be tight. Can’t have you slipping out of it.”

Brian tried to edge to the side, thinking he might be able to charge him, knock him away from his gun. But the man was too quick. Like a snake, he snatched up the pistol and leveled it at Suzanne’s head. “Don’t,” he warned. Brian sank back in his chair.

Sam put the gun down again, threaded a padlock through the links in back and locked it. He took the section of rope and tied her hands behind her, then used more rope to fasten her naked body to the wooden chair, ignoring her grunts when he jerked the knots tight. He picked up the gun and stepped back.

Brian cursed inwardly. Sam had never given him a chance to move.

“This little device is my insurance policy,” Sam said, moving back toward the gym bag. He pulled out a small electronic device, about the size of a transistor radio. “This here is a powerful transmitter, guaranteed to go five miles. That’s good, you see, because that bank is about four miles from here.”

Brian was beginning to understand what Sam was up to.

“Suzie, what I put around your waist is a stick of dynamite, wired to a receiver.”

Suzanne jerked, her eyes wide. “You bastard!”

“Here’s how it’s going to play out,” his voice was hard. He held up the transmitter. Both Suzanne and Brian could see the small green light glowing on the front of it. “Boyfriend and I are going off in the boat, leaving you to think about what might go wrong, say if he does something foolish.”

Sam turned philosophical. “Now, the truth is, I wanted to get a few sticks of dynamite, so it’d be quick and painless, but it turned out to be harder than I thought to get my hands on some. So with one stick, I figured it’ll just blow a good-sized hole in you. Might not kill you right off the bat. You’ll just lie here and bleed to death.”

He looked meaningfully at Brian. “All I gotta do is push this button,” he showed the small knob at the top of the device, next to the antenna. “I’m going to carry this in my left hand the whole way and back. You do what I say, and she lives. You screw it up, or you try to cheat me out of my money, and…blam!” He jerked his hand, causing both Brian and Suzanne to react.

He laughed again.

Brian thought fast. He didn’t think he could raise two hundred thousand, but Sam clearly wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He knew he had about sixty thousand in his bank. Where could he get the rest?

“Sam.” He tried to level with him. Maybe he’d listen to reason. “Sam, I told you, I don’t have two hundred thousand I can get today. If you give me until Monday, I can raise—”

“Shut up!” Sam screamed at him. He held up the box. “How ’bout if we step outside and I’ll blow her up right now? You can listen to her screams as I shoot you four, five times.”

Shit! “All right! All right! I can probably borrow the money. But that’s going to take time and it might raise suspicion.”

Sam said ominously, “You’d better come up with a good explanation, ‘cause right now, I don’t really care whether you both live or die. You get me my money, I’ll walk away. You’ll never see me again.”

“You can’t get away with this!” Suzanne cried. “Where will you go? The police will find you!”

“Don’t worry, I got a plan.”

Brian feared that plan might involve their deaths.

Sam was loving this. He had his ex and her new honey so scared they were ready to wet their pants. Only Suzie wasn’t wearing any. He loved seeing her naked again. Reminded him of the good days, when they were first married. Boy, that cunt couldn’t get enough of him! And what’s up with that razor job? He’d never seen anything like that in his life. It still caused him a chuckle.

He could tell they completely bought his story about the dynamite. What a couple of chumps! It probably would’ve taken him a week or more to track down some explosives. But a forty-nine cent road flare with a Radio Shack light attached to a battery was all he needed. Cover it up with duct tape and viola! Instant “bomb”.

The “transmitter” he held was simply the same radio receiver he’d used when he bugged Suzanne’s apartment. He used black electrician’s tape to cover over the words that might give away the secret, especially the ones near the button on the top that said “A, B Freq.” It allowed you to place two bugs and switch between them. But to these idiots, it looked just like a detonator button.

He loved it that Suzanne was going to sweat here, buck naked, thinking she might be blow up at any second while they were gone for hours. These few hours of terror don’t begin to make up for his own terrible experiences in jail, but it was a start. The money would help too. His asshole clenched at the memory of the three big black men holding him down while they assaulted him. He couldn’t do a god-damned thing about it. He couldn’t squeal and he couldn’t escape. They had owned him from that moment on.

Revenge would be sweet. His real treat would come after they returned. There was no way he’d leave witnesses. He planned to stage a murder-suicide, and then slip away on his boat with the money. The police would be baffled. They might wonder why Armstrong took the money out of the bank, but with no evidence that anyone else was on the island, they’d have to close the case.

Sam would walk away a free man. He figured he could live like a king in Mexico on two hundred thou for a few years. Then, when it was time, he could look into something else just as lucrative as today’s job. Bank robberies, for example. He’d learned a lot in jail.

He grabbed the empty gym bag and pointed the gun at the tycoon. “Let’s go.”