Botched Ransom

Part 1


Botched Ransom


“How old are you, Chrissy?” asked the man. He was stroking her hand as he said it.

“I’m twenty,” she replied uneasily. She wanted to take her hand back, but was afraid of angering her captor. He had a gun tucked into the back of his pants that she dared not make a move for.

“Twenty,” he said thoughtfully, “so young”. For a moment he remained silent, savoring dark thoughts. “Oh, to be twenty again,” he continued. “You must have a lot of fun, a young good looking girl like you. Do you go out to the clubs much?”

“Um… yeah, I guess. Sometimes.”

“I’ll bet you do. I’ll bet you wear a nice short dress to show off those sexy legs of yours.” He placed a big gnarled hand on her bare knee. “You don’t mind me saying that, I hope? You do have superb legs.” He gave her knee a squeeze.

Chrissy forced herself to smile. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

“I’m thirty-two, by the way.” After this there was a long, awkward silence. Finally Chrissy broke it by asking a question.

“Where did the other guy go?”

“Marco? He’s checking up on your story. He’s still hoping we have the right Chrissy Rodriquez, the millionaire’s daughter.”

“No, I told him,” said Chrissy, “I’m poor like everybody else. These are outlet clothes.”

“I know, I believe you.” What he didn’t say was that he hoped against hope that she wasn’t rich, that she was just some girl off the streets who nobody would miss. He eyed her lecherously. She was short, just about five-foot two, and petite. She had a slightly imperfect nose and a rather weak chin, but full, luscious lips and big dark eyes. The smooth brown skin on her arms was prickling with gooseflesh, either from cold or fear, and he stoked her. “He should be back soon and we’ll figure out what to do next then.”

After another five minutes, the man asked, “Do you have a boyfriend, Chrissy?”

She gulped. “I do,” she said, again forcing her smile, “His name is Robbie.”

“Get out! My name is Robbie!”

She tried to chuckle.

“Hey, now that we know each other a little, there’s no need for formality. Why don’t you take those shoes off and relax.”

“Oh… I’m okay…”

“Nonsense.” He grabbed her feet and moved them onto the couch, where he started to untie her flats. He slipped them off and started to massage her feet. They were small, like the rest of her, especially in his big hands. His hand had started to move up to her calf when the door opened and Marco walked in. The newcomer looked disapprovingly at Robbie.

“What’s going on here?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing,” said Robbie cheerily. “We’re just getting to know each other. So what did you find out?”

Marco sighed. “We took the wrong girl. She’s telling the truth. She’s nobody.”

“I tried to tell you,” said Chrissy. Marco glared back at her.

“She did try to tell you,” said Robbie with a big grin. “Hey, Chrissy, stay here for a minute. Me and the boss-man have to chat.

Marco didn’t look like he wanted to chat, but Robbie led him into the kitchen, just out of earshot of the girl, but close enough that they could keep an eye on her.

“I think you know what I want to do,” said Robbie with a smile.

Marco scowled. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”

“Look, you know we have to kill her anyway, right? I mean, we can’t just let her go. So let me have some fun with her first.”

“It wouldn’t be professional,” Marco replied. “This wasn’t meant to be a kidnapping for pleasure.”

“Professional? Dude, there was never anything professional about this operation. We fucked it up. There’s nothing we can do about that now. So let’s make the best of a bad situation and have ourselves a proper snuff party!”

“I don’t know…”

Robbie sighed. “Look at her, he said.” They both looked at Chrissy sitting on the couch, her slender legs curled up underneath her. “Like I said, she’s gonna die one way or the other. Why let her go to waste?”

After a final moment of consideration, Marco relented. “Okay. Have your fun with her. Just make sure you put a bullet in her brain when you’re done.”

“Oh, no,” Robbie said gleefully. “I’ve got plans of my own.”

“So long as she’s dead.”

Robbie returned to the other room. “Get up, Chrissy,” he said. “We’re going to the bedroom.”

A look of panic entered her eyes, and she looked to Marco for help. “But why?”

“Oh, I think you know why,” Robbie replied. He pointed the gun at her. “Move.”

As they disappeared into the bedroom, Robbie yelled out, “you’re welcome to join us!”

“Enjoy, my friend,” whispered Marco.

—


Robbie closed the door and made Chrissy sit on the bed. “Please don’t do this,” she begged. Her legs were trembling. Robbie opened a drawer and produced a pair of handcuffs.

“I’ve got good news and bad news, honey,” he said, pulling her arms behind her back and cuffing her wrists together.