“Mahvash, I’m here to free you,” Sear said softly as he pulled the filthy rag from her mouth and let it hang around her neck.
Her beautiful white teeth were yellowed and one of her front teeth was broken off nearly to the gums. She jerked her head, tossing back her greasy matted hair out of her face.
“You want me too?” Mahvash said in a sultry purr as she opened her knees wide.
“We have no more use for her. With the money we can get a good whore!” Parvis laughed and looked at Yousef for approval.
“Shut up,” Yousef growled.
Sear glared at the two men, his disgust flaring at the thought of what they must have done to Mahvash.
“So, there she is. Give me the money,” said Yousef taking a step toward Sear.
Sear shoved the case toward the two men with his foot. Unseen by either man Sear slipped his hand into the pocket of his jacket. As Yousef bent to pick up the case Sear put a bullet through the top of his head.
Without removing the SIG from his pocket Sear fired two shots into Parvis’ chest. Both men were dead before they fell to the sand-covered pavement.
Sear stepped to the door of the van. The woman inside was not the college girl his brother had fallen in love with. She was not the young bride who had been taken from her parent’s home three months before. She was a shattered, damaged vessel that barely looked like the young woman who was taken and then repeatedly raped by the dead men at his feet.
The promise Sear made to Mahvash’s parents seemed an eternity ago. The promise to get her back no longer seemed reasonable to Sear. The daughter they knew was dead. Not just the life she led, but psychologically. He had seen it before; from Kabul to Croatia and back. What kind of life would she lead now? The nightmares, depression and terrors she would live with, he wouldn’t curse upon anyone.
Sear drew the pistol from his jacket pocket. He put one bullet through her heart. “Go to Aaron, sister.”
Moving quickly and with practiced purpose, Sear lifted the bodies of the kidnappers into the back of the rusty Econoline. He removed the five gallon gas can from the rack on the back of the van. There was less than two liters left, but enough to douse the interior, the bodies, and the front seats.
Sear took a rag near Mahvash’s feet and shoved it into the gas tank opening. Using his dented Zippo lighter he ignited the rag. Sear tossed the briefcase he had filled with newspapers in Abadan into the back of the van and slid the door shut.
He was a hundred yards down the street when the sound of the gas tank exploding rocked the silent night and the orange ball of flame shot heavenward.
Promise kept.
_______
Micheal Maxwell says he was taught the beauty and majesty of the English language by Bob Dylan, Robertson Davies, Charles Dickens and Leonard Cohen. Micheal Maxwell writes from life and a love of music, film, and literature. Missing one of his books is like finding part of a memory you thought you lost. You can find out more about the author at his website here: http://meettheauthor.blogspot.com/2013/10/micheal-maxwell.html
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Afterword
If you enjoyed reading this anthology and want to sample any further works from the authors you’ve read, you can out more information here:
Nick Stephenson, author of Paydown: www.nickstephensonbooks.com
David Vandyke, author of Loose Ends: http://www.davidvandykeauthor.com
Robert Swartwood, author of Mr. Mockingbird Drive: www.robertswartwood.com
Ryan King, author of Ladies Weekend: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6422624.Ryan_King
R.S. Guthrie, author of Veritas: Concubine: www.rsguthrie.com
Kay Hadashi, author of Divide and Conquer: www.junekatointrigue.com
Alan McDermott, author of Recidivist: http://jambalian.blogspot.com
Micheal Maxwell, author of Return of the Bride: www.michaelmaxwellauthor.blogspot.com
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