My head literally vibrated from the strength in his voice.

“No!” I sobbed, “I can’t, Caleb. I won’t. Please, please don’t do this. Not for me.”

“Caleb?” said Rafiq softly, his face twisting and another torrent of clipped Arabic followed.

Horrified, I realized what I’d done. “Master—I didn’t mean to!” I pleaded, “I know you’re my master. Please forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me.” I repeated the words as I rocked back and forth.

Without warning, Caleb hoisted me to my feet, completely unconcerned with the pain it caused me. More Arabic was spoken and then he led me out of the room and away from Nancy and her belligerent screams.

Chapter Nine

At Rafiq’s request, Caleb led Kitten back to the party. It was not something he wanted to do, but in the unfamiliar space of the grandiose home of Rafiq’s ‘friend’, he had no choice but to follow the butler in the direction of the other guests. Anger toward Rafiq ran rife through his thoughts and he needed time to process everything he was feeling. Why was Rafiq at the mansion and why would he deliberately ambush Caleb? It didn’t make sense, except when Caleb considered the way Rafiq and Jair had been conspiring behind his back. He was tempted to count the incident as a betrayal, but the word was perhaps too strong, given all Rafiq had done for him in the past.

Kitten, also, had disappointed him. He had warned her about being obedient, warned her about what it might mean if she were found lacking in front Rafiq and the others, and still, she had humiliated him. Even now, her hand continued to search out his, seeking comfort in the most pedestrian fashion. She refused to stop weeping since she’d seen the blonde woman.

Internally, Caleb flinched but he wasn’t sure why. The blonde had surely deserved everything that had happened to her. He was certain now she had played a role in what happened to Kitten. She deserved no less than the fate she wished to impose.

The woman had been beaten severely. Her body was littered with whip marks and bites, her throat was bruised and her eyes were bloodshot from the oxygen she had obviously been deprived. Rafiq mentioned she had been raped, roughly, and repeatedly. Tortured. Yet, despite feeling that she had had it coming, Caleb took issue with violent rape. He could not get the image of blood and se**n running down her thighs out of his mind fast enough to suit him. Finally, that his mentor had participated was difficult to accept.

He’d meant to give Kitten a gift, one that meant everything to Caleb: vengeance. Caleb would have done anything to go back in time and see to Narweh’s end in the slowest, most painfully degrading way possible, but the time had passed. Narweh was dead and Caleb had to live with the knowledge that even in the end, Narweh had never begged for his life or offered penance for what he’d done to Caleb. It was a slap in the face that Kitten would not only forgo such an opportunity to get back at her tormentor, but also look on Caleb as some sort of monster for suggesting it. It wasn’t as though he expected her to watch!

But here, now, especially so close to his objective, he could not allow himself to show weakness, especially where Kitten was involved. This time was very critical and Rafiq would be watching his every move, as expected. They had been partners for twelve years, working toward the singular goal of ruining Vladek Rostrovich’s life in every conceivable way. It was a goal that had long ago cost both of them their proverbial soul’s. Men had died. Women had died. And Caleb had killed. All to ensure their revenge would be carried out one day. Finally, their sights were set on their target and Caleb seemed to be suffering from some absurd crisis of conscience. One silly girl was trying to make him question everything he and Rafiq had worked so hard to achieve. It was absolutely asinine when Caleb put it in perspective. Kitten might not be one for vengeance, but Caleb most certainly was.

Caleb kept an eye on the butler’s back as they took the seemingly endless number of twists and turns that would lead them to the others. He had no idea what the evening would entail, but his hackles were already up and he would have no pity for the next person who decided to trifle with him, even the sniveling girl next to him. Caleb could scarcely repress a snort of derision as he recalled the way Kitten had spat the word murderer in his direction. Yes, he was a murderer. He reminded himself he could no longer afford to be soft with her. No more leniency or favors. She would have to learn, right now, that mercy ended with him.

The murmur of loud voices finally reached Caleb’s ears and he was relieved to know he wouldn’t have to listen to Kitten’s sobs echo around him much longer. At last, they reached the other guests and the butler asked Caleb to wait while he let the master of the house know they were joining the festivities.

Caleb didn’t know a lot about Felipe Villanueva, other than the fact Rafiq obviously trusted him. Rafiq had told him they had come to know each other in the years after the coup in Pakistan when Rafiq’s general had taken power. They were not, by Rafiq’s own admission, very close, but his mentor was meticulous when it came to whom he decided to trust. Caleb didn’t need any higher recommendation. He also, had no other choice either.

Kitten, once again losing her composure, pressed herself to Caleb’s back and wrapped her arms around him from behind. Annoyed, he pressed his fingers into the insides of her wrists until she released him. “Do not embarrass me in front of these people again or I will be forced to make an example of you. What did I ask you to do when you’re unsure of what is expected?”

Kitten sobbed, rubbing her wrists, but had enough sense to get into her rest position. Caleb was momentarily satisfied when she was able to take slow breaths without drawing attention to herself.

He stroked the top of her head and spoke in a whisper only the two of them would be able to hear, “Good girl, Kitten. Obey me and I’ll continue to see to your safety.” He felt her nod beneath his hand. He couldn’t wait to be done with this day, even as he dreaded what the next might bring.

A Mexican man in his late forties, with dark hair, green eyes, and an impressive beard, made his way toward Caleb and Kitten. He was dressed in an outlandish white suit and his demeanor was vastly different from those around them. From the general description Rafiq had given him, Caleb knew it had to be Felipe. Only the owner of an estate such as the one they were currently occupying would dare wear such an ostentatious suit to an extravagant party. Caleb, in ill-fitting jeans and t-shirt, was vastly underdressed and he was slightly self-conscious at his disheveled appearance. He would have liked to meet the man on equal footing.

“Bueno! You must be Mister C,” the man says, his tone formal but light. “Mister R has told me very good things about you. I am Felipe. Welcome to my home.”

Felipe’s accent was thick, but his words remained clear enough to understand. Caleb extended his right hand only after Felipe had offered his right hand first. They shook hands firmly. Rafiq had long ago taught Caleb the importance of never offering to shake hands first, or being the first man to enter a room. It established a subtle, but important power dynamic between two people meeting for the first time.

“Buenas noches,” Caleb offered in greeting. He slowly drew his hand away.

“Buenas noches,” Felipe replied. His face was strangely jovial and kind. Something Caleb would not expect from a friend of Rafiq’s. However, appearances could be deceiving as Caleb well knew and he was in no rush to make judgments. Felipe’s eyes darted down to Kitten and his smile became lecherous. “Please, use English. I like to practice whenever it is possible. You must like to practice as well. Where is your accent from, I cannot place it?”

Caleb tensed, “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

Felipe laughed and continued, “Is this her? The girl you have been chasing all over Mexico?” He laughed, “She doesn’t look like so much trouble. Then again, neither did my little Celia, and she is a handful, that one.” He laughed again, but there was a certain twinkle in his eye.

Caleb knew Felipe was very happy with his little Celia. Caleb could only hope little, did not translate into young. Even he had his limits and Rafiq damn well knew them. Then again, he had just walked in on Rafiq committing a rape.

Caleb forced himself to smile. “Yes, this is Kitten. I apologize for the way we are dressed. It was not by choice.”

Felipe’s expression was inquisitive, but Caleb offered no more information. After a few seconds, Felipe continued the conversation. “Her face…your doing?”

Caleb was realizing that Felipe’s sense of etiquette was less than conservative, even familiar which he didn’t approve of at all. He was rather insulted at the man’s insinuation, but also at the audacity of this stranger to ask him such a question. Even if the house belonged to Felipe, as guests, Caleb expected a little more. “No,” he answered coldly. “But I dealt with them.”

Felipe smiled surreptitiously and nodded his approval. “The other slaves are appropriately undressed according to their owner’s wishes.” Caleb smiled stiffly, finding Felipe’s unchecked mirth, and this conversation, somewhat grating. “One of them has a tail! Poor girl has been begging to have it removed, but Mr. B thinks it is too much fun. I have to agree.” He laughed again. “It is not my place, even if I am the host, to tell you how your Kitten should be dressed, but perhaps it would help you both settle in if she were out of those clothes?” His eyes once again landed on Kitten, surprisingly subdued.