FIFTEEN
It was out now – the truth. He would never forget the look in her eyes while he told her about his plan to sell her into sexual slavery. What had he expected? That she would understand? Revenge was his purpose. She could not understand that, not yet. It would haunt him forever. One more memory among hundreds that always haunted him. Except, he had always been the victim in those memories. Always the boy and never the man. Now, the kind of man he’d become would haunt him too. Caleb slumped against the bathroom door. He needed a minute, to breathe, to keep from retching, and to deal with the jumble of thoughts tearing him apart. For the first time in recent memory, Caleb wanted something other than revenge. He wanted the girl. He wanted Livvie.
He knew her name now, but it was the least of what he now knew. He knew all kinds of things about her – too much maybe. She wore shapeless clothing to school because she wanted her mother to love her. Her eyes were sad because she knew her mother didn’t.
She had brothers and sisters. She felt responsible for them and jealous of them.
She was funny, and shy, but also fierce and brave.
Her first kiss had been a disaster.
She’d grown up without anyone to protect her.
And no one but Caleb had brought her physical pleasure.
Livvie was a survivor. That much he’d known, but what he hadn’t known was what she’d had to survive. She deserved better. Better than them and certainly better than him.
He’d seen it in her eyes and her manner, but he had tried not to know why. He had wanted her nameless. He wanted to forget she had ever had a past, a history, dreams and hopes and all of those other things that made her…Livvie.
He could hear her crying through the bathroom door and it nearly ripped his heart from his chest. He had done that. He had caused each and every one of her tears and to his complete consternation, they did not make him hard, they made him… profoundly sad. Sadness was an emotion he had not felt in a very, very long time. And back then, he only felt it for himself; he’d never had pity for anyone else, not even the other boys.
Why now? Why her?
An image of her bloody and limp body in that young man’s arms flashed across his mind and he doubled over. She could have died. And Caleb knew he would never forgive himself if that had come to pass. Whatever the reason, he felt something for the girl, something he’d never felt before and couldn’t put into words. He just didn’t know if it mattered. He had told her everything mattered, that everything was very personal, but what did it mean in the grand scheme of everything?
She could no sooner forgive him than he could forgive Narweh. She would never be able to see beyond everything he had done to her. So, in the end, what did it matter? He could never have the girl, so why not his vengeance? Didn't he deserve it?
Narweh is dead! You killed him. What more could you gain by destroying a man you’ve never seen?
Caleb shook the thoughts away. Rafiq had rescued him. He had put a roof over his head, food in his stomach and women in his bed. Caleb owed him everything, his very life. If Rafiq wanted Vladek dead, then Caleb owed him the man’s head.
Rafiq wanted more that Vladek’s life. He wanted him to suffer unspeakably. He wanted everything the man had ever loved to disintegrate like ash in his hands. It wouldn’t bring his mother back, or his sister, but it seemed…right. It had always felt right to Caleb. He truly was Rafiq’s loyal disciple and it was the only thing that had given his life meaning. Without Rafiq, without their quest…what else did he have?
He could hardly sacrifice twelve years and his debt to Rafiq over three weeks and a girl who could never…. He’d almost thought the word love. Love. What the hell did that word even mean? It got tossed around so flippantly, by everyone. What did it really mean? After all this time and everything that had happened, was he even capable?
No. He didn’t think so.
His phone rang. At this hour of the night, it could only be one person and wasn’t it only too fitting.
“Yes?”
“How is she?” Rafiq’s tone was cold and detached.
“Some cracked ribs and a dislocated shoulder.” Caleb ran a hand through his still slightly damp hair and made a fist. He didn’t want to have this conversation now. “I don’t think three weeks will be enough time for her to sufficiently heal. The journey might be too much.” There was a long pause and for a moment Caleb thought the line had gone dead.
“Jair says you’ve taken hostages. He also says you made quite the spectacle of yourself in retrieving the girl…what do you think of that?” Caleb’s hackles rose. This conversation was not going anywhere good.
“There was a man and a woman there. They could have answers I need. I don’t know who else knows about the girl or about me, there could be witnesses. I don’t know if she was able to contact anyone in the States. I’m covering our asses Rafiq. And since when do you get your information from Jair instead of me?” Caleb just barely stopped himself from shouting. He didn’t want to scare Kitten…Livvie.
“I get my information from whoever is useful and lately that hasn’t been you.” Rafiq spoke so matter-of-factly, as though his words were not deeply insulting. “You’ve made a mess Caleb. The girl is injured, there are potential witnesses, no doubt the authorities there will wonder about that f**king fire you set. And now I assume you’ve taken the girl to a hospital, where there are even more potential loose ends. Sloppy, Caleb.”
Caleb sighed heavily; weary down to his very soul. Still, his anger pushed to the fore, “Despite what you and your new friend Jair might think; I’m not a fool. This territory is run by the cartels; I doubt there will be any problems we can’t buy our way out of. The house is cleared out by now and we’ll be on our way to your contact’s home in the morning. The girl will be fine, give me some time and some credit.”
“Where are you now?”
“None of your concern.” Caleb hung up before it could escalate. Damn it! He just wanted to be left in peace. Livvie needs you.
He let out a slow breath and exited the bedroom. He could hear the doctor and his wife whispering angrily in the kitchen. The woman was blaming her husband for their predicament and trying to convince him to loosen her tape so they could leave everything behind and escape. He told her to be quiet and to trust him. Idiot.
If the good doctor had any sense he would listen to his wife. Caleb was a killer. If he wanted to, he could kill them both while they were taped to the dining room chairs and walk away. It would certainly be the smartest and most efficient thing to do, but Caleb wasn’t much for killing innocent people. Especially after they’d helped him.
Caleb stepped into the kitchen and all conversation abruptly ended. The woman eyed him guardedly, while her husband simply looked at him with raised eyebrows and a question in his eyes. Maybe that was why he was a doctor. Perhaps he was among the few truly altruistic doctors in the world. It would be a shame to kill him.
“Where do you keep your clothes?” He addressed the wife and she stared at him blankly. She obviously didn’t speak any English. The doctor did speak some English, but still seemed oddly perplexed.
Caleb shook his head and muddled through his Spanish until the wife’s eyebrows shot up. She turned to her husband and told him where he could locate what he needed.
“I understand you. It’s just been a long time since I’ve had to speak.” She stared at him with another blank expression. No, she didn’t understand a word.
Caleb turned and trudged down the couple’s hallway toward their bedroom. Apparently doctors did well for themselves, even here in Mexico. The room was very nicely decorated, warm colors and white furniture, very modern. Their wedding photo sat on their dresser in a crystal frame. They looked happy, presumably…in love.
You’re thinking like a woman.
Caleb smiled to himself; there was a thought he’d never had. But then, he never waxed philosophically on the topic of love before.
I killed for her. Held a doctor at gun-point in a hospital for her, and then followed the poor bastard home to keep her safe. Even now, I’m searching for things to make her more comfortable. Isn’t that what love is?
You’d better hope not.
Caleb’s smile faded. This line of thinking could only bring about more tragedy. Even if he wanted…things. What was he supposed to do? Explain it to Rafiq? As if he would understand. As if he would care. He’d probably put a bullet in them both – or at least her. And then he’d have to shoot Caleb, because there was no way he would ever allow him to hurt her. This thought instantly shocked him. He had already admitted that he would miss her, something he should never have said, and now…he presumed to risk his life for her with Rafiq. He pushed the idea away firmly.
It was better to keep things on course. The girl would heal. Rafiq would get what he wanted and then Caleb would be free of his obligations. He would set the girl free and cut his losses. Yes, he nodded; it was the best thing for all of them, even the girl. Livvie.
No. Her name is Kitten.
Caleb found what he was looking for, clothes for Kitten. As he headed back toward his procured bedroom, he passed his hostages in the kitchen. Again, their conversation halted. The wife had been crying, but her manner was stoic. She was a brave one. “We will leave in the morning. I promise no harm will come to either of you, but I must tell you that my mercy is conditional. If you tell anyone we were here, or what happened to you –”
