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underworld elite. With every success, he delved deeper into the dark and closer, he had hoped, to
finding Vladek.
But years went by, and Vladek had remained elusive. Meanwhile, Caleb had become more
involved in the world he wanted to destroy. With each act, he traveled toward the center of that
world, until one day, when he looked back, he found he could no longer see the way he d come. He
had wanted out. It had been so long, years with no word of Vladek Rostrovich, of where he d gone or
what had happened to him. Rafiq s thirst for revenge had seemingly never waned, but Caleb had at
times wondered, if that too, had become little more than habit. Caleb had begun to formulate his plan,
to let Rafiq know of all the turmoil inside him.
As fate would have it, it was in those very days, seven years after Rafiq had pulled him out of that
brothel, that someone recognized the twenty-sixth richest man in the world, Demitri Balk, as the
former gangster Vladek Rostrovich.
In seven years, Vladek had risen in wealth, privilege, and power. He had used the wealth gained
from his underground activities to fund his legitimate business aspirations. He now owned most of the
steel and a good amount of oil-rich land in Russia, diamond mines in Africa, and enough stock in
large European companies to make the world forget his less than humble beginnings. He was heavily
guarded and widely mistrusting.
If Caleb had had any chance of leaving the life he d created, it evaporated in that moment. He and
Rafiq were once again of a single mind, a single objective. They would make whatever sacrifice was
necessary to achieve their critical goal. Caleb had gone far, he was now resolved to see it through.
He owed Rafiq at least that much, if not more. But after twelve years of waiting, it wasn t only
vengeance that kept Caleb moving forward into the dark. It was the inane hope, that there truly was
some metaphorical light waiting at the end of all this.
He let the curtain fall back into place, the view uninteresting as his thoughts turned to the girl
sequestered in the room across the wide living area, and down the corridor from his room. Her role
was more important than she could ever guess. He d owe her too, one day. But for now, he needed
her. Vladek had not been an easy man to get to, especially masquerading as Demitri Balk, billionaire.
It had taken five years for him to return to his roots, to return to the slave trade.
Caleb rolled his head, wincing as a muscle in his shoulder contracted and coiled back into its
tense position. He went through his closet. After twelve years of planning, maneuvering, and
infiltrating, the moment Rafiq and Caleb had been waiting for was finally approaching. In four months
the Zahra Bay' would take place in Pakistan.
The first phase of the plan was complete. As it stood, he was not yet certain of the girl s virginity,
but he d find out. It would be a small setback if he brought a slave with no flower to a flower
auction, but Rafiq had maintained that her nationality, coupled with her beauty, as far as Caleb had
described it, would secure her status as the most desired slave at the auction.
Caleb, half dressed, pulled on his Armani shirt and began buttoning with deft fingers. At first, he
had not agreed with Rafiq, had not seen the purpose in seeking an American, with their loose morals
and trademark willfulness. But now, currently experiencing some strange sort of allure, he had to
admit Rafiq was right. The girl was somehow different, unique.
He raised his arms and finished buttoning his shirt, leaving his throat exposed. He reached for his
cuffs.
When, not if, Vladek bid on the girl, he would have to inquire about her trainer. Then, however the
moment unveiled itself, Caleb would offer Vladek the girl as a gift, a token of his admiration, his way
of requesting an audience. From there, it was all about the impression he made. Vladek would have to
be very impressed, not just with the girl, but with him. Impressed enough to grant him access to his
tightly-knit life.
He would get access; he would find the best way to take from Vladek, all that he loved and
cherished before killing him. Vladek s death would not be as quick as Narweh s. There would be no
.44 Magnum to the face to end it hastily. Rafiq and Caleb had waited twelve years to taste revenge;
they d savor it accordingly.
In the meantime, Caleb expected the girl to behave as the survivor she was. Then, when it was all
said and done. They would each, Caleb, Rafiq, and the girl, find a way to move on. Alone.
Fully dressed, he grabbed the key from the back pocket of his other pants and put it into his current
pair. Then Caleb ran his fingers through his hair as he assessed his reflection. His lashes were too
long, his mouth too full, his entire visage was contrary to his unquestionable masculinity. He was too
damn& pretty and that had always been his problem. Had he some physical defect, however small,
his entire life would have turned out differently.
Heading out the door, he took Dirty Harry s gun with him; he needed the cold, heavy metal to
remind him he wasn t pretty anymore. He grabbed his jacket, pulling it on and situating his holster.
Without looking back, he closed the door silently behind him. He walked down the corridor, past the
antique sofa, toward the front door.
The dim setting of the lights in the house, at this time of night, was functional and for precaution.
No one knew they were here, except those that had traveled with him, but Caleb trusted them less than
he did strangers. Approaching the door, his eyes once again locked onto the girl s bedroom door.
He had six weeks with her. Six weeks to make her understand all that would be required of her.
Then, it was on to Pakistan to meet Rafiq. Given his unyielding nature, he would be less than kind to
her if she did not obey the moment he ordered. Vladek even less so. She had to be ready to conform,
to survive.
Caleb walked through the foyer, his shoes making soft whispers across the ceramic floor. As he
opened the door, the night passed through him. He paused on the threshold. Suddenly he wasn t
restless, thirsty or horny. For a moment, he didn t want to leave. But he knew he needed to, so he did.
The night was warm, but comfortable and some of Caleb s uneasiness began to subside. The
unpaved, dirt streets of the village appeared all but deserted. No sounds could be heard from inside
the small, concrete or wood homes of the villagers. As Caleb walked, he paid close attention to the
soft, nearly indiscernible thud of his steps meeting the packed dirt. Against the stillness of the night,
the sound of the crickets rubbing their legs together furiously seemed a thundering sound, but a nice
accompaniment to his steps.
The farther Caleb progressed down the road, the less he heard the crickets and his steps, until
finally they were completely drowned out by music and noise. The bar in this piece of shit town was
indeed open. Caleb s mouth tilted up in the corners.
SIX:
It was raining outside. I could hear it. Taking a deep breath, I slowly opened my eyes, forgetting
for a moment where I was, but then the sadness set in. I didn t exactly know what day it was. He kept
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