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A plane ticket follows, then a passport. I flip open the blue case and stare a moment. It’s me, but not me. A younger girl, as if he found a picture of me in college. Before Josh. Maybe even before Talon. The name blurs in my tears. Kitt Charles. Kitten. Charlie’s kitten.
I shove the paperwork into my coat pockets, along with the phone, the chain, and as much cash as I can carry. I lock the case and pick it up, looking around for a good place to stash it. I finally drop it in the corner behind a century’s worth of cobwebs and a stack of broken pottery. Sheba looks at me, her ears perked eagerly.
“Let’s go find our Master.”
39
“We’re here, Mrs. Charles.” The driver pulls over to the side of the dirt road.
Sleepily, I stretch and look around. We must have driven all night. The sun’s up, but with all the trees, it’s hard to tell what time it is.
If anyone but Charlie brought me to this deserted location, I’d swear they were leaving me out here to die. The road is a muddy track through thick, dense jungle. Birds caw in the trees, so high up I can’t see them. Even the sunlight barely streams down through the thick vegetation.
Something shrieks so loudly I jump as I get out of the Jeep. Sheba stiffens, her tail and ruff fluffing up.
The driver laughs and hands me my bag. “Those are howler monkeys. They’re harmless, as long as you don’t try to hang out near their pack.”
“It sounds like someone getting murdered,” I mutter, scanning the trees again. “Are you sure this is the right place?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am. Mr. Charles was very specific. I was to pick up his wife, a pretty lady in a bright yellow dress with white flowers. She would have a black dog with her big enough for a small child to ride. Then I was to drive you here.”
“Where’s here?”
“Mr. Charles owns all of this.” He sweeps his hand at the jungle around us. “Very secluded. He does good work, providing sanctuary for many animals. The howlers are nearly extinct, you know. But he cares.”
Yes, yes, he does.
“He’s a great sponsor for the sanctuary’s veterinarian training program. Many students come from all over the world to learn about our animals.”
With sudden surety, I know he picked this place for a reason. He wouldn’t take me away from my life, my family, and also expect me to give up my love for animals too. Such a wonderful, caring Master. My voice shakes with emotion. “Where is he?”
“Just follow the steps down to the beach. It’s not far. You’ll see where to go from there.”
Steps? He points at a wooden rail nailed to the side of a tree. Once I get closer, I see pavers set in the dirt. Waving, he drives off, leaving me alone in the eerily noisy jungle.
Sheba trots ahead, panting heavily. I have to get her water soon. She isn’t used to this heat, and with all that black fur, she’s suffering. Changing my bag to the other hand, I follow the track etched through the jungle. At first, it isn’t steep at all, but soon I feel like I’m inching down the side of a cliff. Rails are spaced at regular intervals, offering a handhold hopefully free of snakes and spiders. I’m scared to look too closely.
I round the corner and a fresh wave of salty air hits me in the face. The ocean stretches out as far as I can see. The sky is painted in a glorious sunrise, pinks and gold streaming across the horizon. A few more steps and I’m walking on crystal sand. Off to the right, a huge house hangs out over the ocean, built into the side of the cliff. It’s brightly lit with glass windows giving a gorgeous view from every room. I don’t see anyone inside.
My heart pounds with excitement, anticipation and yes, even dread. He loves me. I love him. But will that be enough?
He’s a killer.
He killed to protect me.
Yes, but he also killed because he was paid to murder someone in cold blood.
The man he killed was guilty. A horrible murderer in his own right.
I’ve argued back and forth with myself a thousand times. I want to be with him so badly. I think I can deal with the reality of his profession. But I won’t know for sure. Every time he leaves without telling me where he’s headed, I’ll have to accept the fact that someone’s going to die. Someday that could be him. He’ll never come home, and I’ll have to assume the worst.
My gentle, loving Master is also a cold-blooded murderer.
Even more, he needs me to help keep his monster caged. I might wear the collar for him, but I’m his leash, holding him back from committing senseless acts of violence.
Red. I have ultimate power over him. Only me.
Sheba runs toward a building at the base of the stairs leading up to the house. It looks like an open-walled shack. As I get closer, I see a fire pit in the center with a cheery little blaze and dozens of cushions strewn across the floor. A chilled wine bucket sits on a low table that holds plates and bowls with dozens of fruits, cheeses and bread. A fine spread. But no Master.
