Page 93 of Rescuing Rebel
“Excellent. I expect perfection, as always.” He smiles, satisfied, then turns his attention to Rebel.
She keeps her gaze demurely lowered as he reaches out to stroke her neck in a vulgar display of possession. His fingers wrap around her throat, precisely over the bruising he put there.
“And your Angels?” His eyes leer at Rebel. “They will be ready?”
“They’re motivated to please.” Rebel’s composure never cracks, but I sense something simmering beneath the surface. Her gaze remains fixed on her plate.
Her posture is rigid.
Rage simmers in my gut at what awaits those terrified girls.
“Marvelous.” Kaufman’s eyes remain calculating as they shift between Rebel and me.
He and I may be seated across the table, but there’s no doubt we’re warily circling the other.
Kaufman dabs his mouth with an embroidered napkin. “I’m curious what your plans are once you’re finished here.” He arches an eyebrow. “Your talents could be leveraged for more—sensitive matters.”
I swirl the wine before taking a sip, buying time. Kaufman is fishing for something, but I can’t let my cover slip.
“We go where the business takes us and prefer short-term clients.” My meaning is clear. I intend for there to be no long-term business here.
Kaufman’s chuckle is low and grating. “Loyalty can be a fleeting thing in your profession.”
I incline my head in concession. “Trust is built over time. But you’re correct; loyalty is only as strong as the incentive behind it.” I keep my tone neutral, giving nothing away.
His lips twist as he slices into a pear. “In my experience, fear is the greatest motivator.” He pops the pear slice between his lips, eyes glinting.
“Fear has its uses, but also its limits.” I drag a bite of tender steak through the savory sauce. “Inspiring loyalty earns more dividends than fear ever will.”
Kaufman’s gaze turns thoughtful at my subtle challenge. He dabs his mouth again before speaking. “Perhaps you’re right.” His hungry gaze lingers on Rebel.
I barely suppress a shudder of revulsion. Glancing at Rebel, I try to discern her thoughts, but her polished mask reveals nothing. Still, the tension in her spine speaks volumes.
For now, I merely smile and take another sip of wine, playing my role. In a few nights, the women of Haven will reclaim their lives, and his entire sadistic enterprise will come crashing down.
Until then, my team and I will continue as we have. I’ll drink Kaufman’s fine wine, make small talk, and pretend my purpose here aligns with his evil ends.
My thoughts drift to Rebel.
I replay our last conversation and the desperation in her eyes. If there’s a way to extract her, I have to try. Whether she’ll come is another matter.
Dinner ends without overt confrontation, but it’s clear Kaufman senses something’s off.
Hours pass at a snail’s pace.
One day turns into two.
We continue on, pretending we’re bolstering Haven’s defenses. I can’t have Kaufman kick us out before we have a chance to save the women.
I put the team on a strict schedule and rouse Hank for his watch, then try to rest, knowing I’ll need all my strength. Sleep eludes me, however, because my thoughts churn with our plans.
Finally, the time comes. It’s auction night, and we’re as ready as possible. I send the men out in pairs to make their way through the twisting tunnels toward the drainage grate, where the Rufi will arrive with our supplies. From there, they’ll move the supplies in, hiding them until Operation Exodus begins.
When I rise from an unsettling nap, I make my way down to the tunnels to see what we have. The tunnels are dark, dank, and reek of things I don’t want to identify. I make my way to the grate at the end, where a single shaft of moonlight spills through the rusted bars above the drainage ditch. This will be our exfil point once the women are secure. Now, to retrieve the Rufi and weapons Mitzy is sending.
We halt before the pale light filtering in through the grate. Breaths held, pulses racing, we wait for any indication the drop has begun. This gear will arm us for war—we can’t begin without it.
Suddenly, six gleaming black metallic forms appear outside the grate, blocking the moon’s light.