A Shadow of Wings (13 page)

“Not hardly.” Dylan swung off him and got to his feet, leaving Cam cold, then reached down for him. “That was just the coming attractions, man. We got a lot more to do today.”

Well, with a promise like that, he supposed he could find some energy in reserve. With a shiver of anticipation zipping down his spine, Cam reached up, slapped his hand into Dylan’s, and let him pull him up.

Dylan had nearly as much fun watching Cam watch the movie as he’d had getting sucked off. Oh, well, maybe not that much fun. That’d been a hell of a blowjob. Just thinking about it gave him another boner. Sitting in the dark theater, he adjusted himself and pressed back into the seat cushion. His nerdy virgin Ninja angel must have had some fantabulous daydreams to know so well what to do with that tongue and those lips. 

“Hey, don’t bogart the popcorn,” Dylan said, needing to distract himself. Without looking over, Cam tipped the bag toward him, and Dylan grabbed a handful. Something funny must have happened on the screen, because Cam laughed; then his face went serious again. And then his eyebrows rose and he stopped chewing. Just watching his expressions, Dylan could pretty much tell what was going on in the Tony Jaa movie. He said so to Cam, who turned to him, eyes now behind glasses with a light reflective lens. The kid had to have a million different shades.

“This is a good movie. I like it.”

“I thought you might. It looked good. Lots of action.” In fact, at that moment, a sweaty, bare-chested Tony was swinging from the tusks of a massive elephant while battling a crow demon. “Sick kung fu scenes, right?”

“Actually, I think it’s Muay Thai or some variation on it. I would like to study with him.” He sounded like he’d like to do more than study with old Tony, and Dylan frowned.

“You think he’s hot?”

“Hot as in good-looking?” He bent to sip his Coke from a straw. “Do you think so?”

“I wasn’t asking myself.”

That got Cam’s attention. “You’re not jealous?”

“Fuck, no.” Sliding down in the seat, he laced his hands over his stomach and crossed one ankle over his knee. “Just asking.”

Cam glanced back at the action on the screen. “Well, he’s clearly a master. And the way he’s fighting the demon… He’s brave. But he’s a bit short for me. On the other hand, I do like that elephant.”

Dylan grabbed another handful of popcorn. “Yeah? So you think that elephant’s hot?”

“Mmm,” Cam said. “I would do that elephant in a heartbeat.”

“Ha, you’d have jizz coming out your nose for a week.”

He nodded. “The cleanup would be a lot of work.”

“Then where would you keep it? We got a hard enough time finding a place for Gerts.”

“Guess it’d have to be a one-night stand.”

“Don’t do that, man. Don’t break an elephant’s heart. They never forget.”

A harsh “shhh” sounded behind them, and they both snickered. There were only a few other people in the theater anyhow. 

Dylan reached over and tugged on Cam’s sleeve. “Get down here, you.”

Cam slid down so they were face-to-face, and Dylan kissed him, nice and easy, enjoying the butter-and-salt flavor of Cam’s soft lips, sweetened with soda. When they parted, Cam gave him a cocky smile, like the cat that ate the cream, as indeed he was. He’d definitely had a spring in his step as they’d walked from his place to the theater. That was what Dylan liked to see—Cam all confident, feeling good about himself. He could still hardly believe no one had beaten him to this guy.

Stuffing his face with popcorn, he watched the movie. He’d tapped into his precious savings to buy this and the sodas and the tickets. It was worth it. Cam was worth it. But what did it say about his feelings for the kid already that he’d part with forty hard-earned bucks for him? 

And then there were Dr. Martin’s words of warning earlier this morning, when he’d staggered in at six a.m. still half dazzled by Cam’s mojo. He must have really looked like shit, bleary eyed and wobbly, because she’d taken one look at him, crossed her arms over her big boobs, and given him one of those “mmm-
hmms
” that would make any grown man feel like a kid about to get grounded for life. 

“Dylan, you know I like you,”
she’d said, straightforward as always,
“and you do a good job around here, but if you come rolling in again looking like you’ve been up all night partying, that’s it. I can’t entrust these animals to you if I don’t know you’re clean and sober.”

His protests had gotten him another “mm-hmm” and a stink-eye stare. It wasn’t like he could tell her exactly what had happened.

Since he started work at six, he’d gotten through his early morning duties, cleaning cages, getting the exam rooms prepped for the day, taking Gertie out for walkies, but he remembered what Dr. M had said, and he knew he couldn’t show up like that again or he’d be fired. So now he not only emptied his tiny bank account, but he also risked his pathetic livelihood to be with his dark angel.

He glanced at Cam and shook his head. Yeah. So worth it.

Chapter Ten

An hour later, as they ambled back to Cam’s house in the warm September sunshine, Cam was still going on about the movie. “I didn’t visit that part of Thailand, but Tash has. I wish I could ask him what it’s like. Maybe I’ll be able to go back there someday.”

“Take me. It looks like fun, with all those bandits and demons flying around.”

He scoffed. “Demons aren’t really like that.” 

Was that a chink in his angel’s wall? Dylan said nothing, then realized the silence would tip Cam off. “No?” he said casually. “I thought they were pretty realistic.”

Cam snorted. “They’re more insubstantial, for one thing. And the elephants would have been terrified.”

“I don’t know, man, elephants are pretty tough.”

“No animals tolerate demons.”

The way dogs didn’t like Cam? He didn’t like to think his new lover might be some sort of satanic creature, so he said, “Seen a lot of ’em, have you?”

Unfortunately, that seemed to snap Cam out of his comfort zone. “No, of course not.” His head dropped so he studied the sidewalk, and he gave a stiff shrug. “They don’t really exist, anyhow.”

“That’s not what I heard priests say.”

“Priests say a lot of things.” Cam’s good mood seemed to have evaporated all of a sudden, which sucked. 

Dylan reached for his hand, drawing Cam’s shaded gaze. “So you liked the movie, though?”

The smile came back, shy and fleeting. “It was terrific. Thank you. I…I’ve never been on a date before.”

That’s tragic.
“I don’t go on many myself. It was good to get out. Hey, don’t worry about the demons, okay? I wasn’t trying to dig.” Lies, all lies.

“It’s not that. It’s…” He scratched at his scalp, then rubbed his nape. “I thought I heard something.”

“Yeah? Like what?” This side street was quiet, like most of the city, which was pretty dead as cities went. Bad economy and all that.

They stopped on the empty sidewalk, and Cam looked around. “Like…somebody calling for help.”

Dylan listened hard. “I don’t hear nothing.”

Cam hesitated, then said, “I think someone’s in trouble.”

“Like who?”

“I don’t know.”

He stopped and listened. “Like, what did you hear?”

He scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck again as if trying to wipe away a bug. “I’m sorry. You should probably go. Or wait here. No, go. I’ll come to you later, after work, all right?”

His lilting voice sounded strained. “What’s going on? If it’s something to do with those, uhh”—he waved toward where he’d seen Dylan’s phantom wings—“it’s cool.”

Cam shook his head and tried to free himself from Dylan’s grip. “I have to go. I…I’ll meet you later.” Even with the glasses obscuring his view, Dylan could tell Cam had squeezed his eyes tight, and his forehead furrowed like he’d gotten a sudden headache. “It’s getting stronger.”

“Stronger? You mean louder?”

“Yes, louder.” Agitated now, Cam tried to tug away. “Please, let me go.”

“Okay, okay.” Dylan did, letting Cam’s fingers slip. “Go on.”

Without another word, Cam left him and half jogged across the street. 

Dylan jogged after him.

Cam looked over his shoulder, turned, spread his arms and walked backward. “What are you doing?”

“Just so happens I’m walking the same way.”

“You can’t, Dylan. Seriously.”

“So stop me. You know how.” He glared extra hard at those sunglasses, feeling almost guilty when Cam ducked his head out of habit. 

Cam stopped at the curb, and Dylan caught up. Cam clutched his arm. “I’m serious. I want you to go home.”

“I am. This way.”

His fingers flexed restlessly. “You’re a stupid, stubborn fuck.”

Dylan outright laughed. “You ain’t the first to say so.”

With a sigh and a scowl, Cam dropped his arm. “All right. I don’t know what we’ll find, but I have to follow it. The…sound. Please, don’t get involved, whatever you do.”

“What’s it, demons?”

“No! Don’t be daft.” He dragged his hand over his head like the headache had just gotten worse. “Let’s just go. And you stay out of it.”

Without saying another word—at least he sometimes knew when to keep his mouth shut—Dylan strode beside him. He still didn’t hear anything, but Cam seemed to know where he was going, threading between buildings, skirting through yards. They walked about a quarter mile, way too far for any sound to have reached them. 

“You heard something from way over here?” Dylan finally couldn’t resist asking.

Cam stopped short, almost as if he’d forgotten Dylan was there, he’d been so focused on following his invisible trail of bread crumbs. “I’ll explain it later. Shh. I…”

Suddenly, on the quiet autumn air, a sound did carry. A crunch of breaking glass. A shout. A car horn. “This way.” Cam bolted toward a chain-link fence surrounding a brick building that looked like a school.

Hot on his heels, Dylan could hardly keep up, but he swooped over the fence, nearly whooping at the exhilaration as they charged across what must be an athletic field. There were two cars in the corner of the school’s parking lot and one hulking guy with a crowbar smashing his way into a little blue Corolla while two other thugs stood by.

This was the big hurry, to stop some guys stealing a stereo?

But just then, the passenger side opened, and a girl tumbled out onto her knees, clutching a crying toddler. Crowbar-guy swore and tore around the hood of the car, slowed only by his own massive bulk. Cam and Dylan were within yards now, Dylan’s heart about to rip out of his chest with adrenaline and effort, and he could see Crowbar’s face was a dark storm. He raised his weapon over the woman, who struggled to find her footing, burdened with the little kid.
Shit.
 

Out of nowhere, Cam kicked into turbo or something, because he flew ahead of Dylan and rammed Crowbar. A classic football tackle,
pow
, head down, shoulder in the gut. Over the hood of the car they went, a thunder of bodies on metal and swearing and the clatter of the crowbar skittering across the pavement.

Dylan got to the girl, grabbed her arm, and pulled her up. 

“You motherfucker, you get away from me!” Her brown eyes flashed, and her tearstained face twisted in fury. The little boy she clutched to her chest screamed, fistfuls of her shirt gripped in tiny wet hands.

“I’m a friend!” Dylan shouted. No friend of Crowbar’s, though, or of his buddies, and one of them was lumbering toward them right now. Without thinking, Dylan pushed the girl behind him. “Leave her alone.” He held out a hand, like a cop stopping traffic. Yeah, like that would work.

The big dude took three steps toward him, during which Dylan thought he might piss his pants he was so scared, and then
wham
, the guy staggered forward, attacked from behind. He whirled with his fists balled and walked right into some kind of karate
chop-chop
from Cam, who then finished him off with a couple of kicks to the ribs, one to the head, and one gorgeous flying jump kick to his chest that Dylan wished he could film and play back in slow motion again and again. The guy went down like a bag of bricks.

It was all over in a matter of seconds. The girl behind Dylan sobbed noisily, and the toddler had worn himself down to sniffles. Righting his dark glasses, Cam strode over to them.

Dylan grabbed him by the front of his jacket, scanning for damage. “You okay, dude?”

He nodded, breathing hard, and shoved his hair off his forehead. To the girl, he said, “We can escort you to safety.”

How classy he sounded. Dylan felt a shiver of pride just being associated with him. “Or call the cops for you,” Dylan added, feeling like he should say something. Not that he had a cell phone. Hopefully Cam had one.

She wiped her nose on her sleeve. Cam produced a white paper napkin he must have saved from the theater and handed it to her. Gallant son of a bitch. She wiped her son’s face first, assuming that was her son, then mopped up her own tears. “Thank you,” she said finally. 

She was pretty, petite, with beautiful mocha skin and corn rows pulled back in a thick braid at the collar of her denim jacket. Her bruises looked fresh. Dylan glanced back over his shoulder where the three men lay unconscious. Guess it wouldn’t be sporting to smash their heads in with the crowbar now, but he’d sure like to.

Cam gently cupped her elbow. “Do you have somewhere you can go, someone you can call?”

“My sister,” she said, nodding. He produced a cell phone, thank fuck, and she stepped away to dial.

The little boy, maybe two or three—who knew with kids?—gnawed on her shoulder and looked at him and Cam with huge, watery brown eyes. Fuck. No one should terrorize women and babies like that. 

While she made her call, Dylan glanced at the unconscious men and muttered to Cam, “What about them? Are we just going to leave ’em like that?”

He wiped his palms on his thighs. “Yes. We’ll have to. I can’t be involved with the police.”

“That’s a fucking shame. I’d really like to see them locked up.”

“So would I, but we’ve done what we can.”