Angel and the Assassin (10 page)

He shook my hand and said “The genius, I’ve heard all about you from your mum.

She’s so proud of you.” I put my bag down and he took me to the chippy and bought
me something to eat.

We talked all the way there and all the way back like we’d known each other
forever. After we finished eating he took me into my mum’s bedroom and we had sex.

I was 5’10” by then and I was taller than him by three inches, and much stronger.

For the rest of the summer he had sex with my mum at night and me in the
daytime when she was at work. He treated me like I was a grown-up, like him, and
he was thirty-five. We had such a laugh. We walked all over the place together and
talked. We had sex in public places like the cemetery and the park when no one was
around and laughed at what would happen if we got caught. He said he wasn’t
really an arse bandit and he knew I wasn’t. It was just a laugh.

But I was in love with him by then.

At the end of the summer I didn’t want to leave him. I asked if he would write
me letters and come to see me at school. He said, “Don’t be stupid, lad. It was just a
bit of fun.” But I kept hoping I’d hear from him.

By the time I got home for the Christmas holidays he was long gone. Fuck love!

It wasn’t worth it.

Kael looked at the clock as he returned the diary to its hiding place. He‟d been writing for fifteen minutes, and the shower was still running.

A sudden, all-encompassing stillness descended over him. The kind of stillness that alerted him to danger and had saved his life on numerous occasions throughout his career.

Something was not right. All his senses came into play, and he inhaled deeply but smelled nothing. That was wrong; there was always a smell when someone was present, and his brain had already memorized Angel‟s unique scent.

He listened intently. There was only silence and the rushing of water. He lifted Angel‟s pillow to find the faded blue cloth secreted there. Scanning the room, he ran his hands over the mattress on Angel‟s side of the bed. Every vestige of Angel‟s warmth was long gone from it. He wasn‟t in the flat!

Kael reached the bathroom in five or six long strides. Steam coated everything: the mirrors, the stainless-steel fixtures. The air was thick with it. The little bugger had left the shower running on purpose to fool him. And it had worked!

Turning off the water, he listened again as he ran silently into the living room and to the front door. The inside bolts were unlocked but not damaged. Still naked, he searched every corner of the flat: the living room, the dining room, the kitchen, the dungeon, the spare bedroom, and the cupboards.

There was no trace of Angel and no sign of a foreign entry. The boy had left of his own accord and was wandering the city somewhere unprotected. If Conran knew he was alive and had witnessed a kill, he wouldn‟t last the day. Someone would make him disappear, and if it was not Kael‟s own people, it would be Andresen‟s contacts who wanted the shipment they had paid for.

Resolve settling in, Kael felt completely calm.

On a mission every move had to be thought out beforehand, every emotion checked. Ignoring the desire to shower, he brushed his teeth and rinsed his face very quickly. He had a day‟s growth on his chin, and his head needed the attention of his electric razor, but he could take care of that later. In the bedroom he pulled on dark jeans, a black T-shirt, and black leather boots. A glance through the big window at the sky showed an overcast afternoon, typical British weather for September. Grabbing a leather jacket from the coat cupboard on his way out, he went in search of Angel.

For a good thirty minutes Kael walked the city in stalker mode, a combination of rational thought—where would a twenty-year-old gay boy new to the city and bored go on cloudy day—and the stillness that was like a sixth sense homing in on his target.

A bar? No, not at that time of day. An Internet café to send an e-mail to his mum or friends in the States? Very likely.

He walked up The Mall, busy at any time of year with tourists heading for Buckingham Palace. Without consciously thinking about it, he turned left at the east end of St. James Park and walked until he reached the Starbucks on Palmer Street.

Angel sat with another boy who had a laptop open on the table. He looked adorable, his blond hair in that strange cut, too long and flopping in his face, spiked up with gel at the back. Silver-gray eyes dancing as he laughed. The other boy, with nerdy glasses and trendy clothes, sat smiling at him.

They looked perfect for each other—same age, same slender build—and then there was him, so big half the people seated at the tables stared at him the second he walked in. He knew he looked scary with his bald head and granite cheekbones, which was why he had always used his smile to such great effect. It transformed his face, and he looked human again. Engagingly handsome instead of scary handsome.

Today he was in no mood for smiling.

The stalker-mode stillness evaporated, and rage clutched at his belly. He wanted to give Angel a good hiding on the spot for putting himself in danger and for frightening Kael because that was what he felt underneath his professional calm— scared stiff that harm had come to his boy.

4Angel looked up to see him standing at the door twenty feet away. His attempt at a smile was pathetic. He must know by the look on Kael‟s face that he was in big trouble.

Kael crossed the space between them in a few long strides.

“Sir, I was just going to head home.” Angel stood up, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets.

Apparently unaware of the tension between them, the other boy looked Kael up and down, openly appreciative. “So you‟re the daddy I‟ve been hearing about?”

Kael snatched the laptop off the table to look at the screen. To his relief, they were only looking at Google maps of the gay clubs in London.

“Careful, dude.” The nerdy boy reached for his computer.

Kael slammed it back down on the table. “Shut it! And don‟t call me dude, you little fart,” he said between his teeth. The boy reared back as if afraid Kael would slap him.

“Sir, I…” Angel began.

The occupants of the nearby tables had fallen silent, staring at them. They were already drawing far too much attention. As calmly as he could, Kael took Angel‟s upper arm and began to walk him outside.

“Daddy…Sir, I was just sick of being cooped up.”

Kael was enraged, and it was never good for the person who had annoyed him when he got like this. He needed to get Angel home and safely inside the flat.

Outside on the noisy, busy street, he looked at the traffic for a cab and at the same time began walking in the direction of home.

“You‟re hurting me,” Angel protested.

“Trust me, this is nothing. I‟m going to hurt you when I get you home.”

Angel attempted to yank his arm from the viselike grip but didn‟t stand a chance against Kael‟s superior strength. Kael propelled him along the street, not caring that they were drawing furtive looks from passersby. Knowing Londoners were no different than Liverpudlians in that they would walk right past a disturbance before joining in or calling the police, he knew he was in no danger of interference.

Every cab they passed had its HIRED sign up, so Kael kept walking, his long stride far too big and fast for Angel to walk comfortably at his side. They were beside St. James Park when Angel suddenly dropped his backside to the ground.

Kael had seen kids do this out on the street with tired, frustrated parents. Once they were lying on the ground, it was hard to get them up again without having to physically lift them.

“Get your arse off that pavement!” Kael said, still holding tightly to Angel‟s upper arm. He was forced to bend almost in two to keep his grip.

“Let go or I‟ll start screaming.” Angel looked mutinous.

For a man who was used to taking control of every situation and who dealt with disobedience swiftly and often painfully for the transgressor, he felt distressingly out of control. He wanted Angel on his feet and out of sight or, at the very least, on his feet and not drawing attention to them. The only way to keep moving was to pick him up and carry him if he refused to walk. While that was entirely possible, it would draw far more attention than they were drawing now.

“Fine. You will get to your feet and walk quietly beside me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.” Angel looked up at him, wide-eyed, his lower lip quivering. Kael released his hold. Angel stood up and brushed his jeans off with both hands.

“Let‟s go, boy,” Kael began, but before he could finish the sentence, Angel had turned to his left and was running hell-bent into the park.

Overwhelmed with helpless rage, Kael ran after him between trees and people.

Not only was Kael extremely fit, but his legs were much longer than Angel‟s. It was also not the first time he had had to chase a quarry. At night in a dark urban environment, he would use speed and agility if need be, but in an open-air setting he would often take his time, allowing the target to exhaust themselves.

Now all he wanted was to get to Angel.

With a burst of speed, he sprinted and grabbed the collar of the boy‟s jacket, dragging him to the ground. He made every effort not to land too heavily on him. He didn‟t want to break any of the boy‟s ribs, but there was no way to get him down without at least winding him.

Angel landed on his back, and Kael threw himself on top of him. He raised himself slightly to look down at the boy, who lay unmoving. Angel stared up at him, fear, anger, and confusion mingled in his wide-eyed stare. Slowly his face crumpled.

Great heaving sobs erupted, and he bawled like a toddler with his mouth open and his hands on his cheeks.

Kael sat up on the grass, gathering him into his arms. People walked past, looking sideways at them, but he neither cared nor noticed. He should be scanning the park for possible tails, but he could focus on nothing but Angel, shaking and crying in his arms, his face pressed against Kael‟s chest while tears soaked the front of his T-shirt. Torn between confusion and embarrassment, Kael rocked him, not knowing what else to do.

After a long time, Angel‟s sobs slowed to little sniffs and shudders, and eventually he fell silent, his arms wrapped tightly around Kael‟s chest under his jacket, his head bowed under Kael‟s chin. He rubbed the boy‟s back tenderly, continuing to rock him.

“So much has happened.” Angel‟s voice was low, breathless. “What happened, Daddy? I don‟t get it. What happened?”

Kael did not correct him for saying “
daddy
.” “I don‟t know what you‟re talking about, sweetheart.” He spoke the endearment automatically, surprising himself. He could not remember ever calling anyone sweetheart before.

5“Sven getting shot, meeting you, being here.” The words tumbled off his tongue, bumping into each other, making no sense. “I want to be a good boy for you.

I want to obey you, but I‟m so confused.”

Kael took Angel‟s arms and held him away to look at him. “Let‟s wipe your face; you‟re a mess.” He rifled his pockets, knowing he never carried a handkerchief.

“Here, use this.” He pulled up the hem of his T-shirt. Angel took it and wiped his eyes and his nose on it.

“Charming.” Kael chuckled, looking at the mess on his shirt. Unmindful, he tucked it back in. “Do you feel better?” he asked, wanting Angel to say yes.

“I feel scared and confused.” Angel looked at him, his long eyelashes still touchingly damp. “Sir, why did you kill Sven?”

“I told you why,” Kael said, using his thumbs to wipe the remaining tears from Angel‟s eyes.

“Yeah, I know, the guns. What I mean is, why you?”

Because I’m an assassin.

“Do you trust me?”

Without pause for reflection, Angel said, “Yes, Sir, I trust you.”

“Then don‟t ask me any more questions about Cape Cod. Trust that I know what I‟m doing and that I have reasons for everything I do.” He looked deeply into the beautiful silver eyes. “No more questions.”

“Sir, is it like, you know, the spy movies, where the dude says,
If I tell you, I’ll
have to kill you
?”

Kael‟s mouth quivered. He wanted to laugh but managed to suppress it. There was something very innocent about this boy. He was awfully young for his age, or perhaps Kael had just been very old for his age at twenty. “I would never kill you, but it‟s that serious, yes. You didn‟t tell that boy at Starbucks anything, did you, when you were telling him about your daddy?”

“No, Sir. I just told him I have a leather daddy who is training me to be his slave. He was really jealous.”

“You mustn‟t tell anyone anything, and you have to promise me you will not go outside again without permission.”

“Yes, Sir, but why? I can‟t stay in forever.”

“It won‟t be forever.” Kael drew the backs of his fingers across the smooth cheek, still rosy from exertion and crying. He could not tell Angel that he worked as an operative for the Secret Intelligence Service, or that Angel‟s life could be in danger even as they sat there. “Slaves obey their masters and should not expect explanations.”

“Yes, Sir. I‟ve read a lot of stuff on the Internet, Sir.”

“There‟s a lot of crap on the Internet. The only rules that matter are mine.”

“Yes, Sir. But I‟m confused because I really do want to please you and be an obedient boy for you, but then I feel rebellious and mad at you, like I did when you came to Starbucks. What‟s wrong with me?”