Angel and the Assassin (7 page)

I could very easily get addicted to you, boy.

With great care he eased his arm away from Angel and settled the boy‟s head on a pillow. He should have gone through Angel‟s bag before they had left the house, but he had been concerned about the amount of time he had spent there. He stood up, opened the overhead compartment, and took down the leather backpack. Inside he found a pair of leather trousers, a few pairs of underwear, a couple of black shirts, some white T-shirts, a pair of sunglasses, and a leather cap. He smiled slightly. The boy had the paraphernalia; he must have been planning his life as a daddy‟s boy for a while.

Shoving his hand down to the bottom of the bag, Kael felt something soft and pulled it out. Wondering what it was, he held it up to look at it. It looked like the kind of thin blanket people wrapped newborn babies in. It was blue with little yellow crescent moons all over it, and it was ragged and worn, turning gray. For several minutes he looked at it, wondering what the significance of it was and why Angel had brought it. Unable to decide, he returned it to the bag and pushed the bag back into the overhead compartment.

Taking his seat next to Angel again, he drew the sleeping boy back into his arms and settled in for the flight.

Chapter Five

London, England

 

Exhausted, Kael walked into the flat at five thirty in the afternoon. Angel had chattered all the way from the airport in the taxi, driving him nuts. Like a typical teenager, he wandered straight into the kitchen and opened the fridge.

“There‟s no food.”

Kael watched him from the door, and when he did not respond, Angel raised his voice. “John!” He looked around and saw Kael standing in the doorway. “There‟s no food.”

“Don‟t call me John.” Aside from the fact that it wasn‟t his name, he would never allow a sub that kind of familiarity. “I‟m Sir to you at all times.”

Instantly chastened, Angel dropped his chin onto his chest. “Sorry, Sir.”

“That‟s better.” Kael crossed the spotless kitchen and pointed into the open fridge. “Food.”

“Caviar? That‟s not food, Sir.”

Kael took the jar and put it on the counter. He opened a cupboard. It was empty but for a box of Carr‟s Water Biscuits, which he put beside the jar. From the glass fronted cabinet he took a plain white plate and got a shiny silver spoon from the cutlery drawer. He spooned caviar onto several crackers and lined them up on the plate. “Eat.” He put one into his mouth whole. Angel took one and bit into it, screwing up his face, but he managed to swallow it.

“Sven liked caviar. My mom pretended to like it, but she‟d rather have pizza and so would I. Can we order some?”

“Pizza? No. It‟s not good for you to eat heavy food, then lie down. We can eat later. We need to sleep.”

Angel finished his cracker. “Got anything to drink, Daddy? Sorry, Sir.”

From under the counter, Kael pulled a plastic-wrapped twelve-pack of water.

Looking disgruntled, Angel took a bottle but remembered to say, “Thank you, Sir.”

He walked out of the kitchen into the open-plan living room and dining room area.

Kael followed him. He was very territorial about his home and was not used to visitors.

Angel walked past the black leather couch, running his fingers along the back.

“It looks like no one lives here. There‟s nothing out of place; everything‟s perfect.”

3“I like it this way, so keep it this way,” Kael said. “Come on.” He crossed the living room and walked down the passage to the bedroom. Angel followed him, tipping the water bottle to drink.

In the spacious bedroom, Kael stripped off his clothes and divided them into two tall wash hampers.

Angel wandered around looking at things, touching everything, driving Kael crazy. He had not shared a living space since he was at Cambridge, and he wasn‟t sure he could do it now.

“Why is everything white, Sir? Your kitchen is white and stainless steel, and the bedroom is all white. White bedding, white blinds. This whole place is black-and-white. White walls, black leather furniture in the living room. Has it never occurred to you to add a little color, Sir?”

“Has it never occurred to you to shut up, boy?”

Standing completely still, Angel looked nervously at him. “Sorry, Sir. I guess you‟re not home much.”

“Get your clothes off, and don‟t leave anything on the floor.” He pointed at the hampers. “That one is for dry cleaning, and that one is for the washing machine.”

Angel stripped quickly. Kael pointed at the en-suite bathroom, and Angel preceded him in. They showered together in the sterile white and stainless-steel bathroom and dried off with soft white towels from the glass shelves. Kael opened the drawer under the sink. It was full of new tubes of toothpaste, containers of dental floss, and new toothbrushes in their packages. He handed one to Angel.

“Thank you, Sir; actually, could I have pink?”

Kael tossed the toothbrush back into the drawer and pulled out one with a red handle. “I do not have pink.” They brushed their teeth side by side in silence.

Kael had never had much patience with people, but tired and anxious about the boy and his own insanity at letting him live and then bringing him home, he was like an angry dog, snapping at everything. “Bed,” he ordered. Angel stood for another second watching as Kael wiped down the sink with a paper towel and tossed it into the stainless-steel bin.

At the bedroom door, Angel took a couple of trial paces before picking up speed and leaping into the middle of the bed. Hands on hips, Kael watched him. He had opened his mouth to tell him to behave when the boy turned round, grinning.

“Which is your side, Sir?” Kael just managed to suppress a smile.

The whole bed was his; he‟d never had a side before. He decided on the left and pointed.

Angel pulled back the duvet. Kneeling up like a child, he took the pillows on the left side, punching them to fluff them up. Kael stood beside the bed, waiting.

With one finger he indicated that Angel should move to the other side. Angel scooted over, then patted the pillows on the other side, watching Kael‟s face for direction. Kael threw himself down full length and reached out to the console to close the blinds. The room fell into twilight.

Angel sat cross-legged, looking at him. His voice was soft and nervous. “Sir, are you mad at me? Are you bored with me already?”

Kael put his hands behind his head and sighed heavily. “Neither, I‟m just tired.”

“Sir, what‟s going to happen to me?” Angel‟s voice was filled with uneasiness, and he stuck his middle finger in his mouth, chewing on the nail.

“I don‟t know. Don‟t worry. I‟ll take care of you.”

“Will anyone think I killed Sven? They could blame me. The cops might come after me. I don‟t think I‟d do very well in federal prison.”

“No, that won‟t happen.” Anyone finding the body would know right away it was a professional hit, but cleanup was taking care of this one.

“Sir, where‟s my bag?”

“I put it in the hall cupboard. You can unpack it later.”

“I just need something from it.”

He got up and left, returning very quickly with the baby blanket in his hands.

He pushed it under his pillow and lay down beside Kael, resting his blond head on Kael‟s shoulder. Kael wrapped his arm around the boy, letting his hand fall on the slender hip. He had no idea what was going to happen to Angel. He should be lying dead in the house in Cape Cod, not cuddled up in his bed in his flat in London. For ten years he had executed his job perfectly, and in one night he had screwed everything up just because he could not bring himself to finish the job properly. To take care of the collateral damage.

“Sir, are you a hit man?” Angel asked.

Kael pinched Angel‟s buttock until he cried out.

“Ow. Are you going to do that every time you‟re mad at me?”

Hit man indeed. He was a highly trained professional. “Yes, so get used to it. If anyone ever asks you what happened at the house in Cape Cod, you‟re to say you were out on the beach. You saw nothing. You never saw Andresen dead.

Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Kael eased his grip. He had made his point.

“I guess Maria-Jesus will have found him by now. She‟ll have called the cops.”

“I don‟t know, and I don‟t care.” His targets existed only in the moments he spent with them. The aftermath was not his problem.

“Sir?”

“Go to sleep, boy.”

“Yes, Sir. Do you want me to suck your cock?”

“If I wanted you to suck my cock, I‟d order you to do it.”

“Yes, Sir. Will you spank me, Sir? I‟ve always wanted a spanking. I get hot just thinking about it.”

3“For crying out loud, stop talking! I‟ll spank you when I‟m ready. Listen to me very carefully, boy; obey me and you‟ll be fine. You will not fart without my permission. Got it?”

“Got it, Sir.”

“Go to sleep.”

“Yes, Sir.” Angel closed his eyes. His mouth found Kael‟s nipple, and he sucked it. Kael was too tired to get aroused and allowed the boy to nuzzle his tits until he fell asleep. It was the first time in his life Kael had drifted off to sleep with someone in his arms.

* * *

Angel woke up. Sometime during sleep, he had rolled away from Sir and was lying on the edge of the big bed facing the other way. The room was darker than when they had fallen asleep. Glancing at the clock beside the bed, he saw it was after three a.m., and he was starving. Quietly he sat up and looked at Sir.
John
Carpe
. The name was very masculine, like everything else about him. “Daddy.” But he had been ordered not to say Daddy anymore.

Carefully, Angel pulled back the duvet to see him curled up on his side, naked and beautiful.

You are so fucking hot!

He moved closer and very lightly ran his hands over the muscled shoulders and back. The shaved head was elegant and smooth. He was so strong and big, and he was in control of everything, yet somehow, asleep, he looked vulnerable.

Angel pulled the duvet up over Sir‟s shoulders again and patted it in cozily.

Leaning down, he kissed Sir‟s cheek, rough from a day‟s growth. All his fantasies had come true in one strange night, except he knew this man would never love him.

He was already bored with him, no matter what he said.

I’ll end up on my own again, just like I always do.

Quietly, so as not to disturb him, Angel got up and, without bothering to dress, wandered out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He looked about the flat for signs of exactly who John Carpe was.

Though it was spartan, he actually liked the decor. It was simple and comfortable, all black leather furniture, dark wood floors, and white walls. The living room extended into a dining room area, with a glass-topped table and leather-covered chairs set about it. It looked like no one had ever eaten there. At the window, the nighttime skyline, indigo blue dotted with lights, reminded him of New York, where he lived with his mom and Sven in the winter. The difference was that Sven‟s apartment, though it was lavish, looked lived-in.

John Carpe had no magazines on the coffee table, no plants on the end tables, no pictures of family on the walls. And everything was perfectly clean. It was like a show apartment for a real estate agent, not a home.

Angel wandered through the kitchen, opening the fridge again in hopes something would appear that had not been there before. The cupboards were empty too—only dishes, but no food. The only thing he could find to drink were bottles of water and some booze he had noticed in the living room resting on the top of a long, gleaming glass-and-oak sideboard.

In the entrance hall was the coat closet with a high shelf Angel was too short to look at and several expensive coats carefully hung up. There was a spare bedroom, furnished but obviously unused. A second door along the passage revealed what appeared at first to be a home gym. Scanning the room further, he realized it was a dungeon—a BDSM playroom.

Like the rest of the place, the room was white with a hardwood floor. The windows were covered completely with very tight-fitting blinds so that no light could enter. He stood at the door and looked about him.

Hooks hung from a reinforced I beam in the ceiling, a black steel cage like the kind people used for dogs but much sturdier sat beside the wall, and beside that stood a black metal standing cage. A webbed leather sling on a strong metal frame with loops to place the hands and feet made him let out a long, soft moan. Angel had seen equipment like this on BDSM Web sites and longed to experience it.

On the far wall a series of metal shelves were attached, and on them lay towels, paper towel, jars of creams, enema equipment, and other things Angel did not recognize. Hanging from hooks on the wall were various floggers and wooden and leather paddles. In the middle of the room there was a wood-framed, leather-topped torture table and a bondage chair with leg supports to strap the legs apart.

On the other side of the room were a comfortable leather couch and a small fridge.

“Holy dream come true!” he said out loud.

“Is that right?”

“Shit!” Angel jumped, realizing he was not alone. “You‟ve got to stop coming up on me like that, Sir.” His heart pounded as adrenaline surged through his blood. He grabbed his cock and squeezed.

Sir looked him up and down. “Are you scared of me?”

“You think?” Angel quickly corrected himself. “Sir, you have a disconcerting habit of coming upon me unawares. If you would refrain from doing that, I would be much less likely to piss myself, Sir.”