Reaper (4 page)

Dallas’ scowled in disgust. Not because of what Zack had pointed out, but because he knew his lover was correct. “And you can? Catch them, I mean?”

“If my plan works.”

“Then what? You deal with them like you did with that one SOB?”

Zack nodded.

“What if they’re an upstanding citizen of our fine city? They’ll come after you, guns blazing.”

“First off, even if they are, they still deserve what I’m going to do to them. Secondly, they have to find me first.”

“You’re not invisible, Zack.”

Zack smiled dryly. “Maybe not, but I’m not ‘me’ either. I’m Reaper—the avenging shadow in the night. Damn, does that sound melodramatic or what?”

Dallas managed a laugh. “It does.” He drummed a finger on the kitchen counter then picked up the cup of coffee he’d poured before Zack had dropped his bombshell. “Granted, the Reaper doesn’t look like Zack Ward, investment counselor. But what if one of the predators is someone you’ve met at say…one of the charity events you attend?”

Zack snapped his fingers. “Speaking of which, and totally off the subject—”

“That you’re trying to avoid right now,” Dallas said, shaking his head.

“Not at all. But I have something else I want to deal with.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I have to do what I can to find a new home for the shelter. I’ve done some research already and talked to a couple of my clients. Now I need to run it past Brian. Do you feel like taking a drive into town to the shelter?”

Dallas chuckled. “Beats taking our normal Sunday afternoon run.”

With a grin, Zack patted Dallas’ stomach. “Maybe we should do that first.”

Dallas just flipped him off, saying, “Get your keys. You’re driving.”

* * * *

They went to Off-the-Street only to find out that Brian wasn’t there, much to Zack’s surprise.

“He’s been taking the weekends off recently,” one of the shelter’s workers told Zack. “It’s hard on him.”

Zack nodded. He had the feeling he knew why, but he still needed to talk to Brian. So he called him, asking if he and Dallas could come by to visit. He chuckled when Brian told him bluntly that he expected to see them within the hour.

So now, they were standing on the porch of Brian’s home, waiting for him to answer the doorbell.

It took a moment before the door opened to reveal a man in his early sixties, leaning heavily on a pair of forearm crutches.

“Come in. Come in,” Brian said, moving to one side. “Haven’t seen you in ages, Dallas. As for you, Zack…” Brian pulled him into a hug without losing control of the crutches. Stepping back, Brian looked Zack over. “You’ve lost a little weight.”

“And you’ve gained some.”

“Eh, maybe a couple of pounds. Unfortunately, I’ve had to use my wheelchair a lot more, now that I’m getting older. Sucks though, so when I can, I use these.” He lifted one crutch. “But enough of my problems. Let’s go into the living room and get comfortable.”

Brian had lost most of the functionality in his lower limbs after a severe beating at the hands of some ‘fucking SOBs’, as he’d called them, who hadn’t liked his stepping in to help a homeless man they were tormenting. Once he’d healed enough to be able to move around on crutches, he’d gone right back to Off-the-Street, the shelter that he’d started on a shoestring soon after getting out of the army in 1985.

That was where he and Zack had met ten years later, soon after Zack turned twenty. They had become friends with Brian, encouraging Zack to get off the streets and into school. It had taken time, but in the end, Zack had gotten a job and his GED. Then he went to college—on a partial scholarship—coming out with a degree in finance with a minor in business administration. Five years later, he was licensed as a CFP and had started his own business.

“So, to what do I owe this honor?” Brian asked, once they were seated.

Zack and Dallas opted for the sofa, while Brian used his wheelchair.

“I can’t just come for a visit?” Zack said.

“You can and do, but rarely. That says to me that you’ve got something on your mind.”

“Caught me,” Zack replied with a grin. Then he sobered. “I
know
you’ve heard about the tentative plans for the block housing the shelter.”

“Yeah.” Brian was obviously upset. “If the plans go through—and I’m afraid they will—I’m going to have to find a new building, and that is not going to be easy. Even if I can, how the hell will I pay for it?”

“That’s why I’m here. You know that I have several well-to-do clients. One of them owns two properties that he’s planning on selling, so that he can put the money to use in more profitable investments.”

“And? It’s not like I’ve got the money to buy one of them.”

“First off, the one I’m think will work best for you is in the center of Uptown.”

Dallas broke in, saying, “That’s even worse than where the shelter is now.”

“And closer to the people he’s trying to help,” Zack pointed out.

“True,” Brian agreed. “That still doesn’t help the financial problem.”

“I talked to my client about that. He’s willing to sell it for fifty-nine thousand and take the loss as a tax write-off.”

Brian looked dismayed but still asked, “How big is the building?”

“Half again the size of what you have now. It’s vacant and would need a lot of work to bring it up to code, according to him.”

“More money I don’t have.” Brian shook his head. “Our donors are already beginning give less, because of the economy.”

“Then we find new donors. That’s the second part of my plan. With your permission and help, I want to have a fundraising gala.” Zack smiled, adding, “One that people will be talking about for years to come.”

“You can do that?”

“Brian, when I set my mind to it, I can do just about anything. I have contacts through my clients—people with too much disposable income. Like the man who owns the building I told you about, they’re looking for tax write-offs, and donations are one way to get them.”

“How would we go about this? Presuming I think the building will work?”

For the next hour, they discussed options. Zack got on Brian’s computer to show him the building in question then promised to take him to see it in person once he got the keys from his client. Dallas said he knew the building, since it was in his district, and although the neighborhood was bad, that particular street was better than some. “The usual ‘stay off of that one if you don’t want to be mugged, but it’s safe to be on this one before dark’,” he explained.

By the time they finished talking, Brian seemed more hopeful that there would be a new home for the shelter.

“Hell,” Brian said, “maybe it’s time to move anyway. A bigger place, closer to the people who need it. Yeah. I like.” He looked at Zack hopefully. “
If
we can pull it off.”

“We will. I promise. Now Dallas and I have something else we need to do before it gets dark.”

Dallas groaned. “Run.”

“Yep.” Zack grinned evilly. “Brian, I’ll be in contact as soon as I get permission for us to visit the building. Hopefully that will be within the next couple of days. Will you be at the shelter?”

“Always am. Well, during the week. Damn it, I hate getting old. Used to be even with those.” Brian pointed to the crutches. “I was able to run the place twenty-four-seven. Now…” He sighed.

“You still do twice what most of the people you’ve got working there do. You deserve to take the weekends off. So quit your bitching,” Zack said, gripping his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah.” Brian covered Zack’s hand with his own. “Thank you for that and for everything you’re doing for me and for the kids.”

“I owe you a debt I can never repay,” Zack replied softly.

“Bull. You’d have made it off the streets without me.”

“But you gave me the drive to do more than just… Well, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. Now will you get out of here before we both get maudlin? And show the kid”—Brian grinned at Dallas—“you’ve still got what it takes by running circles around him.”

“Sure going to try.”

* * * *

“Beat you,” Dallas crowed, reaching the bedroom before Zack did.

“Only because you’re a youngster,” Zack protested.

“Thirty-two is not a youngster. And you’re hardly in your dotage yet.”

“I’m nine years—”

“Don’t,” Dallas said. “Don’t
even
go there. You’re in your prime and I like you that way. As a matter of fact, I’m going to prove I do while we shower.”

“Are you now?”

“Yeah. So get moving.”

Dallas laughed when Zack saluted before beginning to strip out of his running gear.

‘As soon as both men were standing in the shower, the hot water beating down on them, Dallas soaped up a washcloth. Slowly, he began washing his lover, paying special attention to Zack’s nipples before working his way down, following the fine line of dark hair that led to Zack’s groin and now-hardening cock. Zack groaned when Dallas clearly ignored his cock and balls, moving on to his legs and feet before having him turn around so he could do his back.

Finished, Dallas stood, smiling wickedly as he handed the washcloth to Zack.

“And what am I supposed to do with this?” Zack teased.

“Use it on me.”

With a grin, Zack rolled it up, employing it to swat Dallas’ ass.

“Not like that, you nut,” Dallas grumbled.

“Like this, then?” Zack asked. He soaped the cloth and set to work. Unlike Dallas, Zack spent time making certain—after he’d finished washing the rest of Dallas—that every inch of his lover’s throbbing cock had been attended to.

“Are you trying to make me come before I get a chance to screw you?” Dallas asked with a laugh, moving under the shower to rinse off.

“Umm… That would be no,” Zack replied. He rinsed off as well, before turning to face the shower wall, placing his hands against it.

Dallas took the lube from the shelf, oiled two fingers and pushed one through Zack’s tight hole to find and stroke his gland. “Like that, do you?” he murmured when Zack moaned deeply.

“You know damned well I do,” Zack muttered. “But I want more. I want your dick in me—the sooner the better.”

After using both fingers to stretch Zack, Dallas pulled them out and placed the bulbous head of his cock against Zack’s entrance. He thrust in, stopping to allow Zack to get used to him. Then, carefully, he went deeper until Zack’s tight channel engulfed Dallas’ cock.

“Ready?” Dallas asked. With one hand on Zack’s hip, he gripped his lover’s throbbing member with his other hand.

“I was ready an hour ago,” Zack informed him, eliciting a low chuckle from Dallas in reply.

Then Dallas began to ride him—slowly at first. Soon they were moving together with practiced ease, their emotions riding high with the pleasure they were giving each other. Dallas came first, exploding with a shout that echoed off the shower walls. Zack’s cry of release came moments later, the tightening of his channel when he did milking the last of Dallas’ cum from his still semi-rigid cock.

“Not sure,” Dallas managed to get out between pants.

“What?” Zack said, his breathing finally normalizing.

“Not sure I have the energy to move.” He leaned against Zack, pressing him to the shower wall. “So we may be here a while.”

Zack snorted. “You say that every time we do it this way.”

“True, but…” Putting his hands against the wall, Dallas then pulled out and moved away. When Zack turned to wrap him in a tight embrace, they fell back against the wall, kissing deeply.

“Now I really don’t want to move,” Dallas murmured.

Zack reached over to train the shower on him.

“Goddamn it!”

“Now will you?” Zack asked, turning off the ice-cold water.

Dallas did, grumbling about sadistic lovers as they got out and toweled dry. Dallas wrapped a towel around his waist, muttering, “We could go down in the nude to fix supper.

Zack laughed. “We could, but we won’t. Spattering hot grease—”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

After giving Zack a quick hug, they got dressed and headed down to the kitchen

Chapter Four

“I need every detail you can remember,” Reaper said, glancing from one teen to the next. “No matter how small.”

As he’d hoped, Raven and the other girls had gotten the word out, and over the past three nights, he’d met several teens at the diner, Frank’s Place—girls and guys, who had either witnessed an attempted abduction or had been the intended victim. Some he had eliminated as their information was sketchy at best. The others, eight of them, had agreed to meet with him again to compare notes. Now it was going on three a.m. on Thursday morning, and they were gathered in the back room of the diner, away from prying eyes.

“First, describe the cars,” Reaper said.

“The one I saw,” a slender eighteen-year-old who called himself Zip said, “was a Chevy. A Malibu, I’m pretty sure. About four years old. Sort of brown with a gray interior.”

“Yeah, I saw that one too. It’s missing a hubcap,” one of the girls said.

“The one I saw was dark red. A Ford. I know it was new. This year or last. Nothing to make it stand out other than the color,” a kid named Scooby told Zack.

China raised her hand. “Black Honda here.” She shivered. “Dude driving it was old, like maybe forty. He had slicked back blond hair and wore wrap-around sunglasses, even though it was night. He was dressed kinda geeky in one of those stupid V-neck, button-down sweaters. And he’s not too strong—or I wouldn’t be here now.”

“Fuck, that’s the same dude I saw trying to grab Cassie, I bet,” another girl said.

“The guy I saw was big. Like he works out,” Pinky told them. “His car might have been the same brown one you saw, Zip. I was more interested in the guy. He was kinda cute, if you like red-haired older men with mustaches.”

Reaper listened, taking notes. He thought he remembered the red car. If it was the same one, it had driven around through the neighborhood where he’d stopped Jinx’s kidnapping—several times, in fact. Usually after the bars had closed. But then a lot of the same cars did that as the bar patrons headed home for the night.