Reaper (8 page)

“Fingers crossed,” Zack said. “Okay, I’ll see you this evening before you leave for work.” They kissed again, then he took off, calling back, “Remember to eat breakfast before you hit the sack or Mrs. Cook will geld you.”

* * * *

“The Crystal Room is available on these dates,” Mr. Mackie, Zack’s client on the board of directors for the Gold Hotel, told him. He handed Zack a typed sheet of paper with the hotel’s logo at the top.

Zack took his time, checking the dates against the calendar on his desk. “I’d say the fifteenth or sixteenth. That will give us a good month to pull this together and get the invitations out.”

“Speaking from experience, go for the sixteenth. It’s a Saturday night, so people will have all day to prepare.”

“Makes sense.”

“Have you thought of a theme?”

“Making as much money as we can?” Zack replied with a chuckle.

“That’s the objective, not a theme.”

“I know. I was kidding. Brian started the shelter in 1985 so we were thinking an eighties theme?”

Mackie tapped a finger to his lips. “That would work. Karaoke was just getting a foothold in the States then, so we can do that. We also have a DJ we hire sometimes. I’ll see if he might be interested in helping with music. That is, if you’re planning on dancing as well as food and drinks.”

“Definitely.”

“I’d suggest keeping it formal, but in the style of the eighties.”

“They had an evening style back then?” Zack asked.

“You don’t… Never mind. You weren’t even born back then.”

“I beg to differ. I was twelve in eighty-five. Of course, at that point, partying was the last thing on my mind.” For a moment, Zack was back to the time in his life when he had endured the beatings from his father, which his mother did her best to ignore. It was then that he’d run away, spending the next eight years surviving on the streets until he’d met Brian. He pulled himself back to the present. “I’ll need a party planner, I think, and a printer for invitations. Someone to do publicity.”

With a smile, Mackie handed him another sheet of paper. “Figured you’d be a bit out of your element, despite the planning you’ve done so far. These are people the hotel uses. Some work for us. Others have their own businesses. I’m sure I can convince them to give you a break on the costs.”

“Thank you,” Zack said fervently.

They continued their discussion for a few more minutes then moved on to Mackie’s investment portfolio and what needed to be bought and sold to make him more income.

Chapter Eight

Dallas got the news on Friday evening, when he and Mike started their shift, that they were being moved to days starting Monday. To make things even better, they were going on eight hour rather than twelve-hour shifts. He was more than happy about that. It meant he and Zack could actually have some real time to spend together during the week.

Since they’d met four years ago, it often seemed as if they only saw each other in passing—maybe an hour in the morning then about the same in the evening before Dallas headed to work.

Well, other than Sundays and Mondays when I’m off.

On occasion, when he was feeling lonely without Zack around, Dallas wasn’t certain Mondays really counted. Sure they did have a couple of hours of quality time between when Zack got home from the office and when he went to bed so he could hit the streets by two as Reaper. But still…

On the other hand,
w
e do have some damned good sex those two days to make up for the rest of the week. I can’t really blame him for doing what he does, not after knowing what his life was like when he was a teen. And I came into our relationship with my eyes wide open. He let me know almost from the beginning how he spent his nights, and why.

They had met at a club. One of the few times Zack had actually gone to one, he admitted later. Zack had been sitting at the bar, watching the dance floor while drinking a beer. The only empty seat was next to him and Dallas had grabbed it before anyone else could. They’d begun talking as men do in that situation. Casual conversation about the customers, comparing notes on them. From there, they’d moved on to what they did for a living. Dallas had sort of figured from the way Zack had been dressed, in leathers and a dark turtleneck, that he was maybe a mechanic or a biker. He’d been more than surprised to find out he was actually a businessman. Zack had been equally surprised when Dallas had told him he was a cop. By then, they had finished their beers and Dallas had offered to buy the next round.

“Sorry,” Zack had replied, “but I have to leave. I have something I need to do.”

Tentatively, Dallas had asked, “Can we maybe get together again sometime? Here or…wherever?”

Zack had seemed to think about it then nodded. “When are you free?”

“Next Sunday.” Dallas had smiled ruefully. “I work nights, six to six, if I’m lucky. Later, if I’m not. But I’m off Sundays and Mondays.”

“How about lunch, then?”

They’d set a time and place. That had been the start of what at first had been just a friendship with good sex thrown into the mix. In time, they had realized they were falling in love. That was when Zack had finally and fully opened up to Dallas.

They’d been at Zack’s house, eating supper on a Sunday evening after having spent the day together.

“I know,” Zack said, seemingly out of the blue, “that we have strong feelings for each other.” He smiled. “I don’t think that’s a big secret anymore. But…”

He’s going to break it off. Despite what he just said, he’s going to end it.

As if he read Dallas’ mind, or more probably his expression, Zack shook his head. “I’m not calling it quits—no way, no how. But there are things I haven’t told you about myself that I need to if this is going to continue.”

“Like…” Dallas tried for a joke. “You secretly spend your nights, while I’m working, roaming the streets looking for victims, because you’re really a serial killer?”

Rather than laughing, Zack replied as he stood, “Not quite that bad. Let’s go into the living room where we can be more comfortable.”

When they were settled on the sofa, Zack remained quiet for so long that Dallas began to wonder how horrible whatever he was going to tell him was.

“I’ll start at the beginning. When I was twelve, I left home. Typical story I guess. My father was an angry man and an alcoholic. He took his anger out on me. My mother…” He shrugged. “I guess she thought better me than her, so she kept out of it.”

“Damn,” Dallas said quietly.

“With nowhere to go, I ended up on the streets. It didn’t take me long to realize two things. One, I’d need money to survive. Two, I was still a kid and small enough that I couldn’t defend myself.” Zack fisted his hands.

Dallas reached to take them, only to have Zack pull them away.

“Let me get through this. Long story short, I learned the ins and outs of survival. The only thing I didn’t get involved in was drugs—selling or using. I grew older and bigger. Life became a little easier. I learned how to protect myself and put that to use helping other kids who needed my…skills with my fists.”

“In other words, you kept them safe?” Dallas liked that idea. He was less happy with the thought that Zack had undoubtedly sold himself the way some of the kids did who he saw when he was on patrol. Kids so young they shouldn’t even have known what sex was. Kids who grew up knowing the dangers of getting into a stranger’s car, or going into an alley with them, to give blow jobs—but did it anyway to stay alive.

“As much as I could,” Zack replied. “Then, when I was twenty, I met a man who helped me get off the streets.”

“A sugar-daddy?” Dallas asked in dismay.

“Good Lord, no. His name is Brian and he runs a shelter. He took me aside one night when I was crashing there. Told me it was time I decided to do something about my life. It took a while and a lot more talks, but in the end… Well, here I am. A successful businessman.”

Dallas slid over to hug him tightly. “Thank you for feeling you could trust me with your story.”

“I should have told you a long time ago,” Zack said, kissing Dallas’ temple. “The thing is…” He pulled away, gazing at Dallas. “There’s… Well, I guess you could call it a follow-up to the story.”

Something in Zack’s expression put Dallas on alert. Warily he asked, “What?”

“Do you know how many homeless kids and adults there are out there who become victims of predators? Not just men who want sex and use them to get it, but the punks who get their jollies from beating up on those who are weak and alone?”

“Given that I’m a cop, I’m well aware of that. I’ve intervened more than a few times to stop an assault.”

“And what happens to the assailant?”

Dallas’ mouth tightened. “They walk because their victim is afraid to press charges. I’m sure you know that. The vics are kids who don’t want their family to find them. That’s why they’re out there in the first place.”

“Exactly.” Zack blew out a long breath. “I’d ask if you can keep a secret, but that sounds so juvenile. Still, it’s the best way to put it, especially since you are a cop.”

“This doesn’t bode well,” Dallas replied with a small smile. “Still…unless you’re going to confess to breaking the law, I can.”

Zack gave him a wry grin. “Define ‘the law’… Okay, here goes. About a year ago I decided I had to do something to stop the predators.” He took Dallas’ hands, holding them tightly. “I spend the early morning hours out looking for them. I step in when I see some bastard attacking a victim and teach them what it’s like to have the shit beaten out of you.”

Dallas looked at him in shock. “That’s vigilantism.”

“I know,” Zack replied shortly, locking his gaze on Dallas’ face. “But it does the job.”

Dallas pulled his hands free and got up. He began pacing, occasionally looking at Zack.

Now what do I do? By rights, I should arrest him. He’s just confessed to a crime. Multiple crimes, in fact.

“Why don’t you call nine-one-one when you see that happening?” Dallas asked.

“To what end? By the time the police get there, if they even do, the assailant is long gone. I suspect you know as well as I do that the homeless are on the bottom of the list when it comes to what cops have to handle.”

“Not true,” Dallas protested. But he knew Zack was correct. Given the choice of stopping a break-in or a convenience store hold-up, or making a run to some alley to try to catch a thug attacking some homeless person… “All right, I see your point,” he admitted. “But damn it, Zack.”

“Do you think what I’m doing is wrong? Because I don’t.”

Dallas dropped down beside him on the sofa, slowly shaking his head. “Legally, yeah, it’s very wrong. Morally though… No, it’s not. You’re protecting people who can’t protect themselves.”

Zack put his arm around Dallas, drawing him against his chest. “I hoped… Hell, I prayed that you’d see it that way. Of course, now I’ve put you in a tight spot. As a cop, can you deal with all this or will you feel the need to walk away, even if you don’t turn me in?”

Turning his head to look at Zack, Dallas replied, “I’m not walking away.”

“Thank God!” Zack said. “I was so afraid you would, but I had to be honest with you. It’s the only way to make what we have work.” He smiled ruefully. “Besides which, I’m sure in time you’d start questioning why I slept such weird hours, or had bruises that I couldn’t—or wouldn’t, I guess—explain.”

“How often does that happen?” Dallas asked.

“Coming home looking like I’ve been through the wars? Not too often. I learned a lot, living on the streets, and I’ve kept in practice since then. But shit happens—especially when I have to take on more than one punk.”

“Do you carry a weapon?”

“A knife, but I try not to use it as more than a threat. I’d rather use my hands and feet. Although if they have something, a lead pipe or a baseball bat, I have no problem taking it away from them then using it to give them a taste of their own medicine.”

They talked some more, before going to bed. Their lovemaking that night had held special meaning for both of them, Dallas realized. A bond of trust had been made between them. Trust that neither of them had ever broken.

Now, with his new hours, Dallas wanted to be a part of what Zack—well, Reaper—did. All he had to do was convince Zack to let him.

Chapter Nine

Sunday morning, Zack and Dallas slept in as usual. When the bright sunlight hitting the bed finally woke them, they made slow love, Zack savoring the fact that they could. Then they dressed and went downstairs to eat lunch.

Zack studied Dallas as they ate. He knew something was on his lover’s mind. Something that, he thought, had to do with the fact that Dallas would be working days starting tomorrow.

It wasn’t until they were rinsing dishes and putting them in the dishwasher that Zack finally asked, “Do you want to talk?”

“Yes,” Dallas replied. “But not here. Let’s take a walk along the trail.”

Zack smiled a bit. “That bad?”

“Not bad. At least, I don’t think so.” Dallas dried his hands then went to get their jackets, handing Zack his when he got back.

They left the yard through the back gate, locking and arming the security box on it. The day was warm but there was a cool breeze, presaging the arrival of fall in a few weeks. After walking for a quarter of a mile, greeting a few of their neighbors who were also taking advantage of the trail for a Sunday walk or jog, Dallas veered off onto a side path that led to a small pond.

When they got there, he picked up a stone, skipping it across the water. “Still got it,” he crowed softly.

“Dallas…” Zack said, coming up beside him. “You’re avoiding whatever the subject is.”

“Not really. I’m just trying to find the best way to approach it.”