Angel and the Assassin

Angel and the Assassin

    Fyn Alexander

    Angel and the Assassin
    Copyright © September 2010 by Fyn Alexander
    All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No
    part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or
    electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not
    participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the
    author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

    eISBN 978-1-60737-871-6
    Editor: Judith David
    Cover Artist: Justin James
    Printed in the United States of America

    Published by
    Loose Id LLC
    PO Box 425960
    San Francisco CA 94142-5960
    www.loose-id.com

    This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical
    events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either
    the product of the author‟s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
    resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or
    locales is entirely coincidental.
    Warning
    This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be
    considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id LLC‟s e-books are for sale to adults
    ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase.
    Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

    * * *
    DISCLAIMER: Please do not try any new sexual practice, especially those that

    might be found in our BDSM/fetish titles without the guidance of an experienced
    practitioner. Neither Loose Id LLC nor its authors will be responsible for any loss,
    harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its
    titles.

    http://www.loose-id.com

    Chapter One

    London, England

    Kael Saunders sat in the bright, glass-walled waiting room at the Secret
    Intelligence Service at Vauxhall Cross, opened the black leather-bound blank book,
    and began to write.

    I grew up poor, but I had two things in my favour; I was clever and I was
    ruthless. I also had the misfortune to be educated at an elite boarding school, or so it
    seemed at the time. Later I was grateful for it. But while I was there, it was often
    hell. It was an all boys’ school. They came from well-heeled homes and they called me
    the council estate charity case.
    So I beat the shite out of them.
    I never did it openly. Not because I was a coward. I was anything but. I just
    didn’t want to lose my scholarship and disappoint my mum, so I went after them
    quietly, one by one. I was as stealthy as a fox. I would sniff them out when they least
    expected it: in the change rooms after sports practice, in the toilets, in the woods
    behind the school.
    And I would take my revenge.
    I was fast and I was a dirty fighter. I always used a weapon, the belt from my
    trousers, or one of my trainers if we were in the change room. They never saw it
    coming. I’d tell them if they told anyone what I did, I’d have to come after them
    again. Next time it would be worse. So they had better not make me do it.
    They never told anyone and they never called me a charity case again. They
    were terrified of me.
    The boys at College Grange School were all called John and David and
    Charles. I was never quite sure, but I think my mum got Kael from an American
    soap opera. Half the kids in my neighbourhood had American soap opera names. The
    first thing one of the boys said to me when I arrived at the school, terrified, out of
    place, and angry, was “Kael? That’s a type of cabbage.”
    I was put on detention for the rest of that week for punching him. That was
    when I learned to be circumspect, to wait for my moment. It served me well in my
    future career.

    2
    Fyn Alexander

    The only boy who ever spoke to me after I beat him up was Freddie Merchant.
    He was a fat kid. He didn’t say anything at the time, but that evening he came to me
    with a tin of biscuits and a bottle of pop and invited me to share them with him. I
    accepted because I never had any spending money and my mum couldn’t afford to
    send me packages like the others got.
    While we ate the chocolate digestives and bourbon creams and drank the pop he
    told me he was sorry. He said the other boys were snobs and they were jealous of me
    because I was so handsome and I got top marks without even trying. He said, “I
    know you’re not queer but I really like you.”
    I told him I was a queer.
    He said that