Angel and the Assassin 3: Sins of the Father

pair of black shorts with his trainers,
    but Angel had worn long workout pants with his favorite pink Nikes. Bare-chested, the
    little rubies in his silver nipple studs glinted under the fluorescent lights. After about
    five minutes, Kael glanced over to see Angel drinking a Gatorade while chatting with a
    muscular man who looked to be in his forties. Kael had seen the bloke before.
    Handsome and tanned, he reached out to smooth Angel’s sweaty hair back from his
    face.
    Enraged, Kael jumped off the treadmill and was between them in a split second.
    “Get your fucking hands off my boy!”
    “Whoa, cowboy.” The man raised both hands, palms out.
    That was all it took for Kael to land a fist in his face.
    “Daddy, no!” Angel screamed. “He didn’t do anything.”
    In a second, they were surrounded by staff. Kael was panting with anger, not
    exertion, watching while the man was helped to his feet. Looking up at him, his lower
    lip trembling, Angel looked ready to cry. “Daddy, we didn’t do anything.”
    “Go and get a shower,” Kael told him. Angel hurried away to obey.
    Fyn Alexander | Sins of the Father
    120

    “That was a really bad idea, Kael.” Philip, the oldest man on staff, stood in front of
    him, apparently to keep him from hitting the other man again. But he had no intention
    of doing that. He couldn’t decide why he had done it in the first place. The bloke had no
    right to put his hand on Kael’s boy, but he offered no real threat. “If he wants to call the
    police and charge you, there’s nothing we can do, and he’s got lots of witnesses.”
    The police were not a concern. They couldn’t arrest him, and they weren’t allowed
    to detain him even temporarily because of his top security clearance from MI6. Still, he
    didn’t want them called. The man looked at Kael, waiting. “I was chatting with Angel.
    Nothing more. He’s a nice lad.” Gingerly he touched his cheekbone with his fingertips.
    “Say you’re sorry, and we’ll leave it at that.”
    Kael loved the gym. He didn’t want to get barred after he’d been going there for
    years. “I apologize.” He looked directly into the man’s attractive, dark eyes. “Don’t talk
    to my boy again. And don’t touch him.”
    “No problem.” The older man walked away, and Kael joined Angel in the
    showers. Neither spoke as they dressed, nor until they got into the car.
    “Are you okay, Daddy? You looked upset when you picked me up. We got my
    applications all sent off. I thought you’d be really happy. Didn’t you get the letter you
    wanted from the member of parliament?”
    “Yes, I got it.” He pulled into the slow evening traffic. “It’s late, and you’re tired.
    Let’s get a takeaway so you don’t have to cook.”
    “Sounds good to me.”
    Forty minutes later, they sat at the kitchen table eating fish and chips out of the
    paper. The grease made Kael feel slightly sick, but Angel had requested a fish supper
    and he decided to let him have whatever he wanted. “How come you never play with
    the video game thingy I got you for Christmas? I thought you wanted one. You were
    asking for it long enough.”
    Angel stuck a chip in his mouth and chewed it. “I did. I do. But there never seems
    to be time for playing games. There’s school and homework and working out and
    Fyn Alexander | Sins of the Father
    121

    housework and cooking. Most of the time all I want at the end of the day is cuddle time
    with you or the dungeon if I’m lucky.” Looking down at the remaining food, Angel
    crumpled the greasy paper and tossed it in the bin. “Are you done, Daddy?”
    “Yes.”
    Angel cleared up the table before washing his hands at the sink with Fairy Liquid.
    Bubbles floated up from the sink, and Angel grabbed at them with his fingers and
    thumbs, easily distracted like the kid he still was. “Anyway,” he said quietly with his
    back to Kael, “I’d be thinking the whole time that you disapproved and didn’t really
    want me to do it.”
    Sometimes he wondered what he was doing to Angel. The last thing he wanted
    was to squash the boy’s natural enthusiasm for life and his ability to enjoy things. His
    mum had once told him that he was born with his fists clenched, ready to box. But if he
    wasn’t who he was, he could never have been as good as he was at his career, and he
    loved his work.
    “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s brush our teeth and have an early night.”
    “It’s only eight thirty, Daddy.” Angel