Angel and the Assassin 3: Sins of the Father

I got it about three years ago at an Evanescence concert on the Cape.” The boy
    looked down at his feet. Black Gravel boots with five buckles on the sides completed his
    outfit. Kael could hardly complain about the boots since he’d bought them for him, and
    had Angel been going to a club or hanging out in Piccadilly Circus with his friends,
    he’d have been perfect.
    “You don’t like my outfit?”
    Aside from the fact that he hated skinny jeans and thought the Gravels were
    hideous, Kael was feeling strangely agitated, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on
    why. The job was routine and likely to be very boring, but there was something about
    Romodanovsky he just didn’t like. The man was a predator, which if Kael was honest,
    described him fairly accurately too. But despite being a government-sanctioned serial
    killer, he did have morals and a code of ethics. He suspected the Russian of having
    neither, so maybe that was his problem with the man.
    Instead of getting angry, which was his first instinct, he decided to use the
    moment for education. “Would you have worn those clothes to Conran’s New Year
    party?”
    Angel looked thoughtful for a moment. “No, Daddy.”
    “School?”
    “No, Daddy.”
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    “Why not?”
    A moment of silence followed before Angel sighed. “They would be inappropriate
    for those occasions, Sir.”
    “That’s right. Which just goes to show how much you still have to learn. Don’t get
    ahead of yourself.”
    “Yes, Sir.” Angel looked down at his toes as his cheeks grew pink. “But Daddy”—
    he looked into Kael’s eyes—“a big man like you dressed in total black kinda stands out
    too.”
    The little bugger was right. “Today I am a minder,” Kael went on. “I’m not
    pretending to be anything else. Most of my really covert work is done at night so black
    is the perfect camouflage. I understand what you’re saying, and if I had to blend in to a
    particular group, I’d dress like them. But you will stick out like a sore thumb in those
    clothes. One of the regular security will assume you’re a member of the public and
    throw you out.”
    “Yes, Daddy. I see.”
    “Dorneywood Garden is open to the public four days a year, but for the next few
    days the house and gardens are strictly off limits to absolutely everyone.”
    “Who lives there?” Angel asked.
    “It’s the country house of the home secretary at present, though the occupancy
    varies depending on who the PM favors at the time he enters office. Now go and
    change.” Kael followed him into the bedroom and while the boy stripped he went
    through Angel’s side of the wardrobe, taking out clothes and laying each item on the
    freshly made bed that would not be slept in that night. “Black school trousers. Black
    socks. Black school shoes. Plain black button-up shirt.”
    Angel did not have a plain jacket. His black blazer had the school emblem on the
    pocket, and the next nearest dark jacket was his tuxedo jacket. Finally Kael settled on
    Angel’s most unobtrusive black leather jacket with no shiny buckles or decorative zips,
    and if he’d had a buzz cut, Angel would have stood out less than he did with his long,
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    light blond hair. But if Kael was honest, he loved Angel’s fashion sense and the
    interesting combinations of clothes he wore.
    Naked, Angel looked down at the clothes. “Yes, Sir. That makes more sense.”
    Kael pulled his boy into his arms, rubbing Angel’s small bottom briskly with both
    hands. “Get dressed.” After a short, tight hug, he let him go and went to the hall
    cupboard to remove his weapons box from the false shelf at the back. With his Glock 26,
    the small subcompact he allowed Angel to use at the range, and two shoulder holsters,
    he returned to the bedroom.
    When he was dressed, Angel examined his image in the full-length mirror.
    “Should I tie my hair back, Daddy?”
    “No. You’ll look like Thornton’s twin with your matching blond ponytails. Come
    here.”
    With the utmost gravity, Kael fitted Angel’s shoulder holster and gun, ignoring
    his boy’s excited grin. “You will very likely not remove your gun from the holster at all
    during this detail. But if you have to, don’t be afraid to use it.”
    “Yes, Daddy.”
    “You will call me sir and give no indication to anyone that you are anything other
    than a new recruit learning your craft. You’re not my Angel for