Angel and the Assassin 3: Sins of the Father

boys were a block
    away when Angel turned to see Carey-Fox still attempting to struggle to his feet.
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    “That was bloody brilliant,” Jack said, clearly impressed. “Where did you learn to
    do that? No, don’t tell me. The daddy taught you.”
    “That’s right,” Angel grinned. “Are we going to Starbucks?” He felt exhilarated.
    As much as he would prefer to get on with everybody, he was sick of the gay slurs and
    jokes about Americans.
    “Yeah. So how is the daddy these days?” Jack seemed to think it was hilarious to
    call Kael the daddy.
    Jack was the only friend around whom Angel openly referred to Kael as Daddy.
    Everyone else assumed Kael was some sort of uncle to him. When he was no longer at
    Redmond, there would be no more pretending.
    Smiling, Angel said, “Fine. He’s over the shit I pulled at Barcode that night. You
    saved my ass. That guy was going to fuck me.”
    “You should have done what you just did to Billy Bunter.”
    “I was in no state to do anything that night. God knows what was in that pill, but I
    could hardly stand up. I was so sick. I threw up all night and pissed myself.”
    “Nice,” Jack said as they turned onto Palmer Street. “What time do you have to be
    home?”
    “Born This Way” began to play in the pocket of Angel’s school blazer. “Seven
    o’clock.” He pulled out his iPhone and pressed it to his ear. “Hello.”
    “Angel, it’s Stephen Conran.”
    “Hi, Mr. Conran.” This was weird. Mr. Conran had never called him before.
    Suddenly he was afraid. “Is Daddy okay?”
    “Yes, of course. Everything is fine. I have a job for you.”
    Excitement soared through him. “Really? Will I get paid?” The idea of earning his
    own money and contributing to the family income had been uppermost in his mind for
    a while. He’d even asked Daddy if he could apply at a restaurant that was looking for a
    busboy. Daddy had told him not to be ridiculous.
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    “Yes, you’ll get paid. Are you paying strict attention?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “This is a security detail. A black Rolls-Royce will pull up in front of you in a
    minute. Get in and escort the occupant to the airport.”
    “Mr. Conran, I don’t have a—” He glanced at Jack, who regarded him with
    curiosity. Angel turned his back before whispering, “A weapon.”
    “You’ll be provided with one.”
    “Okay, I’ll call Daddy and let him know.”
    “No need. He’ll be informed. Pay strict attention to your work. The car is there
    now.” Conran hung up.
    A gleaming black Rolls-Royce with tinted windows stopped at the curb. The door
    opened, revealing a dark interior. “Something has come up. I’ve got to go,” Angel said
    to Jack.
    Confusion making him frown, Jack said, “Go where?”
    “It’s work.” Angel climbed into the car’s warm interior and sat on the soft leather
    seat opposite a tall, older man. “Mr. Romodanovsky?”
    “That is correct, Angel Gabriel Button. You will escort me home to Russia.”
    “Mr. Conran said I was to escort you to the airport, sir.”
    “Naturally. And then on to Russia. You’ll be home again in London in a day or
    two.”
    “Sir, I don’t have a weapon.”
    The Russian waved a finger at the man sitting beside Angel. He handed him a
    Glock 26. Angel checked that it was loaded and that the safety catch was on before
    putting it in his blazer pocket.
    “So, young Mr. Button. Tell me about Mr. Saunders. Tell me everything you know
    about him.”
    “Sorry, sir, but I can’t do that.”
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    The rest of the way to the airport, the Russian questioned him continually about
    Daddy, but Angel told him nothing.
    Sven had owned a small plane with pontoons, but nothing like the luxury private
    jet they boarded with couches that converted into beds. A full kitchen and a bar made it
    like a small apartment. Worried that Daddy had not been informed yet, Angel pulled
    out his phone while they sat on the tarmac waiting for a runway. But Daddy wasn’t
    expecting him until seven anyway. A large man sitting across from him took the phone
    from his hands. “Give it the fuck back!” Angel stood up and attempted to grab his
    phone. He looked at the Russian, who smiled and spoke to the man in their own
    language. He handed the phone back with a shrug.
    “Do you wish to call Kael Saunders?”
    “Yes, sir.” The plane began to move along the