Angel and the Assassin

the passage, the door to the toilets closed. “Busy
    in there tonight,” the man said, looking Kael in the eyes. “You‟re very handsome.”

    Angel and the Assassin
    63

    “Yeah, I know.” The knuckles of Kael‟s hand bumped something hard hidden
    under the man‟s jacket where he held him by the arm. He took two more steps
    toward the toilets and in the three or four seconds that elapsed knew the man had a
    gun tucked into his belt. In one movement, Kael shoved him up against the wall and
    disarmed him, sticking the muzzle of the GLOCK 26 into the man‟s neck. “Who are
    you?”
    “I‟m just a messenger. They are waiting for you in there.” The man looked at
    the door along the hall with a sign that read MEN AND BOYS. He was terrified, as
    everyone was with a gun in their face.
    “How many?”
    “Two.”
    Kael knew he was telling the truth. He also knew the layout of the bathroom
    from the last time he was there. Two stalls, a sink to the right, and about a foot of
    space behind the door. So there would be one man behind the door and one in a
    stall. The stalls had no doors.
    “Thanks for being so considerate as to use a silencer.” Kael smiled and fired
    two bullets into the man‟s neck, then let him drop to the floor.
    In a split second he had to make his next decision. Go into the toilets and kill
    the two other men, or grab Angel and get out of there.
    Angel! Was someone in the bar taking him at this moment? Adrenaline shot
    through his muscles, and he knew these men were after Angel. He could not leave
    them alive, and now that they knew he was associated with Angel, that he was
    protecting him, neither of them were safe.
    For no more than a second, Kael stood in the dark corridor, letting the stillness
    settle over him.
    Now!
    He kicked the door so hard it flew in, slamming into the man behind it. In the
    same instant Kael raised the GLOCK 26, leveled it, sighted the man in the stall,
    who stood in perfect view, and fired. The man fell backward onto the toilet. Kael
    turned and shot another bullet into the man behind the door, who was still stunned
    from being slammed into the wall. The whole thing was over in less than half a
    minute.
    Shoving the gun down the back of his trousers under his jacket, he ran back
    into the bar. A moment of relief flooded his senses when he saw his boy still
    dancing. Kael wrapped one arm around Angel‟s waist and propelled him toward the
    front door. The boy‟s feet barely touched the ground.
    “Daddy, I wasn‟t flirting,” he said. “I swear to God I wasn‟t.”
    Outside, the street fell quiet about them, and it was beginning to rain again. If
    it had been the weekend, they could have blended into the crowd, but the street was
    empty. Kael kept walking quickly, forcing Angel along beside him on the slick
    pavement, turning and scanning the streets as he went. They came out onto South
    Lambeth Road, where there were more people and plenty of traffic. Kael put his

    64
    Fyn Alexander

    hand up at the first taxi he saw. It stopped, and he bundled Angel into the back,
    giving the driver an address two streets away from his flat.
    Silent, eyes big in his pale face, Angel sat staring straight ahead, throwing
    Kael furtive glances but thankfully not speaking. Twenty minutes later they got out
    of the taxi and walked quickly the rest of the way home.
    Kael took what felt like his first breath in an hour when he closed the front
    door behind them. He bolted it and walked straight into the living room, where he
    poured a shot of whiskey and downed it. The calm he always felt after a kill, the
    excitement and the high after a chase or an escape, was not there. He only felt
    relieved.
    “Sir?” Angel stood looking at him. It was all because of Angel that he felt that
    way.
    You are taking the pleasure out of my work.
    He opened his arms. “Come here, boy.”
    Angel walked into them. “Sir, I wasn‟t flirting, I swear.”
    “Sweetheart, I know that. There were men following us who wanted to hurt
    me.” He almost said you , but at the last second realized he could not frighten the
    boy. There was no question it was Angel they were after. The accent that had been
    so hard to distinguish with all the noise in the bar was Bosnian.

    Angel and the Assassin
    65

    Chapter Eight

    Kael left Angel fast asleep, sprawled on the bed, completely worn out from the
    excitement and activity of the night before. He threw on a black T-shirt and a pair
    of dark jeans and went