“He's a good boy,” Ethan said as his sock-covered foot tucked under the animal's neck.
“He seems to be.” She agreed, although Ethan couldn't hear her. She could hear the movie through his headphones, small tinny sounds drifted toward her.
Careful not to startle the dog, she turned onto her other side and pulled the towel away from the floor. The heated floor and confined quarters made it very warm in their little space. Cool air flowed in and washed against her. After several minutes the lights in the storage area clicked off. The dog groaned and rolled onto its side. Silence prevailed in the vast expanse of the cave, except for the muted noises from Ethan's headphones. She closed her eyes and said a small prayer that the snow would end soon, and they'd be able to leave.
Ethan glanced over at his mom. She was sleeping. She was always scared. Just like James’ mom. Why did grown up men have to be such assholes? He cut his eyes up to make sure his mom was still asleep. She didn’t like him to cuss, but all the kids talked that way and he had enough problems fitting in, being ‘his’ kid.
His father wasn’t liked by many of the parents at his school. He knew because parents talked and kids repeated that shit. That’s why he and James were friends. James’ father worked for his. The other kids banded together to act tough. He learned that his father was feared, and one of the kids in his class said his father was a mob boss. He had no idea what that meant, so he looked it up. Organized crime. He read everything he could about that and then Googled his dad. Some things didn’t match up, but he understood enough to know his classmates’ parents thought his dad was a criminal. Maybe that was why his mom was so afraid of him. He had so many questions he wanted to ask her, but he didn’t want her to be even more sad. His dad scared him so bad he had nightmares. He couldn’t tell his mom though. His dad was mean, and not the type of mean that you could stand up to. He protected his mom the best he could. He kept his mouth shut and did what his dad told him, when he told him. If his father demanded good grades, he got them. If he said Ethan couldn’t be weak. Well, he wasn’t.
James protected his mom, too, but in a different way. Only James ended up with huge black and blue bruises from his dad’s fists. James said it was better for him to have the bruises than his mom. He hated seeing those marks on his friend. James said his marks were on the outside, but Ethan’s were on the inside. He supposed that was true.
He rubbed his foot against Dog and looked at the wood above him. If he had to stay here until they could leave, he could do it. He wouldn’t let that man hit his mom, or yell at her again. Men shouldn’t act that way. Why was it okay to be mean to girls? His mom and James’ mom didn’t deserve to be treated the way their dads treated them. He knew his father threatened to hurt his mom. He’d heard him. He’d heard it all, even though he pretended he didn’t. Maybe he wasn’t old enough to work and take care of his mom right now, but someday he’d get a good job that made lots of money and take care of her. He’d buy her all that stuff for her gardens and she’d be happy. Some day.
But right now, he had something to do.
Chapter 9
Sitting in the dark confines of his office, Lycos listened for sounds of the woman and her kid. Bethanie and Ethan. He hadn't heard anything in over an hour. He was such a stupid son of a bitch. Guardian had fucked up royally expecting him to be a caretaker. They had his psych eval. They knew better. He didn't do people. Oh, he could blend in to a crowd, become whomever he needed to be, but the one-on-one shit when he wasn't assuming a cover? He sucked at it.
The lights on the incline turned on. The illumination sliced through the darkness of his den. He shifted in his chair, pushing it around. The motion automatically illuminated the darkness of his den.
The boy stood in his doorway. Lycos leveled a stare at the kid and damned if the boy didn’t meet it and hold it. “There is a right way and a wrong way to treat people. She was doing the best she could. She’s smart, and she’s a better person than you’ll ever be.”
The kid’s voice wavered, but he stood firm as he spouted his speech. Vulnerable as hell, but full of courage, enough to take on a full grown adult. The boy was scared as shit, but willing to face off with him to defend his mom.
“I have no doubt about that kid. She is a better person than I’ll ever be.” Lycos leaned back in his chair.
“Then why were you such an ass?” The kid’s fists clenched at his sides.
“You allowed to talk that way?”
“You’ve said worse.”
“Doesn’t make it right. You have a good mom and I’m sure she’s told you not to say words like that. I didn’t. You have a fuck-ton of shit in your favor that I didn’t have. Take advantage of that, kid.”
“What kind of advantages?” The little fists loosened and the kid lowered his chin.
Lycos shrugged. “I won’t call her my mother, but the woman who gave birth to me decided getting stoned was easier than raising me. I ended up fighting to live in some hell holes.” Lycos leaned forward. “How old are you, kid?”
“Eleven.”
“Yeah, and do you go to school?”
“Yes, sir. Marchdale Academy.”
“Huh, that’s a private school, with uniforms and fancy classes for smart kids, right?”
“I guess. It’s a private school.”
“When I was eleven I was stealing food to survive. The money my mom made went to her pimps and drugs. One day she went out and never came back. I ended up in the system. The first couple that took me in beat the fuck out of me. I told a teacher, and they threw me in a group home. There the motto was get tough or get fucked. I got tough. When I turned eighteen they gave me a black plastic bag with my shit in it and told me to get out.”
Ethan leaned into the doorjamb, his eyes were wide. “What did you do?”
Lycos shrugged. “I went to work for a guy who sold drugs; a lot of drugs. I moved around and drifted. Ended up in jail charged with murder.”
“You killed someone?”
“Nah, but the cops thought I did. I work for the good guys now. Guardian Security.”
“How did you get out of jail?”
Lycos leaned back in his chair. “An angel, I guess you could say. An Archangel.” He stared at the wall of his office, awash in memories.
The group homes were where he discovered the usefulness of masked retribution. Accidents happened to the motherfuckers who hurt him. Nobody could blame him, but every one of those sons of bitches knew it was him, and they learned not to fuck with him.
He left foster care at eighteen with that damn black plastic bag containing five t-shirts, two pairs of jeans and a windbreaker. Three months later, he was doing work for a mid-level drug-king-wannabe. The bastard cheated him out of his money, and Lycos was tossed out of his apartment by the slumlord who ran the hovel. All his belongings, his clothes and the few things he had, were gone. That drug-king-wannabe laughed at him. Told him to find an alley, curl up, and die. The bastard was found dead the next day—apparently from an overdose. Funny how that shit happened.
Lycos survived and found other opportunities. He existed for three years before he landed in jail. Which was fucked. The cops had nothing to hold him on. He'd joined forces with a local hitman. He gathered intelligence for the killer until the man died, and the D.C. cops roped him in as a suspect in that murder... because he was a known accomplice, not because they had evidence. He was fished out of general pop and hauled into an interview room, where he was handcuffed to the table.
After an hour of twiddling his thumbs, a man in a three-piece suit walked in and sat down across from him.
“I have no money for a lawyer, and by the looks of that suit, you cost.” The suit was damn fine.
“I'm not a lawyer. I'm your way out.”
“Nah, see, I didn't do anything. The cops have to let me go in less than twenty-four hours.” He was such a cocky son of a bitch back then.
“Wrong.” The man reached in his pocket and placed picture after picture
on the table. He finished with a mugshot.
Sitting in that jail, cold steel encircling his wrists, he felt a wave of relief push through him when he saw the pictures. It was a stupid feeling to have. He should have been worried, scared shitless even, but he wasn't. Every last one of the men in those photos were bastards. Their crimes ran from drugs to prostitution, and gee golly, let's not forget the gangbangers and mafia hangers-on. Whatever, they were all abusive cocksuckers; vile, evil people and he'd made the world a better place by getting rid of them. He glanced up at the man in front of him. “Who are they?”
No trace of emotion showed on the man's face, and he was good at reading people, even back then. The suit leaned forward.
“This man was someone we were watching closely. Very closely.” He tapped the picture of Lloyd Fontaine. He'd watched the man kill one of his whores at a party. The girl couldn't have been twenty years old. He watched the son of a bitch choke her to death as he whipped out his cock and fucked her in front of everyone. He filmed it, too. From behind, so his face couldn't be seen. Laughed about snuff porn selling for big bucks on the internet.
When he realized what the bastard intended, he'd lifted away from the couch to help the woman, but the hitman he was working for pulled his ass back down. “Move again, and I'll kill you before his guards do.”
The bastard was, in fact, surrounded by a small army. Lycos held in his rage. Rage at his boss for not helping the woman, and rage at the motherfucker who was laughing as the woman died slowly by his hand. The hitman died two days later of an insulin overdose. Imagine that. After all those years of shooting up, the bastard got the dosage wrong.
Fontaine? He died in a tragic bathtub accident. His television fell off the wall and plunged into the water while good ole Lloyd was bathing. Fried the fucker. If he remembered the rumors correctly, it took a long time for the son of a bitch to die. He wondered if Fontaine’s death would sell on the internet. Lycos sure as fuck didn’t film it for posterity.
He leaned back as far as the cuffs would allow him to lean and considered Mr. Suit. “What does any of this have to do with me?”
“I'm here with a proposition, an opportunity that will only come once. If you pass our entrance requirements, we may have a place for you within our organization.”
“And if I don't?”
The man stood up. “If you don't, we'll do humanity a favor and end you.” He picked up each picture.
“Who are you?”
“I am your guardian angel.”
“Have a name, angel?”
“Archangel.”
“Well, Archangel, I accept your proposition, but be forewarned, I don't work well with others.”
“A lone wolf.” A smile split the angel's face. “That's what we're counting on.”
When he glanced up again, the kid was gone. Just as well. He closed the gate to memory lane and returned to the drawings for some other improvements he wanted to make to his new home. He anchored his toe on the ground and pushed his chair from side to side. The motion reactivated the light in his office. He glanced at the clock. Fuck, two hours since his meltdown and convo with junior. Still no sounds in the house. He knew they hadn't left. The security system had recorded when Dog came back in, but no other doors had been opened.
He hadn't lost his cool like that in years. Hell, decades. Why now? He glanced at the computer screen. Displayed in the center was a picture of the woman and her son. It was an image he'd captured off the surveillance system. They were both laughing. He traced her happy smile with his eyes. The boy's face was so fucking innocent, and he had a joy that radiated from the picture. They deserved to be happy. He knew why he freaked out and pushed that woman hard today. He didn't want to admit it, but it was a fact he couldn't ignore. He'd been scared. He'd fucking developed some kind of feelings, or maybe a bond with them, and wasn't that some serious what the fuck thinking?
He toed the ground again and let his eyes search the vast library he'd accumulated. He thought of the secrets behind the shelves. Guardian had tapped into his potential as an assassin, and in return, they'd given him the world. He was provided education and training in any area that interested him, and he devoured the annals that lined the walls of his office. His intelligence was off the charts... his Guardian appointed shrink's words, not his. He knew so damn much, but he had no clue how to explain to the woman why he'd treated her like a smudge of rancid raccoon shit.
He glanced at the computer monitor and then the phone. Lifting a middle finger, he saluted the phone with a terse jerk of his hand. Moriah had fucked him hard with this little witch. The woman's way of getting him back for his words about her freelancing, no doubt. No matter how they'd left it at the club, she'd have been pissed he hadn't supported her. It would be just like her to push this sticky mess up his ass and laugh while he dealt with... fuck him... feelings.
Dammit. Going back and explaining his rude behavior to the woman—Bethanie—sucked sweaty bison balls. Sorry, lady, I was pissed and yeah, okay, worried, so I yelled at you.
Which was true. He was pissed she'd made mistakes that could take her out of that boy's life. Every kid deserved a good parent, and that woman was good to her son, no matter what he'd said earlier.
Fuck it. Manning up was the only solution, and letting more time pass would only make the crow he had to eat tougher. If that was possible. He headed down to the main cavern but stalled at the top of the ramp. He'd expected them to be on the couch, but the fading coals from the fire cast a glow over the furniture. They weren't there. No lights were illuminated downstairs. He craned his neck searching the darkness of the hallway. There was no way they'd be able to come up without him knowing.
He walked down to the lower level of the cavern, the lights shining before him. The kitchen was as dark as the living room. He spun on his heel and let out a soft whistle. The damn dog was in the house, that much he knew. He heard a thump and a scurry of nails. A light in the storage area turned on before the dog appeared at the entrance.
Lycos strode over to the area. He saw two plastic tumblers on the counter and a bag holding two peanut butter sandwiches. His eyes dropped to the shelving under it. What in the actual fuck?
The woman was asleep on his sleeping bag. Her cheeks were red, and her lips were chapped. Not good. Being exposed like she was last night wouldn't give her a cold, but if her body had been fighting off a virus, her system could have weakened to the point that she'd succumbed.
“Here to yell at my mom some more?”
Lycos damn near stood on his head to see the kid. Yeah, so they were hiding from him in the storeroom. Fuck, he was a monster, wasn't he? Well, yes, in a very literal sense, he was exactly that.
He drew a chest full of air, hoping the action would somehow produce the words to prove he wasn't a complete dick. Yeah, no such luck.
He ignored the kid's question and tapped the woman on her hand. She roused slightly and settled back into her slumber. “Hey... you need to wake up.” The blonde head snapped up. Lycos winced at the resounding thud her skull made against the pecan wood shelving. “Damn, that had to hurt.”
Her hand covered her forehead. Those blue eyes narrowed to slits and glared at him for a fraction of a second before she glanced away. Okay, the attitude was understandable, and deserved. Lycos ass planted on the floor as Dog burrowed into the little cubby they'd made.
“Look, about earlier. It won't happen again.” No need to go into the reasons he'd popped off like a fucking rocket. He hadn't compartmentalized correctly because he'd never been in a caretaker role. So, shit got wonky. Now things were straight. They were an assignment. Nothing more.
Her eyes lifted to him. No words, no acceptance, just a blank stare before she dropped her gaze again. Yeah, whatever. That apology was more than he'd given anyone in the last forty-three years. He wasn't going to do it again.
“Yeah, well, don’t worry. We’ll stay out of your way.” The boy's voice slid out from further under the shelves.
> “That right?” Well, he could understand that.
“Yes. That’s right.”
He fought to hide a smile at the kid’s belligerent tone. “You can stay here if you want, no skin off my nose. I've said what I came to say.” He wasn't going to beg her. Fuck that.
He headed to the fireplace, stoked the coals and dropped a heavy armful of wood on the grate. Flames blossomed and eagerly licked up the dry wood, hungry for fuel.
His stomach growled, empty and pissed at the lack of attention. He stalked into the kitchen and pulled out a venison roast he had in the refrigerator. Potatoes, carrots, and onions joined the roast in a baking pan. He mixed some red wine, stock, thyme, sage, salt, and pepper and poured it over the roast. Because the venison had no fat, he laid three strips of thickly cut pork belly over the top of the meat. The rendering fat would keep the meat moist and flavor the vegetables underneath. Plus, it would make one hell of a gravy. He'd use what was left to make a stew.
Dog's claws ticked across the flooring, accompanied by the padding of the kid's stocking feet. He turned to the entrance of the kitchen where Dog now sat. The kid hadn't shown himself, but he was on the other side of the cabinets. “You can come in.” Ethan rolled around the corner and stared at him. Scared? No, probably cautious. “Where's your mom?”
“She's straightening what we messed up.”
“Messed up?”
“Uh huh. The towels and sleeping bag.”
Lycos shot a glance across the cavern's ceilings. The lights in the storage area were active. “Got it.”
“Is it snowing bad?”
Lycos nodded his head. “Worst I've seen it in years.” The forecast was for thirty inches, but they'd surpassed that estimate before 5:00 a.m. He'd been damn lucky to get all their shit up the mountain.
“How can you tell?”
“I went out to get your clothes and the extra food from your cabin. Didn't figure you or your mom needed to be out in the cold again so soon. The temperature has fallen even more since I found you.”
Lycos (Guardian Security Shadow World Book 3) Page 8
