Reaper (9 page)

“Try directly?”

Dallas nodded, turning to look at him. “I want to help, when you’re out as Reaper.”

“No way. First off—”

“If you say it’s not safe, remember I’m a cop. I’m probably better able to protect myself than you are, which is saying something.”

“That wasn’t what I was going to say. I know you can. It’s the fact that you
are
a cop that presents a problem. People in the Uptown district know you, including some of the SOBs I hunt down. It’s the same reason I didn’t want you involved looking for the johns who are trying to abduct the kids out there selling themselves. What if someone we go after recognizes you? Your career will go down the tubes.”

“People are used to seeing me in uniform.” Dallas smiled wryly. “Hell, I walk into a store in street clothes and all I get is this ‘I think I know him from somewhere but…’ look most of the time.”

“That doesn’t negate my argument,” Zack told him.

“They don’t recognize you.”

“I don’t work in the Uptown. Besides which, even if I did, they’d see me in a suit and tie and… Okay, I’m sort of defeating my argument, saying that.”

Dallas grinned. “Yeah, you are.” He rested his hands on Zack’s hips. “So what do you think?”

“I think it’s a stupid idea. But, I guess there’s some merit to it.”

“It can’t be both,” Dallas said.

“Oh? It’s stupid because you’d be endangering yourself. It has merit since with two of us out there we could scare the shit out of an attacker when we find one and hopefully he’d run rather than facing both of us. And if there’s more than one…”

“We’re one-on-one with them instead of the way you do it, trying to take one out before the other one can get to you. That way”—he tapped Zack’s shoulder—“there’s less of a chance of you getting hurt again. Next time a punk’s knife might do a lot more damage, or they could have a gun.”

“
That
I’ve never run into.”

“Doesn’t mean it won’t happen.”

“You’re not to carry,” Zack said firmly.

“I’ll have a knife, the way you do.”

“All right.” Zack suddenly smiled, realizing Dallas had talked him into letting him come along. “You’re good.”

Dallas gave him an innocent look. “It’s my Irish charm.”

Zack snorted. “You’re about as Irish as I am.”

“I’ll have you know me great-grandfather came over from the auld country,” he replied with a very fake Irish lilt.

“And mine came from… Hell, I don’t even know where my father came from, other than Hell.”

Dallas stroked Zack’s cheek. “You’re well rid of him. If you’d stayed, I’d never have met you.”

“I hope you don’t regret it once we’re teamed up out there.” He kissed Dallas quickly before saying, “Now what will you call yourself?”

After a long moment of thought, Dallas said, “Wrath.”

“Hmm…that could work. Sort of alliterative too—Reaper and Wrath.”

“We’ll strike fear in the hearts of the evil doers.”

“I think you do that every day when you’re out on patrol.”

“I wish,” Dallas said almost wistfully. “If I did, there’d be no need for you and me to be out there doing…well, what you’ve been doing so far.”

“True enough, I’m afraid. All right”—Zack put his arm around Dallas’ waist—“let’s finish our walk then go home, have an early supper and sleep. What time do you have to start in the morning?”

“I’m on seven to four, with Sundays and Thursdays off.”

“Not bad. We can be out from one until dawn then come home in time for you to shower and go to work.”

“Mess around then shower.”

Zack grinned. “Mess around
in
the shower.”

“That works.”

* * * *

“Ready?” Zack asked, surveying Dallas. His lover was dressed in black, although not in leathers. “You know, what you’re wearing makes your blond hair seem to glow.”

“My uniform doesn’t do that and it’s almost as dark. I think you’re imagining it.”

Zack put his hands on Dallas’ shoulders, turning him to face the mirror. “See?”

Dallas just shook his head, muttering, “Imagination.” But he took the watch cap Zack handed him and put it on before saying, “Now I’m ready.”

They arrived at their destination half an hour later, parking in a lot two doors down from one of the less reputable bars. It, like most of them in the area, catered to working-class men and those who had nothing better to do than spend their days slumped over a beer or whiskey, commiserating with each other about their bad luck and whatever else had pissed them off.

Zack and Dallas had come up with a system for how to proceed. They would each take one side of the street, staying well in the shadows. If one of them spotted trouble, he would let the other know by autodialing—both of them keeping their phones on vibrate. Since they were throwaways, no one else had the numbers.

Dallas felt a bit out of step at first, since his cop’s instinct was to look for problems involving someone trying to break into a building or planning a smash-and-grab.

Not that there’s much worth grabbing around here except at the liquor stores, and they all have bars on the doors and windows.

He did spot two men at the entrance to an alley, obviously involved in a drug deal. He made note of their faces for future reference, as he’d never seen them before.

Just what I need, a new dealer in the neighborhood.

He moved on, falling into his new persona as he did.

* * * *

Wrath and Reaper had gone three blocks and had just turned a corner onto a side street when Wrath’s cell vibrated. He quickly glanced across the street. Reaper, barely discernable in the doorway of a building, was pointing toward two kids. They were young, not more than fifteen, Wrath estimated, and obviously lived on the streets from their dress and demeanor. It took him a moment to get why Reaper was interested in them. Then he realized it was the pair of men—one in a plaid flannel shirt, the other wearing a denim jacket—who appeared to be following the kids that had Reaper on the alert.

When the kids walked into the alley, they took off their battered backpacks. One of them dug into his and handed his companion something. A moment later, there was a flash of a lighter, then Dallas saw the glowing ends of cigarettes before the kids moved deeper into the darkness. The two men stalking them paused at the entrance. Wrath saw one man point, and the other nodded. The sound of low, expectant laughter reached his ears. He suspected the kids didn’t hear it since from what he could see of them—primarily the glow of the cigarettes when they turned to talk—they were still walking at a normal pace. Then they disappeared.

They’re
probably next to a Dumpster.

The two men entered the alley, moving quickly down it. Reaper was a few feet behind them and a minute later, so was Wrath. Like the kids, the men vanished from sight.

Then there was a sharp cry of pain and a shouted, “Don’t hurt us!”

Wrath didn’t need Reaper to tell him what to do next. They raced the few remaining yards to where the two men were terrorizing the kids. One had the smaller kid shoved against the brick wall. It was obvious he’d already hit the kid once from the blood flowing from the boy’s nose. The second one held a length of pipe, about to use it on the taller kid.

“Trying picking on someone your own size,” Reaper said. He pulled the flannel-shirted guy off the kid by grabbing the man’s arm and swinging him against the Dumpster with a loud crash.

Wrath was already dealing with the other one. He gripped the pipe before the man could finish his swing, twisting the pipe out of his hand. Then, without any remorse, he smashed it across the bastard’s elbow. There was a cracking sound, followed by a roar of pain as the man dropped to his knees, cradling his arm.

“Like Reaper said,” Wrath growled, “pick on someone your own size.”

Reaper had the flannel shirted man’s arms twisted behind his back by the time Wrath checked. He forced the guy to his knees in front of the smaller kid he’d been attacking. “Tell him you’re sorry for hurting him,” Reaper ordered.

“Fuck you,” he said defiantly. “Punks like these deserve whatever we do to them. They’re like vermin, crawling out of the woodwork.”

“And you don’t like vermin,” Reaper said icily. “Let’s see just
how
badly you hate them. I hear this alley is home to a lot of rats. Wrath, did you happen to bring any restraints with you?”

“Nope, plumb forgot to do that. But I bet their belts will work.” He quickly unbuckled both belts then yanked them free of the men’s pants. “Where are we going to leave him?”

Reaper pulled the Dumpster away from the wall. “We tie his hands to one wheel, his feet to the other…”

“No! God, don’t do that,” the man blubbered.

“What do you think, guys?” Reaper asked, addressing the two kids.

The one with the bloody nose shivered, shaking his head. “He’s a bastard, but…” Then he managed a small smile. “I heard what you did to that one guy. Do it to them.”

“But strip them first,” the other kid said with a brief grin as he went to join his friend. “You okay,” he asked him, digging a less than clean rag from his backpack to wipe away the half-dried blood.

“I’ll live,” the smaller kid said.

“Dumpster?” Reaper asked Wrath.

Wrath sighed. “Might as well.” He hauled the one in the jean jacket to his feet, getting a scream of agony for his efforts. “Kid,” he said to the uninjured boy, “how about you take their shoes off for us? I’m sure you can use them, or know someone else who’d appreciate them.”

“What about their wallets?” the kid asked.

“Nope, that would be theft.”

“And taking their shoes isn’t?”

Wrath shrugged. “Technically, maybe, but we’ll consider it a donation to a worthy cause. Right?” He glared at the man he was holding.

“Right,” he moaned.

“Clothes too?” the other kid asked.

“Not this time,” Reaper replied. “We don’t want them catching their death of cold.” While he spoke, he used one of the belts to bind his captive’s hands behind his back.

Wrath shook his head when Reaper tossed him the other belt. “I don’t think he’ll be climbing out any time soon with his elbow busted.”

Reaper nodded. Dragging his prisoner to the edge of the dumpster, he then hoisted him up and toppled him into it. Then, between them, they put the other one in as well.

“Okay, that should do it,” Reaper said, closing the cover on the dumpster. “You two”—he looked at the kids—“get your asses over to Off-the-Street.”

“Do we have to?”

“Yeah, you do. Clean up, sleep, eat, then you can go on your way.” Reaper looked down at the cigarette butts on the pavement. “And quit smoking. It’ll kill you.”

Not more than fifteen minutes after they’d left the alley, Reaper and Wrath ran into an older homeless boy angrily confronting a girl who looked all of fourteen.

“That’s Dalek,” Reaper said as they approached the pair. “I’m not sure who the girl is, but knowing Dalek, she’s probably one of the ones he protects. And I use the term loosely.”

“In other words, he’s around when she’s turning tricks and keeps her from getting hurt by a john.”

“Yep. Let me find out what the problem is.”

Wrath hung back while Reaper walked over to join the pair.

“What’s the problem, Dal?” Reaper asked, placing his hand on the teen’s shoulder.

“This stupid bitch,” Dalek replied, shaking his head in obvious disgust.

“I did just like you told me to,” the girl replied defiantly.

“No, you didn’t, Kalie!”

“I made sure he paid me and that he turned the car off before I got in,” she protested.

Dalek rolled his eyes, looking at Reaper. “I bet you know what she didn’t do.”

“I can guess.” Reaper focused his attention on Kalie. “Protection?”

She looked down, scuffing the toe of her worn sneakers on the pavement. “He didn’t have any and…and I ran out.” She glanced at Dalek. “He said he was clean. Honest. I asked him.”

“Girl…” Dalek growled.

“Kalie, look at me,” Reaper told her. When she did, he said, “You never,
ever
give a man a blow job without a condom. End of story. It doesn’t matter if he offers you twice the going rate. You don’t do it.”

“That’s what I told her,” Dalek grumbled. Then he put his arm around Kalie’s shoulders. “If you won’t listen to me, listen to him. He knows everything.”

Reaper chuckled. “Not sure about that, Dal.”

“Sure you do. You’re Reaper.”

Kalie stared up at Reaper, seemingly awestruck. “For reals? You’re him?”

“I am,” Reaper acknowledged. “Be that as it may, you have to listen when Dal tells you what to do. He’s been around long enough to get it.” Returning his attention to Dalek, Reaper said, “Take her to the free clinic to get tested. She’s probably fine, but it’s not worth taking a chance.”

“Yeah, I know. I will.”

“Do you have a safe place to crash?”

Dalek snorted. “This is me. Of course I do. We got a squat that’s where no one can find us.”

“All right. I’d suggest you head there now before you get busted.” As he said that, Reaper pointed to a squad car two blocks away, coming toward them.

“Got ya,” Dalek said as he began steering Kalie into the alley behind them. “And thanks, man.”

* * * *

“Are you all right with what we did tonight?” Zack asked, when he and Dallas got home. He had refrained from asking before then, wanting to give Dallas a chance to process everything. Knowing what to expect and actually being involved in it could, he knew, be two very different things, especially since Dallas was a cop.

“I shouldn’t be,” Dallas replied. “If I’d been on my own, I’d have arrested those two punks who were terrorizing the kids in the alley. Not that spending a night in a holding cell would have taught them anything.”

“And they’d have lawyered up and been out by morning.”

“Yeah, I know. They’d have gotten a slap on the wrist when they got in front of a judge, despite my testimony, because the kids wouldn’t have been willing to come to court to testify against them, even if we could have found them again.” Dallas blew out a long breath. “So, yeah, I was okay with what we did to them.” He smiled dryly. “Just like I always was when you did it on your own. Well, other than having to dig a perp out of a dumpster. At least this time it’ll be one of the other guys who gets that lovely job.”