Sins of the Father (19 page)

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Authors: Fyn Alexander

Tags: #LGBT Contemporary, #General Fiction

BOOK: Sins of the Father
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Putting his gun back in the holster, Kael reached down and dragged the man off. Enraged at being interrupted, Romodanovsky drew back his fist and slammed it into Kael’s jaw. The impact jarred his head back and infuriated him. He slammed the Russian against the wall and pounded him in the belly and face with both fists until he slid down the wall, bloodied and defeated.

The woman, in a black maid’s uniform with a white apron, got to her feet, eyes glassy with shock. She looked to be in her forties, a bit plump. Her nose was bleeding, and a trickle of blood ran down her thighs. “Did he rape you?”

Hastily pulling her skirt down, she nodded, unable to speak, her eyes darting everywhere, filled with fear. Taking her by the arm, Kael led her into the bedroom and pushed his PTT. “I want my team in the house and upstairs now. Bring Dmitri inside.”

To the maid, he said, “I’m going to get you a doctor. Sit there.” He helped her to the side of the bed and picked up the house phone. “Get the home secretary up to Mr. Romodanovsky’s room now. We need a doctor.”

Patting her shoulder because he didn’t know what else to do, Kael said, “I’m so sorry. I was supposed to watch him. I’m so sorry.”

Panting and shaking, the maid looked up at him. “There was no one outside on the landing, so I didn’t know he was in there. I checked this room and went to make sure there were clean towels in the bathroom. He was in there. He moved so fast I couldn’t do anything. He’s so strong.”

“I’m so sorry,” Kael said again. “Don’t move.”

Quickly he went back to the bathroom. Romodanovsky was on his feet, but he was breathing with difficulty and his arms were wrapped about his midsection.

Romodanovsky spoke through gritted teeth, the look on his face telling Kael that if he had the strength, he’d beat him to a pulp. “She’s just a maid, for fuck’s sake. Just a maid.”

It was amazing how much better Kael felt after pummeling the man. The screaming energy in his muscles had eased considerably. “The revolution happened before you were born. Even you have to obey the rule of law. You’d better put your clothes on. The home secretary is on his way up.”

His face like thunder, Romodanovsky said “You will tell him nothing.”

“I’m going to tell him everything. Unlike Dmitri, I’m not afraid of you.”

In the bedroom, Kael opened the door at a light knock. When Terrance Townsend entered, the maid began to sob, “Mr. Townsend—” but she could say no more.

Concern etched on his face at the sight of her tears and bloodied nose, the home secretary ran to her side. “Eunice, what happened?”

“Our Russian visitor raped her. She needs a doctor,” Kael told him bluntly.

Romodanovsky walked into the room wearing a bathrobe, his face a mask of arrogance. “It was completely consensual. She just started screaming when the bodyguard walked in on us.”

Ignoring him, Kael said to Townsend, “Have you sent for the doctor?”

“He’s on his way.”

“Good. Let’s get her to her own room.”

The home secretary put his arm around the woman’s shoulders, assisting her solicitously to the door. Kael turned on Romodanovsky. “You will not leave this room.”

Outside the door, he found his team assembled. “Ellis, stay inside the room with Mr. Romodanovsky. The rest of you are to stay here. That man is not to leave his room.”

No one spoke, but they all looked shocked when Kael and Townsend led the maid outside and downstairs.

* * * *

At a little after eight that evening, Kael was called to the drawing room. Conran was there with the Met commissioner and the home secretary.

“What did the doctor say?” Kael asked the moment he entered the room. The men were gathered about the blazing hearth, sitting on comfortable but old-fashioned furniture.

“She’s hurt and traumatized. What else can be expected?” Townsend replied. “The man had just barely penetrated her when you dragged him off. Thank God you were there. You’ve saved the day twice in the last twenty-four hours.”

Kael walked over and threw himself down on the brocade sofa beside Conran.

“Would you like some tea, Mr. Saunders?” Townsend was in the midst of pouring for the other men.

“No,” Kael said. Tea at a time like this, for Christ’s sake!

“Sorry I mistook you for his son yesterday,” the commissioner said. “Given the circumstances, I’m sure you’re glad you’re not. You do have an uncanny resemblance to him, though.”

Conran looked sideways at him as if assessing the validity of the mistake. “This has to be kept quiet, Saunders.”

“You’re not going to arrest him?” Kael looked at Conran and then the commissioner.

“We can’t. It would ruin his career and cause an international incident. That man is Russia’s best chance of cleaning up organized crime. He can put that country back on its feet.”

“So he gets away with rape?”

“Do you think I’m happy about this?” Townsend was pale and tight about the mouth. “Eunice has worked for us for years, long before we came to Dorneywood. She’s a good woman. I’m absolutely beside myself, but this can’t get out.”

Kael looked at the commissioner. “You need to arrest him. What are you going to say to that woman if you don’t?”

Conran stood up. “Saunders, come with me.”

“No, we’re going to sort this out!” Towering over him, Kael saw Conran flinch.

In a calm, quiet voice, Conran repeated, “Come with me. We’ll talk outside. Please.”

It was dark and cold, but the gardens were well lit. Breathing deeply, Kael felt relieved to be outside in the crisp, sharp air.

“You know this can’t get out, and you know all the reasons why,” Conran said. “You have to walk away from this.”

“No, I don’t. The bastard’s a rapist. That woman was terrified. All she was doing was going about her fucking business.”

Taking his arm to pull him farther away from the house, Conran hissed, “For God’s sake, it’s not as if you’re lily-white. You enjoy your profession!”

Turning abruptly, Kael grabbed Conran by the neck with one hand. “I work for the fucking government! Everything I do, they sanction,” he said into the man’s face. “Don’t you compare me to that man. I’ve never raped a woman.”

“You raped me,” Conran whispered.

As if someone had hit him over the head with something heavy, Kael nearly staggered at the words. His breath caught in his throat. All those years ago when they were boys as College Grange School, he
had
raped Conran. But Conran had had it coming. He’d made fun of Kael’s mum, of her common accent and her cheap clothes. He was lucky Kael had let him live.

Slowly he released his grip on the man’s throat. He wanted to scream, to howl at the moon like a wolf. “I was a kid,” he said very quietly. “And you were being a snotty little wanker. You were always a snotty little wanker.”

Rubbing his throat with one hand, Conran looked up at him. “I was. I agree. And you were always capable of killing. I simply helped you channel it into a profession where you would get very well paid. Do you know how many men and women apply every year to MI6? They’ve all been raised on Bond films. They think people don’t really die, that it’s all a big adventure. You were never like that. You were utterly matter-of-fact about killing right from the start. Misha was the same. People like you are rare in everyday life. Put them in a war situation and convince them they are under attack and most people will do all kinds of heinous acts and be shocked at themselves later. But you are cold-blooded. That’s what makes you exceptional.”

“I’m not like him. I’m not like Romodanovsky,” he said.

“Actually you are.”

If he were so evil, how could Angel love him? Because, perhaps, Angel didn’t know who Kael truly was.
They only send you after bad dudes. Right, Daddy?

Placing his hand gently on Kael’s upper arm, Conran said, “Let me go back in there and assure the home secretary that you will keep quiet about this matter. The woman will be given counseling and she will be compensated financially, but this cannot get out. Do you understand? This is about the big picture.”

Looking into Conran’s eyes, Kael said, “You said that when a little girl was being raped.”

Grasping onto his words, Conran said, “And look at what you did there. You helped her. You can help this woman by keeping quiet. Can you imagine if Romodanovsky was prosecuted? The defending barrister would rip her to shreds, and the tabloids would do the rest. Journalists would be hacking into her mobile. Her life would be hell.”

“But what about what’s right? I know right from wrong, and this is wrong.” Was he trying to convince himself or Conran?

“You’ve never questioned yourself before like this. What’s going on? Is it because of Angel?”

No. It wasn’t Angel. It was Romodanovsky’s suggesting Kael could be his son. It was the Russian saying Kael was like him. “Angel is the only honest thing in my life.”

Very gently Conran squeezed Kael’s arm. “Russia needs Romodanovsky. Believe it or not, there is a great sentimentality in that country for the old days, and that’s what he represents. The majesty of the old, the promise of a new economy, and a return to traditional values.”

“That man does not represent any values.”

“No, not in the true sense, but he will do as he says and wipe out organized crime, and he will run that country in the very near future. There’s no one else for the job. The wheels are already grinding to put him into power. The US supports him, and the prime minister. You know perfectly well the kind of politics we deal in every day. The kind of work you do doesn’t give you the right to hold the high moral ground over anyone. You know what kind of man you are. I know what kind of man I am. We both work for the common good. Let’s not pretend that justice is always done or that the rich and powerful do not get special treatment. They do.”

Of course they did. That was why he’d wanted a high-ranking politician to write that letter of recommendation for Angel. He was as bad as the rest of them.

For long minutes, they stood without speaking until Conran, who had not put his overcoat on to go outdoors, began to shiver. “Saunders?” he said. “I know you understand, so what is it about this particular case that has you so angry?”

He knew exactly what it was, but he had no intention of sharing it with Conran. Shaking Conran’s hand off, he said, “I’m going to get Angel, and I’m going home. The rest of the team can guard Romodanovsky until he leaves tomorrow. I don’t give a shit if he gets killed.”

“About the attempt on his life. You were right on point, as always.”

“I wish I’d let him die.”

“Promise me you’ll keep this quiet. You know I’m right, don’t you?”

Yes
, he knew. He began to stride toward the house with Conran running to keep up.

Conran didn’t follow Kael but headed back in the direction of the drawing room. Two at a time, Kael ran up the stairs. The team fell silent when he approached, not knowing what had happened but aware that something was amiss.

“You will all stay and finish the detail. The Russians leave tomorrow at noon. Thornton, you’re in charge.”

“Yes, sir.” She stood up straighter.

“Are you leaving, sir?” Mackie asked.

“Yes. I’m finished here. Angel, let’s go.”

“Why are you taking him with you?” Mackie asked.

Kael leaned into the man’s face. He was so angry he didn’t care about anything. “Because he’s my domestic partner.” He threw his arm around Angel and led him away.

“Is that true or is he taking the piss?” he heard Mackie say, incredulity in his voice.

“It is, as a matter of fact,” Thornton replied.

* * * *

When they reached London, Kael continued north on the M6 motorway.

“Daddy, where are you going? We were supposed to turn there. We’re nearly home.”

“We need to go to Liverpool. My mum phoned on Thursday. I said I’d come as soon as I was finished with a job. I told her I was translating for a politician.”

“We can’t go now. You’re tired and hungry. You’re not fit to drive that far,” Angel said. “Turn around.”

In the small car, Kael’s voice came out louder than he expected. “Don’t tell me what to do!”

“Sorry, Daddy.” Angel’s voice was quiet and small in response. Kael could go days without sleep—and did when he needed to for work—but that didn’t mean his temper was good during it. At the next roundabout, he took the turn for London.

Reaching out to take Angel’s hand, he said quietly, “You’re right. We’ll go tomorrow.”

* * * *

“Daddy, are you too tired?”

Lying flat on his back in bed after their shower, Kael opened his eyes and smiled. Angel stood beside the bed looking down at him. There was something extra adorable about his boy when he was naked and pink from a hot shower. “I’m never too tired for you, sweetheart.”

Angel shook his damp hair like a puppy. His face lit up. He remained beside the bed, his posture perfect, waiting. Usually he jumped into bed so hard Kael was concerned the bed would break, but when he wanted to be an especially obedient slave, he waited for direction.

“Suck my cock, boy.”

“Yes, Master.”

The word brought Kael up short. Lots of slaves had called him
Master
in the past. Conran called him
Master
in the dungeon, but Angel never had. “No hands, boy.”

“Yes, Master.”

With his hands behind his back, Angel knelt on the bed, leaning forward. Kael did nothing to help him. The muscles in Angel’s belly tightened into cords as he controlled his body, bending forward at the waist, which, even though Kael liked a very firm mattress, created a certain amount of wobbling. With Kael’s cock still limp and resting against his thigh, Angel had to turn his head to the side to grab it with his lips and draw it inside. The warmth of his boy’s mouth and the feel of his tongue made Kael harden instantly.

“Wait, this will make it easier.” Kael spread his thighs wide and waited while Angel scrambled between them. “Now suck me hard.”

The temptation to close his eyes and enjoy the pure bliss of sensation was overwhelming, but the truth was that watching Angel’s blond head over his crotch was still more arousing. Thick shards of pleasure shooting up his belly and down through his thighs made him forget the last couple of days completely. He was in the moment, enjoying being pleasured by his willing, lovely boy. The moans that broke from his throat were uninhibited and loud. Not wanting to hold back, he allowed himself to be enveloped in the writhing sensation as his sperm pumped into Angel’s mouth, his hips rising up off the bed as his body arched.

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