GENRE: Gay BDSM Thriller Spicy Romance
LENGTH: 76,826 words
RATING:

Sequel to Angel and the Assassin

MI6 assassin Kael Saunders was supposed to kill Angel Button after the young man witnessed a kill. Not only did Kael refuse to hurt Angel, but he took him home and fell in love with him. Living together now in a loving D/S relationship, Angel wants to follow in his Daddy’s footsteps, while Kael is determined to keep his boy out of the dangerous world of international espionage.

Kael is on a surveillance job in France when he discovers a little girl who is being trafficked. In the past he would have gone home and got on with his life, but six months of living with his beautiful, kind, loving boy has softened his heart to the point where he is determined to return and rescue the child. In Paris Kael ends up falling into the trap of the human traffickers and is taken prisoner.

When his beloved Daddy doesn’t return, Angel goes into full spy mode, and with the help of Mattie Thornton, another MI6 agent, they go to France to find Kael and bring him home.

EXCERPT:
Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.

Daddy had warned him that sometimes you got such an adrenaline surge you thought you could do anything, and you had to slow down and run a checklist. Angel dropped his shoulders, closed his eyes, and breathed.

Clean off the blood. Get the gun. Go carefully down the stairs.

He opened his eyes and saw Dudek, his body turning white as it bled out, limp, naked, and no longer a danger to anyone. A job well done.

Using the bed sheets, Angel wiped his hands and then carefully cleaned the scalpel. He pulled his pants up, checked himself in the mirror for blood, and saw for the first time that his left eye was red and swollen from the blows he had received earlier.

At the window, he pulled back the curtain, surprised to find it still broad daylight. The last few hours had felt like twenty-four, and he was sure it was night already. Mattie stood beside her car on the phone, talking. He caught her eye and waved. Then quickly he searched Dudek’s clothes for a weapon. A small subcompact Glock had fallen from his trouser pocket. Angel picked it up, checked that it was loaded and the safety catch was off.

At the door, Angel took a deep breath. Daddy always said to let the silence descend, but Angel wasn’t exactly sure what that meant. He walked boldly down the stairs and into the front room. Two men sat at a table playing cards. Denbigh was no longer there. Angel shot them one after the other before they had time to reach for their weapons. His aim was perfect, his hand never wavering. He was on a roll.

The gun had no silencer, and it brought the girls in the basement running up the stairs screaming. The narrow hall was suddenly congested with them -- and in front of them was Harry Denbigh, who had come out of Dudek’s office. For a moment he stopped short, stunned to see Angel there.

“You! The Black Widow’s bitch.” His face contorted with an angry sneer as he pulled out a Glock 26. “Shut up, you fucking tarts,” he screamed at the women behind him. Frightened and confused, they scurried into the empty office. “Drop the gun, you stupid little fuck. I’ll kill you before you’ll kill me.”

* * * *

Stiff from spending eleven days lying on a concrete floor with his wrists and ankles bound, Kael had just managed to struggle into his trousers and shirt when he heard the first gunshot. He couldn’t find his shoes, and he knew Denbigh had taken his jacket. The only thing in the jacket pocket, aside from the charm Angel had given him for his birthday, and some cash, was the secure-line phone. But Denbigh would never have been able to use that without the code and had probably tossed it by now.

Without a sound, Kael climbed the stairs faster than he thought possible given how stiff his limbs were. At the top of the narrow stairs, he saw the girls, Ekaterina among them, crowded into a small room. He put his finger to his lips and turned into the hall, coming up behind Denbigh. He slid his left arm around Denbigh’s neck, pressing on his windpipe and removing the gun from Denbigh’s right hand in one smooth movement.

“Get on your fucking knees, you piece of shit.”

With the gun to the back of his head and Angel standing in front also pointing a gun at him, Denbigh complied without protest.

“What’s the code for the alarm?” Angel asked in English.

Denbigh told him the number, and Angel punched it into the keypad and opened the door. Mattie came in, gun raised.