Page 1 of Angels of the Night
CHAPTER 1
He landed in trouble again, only this time it was major shit, Caleb thought, looking over his shoulder. The goddamn bastards were right behind him, chasing his ass like Hell's furies, with a good reason. About an hour earlier, he, Erling Rottmann and Avery Stark intercepted a transport of kidnapped kids, who were being taken to be auctioned off to some filthy, old perverts.
It was supposed to be easy: one of them distracted the guards while the other two freed the kids. The scheme always worked, but that time one of the hunks wanted more from Caleb, who had served as bait, and things escalated quickly. Ardan's younger brother climbed on his bike and took off, hoping that the hunks would follow him—which they did—leaving the transport unsupervised.
The problem was the sick fucks had guns, and they didn't hesitate to use them, shooting at the tires of Caleb's bike. I'm so dead, he thought, pulling the brake of the vehicle and jumping off it. Fortunately, The Base was only a half of mile away, so he put his long legs to good use and started running, hoping the chasers would abandon the race and go back to the transport.
The young man wasn't as afraid of what his followers might do to him as he was embarrassed, thinking about Ardan's reaction, who would serve him a sermon about responsibility in that soft, sad voice of his. Caleb's older brother would start worrying over him again and become overprotective, watching his every move. It was bad enough Saint treated him like a child, if Brennan and Ardan had the same attitude...
The men chasing Caleb were hellbent on getting their hands on him and making him pay for the loss of the transport that would had put a load of money into their pockets. A bullet grazed the young man's thigh, the intense burning sensation making him stop in his tracks. The hunks abandoned their bikes and started to get closer and closer to Caleb, big, evil grins on their faces.
Cornered with the wound starting to bleed, he looked around for help, but the street was empty at that time of night, and The Base seemed further away than ever. Avery and Erling had taken the detour route, and most likely, hadn’t arrived yet, so the only solution was to call for help. Caleb dug the hand into the pocket of his jacket, fishing for his phone, only to freeze at the realization that he’d lost it.
A glimpse of light coming from straight ahead made the young man mentally facepalm himself for not recognizing his surroundings earlier. He was only a few feet away from the gate of an isolated property, which had been abandoned the last time he checked but was seemingly occupied then. There was a real chance of getting help, Caleb thought as he gathered all his energy and started to desperately run in the house's direction.
However, the sharp pain in his thigh made him to stop after only a few steps. Drained, bleeding, he fell to the ground and waited for the attackers, determined to fight until the bitter end. He was not going to be easy prey, that was for sure.
“What's up, pretty boy? Suddenly you’re camera shy? You put up that show in the parking lot, then run away, leaving us hot and bothered, and you think we'll let you get away with this? Think again, little bitch!” One of them, the biggest of them, started to unbuckle his belt, while the others were snickering, tightening up the circle.
“Go to the hell that you came from, sick fucks! Or come here, if you have a death wish.” Hissing through clenched teeth, Caleb waited until the man got closer, then hit him in the stomach with his wounded leg. “Take that, son of a bitch,” he said, then curled on the ground.
“Oh, look, his little leg is bleeding.” One of them feigned sympathy, shaking his head. “Tsk, tsk. It doesn't look good at all, but don't worry, you won't need it. We'll help you kneel, right, boys?”
“I don't remember inviting you onto my property, so take your obscene carcasses and leave before I put a bullet in your ugly head. Same for your little friends here.” The silhouette of a man holding a rifle appeared from the dark, taking the attackers by surprise, but only for a short while.
“Look, pal. You may have a longer gun, but we are armed, too, and there are more of us. However, you can have the whore, as soon as we are done with him. Although, I don't think there will be much left, once we finish.” The man continued to unbuckle his belt but stopped shortly after, the noise of a gunshot followed by a wail breaking the silence of the morning.
“I warned you, didn't I? Now, get lost before I lose my cool and start remodeling all of you. I'm not feeling very patient this morning.” The edge in the man's voice and the way his eyes were shining in the dark convinced the attackers, who left, mumbling threats under their breath.
“Now let's get you inside. That leg of yours doesn't look very good. Hopefully, the artery hasn’t been hit; otherwise...” The man shook his head, a compassionate look in his light-green eyes. “My name is Zachary. What's yours?”
“Caleb.” The young man sighed in contentment as the other one took him in his arms, bridal style. “And no, the artery isn’t hit. The wound is superficial, but I guess I forced the leg too much.” He put his head on the man's chest, inhaling the fresh, crispy scent of his shirt. “You have a beautiful name, Zachary.”
Emotionally and physically drained, Caleb closed his eyes, breathing evenly, a tell-tale sign he was sound asleep. Memories from a past Zachary had desperately tried to put behind him for the last seven years flooded his mind. The man remembered clearly the other boy he carried in his arms, the pale face and wide open, terrified eyes staring at him, as the life slowly left his horribly tortured body.
Fortunately, Caleb was alive and kicking, in the most literal sense of the word. Zachary smiled, remembering the scene from earlier. The feisty little thing was anything but a sitting duck for those filthy predators, and, even with that injured leg, he would have given them a big headache.
Cleaning the wound and treating it was Zachary's top priority as soon as he stepped inside the house. The man took Caleb into the guest room and laid him gently on the bed, then removed his jeans as carefully as he could. After washing the blood off the boy's thigh, he disinfected it with a special mixture of medicinal herbs, designed to stop any infection and prevent clots from forming.
Zachary wasn't fond of people, on the contrary, he did his damnedest to avoid them. The property in the middle of nowhere, half a mile away from any human presence, was ideal for him, so he bought it without hesitation. The only inconvenience was the base the real estate agent mentioned, as Zachary hated any type of military structure with a burning passion. However, in the almost two years since he bought the property, no soldiers had come into sight, so he assumed the base was abandoned.
Once the wound was disinfected, the man wrapped gauze around Caleb's thigh, barely touching it, afraid he would accidentally hurt the young man. Even so, the skin felt soft under Zachary's fingertips, making him smile for no reason. He tried to imagine what the boy's life looked like, wondering if Caleb had any friends or siblings, and how they interacted.
The first rays of sun appeared on the horizon, coloring the sky in all shades of orange, red, purple and yellow, but the man was too lost in his own thoughts to notice. Caleb had been sleeping for a good couple of hours, and Zachary decided it was time to check his temperature. He was extremely relieved to discover the boy wasn't feverish at all, which meant the wound was going to heal relatively quickly and without complications.
Suddenly, Caleb started to shift, then, after a few seconds, he opened his beautiful, turquoise eyes and, propping his head on an elbow, cast a look around the room, disoriented. Gradually, the events of the night came back to him, making him groan in frustration.
“I'm dead! Scratch that, I'm dead and buried! Oh, man, how unlucky can I be? Ardan will kick my sorry ass five ways to Sunday, and then will lock me up and won't let me out until I'm eighty.” Caleb ran a hand over his face, whining softly.
“Look, as soon as you feel well enough, I'll take you home and explain the whole situation to that possessive boyfriend of yours. I can call him right now if you tell me his number, or even better, I can put it on speaker. What do you think?”
“Ardan is my older brother. He worries too much about everyone and everything, especially me, since I'm father's youngest son. Saint, on the other hand, doesn't give me much attention. Sometimes, I wonder if he cares about me at all.” The sad expression on Caleb's face made Zachary's heart ache.
“Is this Saint fellow your boyfriend? Because if yes, he doesn't treat you like you deserve. I am sorry to say it, but the guy sounds like a big asshole to me.”
“He...helps Ardan to run The Base and was the only one who trusted my brother back in prison. When he arrived, a year ago, Saint was always there when I needed a hand, smiled at me, talked to me a lot, but then, something changed, and he started to treat me like I was some snotty kid.” Caleb lowered his gaze, letting out a heavy sigh.
“Well, I think he is the snotty kid here, not you. When two people love each other deeply and sincerely, age is just a number. I don't know about this guy, but you are definitely a man, and a very brave one at that. One who's not afraid of fighting to the bitter end.”
“T-thank you for the kind words,” Caleb stuttered, blushing. “Indeed, I don't like to run and hide, preferring to face the adversities, just like my older brothers do. It's only that, sometimes, I act too reckless, and...” The young man's voice died down, and he blushed in embarrassment.
“Don't do this to yourself, please! Try and get some more sleep. Your body needs all the rest it can get so the wound can heal faster. I'll go and take a look around and come back in a couple of hours to fix you a light meal.” Zachary gave the younger man a weak smile, stepping out of the guest room and heading to the main entrance.
A long time ago, he allowed a man to see into the very core of his soul, and that man used that privilege in the cruelest, ugliest possible way. Seven years earlier, with his heart shredded by the betrayal of the one he trusted, Zachary promised himself he’d never let anyone into his heart again.
Wounded, heartbroken and vulnerable with his big, innocent, turquoise eyes clouded by a thin veil of sadness, the boy lying on the bed in the guest room managed to tug at the strings of his soul like no onedid before, not even that man. What am I going to do with you, Caleb?